Not quite like thisAndrea Mantegna

The term “orgy society” is thrown around a fair amount in Cambridge, often with an air of impenetrable mystique about it; an urban legend passed down from finalist to fresher, in hushed yet titillated tones. This, at least, was my experience – but the fundamental flaw remained that no one I’d heard about these fabled societies from had actually attended one – “a friend of a friend” being the common narrative trope used. And so I set out to see if orgy societies really did exist beyond the smoke and mirrors of the drunken fresher’s imagination.

Ironically enough, my first contact was through a friend of a friend, who directed me to someone she described as the “ringleader” of such a society. He wishes to remain anonymous, for reasons that will become clear, and so we will call him Jamie (not his real name, obviously).

When we met up, however, immediately my image of an “orgy society”, complete with membership forms, fees and fire stewards in high vis jackets, à la the Cambridge Union Society, disappeared. Jamie was categorically not the “ringleader”, and, besides, there was no formal society to lead.

This is probably apparent to anyone who has spent more than a few drunken minutes thinking about the matter; as I soon realised, the mythical “orgy society” presupposes far more openness among its “members” than is consistent with both an overtly sexual group and the very vague and mythical representation of such societies themselves. One can hardly imagine tripping merrily along to CUSU to register such a society.

With much patience on Jamie’s part, the titillating façade of the “orgy society” dropped to reveal the fact of the situation; swinging, in particular, one specific group of people or “scene” which partakes in group sex, of which Jamie was part, which is just one of many in Cambridge. It should go without saying that these are the experiences of one person within one specific group.

This particular scene, Jamie said, had been going for around a year or so with generally spontaneous events. Sex in general, we agreed, presupposes some level of spontaneity; instead, whenever there was a “critical mass” of the scene’s members in one place, group sex might follow, although Jamie stressed that they “hang out together way more often than we have group sex”.

The group grew somewhat organically from a loose friendship group; their initial response after they began experimenting with group sex was to retain complete secrecy from all mutual friends. This, from Jamie’s wry smile whilst describing this early blanket secrecy, did not last very long. 

When some of their friends began to find out, their reactions were surprising. Although Jamie admitted there were a few “admiring”, even curious people, there was an equal proportion of those who were appalled by the very idea of group sex, calling Jamie and the others “disgusting, depraved, sick”.

This to me was utterly at odds with the giggles of my own friends at the thought of being invited to an orgy, as well as their out-and-out laughter when they found out I was looking into orgies for this feature (the phrase “most straight-laced person I know” occurred more than once).

But on a serious note; how could something between consenting adults be “depraved”, I thought, when weirder stuff probably happens in the private sexual lives of monogamous couples?

I got the feeling that Jamie was just as confused and frustrated by the hostile reaction; throughout he seemed determined to debunk misconceptions about orgies in general, and their attendees. For instance, when I asked about the main demographic of the scene, he said the common denominator between them was open-mindedness and a willingness to explore, rather than anything stereotypically kooky or weird. Jamie made clear that the typical association of orgies with the LGBT+ community was something of a myth, too. Orgies and the LGBT+ community, he said, had been linked through the tendency of a cis- and hetero-normative society to collect all “sexual deviants” under one and the same umbrella; he also said that the accusations of depravity levelled at swingers were particularly hurtful, based on their similarity to the belief popular in the 1960s that gay men and paedophiles were essentially the same.

He also wanted to make clear that orgies in real life are “nothing like porn”, which is the primary medium through which most people would probably “experience” group sex; far from being “high-octane”, Jamie described swinging as “friendly, fun”, and something which becomes normal quite quickly. One truly memorable snapshot of our meeting was how he breezily recalled sitting having coffee with friends as two people had sex in a corner, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

If you didn’t figure it out from the laughter of my own friends above, an orgy is one of the oddest ideas in the world to me. Let me be clear; it is in no way, shape or form my place to judge, and it is completely the prerogative of consenting adults to do whatever in their own private lives, but personally, it would paralyse me with fear. Even just thinking about the world of group sex had my inner control freak breaking out in hives; how do you set your own limits? How do you know the limits of others? What if secretly no one there is actually attracted to you and it’s all polite and obligated, rather than sincere?

Unwritten rules, Jamie said, was probably the best way to describe common orgy practice, although he admitted there was a known etiquette. With contraception, the group is “overcautious” (the other memorable moment of our meeting was Jamie comparing the increased risk of sex with multiple people with “like, you know they circulate the air on planes, and everyone then gets the same cold?”). Similarly, consent is taken very seriously; Jamie said that you need to get some kind of clear consent from each new partner for each new act, and that turning up to an orgy is in no way a presumed “yes” to whatever other people may be participating in. I couldn’t help feeling that this hypervigilance with regards to contraception and consent was definitely something even monogamous pairings could learn from.

And as for whether it’s all polite and obligated (one phrase cited by Jamie as part of the etiquette was the “don’t hog the hottie” scenario), Jamie admitted this can actually be a problem. The basic fact of human sexuality is that not everyone is sexually attracted to everyone else; but an equally basic fact is that there is no polite way to turn someone down. This, Jamie said, can lead to an “uneasy” relationship between the obligation to at least try with other people and one’s own sexual autonomy.

This is countered somewhat, however, with the idea that any new member to the group has to be considered based on the reaction of the group rather than individual preferences. Jamie talked about how a new member should probably be attractive to a “decent proportion” of the group, and that new members usually come around instinctively.

You meet someone, you like them; you think that most of the group would also like them, they seem into similar things and you propose that they come along, often in euphemistic language. This isn’t fool-proof by any means– Jamie himself had experience of inviting someone to an event of which they had wildly differing expectations – but it generally seems to work. The alternative, Jamie said, was that some people find out about their group and then deliberately find them on a night out and linger, until the invitation to someone’s room or house is finally extended.

At this point I decided to ask about relationships. If most people in the group are single, how do you tell a new partner that you’re involved in a group sex scene? Do you wait until you’re comfortable together or do it upfront? Even as I asked, my own boyfriend’s tense eyebrows on learning about my investigation were at the forefront of my mind.

Jamie said unequivocally that he is open with whoever he’s dating, often asking them if they are interested in coming along. Some partners agreed and now enjoy the scene; some tried and found it wasn’t for them; others dismissed the idea from the beginning. When I suggested that such honesty should be pre-requisite in all relationships, he laughed and agreed.

And that was that. Jamie was one of the friendliest and most understanding people I’ve met through my work for Varsity. Talking with him made me wonder why people should care so much about group sex – to the point of provoking accusations that it is “depraved” or “disgusting”.

For me, the immortal words of Mark Corrigan from Peep Show ring true: “Sure, an orgy sounds great, but you’re basically just multiplying the number of people you’re not going to be able to look in the eye afterwards”. I was happy to see Jamie go, a glimpse into a world of Cambridge I’d never experienced, and had no real desire to; but I wondered why it had to be so secret, why it had to be confined to untruths, myths and rumours.

All I could think of as I finished my coffee was how Jamie, admittedly just one of many involved, was approachable and kind and cheerful, and how such gut reactions of hostility to something different had mired people like him into a world that was secret and hidden, from which the occasional rumour might bubble up to the surface.