Of all the sex party invitations I’ve received, this one was the most appealing, because this one promised an “erotic art station.”

I knew this offered me and my boyfriend an incredible opportunity — to use our genitals as paintbrushes and create a masterpiece with our naked bodies. To smother our nipples, lips, butts, vagina, penis and balls with color, then cover a canvas with imprints of our naughty bits.

We seized the opportunity.


[the erotic art station]

Our invite came from Amy McBain, the owner of Intentional Orgasm, a center for meditation and sensual massage. The art station was an attraction at her “Pot Passion and Play Party,” an event to openly explore sexuality and marijuana.

McBain had high hopes for her erotic art corner. She explained her vision to me about a week earlier, sitting on the patio where she works with Intentional Orgasm clients.

“I have canvases and paints and body paints. You can paint your genitals, you can paint your body, or you can use your body parts and sexual fluids to create the art,” McBain says.

“Paint with your cock. Paint with your breasts,” she continues. “I want to have dried pigment where men ejaculate their semen onto the pigment or women squirt onto it so we’re actually creating art out of our sexual body fluids. I want to have soft canvases so the couple that wants to make love can put body paint on, lay down and make love on the canvas and see what sort of art is created.”


[the first layer of paint]

Come Friday night, we arrived at the sex party prepared with towels in hand. At previous play parties, we’d been shocked by the sheer amount of nudity and depravity. My boyfriend would look ridiculously out-of-place, dressed in a suit while any other male attendees had little more than leather harnesses strapped around their dicks. I would feel endless waves of anxiety hearing couples whip one another or a woman wail as she’s being fucked by a machine.

This party, on the other hand, was pleasantly tame. Beyond the hot tub that looked like an uninviting cauldron of flesh, guests were fully clothed and not physically beating each other. The atmosphere was mildly normal, until my boyfriend and I decided to get weird.

We stripped down to nothing in the dimly lit dining room and grabbed the biggest canvas we could find. We started by smearing my boobs in blue body paint, then pressing them firmly against the cloth. My nipples left a satisfying mark.

By the time I was on my knees painting my boyfriend’s dick bright yellow, an audience began to form around us. Some shouted praise or suggestions, while others simply stared in stoned amazement, either admiring our brilliant workmanship or our butt naked bodies.


[the final product]

As we added layers of paint, we kept a consistent pairing between colors and body parts. My butt was pink. His butt was orange. My boobs were blue. His dick was yellow. We finished the canvas off with the two most difficult endeavors: T-bagging the edges of the canvas with our crotches.

The final result was nothing short of magnificent.

But in the fervor of achieving our artistic pinnacle, we’d completely failed to notice the catastrophic mess we’d made. Shining a blacklight on the floors and walls revealed a crime scene of splatter where our private parts dripped and our wet butts brushed the walls. As the party ended and kinksters marched out the door, my boyfriend and I stayed with hands and knees on the hardwood, scrubbing vigorously.

We’d been the first to undress, and the last to leave.

This filthy symbol of our sex life is now on display in the living room of our new apartment. We hope our guests will take a moment to notice it, and maybe wonder why so many of our painting’s splotches of color are shaped like penises.