You’ll enjoy Greta Christina’s account of her first orgy:

My very first orgy happened when I was in college. Surprise, surprise. I call it my first orgy, but in a sense it was my only orgy: I’ve been to a decent number of sex parties since, but this was my only “puppy pile of bodies co-mingling more or less indiscriminately” that we tend to think of as a classic, Capital O Orgy.

It happened more or less spontaneously. Or at least without any planning on my part. My boyfriend and I were hanging out on the steps of the student union, when these three girls came up to us, said they were putting together an orgy, and asked if we wanted to join them. … It only took a couple seconds for me and my boyfriend to arrive at an enthusiastic Yes.

They said they needed a couple/few more people, and asked if we could round anybody up. So I raced off to one of my best friends, and spent half an hour unsuccessfully trying to convince him that the obviously most sensible action would be for him to blow off studying for his big math test and come to the orgy instead. (I was arguing that in twenty years he’d never remember the math test, but would always regret having passed on an opportunity for an orgy. An argument I still stand by.) Alas, my rhetorical skills failed me; so I finally gave up on my friend, and headed back to the dorm room where the festivities were being held.

There is nothing quite like walking into a dorm room with six naked people having sex together in a pile on the floor. Especially when one of them is your boyfriend. I had a brief moment of — well, “shock” is too strong a word, let’s call it “sudden adjustment” or “category error” — as the reality of the situation was rather crudely borne in on me. Then I decided, “What the fuck, this is what I’m here for,” hurriedly shucked my clothes, and joined in.