I Watched Another Couple Having Sex

And it rocked my world.

I didn’t think I was on my way to an orgy. I thought I was heading on a harmless Hawaiian adventure.

When I finally saw the islands from the plane window, they hardly looked real. That far below, they seemed so small — nothing like the great expanse of the unknown I knew them to be. I couldn’t wait to get down there. I knew something exciting was coming, but it would be days before I realized just what I had got myself into.

I didn’t get on that plane anticipating what I was soon to witness. But I’m glad I witnessed it.

It all started innocently enough.

I was a spirited new graduate… of a tantra yoga school. You might expect that after studying tantra I was the picture of sexual liberation. This was far from the case. The traditional eastern teachings were more spiritual than they were sexual.

I was an innocent. Sexually conservative. Clueless.

I was eager to get started teaching. When I was selected to teach a tantra yoga workshop at a festival in Hawaii, I jumped at the opportunity. I imagined warrior poses with the sand between my toes. Dips in the warm water between workshops. People from across the world gathering to express their spirituality. I knew spirituality was on the menu. I didn’t realize how much sensuality and sexuality would be coming my way, too.

I got settled in Hawaii with my partner at the time, and the tantra festival began. At first, it was like I had imagined. My partner was also a presenter, so we both had workshops to teach. In our free time, we wanted to take advantage of the festival. So, we signed up as students for another workshop.

Sexploration.

Sexploration was meant for couples. It was supposed to “reignite intimacy and desire” between partners without anyone needing to undress. Accordingly — naively — we anticipated that it would be a clothes-on affair.

We knew that the couple running the workshop had brought their child to the festival. Maybe it was thinking of them as wholesome individuals that lulled us into a false sense of security. With family-oriented people running the workshop, we thought, what could go wrong?

The sun set low over the water on one of our last days at the festival, and it was finally time for the workshop. We entered the room. The tension in the space hit us immediately.

The sensation was difficult to name. Perhaps it was our shyness amplifying the nerves we felt from everyone else. Or maybe it was just a gut feeling — that ancient instinct that lets you know when something big is about to go down.

We moved as little more than shadows through the unnatural red and blue light that flooded the room. We approached an empty bed, one of ten double beds spaced throughout the room, and claimed it as our own. Around us, every bed saw a couple climb atop it.

At the front of the room, the presenters smiled at us all. Their expressions were open and relaxed, their words calm and reassuring. But still we felt the strange tone of the room cloying on our skin like the Hawaii heat.

There were just two simple rules.

The presenters reminded us of them before we started:

• Under no circumstances could we undress beyond our underwear.
• No intercourse was allowed at any time.

These seemed easy enough to follow. We all nodded our heads, indicating that we understood the importance of the rules. We agreed that we had to proceed in a way that was respectful of each other.

We began.

The presenters guided us through a series of sensual exercises. My partner and I were shy at first. We touched each other gingerly… Until our desire to be excellent students mingled with our desire for each other. Then we were down to our underwear and following the instructions to perfection.

In the dark, strangely coloured space, it was easy to forget that everyone else existed. Easy, at least, for the first few precious moments. My partner and I may have been impeccable students, but I soon saw another couple that didn’t have our restraint.

What I noticed about their bodies stays burned into my memory. Where there should have been fabric…

There was only skin.

The man and woman were completely naked, reveling in each other. Reveling inside of each other.

I could believe what I was seeing, or how it was affecting me. With every movement their bodies made, I felt like an intruder. My mind was ill at ease to witness such an intimate act, but my body felt at home.

Another couple was now naked. Another man was inside another woman. I was oblivious to my partner. It was like a car crash you can’t look away from, except this car crash was turning me on.

My partner must have seen me watching them, but he was pretending not to notice. He was letting his shyness rule him. He may have been trying to hide it, but it wasn’t something you could just shield your eyes from. I could feel it. Arousal was heady in the air like someone had lit a new, powerful stick of incense and it was burning fast.

It was no longer my little secret. Everyone was noticing. Heads were turning. Bodies were reacting. Some of the other couples were watching. Others were taking the sex around them as inspiration and giving in to each other completely.

The presenters realized what was happening. They had lost control of the situation. Frustrated, they gave up and left the room.

We were on our own.

The only thing left controlling the room was lust. Bodies were in the throes of passion all around us. Was it my imagination, or were people starting to look around themselves and at each other? Like they wanted more?

I was a woman divided. Shy, aroused — then rational. Some animal part of me may have wanted to stay despite the shyness freezing me in place. It was seeing the presenters leave that brought me back to reality.

One look shared between my partner and I was all it took to communicate what we would do next. We crept off the bed and slipped toward the exit. Outside, I looked at the worn wooden door we had moved through. I had the distinct impression that on the other side an orgy was now in full swing.

I don’t regret leaving when I did. For me, sexuality is sacred. I don’t want to share it with anyone but my partner. Traditional views aside, I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t like what I saw.

Hawaii changed me.

The woman who attended that workshop as a new graduate was little more than a girl. I had barely even seen porn. At the tantra workshop, I got to see an upgraded version of porn: the real-life edition. It included the sights and the sounds but added the scents of skin on skin and the heat of bodies in action.

When I look back at my time in Hawaii and the workshop that changed everything, I’m not only pensive about who I was. I also feel sympathy for the presenters. They were kicked out of their own workshop by their students’ unbridled lust.

Workshop hijacking aside, I hope the presenters know how successful they were. Their goal was to “reignite intimacy and desire.” They knew what they were talking about.

This experience did more than make me wet one evening. If sexual exploration is a fine dining restaurant, then this was the curious appetizer that wet my palate for heavier entrées to come. I had no idea then just how many courses were on the menu…