My Review of Playscapes, One of NYC's Premier Sex Clubs
At first, I thought it was the space that made the party so much fun. Then I realized it was something else entirely.
I can’t overstate the importance of a physical space of a sex club. The layout can determine the vibe. I’ve been to sex parties with multiple separate rooms, which lends itself to playing with your partner that you came with, as opposed to strangers. Then I’ve been to sex clubs that have one huge room. When people start playing, it’s like Pringles—once you pop, the fun don’t stop. Everyone quickly undresses and starts boning. Then I’ve been to parties with three large rooms. This allows people to “move” to the playroom but also take breaks in the non-sex rooms when they’re feeling overwhelmed or simply want a break.
I had been looking forward to checking out Playscapes for quite some time. In my queer, sex-positive community in New York, Playscapes is one of the clubs, but every time they’ve had a party since the shutdown, I’ve been out of town. This weekend, I wasn’t.
Playscapes’ layout was unlike any other sex party I’ve attended. There was one open space upstairs. There was the bar, dancing, and a rig for Shibari. (They had a professional rope top come in and tie up willing attendees).
Then you walk downstairs, and they have an enormous basement playroom that could comfortably fit 60 people having sex next to each other on beds. In addition to the mattresses, there was a Saint Andrew’s Cross (for impact play) and what I’d call a sex horse (a piece of furniture that’s similar in shape to an Olympic pommel horse).
I was the first person to arrive. Usually, I’m not that guy, but whenever I’m new to a sex club, I like to get there early to see the final stages of setup and scope out the space. At 9:30, they started a brief consent talk, which all first-timers must listen to prior to playing.
Asking for enthusiastic consent shouldn’t be hard, but at a sex party where people go with the expressed purpose of having sex—some people get the wrong ideas. Some people assume they can touch someone without their consent, or they’re unsure how to appropriately reject someone when they’re not interested.
In 15 minutes, owners Shay and Ross covered nearly everything about consent and did so in a fun way. (It was almost like a skit you do on the final day of summer camp.) After which, the mingling began.
I ended up having far more friends there than I imagined. So come 11 p.m., I had a crew of 10 friends I was catching up with. We were gabbing about nothing all that important, when at midnight, I looked around, and nearly everyone else was gone.
My boyfriend and I went downstairs, and it was packed. People were fucking wall to wall. Walking in, I saw one woman getting spit-roasted on the sex horse. And I could hear the sounds of a tied-up woman getting flogged on the Saint Andrew’s Cross at the other end of the room.
My boyfriend and I found a little sliver of space on one of the beds next to one of my best friends (who I periodically hook up with). My boyfriend and I started making out. Then we went down on each other a little before I got on my hands and knees—assuming the position—face-down, ass up. He entered me and started thrusting, and when I looked up, I saw my friend on all fours, sucking some guy’s dick. Her vulva was right in front of my face, so I asked if I could eat her out. With his dick still in her mouth, she mumbled yes. So I ate her out as my boyfriend took me from behind.
After about 20 minutes of rough sex, my boyfriend and I were exhausted, so we laid on the bed, cuddling, as we observed those around us, respectfully. It was an orgy, orgy. Dicks, tits, and pussies as far as the eye could see, and various configurations of twosomes, threesomes, foursomes, and moresomes. People of all genders were playing with each other. Some of the sex was more vanilla—missionary position with making out. Others were getting spanked and giving aggressive, sloppy BJs. It seemed like whatever you were looking to get into, you could.
There was a level of acceptance and openness that permeated the air at Playscapes that allowed for exploration. I think this was partly due to the mandatory consent talk—we all felt safe enough to explore our desires. We also felt safe enough to comfortably reject those whose desires we did not share.
Lying there, nude and freshly fucked, I realized that it’s not actually the space that makes the party. The people do. And at Playscapes, everyone was open and inviting. Everyone was enjoying themselves, even the voyeurs, who were just watching all the fun.
How can I join Playscapes?