Heads up: This story is NSFW, but neither is San Francisco. We are chronicling the freakier sides of the city, in a series of first-person dispatches from people deep in the city’s sex scene. We will keep names and locations strictly confidential. 

For this week’s column, we hear from Mr. Midnight, a gay, Black tech professional in his late 20s who generally has sex once a day. Mr. Midnight frequents sex clubs behind unmarked doors on busy commercial streets, lavish sex parties in mansions, and cozy orgies in apartments. He is known to stop for a quickie on his way to another hookup. In an as-told-to interview, he tells us about how he likes to celebrate Valentine’s Day. His words have been lightly edited for clarity and length. All photos are of models, not the real people involved.

Luckily, for a gay person in San Francisco, sex is ambient. It’s everywhere. You can have sex with all kinds of people: We’re talking bisexual, we’re talking down-low, and of course, we’re talking polyamorous. It’s a buffet in San Francisco. 

So what do I choose to eat on Valentine’s Day? Everything, thank you. We’ll see what happens tonight, but it will be hard to top what went down just a few days ago.

The experience starts on Sniffies, a hookup app, when I learn about a group orgy moment happening. You have to get accepted into these orgies — they want an equal number of tops and bottoms, they want you to be appealing — so I send in my photos and description, and I get in.  

Just before 3 p.m. on Sunday, I show up to a big, tall, beautiful, new building. I can’t say exactly where but it’s near an underground Muni station.  

The doorman lets me up to a one-bedroom apartment decorated with red hearts. I’m a little early, and there are only a couple of people there. 

First, we undress. The protocol at orgies is always: get naked, put your name on a bag, put your stuff in the bag, then you proceed. 

Next, you talk. For any orgy newbies, you should know: You can’t just start touching. 

I mingle. The population at this party is 90% Caucasian and 10% people of color. This is common. As a gay Black man in San Francisco, sex with other Black people can be a difficult thing to get sometimes. There are not enough brown people.

But all the bodies are giving. It is a string of six-packs. A string of people who go to the gym three times a week. And I am not a twink, nor am I a big person — two kinds of people that are always in demand. But I am a brown person. And it is interesting to see the reactions. 

I start connecting with this Latino person. Am I attracted to him? More or less. From 1 to 10, I would classify him as a 6.5. Kind of an ugly face, but cute everything else.

We’re making out, because you have to make out. I push his head down, and he sucks my dick, and it’s delicious, but I’m nervous. It’s an interesting feeling being nervous and aroused at the same time. 

People are watching. As he’s sucking my dick, which is about a 15-minute occurrence, more people come in, and now it goes from a seven-person room to a 15-person room. A couple more people of color have come in. 

I kiss one, who is gorgeous. But then I ask what their position is. They say a top. I am also a top, and with two tops nothing happens. So that was it for us. We ended it there.

I go into the bedroom, and at first I’m overstimulated. So much is happening on that one bed.

Then this beautiful Greek-god brown person arrives, and I go over to him. We make out. I’m very attracted to him. He goes down, but I just … don’t get hard. Eventually, he stops. 

I feel in my soul that he’s disappointed. But it’s something you have to take in stride as a top. Sometimes it doesn’t happen right away. I’m not a robot. I’m not 25 anymore. I can’t just make things happen. 

Now I see a familiar face, this beautiful Latino man with pullable hair. Mr. Pullable Hair sees me instantly. We’re quickly making out, and it’s just fantastic and mesmerizing. He begins to suck my dick, and it gets hard right away. It’s so hard, it’s like a rock you could throw in the river, and it would skip five or seven or 10 times. That’s how hard it is. 

“Let’s go to the bed,” I say. I eat him out for about five minutes. Other people are watching and jacking off. I ask someone for lube, because there’s just lube sitting around everywhere, and I don’t want to stop to get up and get some. 

Some random person brings me the lube. I put that lube on his ass and my dick, and then we are going and it’s just beautiful and wonderful. Other people are looking and jacking off, and now somebody is waiting next to me for his turn. We’re just feeling each other. The vibe is sensational. 

Now, you always face a choice at an orgy: When to finish? I make the active decision not to cum now. I’m trying to have as much sex as possible here — although I can cum multiple times. 

I pull out of him and immediately some other ass is just up and waiting for me next door. I go into him, and then I’m fucking his brains out, and he’s screaming and he’s yelling. 

Now Mr. Pullable Hair gets a little upset. The look on his face is exuding jealousy. Thankfully someone arrives, and he gets preoccupied by another dick. That’s how orgies are. You hop on something, you hop off. 

I end up cumming into this younger twink. The sex is dynamic. Almost diabolical. 

Out in the living room, I see Mr. Pullable Hair.

I ask for his number. He gives it to me, and we make a date for another day.

For now, I have to move on to the next person. That person is a blond guy, young 20s. He’s giving me the eye, so I go over, and we talk about the weather or some shit — you never know what to talk about at these things — then we make out. But then he sees someone else he finds more attractive and leaves. He goes and makes out with them. 

I’m sorry. This is not a fairy tale. This is an orgy. 

Not all my stories will be nice. Some of them have sad endings. They all have “happy endings,” but some of them will not be joyful. 

As the time goes by, I’m realizing it’s hour three or four of this orgy. So after having a few more trysts, I call it a night. I get my stuff and leave, while looking on the phone for someone else, because it is Valentine’s week after all.