Orgies with The Who

by Regis Boff

I have witnessed orgies.
At their best, they can resemble finales in WWE wrestling matches.
The least known fact about these events is that they are rarely unplanned. To contrive an ideal one took some discipline and preparation.
They were seldom spontaneous and usually depended on three crucial building blocks.
During the show, our security scanned the audience for girls to invite backstage. I realize that bands today might be using drones to do this. I don’t know.
With The Who, modeling agencies in the big cities always got free tickets and backstage passes from the promoter weeks in advance.
But the pivotal ingredient of these ventures was, of course, the hookers.
Most whores were great Who fans. They were always around. Typically they were the most genuine people backstage, fun to talk to and not at all starstruck. They treated the shallow music industry hangers-on like reptiles and natural marks. Their favorite band member certainly was Keith Moon. Moon treated them like ladies. Never, ever severely.
Orgies, by the way, are not cheap, I know, because I always supplied the cash.
For the record, I never participated. To do so would have been outside my job description; besides, migrating perspiration is not my thing.
My first sex around others was in cars at Pittsburgh drive-in theaters in high school during the early sixties. You got further if you were in the backseat. That said, the front seat was dangerously exhibitionist and so thrilling and reputation building.
Mind you; sex was more in it’s “touching her bits” phase and nothing remotely full-blown, but I was only two or three feet from another couple during the action. Being a church-going Methodist at this time, it was nearly Roman.