In her novel "How To Save Your Own Life" Erica Jong continues the saga of her dipsy heroine Isadora Wing, a thinly disguised version of herself. In this novel she recounts Isadora's experiences in Hollywood (one of the characters in the book is obviously Julia Phillips) and of course one of her experiences is an orgy at a drug and alcohol fueled Hollywood party. She describes it like this:
"Somewhere in the hazy beginning of it all I was being fucked in the ass by Hans and Roseanna ate me and Rosanna's husband sucked my nipples. Then Kirsten of the gigantic knockers appeared and preempted me in the breast department. At a later, wetter and sweatier point in the evening, Robert was fucking me Rosanna was behind him encouraging him and holding his balls helpfully. I couldn't help but notice that Robert never did get very hard , and it momentarily flickered through my mind that maybe this was the secret of most of the sex people, the sexual emissionaries, they really weren't very potent without what you might call all this peer group pressure. At some point Robert fucked Rosanna and I had the distinct sense that it took all the rest of us being there to accomplish the simplest missionary mating.
"But was it FUN, my friends always ask? And the truth is I can hardly remember Of course it was engrossing. And of course there were lots of orgasms: mine, his, hers, theirs, everybody's. And there was the added pleasure of feeling superior, liberated, special, above the common bourgeois of uptight people, fucking two by two.
I kept thinking Oh, gee, I'm eating a woman while another woman eats me, while a a man fucks her, while a man sucks him! Oh golly, this is certainly a first! And yet the dominate feeling of it all was that we should have have had someone there directing traffic , possibly with a megaphone, because it was all so much like rush hour.
The by now virtually anonymous pile of bodies became like one organism, stretching, contracting, eating, excreting, moving onto drier ground when we had soiled the last. It had ten arms, ten legs, two penises, three vaginas and six breasts of assorted sizes and five mouths that were practically always full. Something was always in eruption, as a series of volcanos. Something was always being gobbled by some orifice or other. When at last Kirsten got up and went into the living room to get wine for us, it felt like an amputation."
She goes on the say that the orgy gave her "a feeling of closeness, of being nothing but a body, and that was enough." But upon reflection she concedes that "These weren't people I loved...they were BODIES. The closeness I'd felt a minute before shifted to revulsion. The others were drifting off to sleep in various positions on the bed and floor. I got up and wandered into the bathroom, where I stared at myself for a long time in the mirror over the sink, wondering what on EARTH to do now."