hosting’s a kink: how one homo makes sex inclusive af

Group sex is often dismissed as a joke or taboo, but for queer people especially, it’s a space for trust, desire, and chosen family. That’s the ethos behind Linq L.A., a weeknight gathering in Los Angeles that’s equal parts erotic and intentional.

What started as Craigslist hookups has become a curated community rooted in care, communication, and consent. That’s at least the goal for Joe, who’s been hosting these nude-friendly nights in his guest house for some years.

From painter’s paper and candles to post-play hangs and unexpected friendships, Linq L.A. has a little bit of everything. 

In this Q&A, Joe talks about how his relationship to sex has evolved, what it takes to set the right vibe, and why hosting a “jerk-off group” is about so much more than getting off. 

Q: To start, can you tell me a bit about your personal relationship to sex—how it’s evolved over time, and what it means to you today?

A: I came of age with platforms like Adam4Adam, Craigslist, and later Grindr. For me, those spaces were discreet ways to connect before I came out. They were transactional by nature, but that matched the shame I was carrying. Over time, I’ve realized how separate sex and dating have felt. Like, you show up completely differently on Tinder or Hinge than you do on Grindr even though it's often the same people. I'm still learning how to bridge that gap between romantic connection and the more transactional kind of sex I started with.

Q: Do you remember your first orgy?

A: Not exactly, but I’ve been interested in group sex for a long time, way before apps. I used to use Craigslist to set up three-plus-person experiences in my apartment. Even back then, I preferred hosting over attending. I get anxiety in big, unfamiliar settings, so hosting lets me control the space and energy. I know who’s coming, and I can curate a vibe.

Q: What are some misconceptions people have about orgies?

A: Oh, tons. That they’re dirty, that everyone’s high, that it’s unsafe. People assume you’ll automatically catch an STI or that it’s this wild, drug-fueled thing. And sure, there are scenes like that—but that’s not mine. I’m really intentional about the space, about vibe, about hygiene and respect. It’s not a free-for-all.

Q: Speaking of vibe, how do you set the scene?

A: Lighting, music, incense, it’s all sensory. I create experiences for a living, so I approach these the same way I would a party or event. I cover the floors with painter’s paper so people can feel free to make a mess. I light candles, play chill house music, keep the volume low so you can still hear people moaning or talking softly. Sometimes I’ll do BYOB hangs before or after so people can connect beyond sex. It’s a whole experience.

Q: What’s the planning process like?

A: It’s evolved. Craigslist used to be so manual—emails, logistics, no-shows. Sniffies changed the game. Now I post two or three days before, cap the number, and only release the address an hour before. I plan them for weeknights where Mondays to Wednesdays work best. 

Weekends are flaky. It’s usually 9 p.m. for one hour, which sounds short, but it keeps the energy focused. I also text people who are too discreet for Sniffies and try to keep things spaced out so people actually miss the events. And honestly, I just want to cum too, I’m not running a sex club. I’m still part of the fun.

Q: How do you think about consent in these spaces?

A: Consent starts before the event. I screen based on energy and whether they follow directions like sending a face pic. That gives me a good read. I never market it as an “orgy.” I call it a jerk-off group because it brings in a different, more respectful crowd. Once people arrive, I ask them to start undressing on the way up the driveway and it sets the tone. Everyone’s naked quickly, and that removes a lot of awkwardness. And if someone isn’t feeling it, there are plenty of other people to connect with. I've honestly never had a consent issue, which I think speaks to the energy I try to create.

Q: What makes someone a good guest?

A: Show up. Communicate. If you can’t come, leave the group to make space. Shower beforehand. Bring your own supplies. Respect the vibe. Be kind if someone’s not into you, and play well with others. Word of mouth helps too. Some people bring their friends or tell them when they’re out of town. It’s become a whole little network.

Q: Hosting something like this regularly, how has it changed your relationship to community and intimacy?

A: It’s honestly been the best part. I’ve made friends with people from all walks of life. Doctors, sex workers, nonprofit folks, retail workers, creatives, all in one room. It’s wild. Living in South Central can be isolating for queer folks, so it means a lot to bring people together like this. Some guys go out to dinner after, some hang out before. I’ve seen people date after meeting here. Others just become close friends. I also host smaller, chill hangs to decompress, where the sexual part is secondary. It’s more than sex, it’s care.

Q:Many sex spaces aren’t very inclusive. How intentional are you about body types, race, queerness?

A: Very. I want everyone to feel welcome from different races, sizes, gender expressions. I’m intentional about who I invite. I don’t just go off attraction. I invite people who bring good energy, even if I’m not personally into them. And I try to weed out anyone who gives off a weird vibe or doesn’t follow directions. The goal is to create a space that feels welcoming and safe.

Q: Has anything ever gone hilariously off-script?

A: Sometimes someone accidentally turns on the lights full blast and it’s like okay! That breaks the ice. There are funny moments: someone says something ridiculous, people laugh, someone gets cheered on during a wild moment. It’s light. I like to greet people as they come in, make sure everyone feels acknowledged. I kiss or hug most folks because it’s still my home. That vibe matters. I’m also constantly recruiting regulars. If someone’s got great energy, I’ll pull them aside and let them know I’d love to have them back.

Q: Is there anything else you hope people take away from this community?

A: I hope this becomes something bigger. Right now it’s a private Instagram and a tight-knit circle, but I’d love to grow it with maybe events, pop-ups, something outside the guest house. There’s something special here. People feel seen, safe, turned on, and cared for. That’s rare. I want to keep building that.

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Frank Rojas (he/him)

Contributor – The Group Chat

Frank Rojas is a writer and reporter based in Los Angeles. He covers culture, identity, and community with a focus on queer and Latinx experiences. His work has appeared in The New York Times, LA Times, and more.

At The Group Chat by YH, Frank writes about sex, care, and queer connection—with a particular interest in how people build trust, pleasure, and community on their own terms.

You can find him at: Instagram, LinkedIn, and Substack.