You've always been facinated by mythology and remember that satyrs were known for their prowess at partying. 'Hardly a threat you think.'
As you make your way into to group, you note that it's a mixture of males and females. The satyrs are strong looking specimines with well defined pecs and six packs. Each has a long full beard. As envious as you are of their upper bodies, it's what they're 'packing' that makes you feel most inadequate. Their leathery sacks look to be filled with tennis balls. Their cocks are concealed by sheaths that are longer limp than you are arroused.
And you are very arroused. The women, satyresses, you guess, are stunning in their own right. Deeply tanned, with the largest, fullest, firmest breasts you've even seen that weren't enhanced with silicon. Each of these babes has long luxurious hair that ends at a rump punctuated by a short tail. The hair frames thier white horns and pointed ears well.
The music is loud and you are handed a flaggon filled to the brim with an aromatic wine.
Over near the band, you note a table with a group of satyrs and satyresses. A young woman, a human woman sits there too, gulping down swigs of the pungent wine. You take a swig yourself to add courage and make your way to the table to strike up a conversation.