My first sex party !

Ever been to a sex party? Such a sweaty, moist, sticky bunch of naked flesh, having sex all over the place in every way imaginable? Before cumming all over each other? Even maybe remember "Cover Boys"?

Last Wednesday, just before Markus came home, I was invited to my first sex party ever. And God, I was curious! The chat pal, who invited me, had sent the pix of all guests two days before, so I had enough time to get excited about it.

At 8 o'clock I rang at his apartment. When I entered the flat I noticed about six other guys getting undressed to their underwear and writing down their mail-addresses in a list. Some "hello" and welcome talk, while I was getting undressed, too, taking the first glances around me. Nice bodies, all of them between 25 and 35, some of them not my type - but let's see.

The living room was a furnished wellcum address with sheets all around the floor and softly illuminated by candles. A table with drinks was awaiting us as well as some bowls with lube and condoms. Nonetheless the beginning was very lame: 20 half-naked men standing around with a beer or wine, desperately trying to look cool and not too interested in each other. Now and then a shy smile or a short nod.
In an attempt to break the lasting silence I address the boy next to me:
“As silent as inside a church” and smile.
Get an embarrassed and devastating look in return:
“No idea, I don’t go to churches!”
Ok, so much for education and intellect. Could we PLEASE start exploring each others holes, before I encounter some even deeper abysses? I take another beer.

Slowly boys get into gears. Some of them start to kiss and suck, shifting between drinks and poppers, us standing beside. The air is filling with heavy flavour. For me this is the point to take part or leave. If I miss it, I won’t find another way into action tonight. So I join the boy and his buddy, exchanging my first kisses and blow jobs this evening. They’re good. But just for about ten minutes, then they move to the bed room for a twosome, and I to another group in the hall.

When sex is good, it’s great; and if it’s bad, it’s not so bad anyway. So this evening was not so bad. I manage to keep myself busy, ending up with a real nice man, looking pretty much like Emmett of QAF, and George, a man from Athens, who just spent his second night in Berlin. We are the last to leave at midnight. And having had quite a good time together we decide to prolong it for some cocktails at “Heile Welt”.

There we continue kissing and stroking each other, while an extremely handsome boy keeps staring at me. His boyfriend anyway is trying hard to get back his attention – without success. It's strange: I can see myself much more in this boy’s position than in mine. These open and longing eyes, this body, stretched as if to jump up immediately, these open lips, barely breathing… It would need just one smile to get him up and over to us, but it simply doesn't fit. The situation is too nice to be changed, even to be improved. When we leave for George’s apartment, the boy’s tension is set free: he jumps up, wishing me a good night. Then he notices, what he did and slowly sits down again beside his friend.
“Good night!” A hint of a kiss.

The rest is not worth mentioning. I woke up at six and caught the next bus home. So, that’s it, I thought, my first sex party. Interesting, but no comparison to any porn orgy I have on DVD. Maybe next time :-)

Can you believe it?

With increasing amazement I watch the new members of my gym. Some of them are pretty (and) young. Perfectly styled and tanned, pierced and tattooed. And shaved. Some are so young, that you wonder whether they are shaved or just too young for pubic hair.

Take this boy for instance: Daniel is 16 years old, not in my gym unfortunately. Times have changed: At this age we were playing socker rather than sweating in a stuffy gym at 30° C outside. What means that now I have to do it - at least to keep up with a 16 year old boy :-)

My baby is back

Today Markus came home from Helsinki. Taking my favourite sweets with him: meringue with chocolate from Ekberg…Simply great! More than three weeks he has been away. Happy together again!

I love professionals

I really like people being professional at their job. It’s so astonishing to watch them like sleep-walkers, very smooth and perfect without paying any real attention. Like the surface of a quiet lake. You throw in a stone, a short reaction, and within a few moments the lake lays quiet again.

Monday midday I was invited to a guided tour inside the Reichstag’s building by the crisis help line I volunteer at. There I witnessed first the parliament’s police. Very calm and relaxed they stood at the entrance, cool looking in their black suits (ordinary German police wears green), and I even saw a young female officer with a bare midriff top revealing a small navel piercing. WOW, that’s cool!

When our group of twenty had gathered, we entered for the obligatory security check: Emptying pockets, handing over the rucksack, passing the port. No alarm. Pooh. Maybe it’s a primary instinct, but I think everyone holds his breath while passing such procedure. Very relieved we gathered again, talking and laughing the tension away. Suddenly one of the officers approached us, or better say me.

“Sorry, Sir, could you follow me to the port once more?”

Trying to smile I felt my heart beat stop for a moment.

We reached two other officers who were pointing at the x-ray screen. I stood for a moment, waiting.

“Excuse me, Sir” one of them started, “but do you have handcuffs in there?”

“What???” A million thoughts explode in my head. Handcuffs???… Yes, I have some, but… Oops!!! And now I see them on screen – very clearly two rings connected by a chain or something.

I blush red. Deep red, wishing the sprinkler system to turn on. Nothing happens, time is passing, three police officers staring at me.

“Oops, amazing what one can find in a rucksack… Could you tell me, in what part it is?”

Of course, they could. And while I was fishing the handcuffs out, placing them in a deposit bag like I had never touched such thing before, they explained in an absolute neutral way:

“You see, such things do happen to us all the time.”

I love professionals!

Just a beginning

"I wish I was an octopus, a fucking octopus: eight loving arms" (Angels in America)

I don't know, how you are when you get up in the morning. I always feel as if I had eight cups of coffee already - one for each arm. And that's the way I start my day - doing eight things at the same time: getting dressed, boiling the water and eating some yogurt while checking my mails over the paper and scanning the chat with a song on my lips... hmm, makes seven. Oh, and kissing my husband good morning before hastily heading to office. But unfortunately he is not in Berlin these days, which means I have to find another occupations for arm No. 8

You ever met someone so hot, that you would walk downtown fully naked, just to get the chance of fucking him again? Steven is such an exemplar: 29, bisexual (ok, they all say they are, but he truly is, you can tell by his underwear), perfectly defined muscular body, the way you’ll never get in a gym but as the result of various sports activities - which means he is not pumped up. Small ass. In one word: hot.

We've had a date about two years ago, and he was amazingly devote, very horny and almost unstoppable in craving to get more. When I left some hours later I felt like having survived a tornado: a bit weak on my legs, soaking in the fresh air and suddenly grasping for my third leg to make sure, it's still there.

We never met again. Maybe it was just too perfect to be repeated, since second dates are mostly a weak extraction of attraction.

Friday evening we came across again in a chat, and he wanted to meet instantly. And he had developed his sexual preferences a lot. So he wanted me to wear sneakers, jogging trousers, a hoody - and a gas mask.

Gas mask? What the hell... ok, a ski mask will do.

Hmm, all ski equipment I have is stored at my father's basement in the southern outskirts of Berlin... But he insisted so much, that I finally agreed to wear a ski mask.

"Right from the beginning, when you enter the flat."

Do I really look that ugly? Ok, right from the beginning.

"And you have handcuffs?"

As a matter of fact, I have, but never tried (honestly).

"Take them with you."

I could already feel the level of hormones rising and drowning my last brain cells. What happens next is as ridiculous as inevitably. I call my sister, who is keeping my fathers flat during the holidays and ask her for the ski mask.

"What do you need it for? It's 34 degrees. Do you expect it to snow?"

"No, it's for an even hotter date."

"When, tomorrow?" her reply.

"No, now, I just drop by in 20 minutes."

Her "you really seem to need it" was cut off by me hanging up the phone to head for the shower.

What was totally unnecessary, because the moment I opened the door the weather forecast was right for the first time in this month. A for thunder storm set it, first just wind, but three streets later the sky opened to relieve himself. Perfect! So I was totally soaked when I arrived at my sister. I have never seen such a pitiful glance in her eyes before. But maybe I deserved it. I was late, I was wet, so I got a t-shirt from my father's wardrobe and called a cab.

Another 20 minutes later I arrived Nollendorfplatz, the gay Mecca of Berlin and place, where Steven had moved to since we first met. I found the entrance, the name and was let in. Ok, it starts to work. Up the elevator, found his door and put the ski mask on. While ringing the door bell I hoped he had not sent me to some Mafiosi, who would shoot me before opening the door.

The door opens.

An ugly looking dwarf in his 40s appears. Stares at me. I stare at him. Totally empty.

"Sorry.. it was.. a joke, I..."

I pull down the mask. Staring at him, a pillar of salt, waiting for the trumpets to crush me down.

"Wanna come in?"

I almost jump back. "No! - It was a joke, sorry!"

It was less a withdrawal than a flight. I did not even wait for the elevator to come up again and took the stairs.

Reaching the safe street, the light rain falling on my face, I laughed, laughed out hearty. Then I called my sister to tell her. I could see her shaking her head. This was insane. Beyond anything and the very limit of what I ever did. And will ever do - hopefully!