They do exist! Or should I say: we do exist? I am one, too, of course. I just take occasional breaks and am less in the mood for casual sex these days. But when I was doing the poly thing, at a certain point I was seeing as many as four other people in addition to my girlfriend at a time. There was a week in which I had ridiculous amounts of sex with different people.
A friend of mine told me, at a vanilla, day-time party this week, that I was good at sucking cock. I asked him how he knew. Apparently, I had gone down on him once at a play party and forgot about it. Oops. But I will take the compliment! (And see also: my post on blowjobs).
There have been a lot of articles floating around lately about female sexuality, arguing that women like sex just as much as men do and should be free to pursue it, be promiscuous and so on. I was going to link some here, but I’m sure you’ve all seen the multiple feminist manifestos yourself. Continue reading
So we don’t often talk about this because we take these (very strange) truths to be self evident, but running into your ex at a sex party is a common thing on the scenes I roll in. Which also means that you might see your ex having sex (or doing other sexual things) at a party, or they might see you. Which is, or could be, admittedly awkward. Or, depending on the people or situation in question, painful, even. As poly, schmoly, open or whatever you might be, it’s probably still strange to watch someone you were once deeply involved with have sex with someone else, especially if there are any latent feelings of hurt, anger or resentment lingering. Continue reading
The lovely Miss Rashbaum of M Events chugging champagne at Splendorfuck II, as you do. (Photo by Chris VMP).
So I’m back in New York. It’s cold. Or it’s bound to get a lot colder this week, as polar vortex #2 (or something like it) is visiting again, I hear. But I’ve been so busy prancing around that I haven’t had time to even register the weather. Hopefully that method will continue to work this week. Some say that cold, heat and pain are just a state of mind.
As soon as I got back a week and change ago, I jumped straight into the swing of things. On January 10, I attended the decadent and debaucherous stylings of one of M Events’ parties, Splendorfuck II, where the theme was something like Marie Antoinette meets glam rock/David Bowie (meets my crazy friends who put it to good use). These are some of my favorite motifs (and people, whom I hadn’t seen in a while), so I had to go, naturally. And it was a splendidly good time, indeed. Here is some photographic evidence: Continue reading
Berlin Straßenszene by Nikolaus Braun
New Year’s night. Everyone’s running to and fro. Must reach your destination before midnight. If you have one, that is. And surely you must on Silvester!
They’re hopping trains, jumping on buses, riding trams. A city as wired, wired, wired as the world wide web, with multiple means of transportation covering its limits. And everything’s on time. The streetcars show up every couple minutes. You can set your clock to them. They tell me that Germany is all about order, punctuality, cleanliness.
Everyone’s already started drinking and is roaming the streets, train platforms, and subways with beer in hand. I keep forgetting this is legal in Berlin. I’m still sober amidst all the rowdy drunks. The sign inside the subway cars says no alcohol, but no one’s paying attention, or has to, on New Year’s night. Continue reading
I say I don’t get what men do, but then I remember that time that you wanted me so badly, I couldn’t say no. I had to give in to it, just to appease you, for the moment, and to entertain myself.
I told you all the pretty little lies you ever wanted to hear. I kissed you like it was the end of the world and moaned in unison and faked my orgasms and gave fumes to your fantasy.
We talked about the wedding that would never happen and the children we’d never have and the look in your eyes was just marvelous, darling.
If you’ve never been to a sex party before, you are probably imagining it to be either something decadent and well-staged like Eyes Wide Shut, or something lame and disgusting, full of old, aggressive, unattractive people and the guys wanking off in the corner by themselves.
The truth is that orgies are either somewhere in between or nothing like either of those. They are full of real people, which includes the young and the old, the hot and the not-so-hot and everyone in between (unless it’s a young-and-hot-people-only party, which do exist). And the other thing is: a lot of funny shit happens at orgies. Hey, if you can’t laugh at yourself, or laugh at all the intricate kinky play we try to engage in (and sometimes/often fail at), then you probably don’t have a good sense of humor and don’t belong at an orgy anyway.
Here are some of my favorite funny moments from orgies: Continue reading
I’d come over his place for coffin sessions once a month or so. We always planned it ahead of time. He knew what I was there for. As soon as I’d walk in the door, he’d pick me up, carry me to the basement and place me in the coffin, which was already open for me to lie down in. We didn’t speak. For all intents and purposes, I was already a corpse. He’d then close the lid and leave me there for a while. I never really knew how long “a while” was until I got out and asked him. Sometimes it’d be just half an hour. Other times it’d be two hours or more. All sense of time tends to lose meaning once you’re in that black hole.
When I’d make plans with him, it’d also be quick and easy. I’d e-mail or text him asking if I can come over on a specific day or time and he’d say yes or suggest another time and we’d both know it was for this. If I wanted to see him for anything else, I’d usually ask him out or to come over. Otherwise, he knew what was up. Continue reading
The trouble with New Year’s is that we always expect some grandiose celebration; something epic to happen. Even as I write this word (epic), I’m cringing, because it’s become one of those overused meaningless words. In my world, every weekend is an “epic party” (Guys: would you please cease and desist with that word? Surely every weekend can’t actually be EPIC! Srsly).
That’s the thing, though, that just like every weekend isn’t epic, neither is New Year’s, usually. It’s just another night out, when the calendar year happens to be turning over and most people’s expectations for the night are way too high. And then they wind up disappointed that nothing “OMG-worthy” happened. I’ve personally stopped expecting amazing things from New Year’s. Usually, I’ll go out with friends and hope to have a fun time, but, you know, the way I would on any night out with friends. I don’t expect it to be the second coming of Christ or anything. Continue reading