Posts Tagged misadventures

Two-way street

Not relevant at all but this is my 100th post on this blog!!! Thank you so much to everyone who reads it, whether you’ve been here since day one or today is your first day reading. A special thanks also to Sparkles, Purple and Lady in Red for coming up with the idea in the first place and encouraging me to start this!

When the Boyfriend and I first got together and had just discussed the ground rules and parameters of how open our relationship would be, he mentioned it to a couple and friends and relatives of his, at least two of whom expressed the same concern: that it was all well and good for me to be okay about myself sleeping with other people, but that I might feel differently about things when the Boyfriend went and did the same.

To be honest it was a concern that hadn’t occurred to me, but when he mentioned it to me I realised that it was a valid once since in most if not all of my previous relationships – granted, the last one ended in August 2011 and I’d like to think I’ve grown a great deal since then –  I have been a jealous lover. So I told him that when he hooked up with someone else, if I did react badly to it, we’d sit down and talk about it and reassess what our arrangement is – fairly reasonable, no? We both thought so anyway.

He came over this weekend – I was only gone for a week, stressful ferry journey back but very good and inspiring week away – and before he did so told me he had some “weird news” for me; when he got here (with his brother who was visiting him for the weekend) I asked what that news would be and it was his brother who told me that the Boyfriend had indeed hooked up with someone else the previous night when they were out. I was a bit taken aback, because it wasn’t what I had expected to hear (there’s a bit of an odd situation involving his ex and someone else we know going on so I’d expected it to be about that but apparently we’ve moved on from there) .

We didn’t really go into the details there in the kitchen – I’m sure his brother wouldn’t have wanted to know all the gory details anyway – but I brought it up during our pillow talk that night. I asked him what had happened and how it was, which I’m not going to go into here because it’s not my story to tell; and then we spoke about how I felt about it. I can honestly say I was actually quite happy about the whole thing, which even surprised me a little bit. There were two or three main reasons for this, the main one being that I no longer had to worry about my reacting badly to it, like his friends had worried I might, since that had been in the back of my mind; it means that the relationship is more in-balance, since me sleeping with other people when he hasn’t been could have caused resentment and a sense of unfairness; and also, I think it’ll have done his self esteem very good, which makes him happier and in turn makes me happier to. When we were first discussing these things he rather self-deprecatingly said that it didn’t matter too much since he only had “a theoretical chance at casual sex anyway,” which I disagreed with, but now he knows that’s not true.

So everyone’s a winner – he got some sex while I was gone, whoever this other guy is (he doesn’t know his name) got some too, I’m happier about or relationship and the Boyfriend seems to be as well. I don’t think we could ask for a better outcome to your partner hooking up with someone else!

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Visiting Magenta, part 2!

The next day was Saturday, and Magenta and I had a fairly quiet day in the house not doing an awful lot but hanging out in pleasant company. That night was the concert from a band we both really love, Jennifer Rostock (video from the concert, not taken by me, at the bottom of the post!). It was a really enjoyable concert, there was a lot of audience interaction and getting people on the stage and they played for a good while, though I forget quite how long they were on stage for. The keyboardist at one point – appropriately just before they did a mash-up of Lady Gaga’s Born This Way and perennial Eurovision schlager hit Er Gehört zu Mir – proposed to his boyfriend on stage, in front of three and a half thousand people (and to the surprise of even the rest of the band members, one of whom cried). Of course, his boyfriend accepted – you’d have to be a real bastard to say no in front of that many people, I suppose, though by the same token you’d have to be pretty damn certain that your other half was going to say yes before you pulled a stunt like that!

Following on from the concert, we went to another sex party, but oh dear, this one was not good. Really not good. Imagine what someone really reserved might picture when the phrase “sex party” comes up – it really was a bar full largely of creepy old men and women, and we stayed for less than ten minutes. They annoyingly still charged us full price for entry though, the staff were really not very friendly. I don’t recommend this one (though annoyingly I can’t tell you specifically where it was because I can’t remember the street name. The nearest U-Bahn Station to it is Görlitzer Bahnhof, if that’s any help to you).

On the Monday night (I know, who goes out on a Monday?) we went to a karaoke bar. I know what you’re thinking but wait no, it was actually quite cool. There were maybe a dozen or so booths that could fit various numbers of people in them, and each booth had its own karaoke system installed so you could just stay in a booth with your friends all night if you wanted – and six nights of the week, that’s what people do, you book a booth and pay by the hour. On Monday though, they have their what they call “multiSEXualBOXhopping”, so essentially a queer night in a karaoke bar and you could pop in and out of other peoples’ booths as much as you liked and sing along! Such fun!

I love this series.

On Tuesday evening, we visited another sex shop –  a queer, feminist, organic, vegan sex shop. Is there anything more Berlin? It’s called Other Nature and I’d really encourage you to check it out if you’re in the area, the people are very cool and they have a lot of interesting stuff!  Anyway we were there not only to peruse their many organic sex toys and leather free whips, but also because a friend of Magenta’s was holding a bondage for beginners workshop there that night. Now, I’ve never done bondage before, and I didn’t think it was the kind of thing that I was into, but I thought since I had the chance I might as well have a crack at the whip, as it were, since there was a professional there to show me the ropes (I’m so good at puns! Ha). It was a short workshop – only two hours – where she first spoke about different types of ropes and then showed a basic type of tying up that can be used on a variety of body parts and which was surprisingly easy to learn. I’m actually quite keen to get to try some of it out in the bedroom now and see what fun can be had with a tied up person/while tied. Of course, because of the risks and vulnerability involved, I’m not going to do that with someone I don’t know very well or don’t trust intimately (in both senses of the word), so when I will get to try that out is another question. (That said, I do have a person in mind but that’s another story for Friday).

After the workshop, we went for a coffee with the woman who ran it, her boyfriend (or maybe husband, I’m not sure… anyway they’re polyamorous and have been together for years and years and are, I think, a good example of making an open relationship work), and a friend of Magenta’s. As I was chatting with the woman who ran it she commented that she hoped I hadn’t found it too basic having done bondage before. “What? No, I’ve never tried it before, this was my first time”. She raised her eyebrows while taking a drag on her cigarette. “Really?” (Exhalation of smoke) “It looked like you knew what you were doing, your knots looked really good”. So there we go, I’m a natural at tying people up, it would seem.

All good things, as we know, must come to an end, but not without a proper goodbye party; so on Wednesday night Magenta and I, along with her friend from the day before, decided to hit the dancefloor of Schwuz. From the outside it looks just like a big café which turns into a bar at night – but right at the back, down a staircase and small maze of corridors (and I almost mean that literally), you come to the main part of the club which is huge and a bit hard to describe, really – two dancefloors each playing different sorts of music, separated by a large atrium with the cloakroom and, inexplicably, a ping pong table. Maybe because it was midweek and their drinks menu only showed weekend prices, or maybe because the bar staff were badly trained (or maybe I’m just that charming with my broad grin and shoddy German), but I was consistently undercharged for prosecco the whole night which meant I got quite tipsy, quite quickly, though I wasn’t in a particularly bad state and remember almost everything. Schwuz was a really fun night, and the guys! Ufft! It was like the masculine equivalent of the sex party I described in my last post, except with far far more people. Unfortunately, as with House of Shame, a lot of them were on drugs and one, who was there when we arrived and I spotted immediately, ended up in such a bad state that he passed out in a hallway, paramedics were called and he had to be defibrillated. Seriously, quite scary, but the party went on anyway.

And the next day, I left. It was really sad leaving behind Magenta, and the city which I love like home; and coming back to the place I currently live, which I’ll freely admit is probably the place I’ve lived that I like the least since leaving home in 2007. I had a bit of a cry on the plane, but recovered myself in time for landing which is probably just as well because, as it turns out, I had quite a busy weekend ahead of me – again, that’s a story for Friday! I’ll leave you now with two videos from the concert we were at; one of my favourite songs that band sings, and the marriage proposal (it’s worth a watch even if you don’t understand German, just to see how the band reacted; you can more or less tell what’s going on at each point by the way the crowd/band cheer).


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Misleading

On Wednesday night the LGBT society had a coach trip. Not a “Pensioners going to the seaside” style coach trip, oh no. The city we live in is only known as a city by historical accident, it’s really just a town that happens to have a cathedral and a university. But we’re not far from another city, an actual city, with a variety of bars and nightclubs and buses that run after eleven at night. So we went there to go to a few bars and then a club, and since I’ve not been out clubbing properly in ages (the gay “club” here is a bar with a dancefloor), I decided that it didn’t matter that I had a full day of classes on Thursday, and went.

It was a really fun night actually, some people who do a course that runs parallel to mine came along (the event was called “bring a straight mate,” so I brought four) and I met someone who I know on Tumblr in real life for the first time. Cheeky Fifth’s flatmates were there (he wasn’t), and we had quite a funny situation. His (bisexual, female) flatmate, F, and I made out at one point – it was inevitable, really, it’s been a long time coming; it didn’t go any further than that but still. When the coach got back to our shit excuse for a city, it was freezing. December in northern Europe, should have seen it coming really. It would have taken me a good hour to walk back to my house from where the coach dropped us of so F let me stay at hers. The next morning, dying of a hangover, I dragged myself out of her bed to go to uni and went to get a glass of water. At the bottom of the stairs in F’s house the bathroom is right in front of you and the kitchen is to the right, and when I was going down the stairs F was standing in the hallway talking to Cheeky Fifth who was brusing his teeth in the bathroom. Just at the point she told him she’d made out with me the night before, I walked by in my underwear. The look on his face was priceless.

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Sticks and Stones may break my Bones.

I was so undecided before I started writing this as to whether or not I’d actually publish it because I still am having trouble actually believing it. But I’ve started now so I’ll finish, but this will be a post in two parts so keep your eyes peeled for the next instalment

As you’ll remember from a few blog posts ago, one of the people I’m seeing regularly here is a guy by the name of Lion who did/does porn photos for a company based in a city near here. It turns out one of the other things he does is work – in the cloakroom – for a kink and fetish club that happens once a month in the city. Sunday night was that night for this month, and since I was bored and he promised me free entry, I got the train and went. I was quite apprehensive but if you remember, Magenta from Submissive Sunday started going to similar and presumably better attended parties not so long ago and I remembered how much she’d enjoyed herself. Plus I know Lion, so it’s not totally going in blind. He met me at the station and took me to the club, where true to his word I didn’t pay anything to get in. I changed to sme tight, tiny black underwear and donned the neko gear I alluded to recently, and after being introduced to the owner and some of the staff went to see who I could play with.

Now, I’ll try anything once but for the record being tied up and poked and prodded and whipped is not my idea of fun. I don’t really see the appeal, though if it works for you it’s fine. What I don’t object to though is playing around in a cage with a pretty boy also in his underwear; more or less left to our own devices for the whole night except when Lion was free to come in and join us, Stwc (really) and I got to know each other quite well over the course of the evening. When the time came for me to get my train back Lion came and told me and I said I had do go, Stwc shook his head. “No, you don’t. Stay with me. I’m staying at the manager’s tonight ’cause I’m doing a photo shoot here tomorrow” (He lives just over 200 km away so it doesn’t make sense to do that journey four times in two days). We shouted over the manager to ask him if that would be okay, and he said it would be “but you’ll have to share a bed with Stwc and Lion”. What’s that, you say? Share a bed with two guys both of whom I’m attracted to and both of whom I’ve had fun with? Oh, go on then…

“Come to think of it,” Manager continues, “The guy who Stwc is meant to be doing his photos with tomorrow isn’t someone who we’ve worked with before, there’s every chance he won’t turn up? If he doesn’t do you want his place? It’s paid, obviously” (and paid not badly either). Sure, why not. I’ve seen pictures from the site, it’s nothing too drastic. “Actually, let’s make the photo shoot a threesome. I can’t pay you as much as I normally would since there’ll be three of you, but does [figure 66% of his normal rate] sound okay?” Well, it’s more money than I was expecting to make. And no uni the next day. So, fuck it. I agreed.

After the club closed, Lion, Stwc and I went back to Managers where, feigning exhaustion, we tumbled into bed. We even went through the charade of sorting out who would sleep where and who would spoon who (I slept in the middle and spooned Stwc cause though he’s the oldest, he’s shorter than both Lion and I) and turning out the light and saying goodnight. At one point I started laughing, out loud and slightly maniacally. “This can’t be real,” I said. “I’m in bed with two porn actors. This can’t be happening. This doesn’t happen in real life” except apparently it does, and I shouldn’t have been so surprised because as you all know weird shit happens to me all the time but this was really, really weird.

The tension got too much, after about 90 seconds (paragons of virtue that we are) before Lion tilted my head and kissed me and at the same time I reached out and after misplacing my hand over Stwc’s belly button I moved it down and landed it where it needed to be and began to stroke him through his boxers as Lion got on top of me and pulled down both mine and Stwc’s underwear. Stwc and I were under strict instructions not to cum before the shoot the next day but Lion is very enthusiastic with his oral skills so edged us as much as he could with the two of us making out hungrily (he’s a good kisser) before we finished him off.

We then went to sleep and Lion got up at 6 am to get the train and go to uni. When Stwc and I woke up we made out for a bit before getting ready and meeting our co-star for the day and heading back to the club for the photo shoot… which is another story for another day.

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Overdue

(No, I’m not pregnant).

I’ve been meaning to write this post for almost a week but you know what it’s like, things get in the way. I was in the Big City over the weekend seeing friends and relatives I haven’t seen in a while which was fun, and then this week hit the ground running with studying, translating and interpreting until my ears bled.

Anyway, last Thursday I went out and expected to run into and potentially go home with Cheeky Fifth again; he wasn’t there though, so I scoped out the rest of the talent – the bar is small and was pretty dead this week – and got talking to a boy called A, who as it happens is in the same year and doing the same course as Lion Boy. He was very very nervous and had to drink a bit to be able to keep talking. Bear that in mind, it’s an important detail.

We left after a bit to go back to his (the same bar man has seen me leave with a different guy every week since I moved to this town a month ago, I wonder what he thinks… then again the club I went to back home, the cloakroom guy saw me leaving with a different guy every week for months on end so really I shouldn’t be worried) and got the bus there, so I can only assume it was relatively early. We got back to his tiny bedroom, quietly so as not to wake up his housemates who have apparently never seen him drunk, and went to bed.

The first disaster struck pretty early on when he turned over and elbowed me in the nose pretty hard, and since then if you move my nose it makes this weird clicking noise so it’s probably broken or something. But we got over that, played about a bit – nothing serious and neither of us finished; and since it got to 2am, he said he was tired and could we go to sleep so off the light went and we lay down.

Until.

He stood back up and grabbed the bin from under his desk. Oh no. “Go to the sink!” I said (there was a sink in his room, weirdly) and he vomited. Into the sink. Lovely. So, when he’d calmed down a bit I got him some water, got dressed, and walked home – it took a fucking age and it was freezing. I wasn’t best pleased. Over the weekend though, he text to apologise and asked me if he could take me out for coffee to make it up to me, and being low on cash and caffeine dependant, I accepted. So on Monday we went to what was actually a really nice café-bar across the river from where I live, and had a nice time for a couple of hours. He was nervous again but at least didn’t cover the nerves with vodka this time and he was funny in parts. We said goodbye, I went to uni for a horrendous lecture on globalisation (I get why I need to know it to do what I’m doing but that doesn’t mean I like it) and then went home.

On the bus home he text again to say he’d enjoyed himself and that he wanted to see me again; so I asked if he wanted to come over to watch a film, and he agreed. We all know what that means. So over he came and this time managed not to punch me in the face or vomit at any point. He took for fucking ever to cum though – seriously, like two hours, and he was SO quiet. There’s nothing worse than someone who is quiet in bed. Rule of thumb: If you’re not making any noise, I can’t tell if you like what I’m doing or not, so fucking tell me what you like!! It’s really very simple! He did eventually cum though, and then finished me off (I like to make sure the other person cums first a lot of the time, I’m not sure why. I think it’s an ego thing, sort of Look what I made this person do, they must think I’m really hot which in turn boosts my own orgasm when it comes/cums. Why the fact that they’re in bed with me isn’t validation enough I don’t know but there you go. I clearly have issues but then the fact that I write this blog is indication enough of that. Why am I saying this? Shut up, Dexxx). Because he had a 9am lecture the next day he left, and I went to sleep. Will I see him again? I don’t know to be honest but I’m tending towards no. To be completely honest I’m still holding out hope on Cheeky Fifth making a reappearance, though every time I run into him in town or on campus it seems less and less likely so maybe I should stop hoping for that and move the fuck on. Wow, I’m swearing a lot today.

In other news I saw Lion Boy again last night. Remember I mentioned that he had some kinks that I was hoping to explore with him? I’m not sure how much detail I’m going to go into here, so for now I’ll just say “neko boy” and leave it up to you whether or not you want to google that.

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Flashback Friday: Sociopathic Wednesday

This is probably one of my favourite stories, and it’s been known amongst my friends as Sociopathic Wednesday for quite some time. About this time last year, the LGBT society of the uni I was at held a cheese and wine night/social event for everyone to mingle and get to know each other. This is where I met Pan, who if you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time you’ll know I had quite the crush on for most of last winter. That night he went out but I didn’t, which I think might have been the only time I didn’t go out on a Wednesday night during my last year at uni.

The next week at another event, another friend and I were arranging to go out afterwards and convinced Pan to come with us. “I don’t have any money though” – “It’s fine, it’s free to get in, you can walk home, I’ll buy you a drink…” so he came.

In the club, halfway through the pint I’d fucking paid for, he casually drops into conversation that “this guy I went home with last week is here, I’m really excited to see him again” or words to that effect and off he fucks to go find him. Not twenty minutes later he’s back beside us on the dancefloor, having been flatly turned down by said mystery man. Pan is rejected, Dexxx is rejected, everyone’s a loser. Brilliant night out.

Fast forward a fortnight and the LGBT society – in retrospect this thing was really my downfall last year, but I loved it all the same – had a speed dating night. Pan wasn’t there but halfway through the night I found myself talking to the guy he had had the hots for. (I assume I’d done some fair amount of Facebook stalking in the meantime to be able to work this out). I thought to myself, would it not be poetic justice if I could have sex with him?
This is the point in the story when Hitraya invariably interjects with “I don’t think you know what poetic justice means, Dexxx. It doesn’t just mean being a bitch”.

There was a noticeboard for us to leave anonymous messages to that night, so I left a note for mysterious Irish man: “Number 21: your accent alone could make me cum”. He worked out that it was from me (probably because I signed it) and said to me that he’s see me in the club later. Shit, I thought, I’m meeting Pan in the club… only one thing for it…

“Yeah, or we could just cut out the middle man and go straight back to yours now”
“… I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not”
And Rosaceae, bless her, turns around and says “Trust me, he is”. So we went. I wrote a message to Pan telling him I’d pulled so I would be late, and we went back to Irish Man’s place via the pub for a cheeky pint. The sex was quite rough, he was every inch a top, and with his window being open (ground floor flat too), people going by must have heard more than they ever wanted to. He came first, but kept fucking me until I came too, and then we both got dressed and he went to meet his friends and I jumped in a taxi and met Pan in the club.

“Nice hickeys,” he said when he saw me. “Who was the guy?”
“Oh, some postgrad from Ireland, studies Law…”
“Not R?!”
“Yeah, that was his name!”
“That’s the guy I was seeing!!”
“Really? Wow, I had no idea. Small world.”

That weekend I found myself at a party having a conversation with the two of them at once, and the only way to deal with that situation was to down a bottle of wine quite quickly and the rest of the night is a bit of a blur, but apparently they went home together that night too.

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First impressions

So far, so good in this bizarre little place in which I find myself. As I kind of thought would happen, the boy who was supposed to come on Saturday night cancelled last minute, leaving me to rage for a little before I texted around some other potentials and one, it turned out, was free at the time so he came over and we had sex three times. I’m calling him The Sardine, because he’s Sardinian. His English wasn’t so great but as luck would have it I speak fluent, near-flawless Italian so we got on ok – and he should be coming back over some time this week.

This morning brought a brand-new experience for me in the form of the hands-free orgasm. A married businessman (yep, I’m that person now) who I’ve been in touch with for a few weeks took a much-needed break from the office and came round mine. He wasn’t there for very long and to be honest, when he got his dick out I didn’t think I’d be able to take it but with a bit of perseverance I did get it in and started to enjoy it… a bit too much, I realised, when a few minutes later I felt like I was cumming – and looked down to see that, indeed, I was. Well done Man In Suit, for doing what (so far) no one else has managed to achieve! I actually thought it was a bit of a myth that that could happen but there you go, it’s true.

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