Saturday 9/4/10 6:57 P.M.
Just home from the pier
I don’t remind myself of Carrie Bradshaw very much, but she did have that sex column.
There’s a scene from Sex and the City where the episode opens with Carrie’s narration on the first leaf to fall. About how the temperature shifts and the summer blanket is finally put away. One single, monumental leaf.
Well I happen to live on Carrie’s street – just a few doors away, actually – and I can tell you that our trees don’t drop just the one. First, it’s the ornamental pear tree. Over night, one of them puts its limb-hands on its trunk-hips, scrunches its big leafy brow, and sassily exclaims, “This weather is fuuuucked up yo.“ Its leaves change color and roughly one-fourth of them fall, perhaps together.
we know that summertime,
in our quaint
ly expensive little village,
has quietly blown
its final breath
Then the other trees catch on and begin their own chilly conspiracies.
Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö Ö
I’m home now, but I started writing this by the water. I only stayed for fifteen minutes due to the final band of Hurricane Earl. Way too cold and windy, especially in a tank top.
Looks like Summer 2010 is officially “ago.”
The first time I made my way to a sex party, I stood outside for a few minutes, then turned right around and walked away. I couldn’t do it. I was too nervous. I didn’t like that feeling and I couldn’t imagine it being conducive to having sex. I wasn’t even sure they’d let me in.
That club wss called Jay’s, and it closed years before I went to my first actual party. If I’d have known that the floor beneath me wasn’t going to swallow me whole...or that I wouldn’t run into someone I knew...I probably would’ve gone in and my history might have been quite different.
Anyway, here is what you can expect at one of my parties.
They’re held in my apartment in the West Village, which is a nice neighborhood. It’s pretty quiet; the bar crowds are blocks away. My building is well lit and safe. Once I buzz you in, take a few steps; we’re the first door on your right.
I greet you at the door and welcome you inside. I'll either be in my underwear or I'll have the underwear hanging from a lubed hard-on, breathing heavily. With a strip of blue light running through the hall, it’s dimly lit, but not dark. I prefer guys to walk in quickly, as the fog machine may be on, and...well...
To your left is a curtain; you follow me to the right. I will shake your hand and introduce myself, then ask for your email address so I can mark you in. I’ll also ask for your zodiac sign (so don’t look at me like that). You’ll get a bag with your number on it, into which you’ll put your clothes and shoes (small bag too if they’re wet). I prefer your shoes off, but I’ll allow it if they’re part of what makes you feel sexy. You can wear whatever you want, but guys are usually naked or in underwear. You’ll give the bag back to me.
The Club House is very clean. I regularly spray and wipe the bathroom floor, and the whole toilet, during a party. The tub is clean, so you can feel comfortable taking a shower (just leave the door open so guys can piss and clean up). The supplies don’t run out and are promptly re-stocked.
This is not a large space, like a “mall party.” There’s one main playroom, with a sling, a bed, and a glory hole. If you get here early, there may be only a few guys, who are hopefully engaged, but not always. You may be the first, but it’s cool. There are usually guys coming straight from work. It’s DWYW, first hour, to encourage more guys to come then.
A slow night is fourteen guys, while a busy night is thirty. Usually, it’s over twenty. Hotness is much more important here than large numbers. I can manage twenty-to-thirty, alone (which is just how I like it), and it’s much more focused. Less walking between rooms, and more actual sex, more real engagement. A smaller party also lessens the chances of running into a co-worker.
Or a fan. ;)
OK, you’re inside and you’re naked. Past the black curtain, you’ll cross over into a steaming sex sanctuary, lit by candles set in the brick wall. You’ll come upon guys fucking and sucking. Slurping, moaning, groaning. Balls-on-ass slapping. A sex crucible. While you’re getting sucked off by two guys, you’ll look up at the colors around the ceiling, the mirror mosaic, the plated mirrors covering the wall. Then the steam blasts past your ankles through the candlelight, as Comfortably Numb reaches its crescendo.
Take a break. Walk back through the curtain, past the check-in area/kitchen (probably with me standing at the computer), through the blue-lit hall, to the back room. If there isn’t sex happening back there, too, then guys are probably sitting and chatting, maybe someone smoking (the ventilation fan is awesome). That room is small, with chairs and a bench, a lava lamp, and a very cool window motif done with plated mirrors around all the wall space. The walls and ceiling are navy blue, as are the silk drapes. It’s the Mirror Room, but I also call it Xanadu
We are normal, every-day, racially diverse men. Guys who own homes, guys we work with, some married, and who may or may not go to the gym. Most guys are height/weight proportional, ranging from “in great shape” to “in bad shape.” I look for grown men who are unentitled, fun, reasonable adults with a penchant for sex, and who know that it’s their own responsibility for their own good time. I look for sophisticated guys who are not high maintenance, and don’t ask a lot of questions. For this reason, it’s a club for men over thirty-five. Certainly, not all twenty-somethings are high maintenancee, nervous, or ask a lot of questions, but most of those kinds of guys who’ve come, have happened to be younger. That has been my experience, and I am nothing, but for my experience.
Just be cool and we’ll be cool.
As your host, I want your experience to be a great one. I want to see you walk through that curtain, with your hair matted, catching your breath, wiping off your cock, and headed for the bathroom. With most guys, that happens at least once, but that is no guarantee. I may want for you to have a great time, even as much as you do, but there can never be a guarantee.
The Club House is meant to be a sanctuary, a space where you can forget about the stresses of your everyday life, and to feel accepted.
Hot holes are scheduled by the half-hour to get abused in the sling.
ATTENTION ALL GANGBANG BOTTOMS ON MY LIST:
Is it your fantasy to get gangbanged by a group of horny guys who just had a hard day at work? Are you hot in a sling?
On Wednesday, September 29th, we will debut a new kind of party, called HÖLE, which is a series of gangbangs scheduled from 9PM to 12AM (the party is 8PM to 1AM).
Here’s how it works:
Each Gangbang Bottom (GBB) ia scheduled for a half-hour in the sling. To “apply,” he emails a picture of his ass to me, which will be included on the blog and in subsequent emails (I will crop out any facial or other identifying features), until end of the party. This way, tops will know what to expect and when to expect it. Same for you. And by the blog response, they will also tell me who gets scheduled. The deadline for response is the Sunday 9/26 SIR party. I will schedule you, not the other way around, for the half-hour slot. I will also provide a blindfold if you want it.
So email a pic to me ASAP if you want to participate. Please be sure to note if you’re safe or bareback.
The Örgy Guy