Believe it or not I do associate with black people sometimes and recently I've had three conversations about the same exact thing: Germans.
The first was with a performer from London who I met at a variety show. We started off with the obligatory Berliner questions - both dubiously boasting about our commonplace 2.5 year sojourn here and he markedly spat out the poignant, "If I stay here, I will die."
The next black brethren came of acquaintance during one of THOSE sex parties where we were the fabled exotic feast for two Germans to realize that quintessential fantasy of partaking in chocolate delicacy. He was a newcomer to Berlin by way of Paris and he too mentioned, "These Germans are killing me."
The most recent exchange came from an African-American from New York, the big brother of my hometown Philadelphia. He just so happens to be the new lover of my ex Herr Grosses (search this blog for posts) and after we partook in those how-do-you-do clauses and he mentioned that he liked Berlin he added, "...but the Germans...".
It seems we all came to Berlin drawn in by the Teutonic version of the species, trying to solve the problem of our desires with an desperate attempt to define the solution.
The cause is the cure.
I mention these three stories because I know I do a lot of German bashing in my posts (in this blog and through other social media) in some semblance to veil my adoration for them, "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em." What first started as an outright attraction has turned to somewhat of an addiction. In a way I regret not heeding to the warning that I received in June of 2011 when I first moved to Berlin...
I was checking my bag at the airport and I was talking to another black guy, a man well into his years of 60, virtually toothless and wreaking of wisdom. He checked my ticket and let out a pained laugh in spite of himself. The Cassandra portent leaked out thereafter: "Be careful over there, those Germans go crazy for the dark meat!"
My Creature Collection is complete.
I have no need (or room) for any more German animals in my zoo. Over the past three days I have decided that I will wholeheartedly end my pursuit to fulfill these blasted preferences of mine. While it would be nice to have one prized pet - I am well aware of the impossibility of this desire.
I am a full fledged proponent of objectifying people, no matter how much it is a constant tumult for me to enjoy the company of others, most recently duly noted by the statement, "You are sexy, you have a wonderful body and a great face, you should not have any problems." All three of those things are the reason I have so many problems.
With the advent of dating sites and smartphone apps where you are afforded the dubious luxury to use checkboxes to find a "suitable" mate, it is virtually impossible not to succumb to this affectation. Especially in the gay world where there is no real sense of community, you cannot meet a person and be judged by the content of your character - it is all precursor'd by requirements and requests. Long gone are the good old days of the anxiety that came from wondering if a guy is a top or bottom as a "suitable" match. Post AIDS and HIV crisis, there are now the evident matters of what kind of sex people are into i.e. vanilla, kinky, bareback, fisting, piss - etc.
I'll use three recent stories to describe my blasphemous tendencies of hypocrisy in describing my preferences and how they play out in my sex life. I'll use physical and emotional nuances to describe my tastes therein.
---------------------------1. The Thick and Hairy Southern German
"He walks like a Bavarian," I uttered to a friend as we were driving back home from a movie.
"What do you mean?" he wondered and I explained that due to my study of movement and psychology in my dance studies it comes very naturally to me to notice certain motifs in cultures as they apply to physicality.
The man in question was walking kind of bowlegged, with his feet pointed towards 11 o'clock and 1 o'clock as his arms flailed strongly and steadily in an almost primate-like motion, back and forth.
"Bavarians swing their arms back and forth like that," I noted with such a heinous albeit well researched stereotype. I went on to ask why it is that Northern Germans so often walk with their hands clasped behind their backs - he claimed he never noticed this.
"NOW" - read the SMS on my phone, an all too typical reaction from a German when I use the word "No" to respond to a request. Now I make a joke about how they like to add the letter "W" to the end as some sort of language barrier semantics issue, but it's not funny, and it happens a lot.
I've always been attracted to thick hairy guys.
While I hold true to form in this also typical way of black guys, I am a firm believer that it must be genetic. In many gay interracial relationships between black and white, you can see definite patterns in the look of both guys - a formidable text book case of opposites attract. Take a look for yourself, I'm not going to force feed you the evidence.
Out of all of my fetishes - the biggest one being fetish itself, I am most turned on by body hair - though admittedly I stray from people with hair. I like bald heads and I have a very clear sense of my reasoning for this.
I don't like guys that use hair products. On the rare occasions that I fuck a guy with hair on his head, the whole essence of manhood is destroyed for me when I touch hair that has been coated or tampered with by some substance. Call me crazy (or worse) but I just don't like the feeling of sticky, hard hair on my fingers. I've fucked/dated guys with long hair and they did not use any products in their hair, and it was quite nice to run my fingers through it or to pull on it when I fucked them doggy style. I guess it goes back to this ridiculous self-loathing desire of gay males to seek out this hyper-masculine image. I'm not attracted to men who do a lot of primping and the Cro-Magnon look of a shaved head is very attractive to me.
I gave into the Bavarian's persistence - there is something about determination and persistence that can really woo me over (as long as it does not transcend to psychosis). This Capricorn loves a hardworking man, so despite his rather rude demand of "NOW" I thought that we would and should have some fun together since the timing was right.
He had already came over earlier that day. In my other DeVo personality incarnate, I asked him to come play with some friends of mine and me. When he arrived I had one on the bed, naked, on his stomach and wearing The Red Hanky. The other was off on the couch, also naked, and playing with Youtube on his computer. I was wearing a jockstrap.
The Bavarian was taken aback by the scene and spat out some German that hinted at his trepidation. "Tut mir leid, aber das ist Berlin
!", I explained, and after he gave me an eye while the others weren't looking that said "I want you, not them, NOW," I knew that I would have to arrange something with him one-on-one to fulfill HIS fantasy not MINE. I was really hoping that my game would be fun and successful, but again I played to lose.
"Fucking Germans!" I yelled at him as he came through the threshold a half hour early in typical Teutonic fashion.
He apologized and offered to come back a bit later but I was so pissed off I just told him he had to sit and wait on the couch (all in broken Denglish as his English was more horrible than my German).
I was still cleaning up the sleaze from my earlier engagement, the wake all over the apartment - and I was rushing around like some tour bus whore getting ready for the next trip. He kept asking me those stupid fucking Berliner questions and after I exhausted my German I basically told him to shut the fuck up so I could finish what I should've been doing instead of already entertaining him.
We had a coffee and then got down to business.
He looked and smelled married. This is not really an assumption as I am very deft at this sort of acknowledgement in all of my years of enduring my Marilyn Monroe Syndrome. I dared not ask him about it - I knew very well that this man was going to serve a certain purpose; he would be what the Germans call a hengst
in my creature collection.
He was very nervous about himself in comparison to my much mentioned face, body and overall sexiness and I was jaded from his compliments after 2.5 seconds. I was already mostly naked when we started kissing after I asked him what his sign was. He was an Aquarius so I knew that the sex was going to be spectacular but I would write him off for being too eccentric otherwise.
We were on the couch, and in typical Berliner fashion, this was deemed a truly acceptable place to fuck (or any other place really), so I lead the way to the bed and then it happened.
He took off his sweatpants (schnellfickenhosen
) and t-shirt and low and behold the masterpiece stood before me: The Thick and Hairy Southern German.
We have sayings in the USA like, "He's a cornfed boy" or "There must be something in the water". Both of these adages stand true to form in reference to a large percentage of the population of parts of southern Germany where this man hailed from. They are made more durable and long lasting in this section of the country - maybe it's all the bratwurst and beer, I don't know, but this dude was built like a brick Scheissehaus
He had something just short of a barrel chest
, with thick, centaur-like haunches, properly placed body fat, and tight arms that looked like they did blue collar work. He had light eyes and a small coating of dark dark dark hair on his head and face (it looks like his 5 o'clock shadow grows faster than Homer Simpson's) and he was covered in hair EVERYWHERE - including his back.
"Is this okay?" he kept saying in the only English he could speak, looking down at his animal body and then looking up at mine. "Das ist sehr gut! Ich mag das!
", I replied with my legs wide open and my eyes all spread.
His prick shot out from a dark nest of a bush and was surprisingly circumcised at just about 7 inches. I almost started crying and clapping when I took note of this: a large percentage of my Creatures bare foreskin and even after 5 years of European cock, it is still taking some getting used to. You know what they say, "You can take the American out of America..."
What happened next was nothing short of a scene out of a porno.
After I spent hours upon hours with two very virile Germans who satisfied my sleazy side without a lot of sex, this Bavarian filled me with the unadulterated fuck that I had been craving.
The kissing and foreplay lasted for only about a minute, which is exactly how I like it. He tried to spit it in - and thought the timing and prospect was hot, I insisted on some sexual accouterment to make things a little bit safer for us in more ways than one.
We started in the missionary position and when he first entered I screamed. Not only because it hurt (his dick was as hard as ice) but because I was so happy. He came down and kissed me again, but I was not trying to have any of that. I did that thing you do when you bring a guy's chest closer to you so you can feel as much (hairy) flesh on your body as possible and you turn your head to the side and close your eyes so you can feel every single element of fucking. With this he took the cue and tore my ass up. He could feel my hunger - and in someway, thanks to his insecurities, he tried harder and better than any run-of-the-mill pretty boy would even feel the need to attempt.
So, what was so porn scene about it you ask? Well, it was three things that happened that made this pornographic.
First of all, he picked me up. Yes, he pushed me around and flipped me over and just generally controlled me physically in every way, but when the position needed me to get up off the bed, he wrapped myself around him, twisted me around, literally picked me up and threw me down and proceeded with the laying of the pipe
Next, the truest and best (if done correctly) way to my heart is a sharp and witty unexpected SLAP to my ass. It came as a surprise and with this my evil grin came out and I moaned, "Ummhmmph" to let him know it was not only okay but to please continue, NOW. Then the spanking came in intervals.
The third and most wonderful porn star thing he did was kind of an accident. To sugarcoat the occurrence, I will say that a little bit of the evidence from my sex session prior to the one I was engaged in before The Bavarian arrived began to leak out of my asshole. I felt it dripping out when he pulled out his plunger of a cock and he looked down at it and then at me and then back at the sloppy hole and said, "Du bist Sau!
" and began to thirstily sop up the mess that was coming out of me. "Oh God," I prayed (though this was more of my prayers being answered), and closed my eyes again.
-------------------------2. The Young Lanky Junkie Waif
To my own chagrin, my preferences have evolved a little bit and I am fascinated with a certain breed of Berliner that is a dime a dozen. These are the skinny, depraved and demented kids of Berlin, sometimes called "The Lost Boys", who usually fit into a category rife with escapism tendencies and start fornicating very early in life, some of them taking two fists in their lonely holes by the age of 25.
Their stories are sad from the outside looking in, but many of them are not so pressed with this perspective. It is no secret that whore Berlin is where people come for sex, drugs, techno music and to see what the Nazis did (or to do Nazis, literally). This younger generation fascinates me with their recluse and reckless behavior, and being on the border of Gen Y and Gen X gives me a reputable plateau with which to view the glowing landscape of these precious endangered children of the porn.
As mentioned in one of my recent posts, at 35 I am swinging in light of that Post Twink Pre Daddy Phase where these kids are starting to approach me in their quarter-life crisis, usurping the desires of my long lived experiences with mid-life crisis dudes. Of course my preference leans towards the older men, but now that I am becoming one of them myself I am giving in to my attraction to guys younger than me or my same age.
I first met The Happiest German a little over a month ago - and it pained me just a little bit to accept his invitation to a threesome (I really loathe threesomes more and more each day) but the fact that he was a Thick and Hairy Southern German there was no way I could refuse.
I found out very quickly that he was not only my type on the outside but on the inside as well after a few moments of being with him he was asking me to put a speculum into his ass and to fuck him with my balls.
He is always smiling - something so rare to see in Germans, and for some reason it fills me with comfort and warmth. I don't know if it is because it is such a rarity in Berlin to see someone emoting something other than anger, or just that he has one of those affable presences that is infectious.
Despite my qualms, the first meeting with him (and another nice, quiet, and quasi sleazy German) went well and our hunger for each other otherwise led us to agree to a one-on-one meeting in the future.HIM: Are you looking for live?
ME: Am I looking for live now? No. Am I looking for live with you? Yes.
I was just finishing up my work for the day when he arrived with his effervescent smile that almost blew me over. He was cuter and harrier than I remembered and he was wearing a polo shirt (I have this weird Daddy thing attraction to guys in polo shirts) and decided very quickly that we would go back to his place and spend the evening together.
After a lot of getting to know each other physically and verbally I noted him for being one of my special interest Creatures as out of all of them for me he has the most compelling fetish interests, reason being they are compatible with mine. Though I will accept any offer of a pig telling me what he likes and I will take it in with open minded arms, The Happiest German has this disarming dark side that I love that isn't so dark at all and matches his bright smile. He very easily goes into subspace
when confronted by his fetish interests and it is not a journey into a void or for the purposes of escapism - it is a pure joy for him to get in touch with the essence of pleasure, and this is a safe ride that I would like to extend the journey of - especially a new interest of mine that I dabbled with in the past but have not yet fully realized the way I want to, that of breath control.
The Happiest German is also very interested in group sex and agrees with me that three is a bad number and four is better for all involved so no one gets left out. He encouraged me to invite over one of the many couples I knew but that was a bust because in Berlin it is very rare that you can get a person to leave their house to travel for sex; it's absurd.
It was a good draw for us both because we both have varying tastes (though my three major influences are mentioned here in this post) and with the two of us together we could get a younger guy to come over or an older guy or whatever in between. We tried and tried to no avail, with several cancellations happening, and then we got what we wanted - the perfect specimen of pig.
Swine is the name he gave himself. This is not my categorization of him. This is not my suggestion. This is not a pseudonym I am giving him. He named himself.
"Nee, ich bin Swine
," were his exact words in context after The Happiest German asked if he wanted to take a shower before he left. He was very dirty.
I will say that I was extremely biased in becoming smitten with this lanky young filthy looking breed, with his veins poking out of his skin, his bloodshot hazel eyes, and scatter cut dark hair because he was a Scorpio. He was a boy of few words, extremely mysterious and he looked like he ran away from home and hitchhiked to get a ride over to us. I was mesmerized by him right away and I knew that the threesome element of our disposition was going to cause some problems.
Before long the three of us were naked and in full tilt sleaze mode. All of my forethought came to the surface in my statement to him after my own personal astrological obligatory question came during our introduction. "Oh, I'm going to have a lot of fun with you."
What I love about Scorpios is that they are the most sexual sign on the zodiac but the best sex that they give and get involves no intercourse.
The only thing I knew about this guy beforehand was that he was into anything and he really liked porn. When I asked him about his fetishes he offered the notion of just going with the flow and that was enough to make me crave the possibilities. And then he brought out the little black box.
Boys and their toys.
While I have my prized possession of The Red Hanky, nothing amuses me more than a boy with lots of sex toys. It is that childlike veneer that attracts me. When I see a man playing with dildos and CBT devices and the like all the while having that face like a kid opening presents at Christmas, I am overcome with the most extreme horniness.
I can sit there and do nothing and enjoy the pleasure of watching someone pleasure themselves with inanimate objects. It is a wonderful marriage of psychology and physicality that I find fascinating.
Swine not only had a fine, small, yet poignant collection of toys and loved to show off and play with them, but he had an endless collection of videos of himself in this act, mostly alone but sometimes with others. And when I say endless, I mean having no end.
"Oh my pet, you are so wonderful."
"Jesus fucking God."
"I love it."
"Yes, yes, yes yes yes."
"You are so fucking disgusting."
I spat out while browsing his collection of self-made porn. His professional porn was vast as well, but I only flipped through a few of those.
Another element of serendipity came from his playing with The Happiest German. Everyone knows now about my voyeur fetish and I made it very clear to the both of them that I get more sexual pleasure from watching two pigs go at it than in joining in. They obliged this intention (I've never met a German who was not excited about the prospect of fulfilling the fantasy of another) in abundance and I can't find the adequate words to describe the feeling I got from this.
They shared common interests as well, which is no feat as they were both literally and figuratively into EVERYTHING. This posed a certain conundrum for me as I am not one to do EVERYTHING in one sitting, but to delay the pleasure and experience, so I was nervous in thinking about what to do and what not to do, and in the end I felt as though I was holding back.
There was something so special about this Swine with his Scorpio eyes that kept turning me to stone. He was so fucking quiet the entire time that I could not read him and I wanted to flip through the chapters of his personality immediately. We had this sort of psychic way of connecting and every so often we would lightly touch each other with full commitment, but in a very subtle way. It was this heightened sense of sexuality that did not involve a lot of sex.
And then his ass.
His hindquarters were nothing short of a miracle. The ass was superfluous with hair and had a tight, almost guarded opening that was puckered with markedly thick flesh that when poked at did not allow easy entry. But when inside, the sweet soft innards of his fuck chute led way to the most appetizing dick kiss I've felt in a long time. I was hooked.
We parted at the same time and I tried my best to shed my attraction to him but it kept getting worse. I changed my route to getting home as did he, and then we waited for our next trains (we were going in opposite directions) and ended up on the same train together. It was obvious that we wanted to spend more time together but neither one of us dared to invite the other back to our place. It was weird, exciting, and maddening sitting across from him on the train, in the full light of day after we just came in touch by sharing our darkest dark sides with each other. I left with a veiled invitation for a future meeting, and I didn't look back when I walked away knowing full well I would be more attractive to him if I did this.
Though his physical statute bared resemblance to this new attraction of mine, it was much more about the essence of being THAT boy that made me hone in on this abominable pigeonhole. His kind of careless and up-for-anything attitude about sex is a direct contradiction to his outwardly Boy Next Door look to him. I'm really starting to dig these Good Boy Bad Boy types. Very very very dangerous.3. The Tall Chiseled Aryan Man
I was pining over Swine for the rest of the day and I still am at this very moment.
I needed a distraction.
There was a German I had been chatting with for quite some time who has quite a bad reputation amongst some of the creatures who have mentioned him - and true to DeVo form, rather than being fended off by the red flags, I was attracted to them.
"You are late!" I heard coming at me in a thick German accent from a Tall Blond Blue Eyed Chiseled Jaw Monster riding his bike up to and next to me. Nobody told me he was tall.
I was shocked by this, but thankful to be knocked out of thoughts of Swine, and admittedly The Antihero who keeps popping in and out of my brain accidentally on purpose. This was the guy I was going to meet for the first time who I heard was "a little crazy," and "a total bottom" - two parts of the necessary trifecta that I've imposed on myself to sanction meeting new guys (side note: I have a fetish for the challenge of getting fucked by bottoms and fucking tops). The third element was that he did not fit into my normal physical/sleazy type, something I've been trying to alleviate.
This man was so alarmingly German I retorted to everything he did and said in my subdued Bimbo mode. I forgot how to do everything when I was around him - I was a damsel in distress and he took up the hero role beyond adequately.
"I stink, and I didn't take a shower," I offered as he got close to me on the couch and leaned in for a kiss. "You can take a shower, no problem," he offered back and this allowed me to put him into the proverbial cage of Nice Clean Creature. I don't remember the last time I hooked up with a guy who didn't tell me NOT to take a shower.
I've had several bouts and doubts with myself about the nice guy types because I am so heavily turned on by men with more creative sexual interests, plain and simple. But then I battle with myself because sometimes all I want is plain and simple.
For example, there was one time I was screaming bloody murder while sitting on the toilet trying to fish out half a cucumber that was stuck up my ass via the perverted desire of a sleazy German, "I JUST WANT TO HAVE NORMAL SEX!", I cried out that was followed by the disturbing and loud sound of the poor condom wrapped vegetable making its big splash debut into the commode. Sometimes too much is too much.
He was so tall. Nobody told me he was tall.
He started like everyone does with the questions and I told him I wanted to refrain. After the shower I told him I was shy and he said, "But you are American," and I gave the rebuttal, "But I was Catholic once!"
He did what all tall guys do (again, nobody told me he was tall), he quickly jumped into bed and laid on his back, not only not able to predict or control where his uber
long limbs might flail, but in shame of them as well.
He somehow knew about the trifecta of getting what he wants from me: The Kiss, The Nipples, The Hole.
I don't know if there is some sort of modern day gay German STASI where all details of reports of sexual exchanges with foreigners are reported and kept on a native accessible database where Germans can devise ruses to seduce and control immigrants with auspicious sexual tactics or what - but he knew exactly what to do.
It was clean, amazing, daytime sex that quickly became tested by the darkness once again.
All humor aside, this is one of the funniest things that has happened to me in a long time. I don't mean funny ha ha but funny as in uncanny.
So I am sitting on his face, like I usually do with Germans, and I am trying my best to avoid one of the biggest cocks I've ever seen in my life and I am just starting to get into it and I relax for a moment and all of a sudden I hear him coughing wildly and pushing me off of him. He runs to the bathroom and starts spitting and coughing and dry heaving and I sat there mortified not knowing if I wanted to know what happened.
"Are you okay?" I dared.
"You had some water inside. Komst hier
toilet and push it out," he demanded.
I stood at the entrance to the bathroom and held my face in my hand. "Oh my God, Oh my God. Das ist peinlich
!", I said, completely confused and very bothered by the whole thing. I just wanted to run out the door and leave and this because of three reasons.
First, I've been thinking a lot about this whole bottoming business and how much I hate cleaning out my ass. Subjecting a top to Santorum
is the most embarrassing thing that can happen to a bottom.
Second, my usual creatures would have been thrilled had I squirted on their face and into their mouths any kind of liquid of any kind (see: The Thick and Hairy Southern German). I knew that this was a point of contention as to whether or not this guy was a match for me and I to him.
Third, this guy was so incredibly gorgeous this horrifying incident made me feel smaller than I already felt due to his size - NOBODY TOLD ME HE WAS SO TALL.
True to German form, he shook off the disgusting situation with ease and added, "I know you are an artist but that doesn't mean everything has to be so complicated," which seduced me and insulted me at the same time, something Germans are known for. I call it "German Flirting" when they point out your flaws.
He was ready to go when I was finished "pushing it out" - a phrase I hear all the time but never with the intention of me doing it without the other who mentioned it. Strange!
The words were on the tip of my tongue: I think I'm going to go
- and he took full note of this and I transformed into that difficult younger guy that the older guy had to coddle to get into bed. At that moment I knew that I was not going to try and meet any more new guys unless it was by way of another. My collection was complete.
The sex didn't last long, but it was sufficient. He did my nipples right, he licked and played with my hole, and I don't want to talk about his kisses. We talked about the notion of objectification as pillow talk when he finally got out what was really bothering me.
"But what is in my brain is more important to me, those three things are all anyone ever cares about when they meet me," I complained, driving him into silence for the first time since our arrival.
Funny enough, I didn't ask for his astrological sign. We had some pretty heavy disagreements about the past and future of Berlin and about gay culture and the horrible advent of gayromeo.com. He wasn't the Happiest German or the Sleaziest German or the Craziest German, but he was the tallest. And that's enough trouble for me.
I took one last look at his tall sculpted poster boy for the Aryan race body and shook my head to myself - knowing full well that I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.
I haven't seen the Antihero in three days.