Date: Sat, 17 Jun 2017 04:18:24 -0400 From: Irfan The Writer Subject: Summer in Berlin Part 2 Before continuing, please take 1 minute to make a donation, however small, to Nifty here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Your donation supports this great platform that hosts stories like this by writers like me for readers like you. And it's tax-deductible! Comments welcome, you can reach me at the.writer.irfan@gmail.com # * ARMIN * This summer has really sucked. I have been staying at my ex's house, where we had lived together for three years. That is, before he decided to break up with me and marry a woman. We're still friends, though, and I stay at his place in the summer while he and his wife go back to Georgia for the holiday. But it's been hard. Being here evokes all the memories of our time together. My dreams of our growing old together. Even though I reluctantly accepted his wishes for the heteronormative dream, being here still saddens me. So, I decided to drive three hours to the Sex Palace, a gay sex party I heard of. It's Pride weekend, and I need to let out steam. I wander around the dimly-lit Palace, eying some twinks with sweet, round boy-pussies. My thick, lengthy cock is usually popular with the boys. Even though I'm horny right now, seeking some escape from my summertime blues, I also know that sex on its own can be boring. A quick 20 minutes and then you or your partner are done. German men especially are so much about the efficiency; they want everything, including sex, to fit rigid timetables of expectations. But I want more. That's probably what brought me here to this Sex Palace. It's my first time, but maybe I thought it would help me get me out of my head and out of this summer depression a little bit. I made the drive and came here to this huge open building with dozens of rooms and off-shoots, hundreds of guys fucking, sucking, and hooking up with each other. I like looking at the young boys with tight bodies. Their hairless bodies, flat stomach, and their round butts! I love fucking tight pussies. German men usually have nice bodies, but not always flattering faces. But MAN, their pussies are always worth a good fuck. They love my cock. I have a big 20 centimeter cock, thick, and I know how to fuck really well. I like dominating and taking control of my bottom. I'll have us use some poppers, get a head rush, and escape into another world as I shove my tool into his insides. I see a fuckable twink near a bathtub placed in a center of an alcove. He is sucking the cocks of two big guys, a burly black guy with a light smattering of hair all over his chest, and a muscular daddy wearing a black leather harness, who looked like he could appear in a Tom of Finland illustration. The twink alternates sucking the black guy's cock up and down while stroking the leather daddy's. The standing men have their arms on one another's shoulders, and as I approach, their mouths are locked in a wild kiss. I approach the space where the twink is kneeling, and stroke my exposed cock, which is now at full mast in all its glory. I am leaking pre-cum, which I use to lubricate my cock. The twink sees me playing with my cock from the corner of his eye, and reaches out and starts stroking my leg with his free hand. He begins near my calf, and his hand runs up slowly, passed my knee cap, up my thigh, and reaches for my balls. He starts massaging my nuts gently, and then squeezes. He then takes the black cock out of his mouth, and with a hungry look in his eye, he looks up at me, then back down at my cock. He eyes my veiny shaft leading a pathway towards the bulbous, purple head. Then he goes for it. While using one hand to continue massaging my ballsack, he uses his tongue to swirl around the head of my cock. I feel shivers run up and down my body, as the boy's tongue flicks back and forth along the underside of the crown, the most sensitive part of my cock. He then opens his mouth gaping wide and takes a third of my cock into his throat. My dick fills all the empty space in his small mouth as his jaw muscles reach their limit. His mouth encloses around my cock, as he tries taking a breath through his nostrils, then pushes his mouth deeper onto my cock. As my cock reaches the back of his throat, he gags. I put my hands on the back of his head to keep him from giving up, and push my cock deeper inside. He takes it like a champ, and I get so horny. I need to fuck some pussy. Walking past our small cluster, a tall, lean, Scandinavian-looking man with tousled blond hair catches my attention. His taut body makes him seem like a swimmer. Even in the dim lighting, I can see his defined abs, and his firm pecs shaping his long torso. He stops and gazes at me with a fiery interest, and I return his stare. He walks towards me with a fierce determination, and I touch his hip. He doesn't flinch, a sign that he's feeling me. I reach around his waist and my fingers finds his hole. It's sweet, moist, and hungry. My eyes meet his once more, and he gives me a knowing nod. Pushing the twink boy off my cock, I lead the Swimmer Guy to the side of the bathtub, turn him around, and push his torso down forcefully, so that his bubble butt is facing me. My cock is standing erect, as I bend down and pull out a condom that I tucked inside my long red rugby socks. The two round orbs adorn the sweet entrance for my cock. I guide my cock towards his hairless opening, and push in. Swimmer Guy gasps, as his hole gets used to the thick girth of my cock. I pull out my dick a little bit, then push it back in, as his hole engulfs my cock once more. I then push in deeper, and thrust in until his hole swallows the full length of my manly glory. As he is bent down over the bathtub, I widen my stance so that I can stabilize my position, thrusting into him farther and deeper. Swimmer Guy yelps with each thrust into his insides, as my cock pounds against his prostate. My head rushes, and I forget all my worries in this moment as all I care about is pounding this guy's brains out. I reach forward and hold his muscled shoulders tightly. He arches his back, as he feels my legs pressing up behind his. I lean down and wrap my arms in front of his torso, so my chest is right on top of his back. I feel his sweat mingle with mine, as I grunt with each passing thrust. Swimmer Guy contracts his already tight ass, and I feel a strong desire to breed this guy's hole. I push deeper, deeper, feeling so good. My hands squeeze the sides of his tight torso, beads of sweat are dripping down my face, and a rush of cum explodes from my cock, overflowing the condom, as we both yell in ecstasy. I take a few breaths. That felt good. Now we all move on. I pull out of the guy, rip off the condom from my cock, then turn to see what else I can find. As I'm walking out the alcove, I see a gorgeous man leaning against the wall. With his milk chocolate-brown skin and short beard, he is exotic-looking in a sea of German white. I've had some good fucks over the night but no meaningful connection. No one seemed interesting to me, and anyway, it's all about sex here. But this guy on the wall, he stands out. I am curious to see what he's about. I step onto the raised platform where he's standing, and step towards him. I stand right in front of the hunk and look him over. His chest is adorned with patches of manly black hair that trails down to his flat stomach. He has on a jock strap that sits atop powerful legs. He has a sweet, round baby-face that his facial hair cannot hide, and though he appears to be unsure of himself, his eyes look open to new possibility. Standing face-to-face, I tell him I'm Armin. His name is Irfan, and I immediately like his deep and manly voice. Wow, I want this guy! I reach out and touch his muscular shoulders, caress them, and feel electricity rise through my body. It's not just horniness; there's something more. My hands wander down his arms, and then I wrap my arms around him as if I were about to hug him, and I feel the heat emanating from his entire body. I lean in eye-to-eye; he appears to be exactly my height, 6 feet. "I want you to come stay with me at my hotel tonight," I invite him. I really don't want to be alone tonight, and this guy seems like the perfect company. He doesn't respond immediately. He looks away into the distance, and considers his response. A few seconds go by and, although I really wish for him to say yes to spending more time together rather than staying in this disconnected sex jungle, I keep my cool and give him space to respond. "Yes," he announces. My heart skips a beat. "But I want to walk around a bit. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll meet you there," as he points to the circular bench ahead. He squeezes my hand, and then lets go of me as he starts walking into the void. I begin my wait for him, unsure whether he'll actually return. # I sit on the bench, our designated meeting point. It was so nice with this guy, who told me his name is Irfan. Gentle but manly, he is one of the sexiest guys I've seen all night. As he walked away, I fawned over his firm, round ass exposed in his jockstrap. I could tell he had a tan line, the whiteness on his cheeks further emphasizing his beautiful butt. Imagining my cock inside his pussy makes my cock jump up in excitement. Although I've been in Freiberg this whole summer, much of my time there has triggered painful memories of my prior life with my ex. He and I lived together in the same apartment for years. He was my mentee whose transition to Germany from Georgia I helped facilitate. I loved him from our first hookup in Georgia, and although he never let me top him, the sex with him felt rejuvenating. I would have loved to continue growing my life together with him, but it was one cool summer night when he told me over dinner, "Armin, I am going back to Georgia to get married." All of my secret hopes for a future together were crushed in that single moment. He looked down at his plate of food, and the silence cut the energy that usually flowed back and forth between us. "And...I think you should get married too. Find a nice girl. You know we can't continue like this." Disappointment. Regret. Blissful naïveté. So many feelings were coming up and I couldn't channel a single word to verbally express them in that moment. I knew we could still maintain a friendship, but it would never be the same as the steady intimacy we had built up until then. So this summer, I returned to the apartment where we used to live together, where my ex and his wife live now. While they go back to Georgia for the summer, I use the same place to do my summer work at Freiberg University. Coming to the Sex Palace was an escape from the maddening pain of being in the new familiar. It was my apartment to begin with, but now my ex's new life without me occupied it. And even multiple rounds of fucking strangers couldn't evaporate the longing I felt for our – or my – former happiness. I leaned against the wall as I sat on the platform. I watched men pass by, walking in just their underwear or nothing at all. Their erect cocks would be guiding them to their next conquest. Germans are so cold, I've learned. But maybe it's relative. Multiple German hook-ups have told me that I am way too emotionally expressive, and that I should stop seeking emotional validation from others. It's a quality of mine that I've become aware of, but would rather not contain. I feel like I would explode if I followed the example of these bottled up Germans and didn't allow myself to express my feelings. Occasionally, a man looks at me and considers approaching closer. But each time, I swiftly break the eye contact, communicating disinterest. Then he continues walking, searching. With each passing minute, I feel more and more closed off. My chest feels tight. My purple Aussiebum briefs feel tighter on my skin. What if Irfan doesn't come back? He's obviously a stunning man, an American visitor who could have his choice pick here. I'm sure other, more attractive men than I have approached him. His soft touch and demeanor eased a part of me that I didn't know needed comfort. Another minute passes, and I wonder how long I should wait here for him. He might be fucking another man right now or getting sucked off. Going back to my hotel alone tonight feels like the last thing I want to do, though. Like the depressed void in the sand left behind by a strong ocean wave, I would feel empty after the intense sexual encounters I experienced and witnessed tonight. Then, in the smoky distant corridor, I see a sexy and sweet smile flash at me. He passes the other bodies towards me. I feel so lucky tonight, as the beautiful man I was awaiting arrives. His big brown eyes twinkle as he smiles and sits down next to me. "I'll come with you tonight," he tells me. The sweetest words I hear tonight. "But I just want you to know, I have a boyfriend back home." My heart drops. "We're open, though -- is that okay with you?" I nod yes, though the bubble of excitement I had inside me deflates. I thought maybe, just maybe, this guy could by my next boyfriend. At least for the summer. But he has a boyfriend already? I feel a bit disappointed, but try not to convey any disquiet amongst the frenetic energy all around. He holds my hand, shaking me out of my thoughts, and whispers, "Let's go." We get our belongings from the Garderobe, surrounded by guys getting dressed, sealing off their night's lascivious endeavors, as we all return to normal social decorum. We step out into the expansive nighttime, and I feel a wave of calm befall me next to this new man. On the 15-minute walk, we share stories about interesting sexual experiences we've had. I tell him about my interest in fisting, around which he expresses curiosity. He tells me he actually fisted a guy once back in New York. He also took a class on BDSM and tried a lot of interesting things, including electrosex. I am so intrigued by this guy! We arrive to the hotel gate, and I lead him inside to lock his bike up. Then we ascend the three flights of stairs to my room. I don't know what's to come, but I'm just feeling so happy to have come back with this sexy and sweet guy. # I wake up in the night – or is it early morning already? – and I find him kissing my chest softly, gently. Then he moves higher, and gently places his lips on the side of my neck. I feel a rush of euphoria, as my skin tingles with delight. His tongue follows the path around my chin, and then to the other side. He kisses my cheek, and then again down next to the corner of my mouth. Now atop me completely, he looks me in my eyes. "Good morning baby," I greet him, in my slightly hoarse morning voice. He smiles. "I like it when you call me baby," he replies sweetly. He pauses as if he's wondering if she should say what he's about to say next. "Was? Tell me," I encourage him, using my arms to wrap him in a stronger embrace. "Well, I like daddy/son play, and sometimes I enjoy calling a guy `daddy'," he shares, a bit nervously. "Oh, I'm happy to be your daddy," I eagerly reply without a second thought. "And you're my baby." I roll him over so that I'm on top of him. His mouth curls up into a smile, feeling a sense of relief at my answer, and giggles in satisfaction. I lower my head slowly, our lips touch, and then we kiss. As the morning kisses accumulate, I feel the gentle, warm heat from his naked body against my skin. I didn't expect such soft and sweet kisses like this in the morning. I feel like this is more than a single hook-up, especially if I'm his daddy and he's my baby. With that level of intimacy and closeness being expressed between us, it has to be. I buy us both coffee and croissants for breakfast. He chooses a chocolate-filled croissant and Milch Kaffee, whereas I get a regular croissant and coffee. Sitting outside, I ask him about why he came to Berlin in the first place. He tells me he came to research his family's history, that his grandfather actually used to live here in the 1960s. "I thought you came because of the sex club opportunities," I jest, but he wasn't amused. With his stoic reaction at my comment, I could tell how emotionally invested he was in this family research project. He talks about how the prior summer, he backpacked across India, tracing his grandparents' lives. He had never been to India before, but going on that trip was part of his calling. His grandparents were persecuted for being intellectuals before Bangladesh became a country in 1971. They survived, thankfully, but died years ago from natural causes. Speaking from his heart, he communicated the importance he felt of honoring their legacy and understanding what he could about their lives. He's not the typical guy you meet a club, I realize. As we finish our breakfast, I remember I need to do my own research at the state library today. There's a historical map of the Georgian city of Kutaisi that I need to access for my research work. Before we depart, though, I ask to see him again. He expresses interest in seeing the mountains and nature, so I invite him to go on a trip together to one of my favorite mountain ranges in Saxony. I must see this guy again. I know he has a boyfriend and is in an open relationship, but he is so special. Not only did I enjoy being with alongside his warm body last night, but I appreciate our intellectual connection as well. And yes, there is sexual chemistry between us! I don't want to let him go. "I can buy the train ticket for you, too, if that helps," I offer. "You can come directly to Freiberg via train, and then I can drive us together to the mountains. You'll love it there," I say, noticing him looking down at the empty plates sprinkled with croissant crumbs and streaks of chocolate. He ponders a few seconds, and looks over across the street towards the hotel from which we had come. I feel as I did when he left me for the fifteen minutes in the club: unsure, waiting, hoping. We walk together to my car, near where he locked up his bike as well. In these final moments, he gives me an answer, "Yes, I'll come to you," he proclaims, smiling again. His smile contains a set of perfect white teeth, which I can't help but admire. "Great!" I can hardly contain my excitement. I am filled with joy by the prospect of getting to know him better, and that this experience can extend beyond just a single beautiful, emotionally-rich one-night stand. Standing next to my BMW, I watch him unlock his bike lock and lean it against the tree. He turns to me, and looks into my eyes. Birds chirp atop the trees and buildings, and the sun's shine brightens. He hugs me, then looks at me once more, and I lean in to kiss him. Our lips meet, like two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. My senses tingle as waves of delight ripple through my body. Then we ease our way out of the delicious kiss. He gets atop his bike, and then through the rearview mirror, I see him ride away into the daylight.