Attractions

I will sketch this post and tidy it up later on. The thing with my Sex Toy Sites venom stems from having a bad week of depression and getting about five emails from link exchange requests which normally wouldn't bother me but when you are feeling low about everything and suddenly you are reading how great your Blog is etc only to arrive at the catch of the email which is exchanging links so that someone can just rake in money without any real interest in what I am writing, is frankly a straw of which my camel finds itself on the chiropractor's bench. So it is not the decision to link or not link but the preamble before in all its false flattery, the last thing you want to hear when you are craving some kind of sincerity to booster a mood.

That aside, as under the weather as I was feeling, my spunk band had a fantastic performance on Saturday evening, it seemed to work, our chaotic creation - our rough and ready poetry, our acts of word anarchy. I however had to make speed, not amphetamines, but haste. Sabine and I had to be over at an erotic ball by a certain time. When I say ball, I mean, club night. The offerings of costumes at most contemporary "Swinger" events are usually the same old g-strings and leather bits, occasionally you find someone out of the ordinary wearing a cape or some such item but usually not. I'm really not complaining too much as after-all it is just nice to have 400 people all pretty much with no clothes on hanging around, drinking, dancing, and shagging.



The best thing about this particular event was that no single men are allowed and if the woman of a partnership leaves then security makes sure the man leaves also. This rule has to be implemented because some guys will bring what is known as "beards", not facial growth as we might all at first assume but a woman hired or arranged purely to get a guy in the door. This is common at other events and it is a darn nuisance.

The theme of the night was Valentine's Day. The outfits Sabine and I wore were inspired by the Valentine's Day massacre in 1929. Slightly macabre I do admit but befitting the tone of my last few weeks. You see, I haven't fallen into the drooling jowls of the Black Dog for quite some time, although the thing with depression is that by nature the last batch is always well and truly marshaled into the sea of forgetfulness. So this time, as if some Raven of Poe, it just swooped down and landed on my shoulder without any warning. I have been lumped with it and I'm just sorting through my mind in the hope that it will soon "make like a cockroach and bug off".

The saucy side to these outfits were the bullet holes which covered the entire of our garbs, allowing many spheres of nudity to glimmer though. There was a strange moment when we were looking for a bank to pay our entry fees and I had my full outfit on except a pair of short shorts under my pants to keep me "cop free", the streets were packed with people and here I was making my way through the crowd covered in holes. "Some moth", perhaps that's what they were thinking.

The venue was brimming with flesh gyrating all of the dance floor, fucking in the more dimly lit chaired areas, and oh it is glorious to look about, to actually feel comfortable peering at people's appendages, appendages that are either adorned to arouse or perfectly naked. Sabine had me on the dance floor, milking my cock as my hand strummed the layers of her cunt between ripped cotton - my eyes resting on each tantalizing body around the dance floor. Another great site was to see a guy with a disability in his electric wheelchair which always says that sexual events should be without question friendly to diversity. At one stage his partner was grinding her hips into his crotch whilst his fingers were stuffed into her cunt, it was a very freeing, delightful atmosphere but the music was a bit dull, dance club rubbish, so I went up to the DJ and requested some tunes - he obliged and serious bopping about the dance floor was to be had.

Sabine and I did go up on stage three times for best costume voting, I in the guy category, she in the girl, and both of us in the couple category. Not being much of a cat walker I cartwheeled onto stage and did some dorky maneuvers but didn't win - funnily enough a guy in a cape did, so all was well. Sabine lined up with about nine semi-naked women, and it was cheerfully voyeuristic, then as we went up and did our couples thing, Sabine pulled my face into her crotch. No winnings for us but the prize was only a voucher to Sexyland so nothing too drastically amiss.

We had time restrictions and wrapped up our stay there with a light play with each other near the front stage. We then grabbed our belongings of which caused a little spat with the cloakroom wanker, who wanted to charge us five dollars because we'd asked for our bag for the third time that evening. He was rude to Sabine saying to her that she should stop playing this game with him. Sabine told me and I confronted him asking him what the game was. I was told that if you get your bag three times you get charged for it, I told him if that is the case he should rectify his signs because on none of them did it state this surprise fee. He was a prick anyhow and as we were leaving another cloakroom attendant came up to me and told me that the guy had been pissing him off all night too. It was a small detail on an otherwise wonderfully naughty night.

To finish off this post, I must wrap up some thoughts possibly mingled unwell with depression but relating to my level of sexuality which seems to always peek above what I imagine is normal. Sometimes I feel suffocated by my sexual thoughts which at times can burden me. I consciously tell myself every once in a while not to think so much about sex and sexual things of an explicit nature because the lack of any productive cultural recognition of sexuality means that under any other circumstances I'd have somewhere to channel it, at the moment it loosely goes into my art and what dribs and drabs I can ferret from the underground deviousness of sexual expression.