NIGHT OWL EYE CANDY – BERLIN BAR

Berlin bar long ago closed and the name forgotten even longer than that.

These images are much like those in that infamous Berlin leather bar.

WARNING

This blog does contain adult and gay material. If you are under your country's legal age (18 or 21), do not scroll down and leave this page now.

 Thanks

By Richard de Orizaba

There was a lingering acrid smell in this joint; it was a combination of smoke, sweat, spilled beer and dried ejaculations. It had some urine thrown in for good measure and it was like no other smell you’ve experienced before. Once you smell it you never forget it; it is like the smell of death in that sense…those who work in the medical profession can tell you that it is a familiar smell…you don’t forget it…it remains ingrained in your brain.

But in my case, as unpleasant as that odor is to some people; because I have so much satisfaction in places like this I have begun to associate it with good sex, with rewarding sexual experiences and total fulfillment of my sexual fantasies.

I’d go back to this joint night after night during my stay in Berlin. It was habit forming; it was unadulterated, raw sex to satisfy all that crass lust that was inside of me. I remember well that the front of the bar was thinly frequented by patrons…they all headed towards the back rooms after purchasing a beer. But the bartenders would go to the back and announce that unless they come to the front and purchase a beer they would turn on the lights in the back room. So everyone would dutifully go to the front, purchase a beer, take a few sips and place it on the floor of the back room.

The walls, and all the nooks and crannies were occupied with beer bottles that were half full and some of them, in the heat of the moment of some sordid sexual encounter would get spilled on to the floor. That is why the floors were wet, that is why the place smelled like it did. Of course, it didn’t help any that a lot of water sports took place there as well.

Today, several decades later, these are the images that linger up and down the long corridors of gay saunas; the leather types that provided me with so much pleasure…they are alive and thriving in the abyss of my brain. The Berlin Wall was there, solid, monolithic and repressive…graffiti was all over it and I am sure the gay East Germans wanted to have a piece of the pie, a visit to one of the saunas or one of the bars.

It had to be in 1981 because that was the year prince Charles and Lady Diana got married on 29th of July 1981 in St Paul's cathedral. It was all they could talk about in England and the preparations were under way. The whole British Empire was abuzz with this royal matrimony and everywhere you saw photos of them, posters, coffee cups, souvenirs and miscellaneous memorabilia to commemorate the Royal Wedding of the century. A few years before HIV had made its appearance it seemed then that the party was non-stop. Unprotected sex was the order of the day. The wild orgies in private homes, the saunas and the back rooms of watering holes; the sexual activities that took place was even considered excessive. As the song says: “those were the days my friend, we thought they never end, we’d sing and dance, forever and a day…we lived the life we’d choose, we’d fight and never lose, those were the days, oh yes those were the days”

My first stop was London and I recall as I was coming in and looking at Piccadilly Circus. There, in the center sprawled out in the circle and around the monument were a couple of hundred youngsters. The reason I remember this so well is because it was something I had not seen before…the way they were dressed, the kind of make-up they wore…both men and women. There were cake-white faces with dark lips, black nail polish on the fingernails, a lot of mascara and the clothing was absolutely weird. The hippies were gone and these replaced them.

But one thing has remained unchanged over the years: leather drag. Both in London and in Berlin the leather guys wore stuff that we are familiar with today. There is very little difference between then and now.

It was not just the visual in these sleazy back rooms, it was the sounds. Although I don’t speak German; the sounds of love making are almost the same world-wide. There is heavy breathing, panting, moaning and a lot of puffing to be crowned by one final outburst of vocalization that is as unintelligible in English as it is in German. “Ah, ah, ah, fuck, shit, ah, fuck me, fuck me harder, ah, ah, I’m cumming, aaaaaaaah, aaaaaaaah, %^#^#. ^&$^&$&$, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah”