My First Time in a Sex Club

This is the story of the very first time I went to a sex club.  This is also the story of how I had sex with 11 different men in one night.
Coincidence?  I think not!

This is a bit of a long one, so bear with me.

Also, this post obviously contains descriptions of sexual encounters, so if you’re not into that you should turn back now.

This post also includes helpful information on how to get into sex clubs, what to expect, and basic sex club etiquette.

It all started when I posted on facebook that I was going on my first solo trip—Dublin, Paris, Berlin, and Amsterdam—and asked for suggestions on what I should do there.

An acquaintance of mine who is really into the kink scene commented on my post and said she was jealous because she had always wanted to check out the world-renowned kink scene in Berlin. Up until then, I had no idea that Berlin was internationally known for being a major hub for kinky people.

So of course, I dove into the Google abyss and discovered that the major reason Berlin is so beloved the kink community is because clubs are considered private property—which means they can set there own rules regarding sex, smoking, and alcohol consumption.

This means that some clubs have designated themselves as actual sex clubs, and can legally encourage patrons to drink, smoke, and get naked. Couple this with the fact that Berlin is already internationally famous for having some of the best and most exclusive clubs in world, and you know you’re in for a good time

I. Had. To. Go.

There was only one hitch in this plan: everything I read online said that it’s extremely difficult to get into these types of clubs. The two best clubs, Berghain and KitKat Klub, are as infamous for their exceptionally picky bouncers as they are for their sexy parties.

I continued my research, and from what I could gather Berghain was more for dancing and enjoying techno music (famous DJs played massive dance floors, with dedicated “dark rooms” for patrons to rendezvous in), whereas KitKat was pretty much entirely dedicated to sex parties (kink rooms, bed-like furniture, lots of privacy, but also multiple dance floors).

I set my mind to getting into KitKat. I was only going to be in Berlin for one weekend, so I wanted to make the most of it.

The hardest part of the planning process was figuring out what to wear. After spending hours online searching for information as to what is considered appropriate attire for a sex club, I could still only find vague advice like “dress up”, “something costumey”, or “doesn’t matter because you’re taking it off anyway”. Not only was this too vague to be helpful, but I was backpacking through 4 countries—meaning that even if I did have an appropriately elaborate sex club costume I would not have space for it.

I searched through malls, online stores, and sex shops for anything that could fit the description. But, oddly enough, I ended up selecting something I already owned: a glittery gold romper that featured long sleeves, a deep-v slit almost to my belly button, and a weird skort bottom (skirt in the front, shorts in the back). I paired this with a fancy black garter belt attached to thigh-high stockings.

After spending several days sight-seeing and exploring other European cities, I arrived in Berlin on a Thursday evening. After a minor incident involving being dragged off a train by a large German man because of an insufficiently stamped metro ticket, I made it to my accommodation and went to bed.

The next day, I got up early and explored until the early evening. I then took a nap so that I would be refreshed when I went to the club later that night.

Around 11pm, I excitedly put on my carefully selected outfit and headed to the club.

When I arrived, I was very confused because the entrance is very discreet with little signage. The only thing that really indicated that there was a club there at all was the presence of a very serious-looking bouncer.

I walked up to the bouncer and asked him if this was KitKat Klub. He indicated that it was, and I asked if I could go inside. He laughed in my face.

I started internally cursing myself for wearing the wrong thing and not attempting to speak German like the other websites had suggested.

Then the weirdest thing happened: the bouncer said “gays only”.

Excuse me? How rude.

I smiled at him and said “That’s fine! Don’t worry!” because girl-on-girl almost seemed like a better way to test out the new experience of sex-clubbing.

Still, to my dismay, the bouncer shook his head. I asked why, and since his English was very limited he wasn’t really able to supply a reason.

Then he handed me a flyer for that night’s event: a party exclusively for gay men that involved some men defecating off of the upper balcony onto other men on the lower level.

Yeah, he was right, scatology and gay men are not really my thing.

Once that issue was cleared up, the bouncer looked me up and down and said: “Come back tomorrow. Wear that. You’ll get in.”

I was a little disappointed that I was not able to get in on that night, but that disappointment was quelled by the excitement and relief I felt that I was guaranteed to get in on Saturday night.

Back at the hostel, I drank at the in-house bar with some other travellers, who then informed me that nightlife in Berlin doesn’t really begin until around 2am (which was completely foreign to me, since most clubs in my hometown close around 2am) and continues until Monday morning.

The next day I explored Berlin during the morning and afternoon, and then took a nap in the evening so that I would be ready to party all night.

I arrived at KitKat at around 2am, as I was advised. Except what I did not anticipate was the MASSIVE line to get in. Who would have known that peak time on a regular sex party night would have a much long line than super early on a gay fetish night??? Oh, literally everyone except me. Whoops.

Since I was there alone, I started people-watching to entertain myself.

In front of me were a couple of cute British boys who were wearing black turtlenecks and nice pants. They nervously discussed their chances of getting in, and what their backup plan was.

The people behind me were a rowdy group of young guys (early 20s) who were wearing polo shirts with popped collars or soccer jerseys with jeans.

There were over 100 people ahead of me in line, and the process was going verrrrry slow. Once I got a bit closer I saw that this was because when people were rejected, they were refusing to leave and holding up the line arguing with the bouncers. And about 75% were being turned away.

To solve this problem, one of the bouncers started going down the line and telling people that they would not be getting in, so they shouldn’t waste their time in line.

When the bouncer got to the boy in front of me, he shook his head no and pointed away from the line. The boys looked a bit dejected, but they left without complaining.

I was a little worried because this was a different bouncer than the one who had guaranteed my entrance the night before. I held my breath as the bouncer passed me—he didn’t kick me out! Woohoo!

Then the bouncer went to the group behind me. He told them they would not be getting in (thank god).

But these boys refused to accept the rejection. They argued with the bouncer and wouldn’t leave the line. The bouncer shrugged and told them that they could either leave now or wait in line for another hour and then be rejected at the door.

The boys then started demanding to know why they were being turned away (aside from being obnoxious frat boys who were inevitably there to ogle and sexually harass women).

The bouncer then yanked me out of line, and gestured to me saying, “see what she’s wearing? She belongs at a party like this. You don’t”.

That is by far the best compliment I have every received in my entire life.

Because the British boys in the turtlenecks had been asked to leave, the people directly in front of me were now a pair of older men (late 50s) dressed in pretty elaborate goth-esque clothing (black nail polish, black top hats, shiny black pants, tons of rings, eyeliner, etc).

This is relevant because seconds after the bouncer turned his elsewhere, the obnoxious group behind me started yelling at me to tell the bouncer that they were with me. Hell nah, bro.

I got so uncomfortable with them aggressively edging closure to me to make it look like we were one group, that I asked the men in front of me if I could go in front of them because the boys were scaring me.

The men agreed to shield me from the gross boys, and the boys eventually left. But by then we had struck up a very interesting conversation.

The men told me that they were Brazilian, and that they were there because one of them works for KitKat organizing the Latin Night on Thursdays. We talked a little more about why I was there alone and what we were all hoping to get out of the night.

When we got to the front of the line the men held up 3 fingers and pointed at me, then the bouncer just waved us in—FOR FREE—which was very exciting considering this club as a hefty cover charge.

When we got inside the men took my jacket and gave it to the coat-check girl. Then they gave me my coat-check ticket, wished me a fun night, and disappeared into the club.

In my first moments alone in my very first sex club, I realized just how right that bouncer had been—I belonged there.

First of all, the girls working the coat-check were all completely topless and wearing fancy lingerie and glittery makeup. Two of my all-time favourite things!

Some dude was completely naked and having a normal conversation with a fully-clothed dude like it was no big deal.

People were doing all sorts of sexy things right out in the open, and nobody was batting an eye at it.

That’s the best thing about kink spaces: the entire environment is extremely sex-positive and consent-centric. The whole purpose is to have fun, but the #1 rule is respect.

I wasn’t really sure what to do or where to start, so I walked out of the entrance area and found a bar. Perfect, I planned to buy a drink and walk around, thinking that would help me blend in a little better.

The bartender was an absolutely stunning woman who had very elaborate Medusa hair and makeup on with a sparkly green lingerie set.

I ordered a rum and coke.

While I was waiting for my drink, a gorgeous guy wearing a white t-shirt and a red kilt came over and struck up a friendly conversation. He introduced himself as Florian and asked my name, where I was from, what I was doing in Germany, etc. etc.

He said that he was born and raised in Germany, and was a regular at this club. When he asked me how long I had been at the club, I told him that I’d only been inside for a few minutes and had literally only seen that one bar area. He was surprised, and said from my attitude it seemed like I was right at home there.

He asked if I wanted a tour, and I told him I would love one. He took me by the hand and lead me to all of the different areas of the MASSIVE club.

First, he took me to the pool area. Yes, the club had a full-size indoor pool complete with a diving board, a rope swing, and a shower with lights that made the water look rainbow colours. There was also another bar and a sauna in this area. And if you were not interested in any of THAT, the pool was surrounded by what can only be described as ring of connecting beds. One big unending circle of bed, with an endless variety of sexual acts happening on it simultaneously. Awesome.

He then showed me the first dance floor, the bathrooms, another bar, another dancefloor, and some hidden rooms.

Then he mentioned something about his favourite spot in passing, and I asked if he would show me. He said he normally likes to keep in a secret… but he’d make an exception this once.

We went through a dark hallway and then he boosted me up onto a ledge that was about 4ft up. Then we climbed up onto another ledge (like a giant staircase).

On that ledge was a dark 10ft square room. I suddenly regretted following a stranger into the dark.

But he took me by the hand and lead me to the edge of the room, where there was another step about 2ft high.

When we stepped up onto that, we were in another square room, only this one was way cooler.

The back wall was floor-to-ceiling bars creating a cage overlooking the main dance floor, and there was a thick black mat in the center of the room (about the size of a twin bed).

We stood at the cage wall, talking about how spectacular the view was—then he put his hands on my waist and pulled me in for a kiss.

Pretty soon, had kissed our way over the mat and he was pulling a condom out of the convenient pouch on the side of his kilt.

The sex was actually really good, considering it was the first go with new guy.

After he had finished and stopped thrusting, I suddenly became aware that there were 2 more men in the room. No idea when they showed up.

Florian did the sweetest thing, and asked if I was okay with them being there or if I wanted him to escort me out of the not-so-secret room.

I told him I was fine, and he kissed me one more time, said “see you later”, and left.

As soon as Florian was gone, one of the new men was standing in front of me (still flat on my back on the mat) holding a condom and gesturing at my crotch. I nodded, and he slipped in and started doing his thing. This time wasn’t as great at the first one, but I was really excited about the fact that I was actually successfully navigating a sex club by myself.

He finished in literally 10 seconds, said something that definitely wasn’t English or German, the promptly disappeared.

The other man started off the exactly the same way, but lasted a little longer. The strange thing about this encounter was that about halfway through a new man appeared and started massaging my foot through the boots I was wearing. I don’t know why he thought I could feel a foot massage through winter boots, but I think it was more of a foot fetish thing than a physical thing.

Once that guy finished, I let the foot fetish guy have a go. As anticipated, he was a 2-pump-chump and skedaddled on off right after.

I took a few minutes alone to assess how I was feeling about having so many casual encounters in a row in a public place in foreign country.

Conclusion: Fuckin’ awesome.

If I met one of these guys on tinder, and opted to have a one-night-stand with them in my regular life, I would be stuck with a guy who lasted 10 seconds and my evening would be ruined. But in a sex club scenario I can continue having as many encounters as I want until I want to stop. And then I can take a break for as long as I want, and then I can go have more sex. It’s the most utopic situation I’ve ever been in.

I wouldn’t recommend wearing a romper though. While the outfit looked the part, it was not really functional. A dress or a skirt with no underwear would be ideal because then you could just lift it up. I basically had to pull the bottom of my romper to the side, which was kinda awkward.

The only thing I didn’t particularly care for was that there weren’t any trash receptacles around, so the guys kept throwing used condoms in all directions with no care for where they landed. If you take one thing away from this post, let it be: assume everything in sex clubs is covered in jizz.

I decided to climb out of the cage and go back to the pool area to hang out for a bit. I had lost my drink long before that point, and I was super thirsty (haha).

On my way there, I noticed how clean everything actually looked. I bet they had to scrub everything down after Friday’s special event.  This made me feel a bit better about the whole unsanitary-condom-disposal situation.

While I was waiting for my turn to order at the bar, a handsome dude in his mid-30s wearing a full tuxedo came up to me, pointed at a massage table just outside the pool area, and asked if I wanted a massage.

I said yes because #YOLO, and I needed to calm down because I was getting too hyped.

I slipped off the sleeves of my romper and let the top drop so that I just had the bottom of my romper on. Then I lay facedown on the massage table and let the guy oil up my back. He was actual a pretty good masseuse.

He motioned that I should roll over. I did, and he massaged my front too. When he was massaging my boobs he got a massive erection. Eventually he asked if he could stick it in. He’d more than earned it, so I obliged.

While that was happening, I turned my head to the side and noticed that one of the older men from the line (the one who did not work at KitKat) was standing in the corner watching me and jerking off.

I felt weird about that, so I turned my head to the other side. When I did that, another guy made eye contact with me and came over. This guy was in his late-20s and really tall and skinny. He came over and sat on a chair near the massage table. I stared straight up at the ceiling because I could not engage in conversation with this guy while the masseuse was inside me.

Then another weird thing happened—the tall guy started playing with my hair. Just, like, running his fingers through it. It felt nice, so I let him do it. I was already covered in oil and I’m sure my makeup was a disaster, so I no longer cared if my hair got messed up.

Of course, I fucked that guy too. I was on a roll! For those of you keeping track at home, that was #6!

I was feeling pretty grimey at that point due to the oil and bodily fluids, so I decided to take a shower. Yeah, the shower was inside the giant bed-circle, but I had already been gallivanting all night so it no longer mattered.

I took off my romper completely, as well as my boots, but left my thong and stockings on. I knew they would dry soon, and I didn’t want to be completely naked taking a shower in front of a bunch of strangers.

After I rinsed off, I felt significantly better. I put my romper back on, finally got a drink from the bar, and sat on the edge of the bed-circle so I could relax for a bit.

I watched dozens of people have sex with each other all around me. Everyone was very enthusiastic. Nobody was too drunk. It was such a wonderful experience. I wish everywhere was like that.

After about half an hour I got up and went exploring again. I found some kink rooms, but they were all empty. One of them had a few pieces of fetish equipment, including a black leather sex swing. Another had a large raised chair—like a throne—on one side, and a bed on the other side.

Then I went into a room where there was a man fucking one girl, with several other men standing around (presumably waiting for the opportunity to ask for a turn, like had happened to me earlier).

Nobody looked up when I walked into the room, so I sat down on the other side of the room. This room was a large square with a black leather sectional couch following all the walls.

Soon, a few of the guys noticed me and asked if I was interested. Of course I was.

I got into a comfortable position on my back and let them all go, one after the other. The attention is a really great confidence booster!

The four dudes in this round were: a big burly Russian man, a really buff bald man, and dude who was wearing only white briefs and a knight’s helmet, and an Indian man. The Indian man went last and the insisted on having a very lengthy conversation with me about my entire life story. He was sweet, but I wasn’t looking for sweetness at that moment.

Those encounters brought my score up to 10 for the night!

By this point it was almost 6am on Sunday morning, so people were starting to leave. And because people were starting to leave, the bouncers were relaxing their standards.

I was dancing on the main dancefloor when I met a guy who was cute and really eager to pop his sex club cherry. I felt like a sex club veteran at that point, so I felt like it was my duty to show him the ropes the way that Florian had showed me.

When I was showing this clown the bathrooms, he said he had to go. So I waited with him for a bit. It was his turn for a stall, he pulled me in with him and it became clear he wanted to fuck in the bathroom… at a sex club. How bizarre!

I’d already committed to helping him, so I thought “what’s one more?” and let him stick it in. However, bathroom stalls are gross, and that situation was wholly unsexy, so 10 seconds in I bounced and went to go hide in the room with the cage wall.

I was thinking to myself that it was probably time to head out, and that 10 would have been a good place to stop instead of that last 11th.

Then Florian showed up! He said “I told you I’d see you again!”

He went to grab us some water, and then we sat in the secret cage room and rehydrated while talking about how epic our nights had been. We both agreed that this club had the perfect balance of complete hedonism and strict enforcements of rules (particularly about privacy, consent, and intoxication).

Then we had sex again.

After that, we said our goodbyes and our short-lived fling was over. I walked Florian to the exit, and then went for one last circle around the club. I wanted to absorb as much of this outrageous experience as  possible before I had to go back to my regular life.

Finally, I got my purse from the coat-check and proceeded to walk the 30mins back to my hostel—at 8:00am Sunday morning when all the families were going to church.

Definitely one of my Top 5 favourite nights.







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