My Adult Playground – Feeling at Home in Berlin Sex Clubs

After a couple minutes of intense conversation, I was invited to accompany a charming and open-minded girl to a sex party in a club in Berlin. I wanted to know more about what would motivate a pretty young women to indulge in orgies, as this woman does, on a weekly basis. She gives us her personal account of her experiences and the reasons she became open to leading such an unusual sex life.

I first explored open sex clubs in Berlin after years of experimenting with countless sexual partners: many one-night stands and a few threesomes, followed by some creative endeavours in erotic imagery, performance art and stripping. When I say sex clubs, I’m talking about the ultimate of adult playgrounds, where you’re free to have sex anywhere and everywhere, with whomever is open to engaging with you.

Prior to this, I had been living a relatively celibate life in India for six months, following my previous deviant escapade in Australia. Frolicking around tropical paradises, islands and forests, I had been ‘throwing my cat around’ like no one’s business. With my uninhibited sexual debauchery and love for attention and glamour at an all-time high, I fell headfirst into stripping with the nervousness and excitement of a woman set free.

At this point in my life, my perception of personal relationships, love, trust and commitment had been expanded through the exploration of polyamorous connections and open, loving relationships. I was first introduced to the idea during my time in Capetown, South Africa, where I fell in love with a community of people, some of whom were open to polyamorous relationships. There I felt uninhibited in my playful experimentations, not only toward sex but also to the idea of what love and community harmony meant to me. My life there included, of course, a lot of psychedelics, dance floors and crazy mud fights. It was there that I was taught, by a wonderful, fifty-year-old African man about the beauty of open relationships, love without jealousy, and the possibilities of sharing love between many. His open heart and uninhibited freedom expanded the hearts of many women, helping them to flourish and enjoy life’s beauty. I too felt nurtured and fulfilled for some time, but our relationship had an undercurrent of naivety to it and soon we came to a point of divergence and disharmony. After too many days of drug use, sleep deprivation and psychedelic experimentation, chaos erupted in my internal world, which ignited drama and violence in our community. The tornado that was me had come and gone, wreaking havoc in the worst possible way. Typical me.

I brought with me to Berlin my world that had been coloured by the ideals of open love, open sexuality and the capitalisation of sexuality in performance art and porn endeavours. I refer to these concepts of open love and open sexuality as ideals, because essentially, in the pursuit of their truest form, they are. With my mind wide open post six months of living and exploring philosophies of life in remote India and Nepal, my mind, body and soul felt as if they had danced like monkeys along the time/space continuum and had shat on any sense of normality that I had previously believed in.

I arrived in Berlin without a dollar (or euro) to my name. No set plan, no escape flights home—nothing. Intoxicated by freedom and living in an anxious state of hope to realise my artistic dreams and connect with my muse, I pushed through and began working in a nondescript dance bar that doubled as a brothel. Every night I could feel myself aging as the music tortured my eardrums with its electronic chaos. I imagined this setting to be perfect for the confinement of prisoners of war. Flashing red lights, repetitive, dark music: this was the requiem for our passing innocence.

Stripping is an interesting trade in that it differs depending on where you are in the world. In some countries you can earn double or triple an average person’s weekly wage in just one night. However, in Berlin, there is next to no money in it. You’d be lucky to take home an average amount after a night of sheer boredom and regressed psychological state. All the babes and sexual deviants were out partying at the sex clubs, so why go pay to see a fanny flapping about when you could see it for free somewhere else, somewhere where the music can take you on a journey of dance, exploration and pleasure?

Even so, my last month in Berlin was like the trembling bliss post an orgasm: deliciously pleasing with the remnants of the just-gone frenzy. I had worked and hustled money off friends to get my flights back home to Melbourne, rent was paid, and I could assume I’d have enough to keep my stomach full till the end. Equipped with my super cute performance artist friends and a head full of freedom, we went exploring the world of the Kit Kat Club, Berlin’s most famous sex club. Ten euros and a few drinks later, donning some barely-there attire, I found myself staring in awe at this beautiful, lush space: erotic art and décor, decked out with a pool and a massage table, sexy techno pumping… and your casual over-eighty resident, masturbating in the corner. Yes—apparently he’s a regular.

As the night progressed, a few more familiar faces appeared: performers, dancers, and others from kink workshops I had attended over the previous few months. We were like a pack of experienced, sexualized, and experimental babes, uninhibited by the constraints of society’s sexual norms. As it turned out, those of us who worked in performance art were the ones to openly engage in sexual acts on podiums, cages, and there on the dance floor. Other people watched and masturbated around us, and a few wandering hands reached in. People were delighted with the evening’s live-porn entertainment extravaganza. I couldn’t help but giggle through it all. The entire evening felt ridiculous, and it felt criminal to be having that much fun.

A sweet, nerdish-type man approached me wearing a rubber glove and kindly introduced himself with the line, “There’s a lady over there, my friend, who would like to know if you would be interested in having her make you squirt while I instruct her.” …BOOM! Now that’s a way to meet a man! I laughed and probably said something along the lines of, “Ja, sure, why not!” The young man was a former prostitute, and thus an expert in the mechanics of female pleasure, and the lady was an elegant and well-spoken fashion designer from London with whom I’m still on great terms. Essentially, we were given a demo on how to make each other squirt, with me being the first on my back. The three of us took turns enjoying the pleasures of one another’s bodies for quite some time as others watched, casually slipped in hands, and pulled themselves off around us. Looking up from the floor, the place was like a man meat market: extraordinarily diverse and extravagantly debaucherous, like a twisted underworld, existing somewhere between heaven and BDSM-land.

The beauty of being in that space—uninhibited by any sense of shame, or preconceived, righteous ideas of what passion, intimacy and sex are supposed to be—is like taking a hammer to a dark wall and stepping through it into a hyper-colour wonderland of your own explorative nature. Allowing yourself to feel this is a gift perhaps only achievable when you feel truly unchained by the expectations of others. And in a place like Berlin, such an experience brings new life to those who feel they’ve already seen it all.

Our primal tendencies as humans toward jealousy, insecurity and judgement, I feel, can only ever be softened, rather than entirely eradicated from our beings, but experimenting in theses spaces can allow for greater freedom, trust and appreciation to form within our relationships. Having said that, it also has the potential to cause rifts and create tension, depending on people’s own personal experiences and beliefs about what love is. It’s important then, as an individual, to be aware of how you approach your own feelings of insecurity and how you deal with the feelings of others.

The further I step outside of my own world of sexuality, the more I see just how vast and uninhibited sexual exploration can be. Some of the lessons that have left me with a bitter taste in my mouth have also taught me the importance of being able to trust intuition and the sacredness of boundaries. And when someone comes along and shatters those boundaries (or gently breaks them down)—guiding you through it all with an open heart and open mind, taking you well beyond the realms of experience, or depths of emotion, that you thought possible—perhaps that’s love, or a glimmer of what love can be.

After years of one-on-one intimate relationships and my many gypsy flings, the club environment has become by far the most comfortable and easy option for hot sexual engagement without disturbing the tranquility of my nest at home. Essentially, what I wanted when I began exploring this scene was a host of unattached, brilliant sexual experiences with people whom I may or may not see again, people who didn’t know where I lived and couldn’t overstay their welcome. That still sounds like a romantic notion to me. Now I see, somewhere in the depths of my psyche, it has become close to the only way I feel comfortable having sexual intimacy: in a public space, with others watching, like a live art show of sensual dance, a sort of porn-like improvisation.

Yet, when I really think about it, I feel this isn’t entirely true. My recent experiences have taught me that in order for a moment to feel most beautiful, passionate, and intimate, it must be shared with someone who has made me feel truly safe. What matters is trusting and letting go, losing yourself in that brief moment in time to the rapture and essence of another human in a space of uninhibited rawness, exposure and connection. This space is in your heart, and in your mind, and it spreads through your veins like choiceless awareness. Whether you share this in public or in the privacy of a home (or hey, in an alleyway—whatever you’re into…), the feeling of love has no set limitations, external factors, or prerequisites in order to be felt. You simply feel it, and you’re left in awe of its transcendental beauty.

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