Snaking past convulsing bodies in the anonymity of dark channels, I look for some open space, some sense of calm. Wherever you turn, you see a man with two things in his eyes: the need for sex and the insecurity around getting it.

One corridor is so narrow and dark, that you can't even quite see the guy you're kissing, much less who's going down on you. Another room with a shallow ceiling is apparently the fuck center, where dozens of men are on hands and knees, and taking cocks doggy-style.

What concerns me is that the men don't really look back to see if the next cock is wrapped or not.

Then there's the open area in front of the bar, more like a marketplace, a rare well-lit room for men to meet up and then cavort with one another.

Being in these spaces felt overwhelming. I needed introvert time from all the new sensory experiences.

It's already past 2 AM, and I wonder if I should head out. I decide against it – when will I ever be in this unique place again? – and choose to continue exploring.

I noticed a partially-separated area to the side in one of the big rooms. I step over the entryway and look within. There's a tub that's in the middle, surrounded by a gaggle of men.

More piss play? I wonder.

I find a free space next to the wall, and lean back against it, looking towards the men. One guy is getting fucked, another one is getting sucked off.

I see one guy fucking till he climaxes. Relieved of his release, he pulls out of the guy bent over the tub. I notice Top Guy rip off his cum-filled condom. Like a powerful gladiator who just conquered his opponent, the man relishes in his success and moves on to search for his next conquest.

I lose sight of the guys I was watching, and then get lost in my own head. I'm glad I came here all by myself, but I also feel self-conscious. I feel self-conscious that I'm near-naked in my baby-blue jockstrap, my ass exposed. I take a deep breath in, and relax into the nervousness of being amongst this Bacchus orgy of hot bodies and dripping sex.

While I'm looking out into the distance, I notice from the corner of my eye Top Guy approaching me. He comes close to me, so close that I feel his breath, and the hairs on my skin rise.

Because I'm up against the wall, there's nowhere to escape. But I don't mind.

He starts speaking to me, but it's incomprehensible.

"Sprechen Sie Englisch?" I ask in one of the few German phrases I know.

We talk, he tells me his name is Armin. His arms loop through mine, and he leans in and caresses my back.

"I find you very sexy. And I love just hugging you like this." His eyes meet mine. It's dark so I can't see that well, but I feel his sincerity.

He tells me that he's an academic who's generally based a few hours outside of Berlin. He's just here for the night.

"I'd love for you to join me tonight at my hotel," he implores while still caressing me. He leans in for a kiss, and I kiss back. It felt delicious, and I wanted more.

"Sex itself is not that important to me, even this hugging and touching is so nice. And we don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

Is this too fast? Is it too fast for guys to fuck with barely speaking a hello? Being at the Sex Palace has distorted notions of what's proper etiquette.

"Thank you for the invitation," I reply, considering his 3 AM proposition. But I needed time to decide. "Could we meet in 15 minutes?"

"Yeah sure," he replies sweetly. He wasn't pressuring me on this decision, which I appreciated.

I point to the circular platform near the fucking cabins as a meeting point, then we depart, and I start walking.

Walking around, I wonder about the surrounding darkness that provides safety for men to unleash their deepest, depraved desires.

Whether it's getting fucked by a football-team of guys without seeing their faces, getting fisted in front of others, or drinking guys' piss, the Sex Palace provides plentiful opportunity to find what you're looking for.

What am I looking for? I ask myself. Throughout this summer, I've been attending these spaces in Berlin where sex is accessible but deeper connection is harder to come by.

Authentic connection feels harder to get and maintain, and there's certainly more risk of hurt feelings. On the other hand, shallow, in-the-moment connection can be easier. No strings attached.

There's a bench that I am standing next to, as two other hot guys make their way there. One throws the other down on the platform. And the guy proceeds to fuck him.

I look at the muscular, white bodies thrusting and convulsing, the deep masculine voices grunting in pleasure. I wish I could do that. I wish I could let myself go enough to do that with a stranger.

But a part of me feels undesirable, as the fat and hairy brown guy. Men have told me the opposite, that I have a sexy physique, but this "undesirable" part of me dismisses such praise as unreal.

How can I accept that other guys find me sexy when it's hard for me to see that sex appeal myself? Fake it till you make it, I would tell someone else in this situation.

Looking into the glass panel on the wall, I see a boy, a scared boy who's unsure of himself. A boy who's doing the best he can in spite of great odds, doing what he can to make others around him happy. A boy whose inner recesses harbor a darkness that terrifies him. A boy who holds an inner power that he doesn't know how to properly channel. A boy who is beautiful in all his scars and tragedies.

A boy who's afraid to let others into this darkness lest they get overwhelmed in the sea of emotions. No, it's better to hold it back with a dam, to keep things light and surface-level. Sex without connection, please.

I know if I close myself off, though, the scared little boy wins. His version of the truth will dominate my perception of reality.

Closing myself off feels easier; I know how to do it. The variables are controlled; the outcomes are safer and more predictable.

There's too much risk in letting others and the unknown in. What if I open up to them and then they abandon me? What if I start loving them and then they appear untrustworthy? What if they hurt me, deeply?

Closing myself off yields me in a place like this, the Sex Palace, where anonymity and purely physical and sexual connections rule. Do I see my future here? No, certainly not.

Then the only other option, I can reason, is to take a risk. Let me say yes to Armin's invitation. As I consider the prospect of leaving this club with him, butterflies fly in my stomach. What's unknown? What's possible? This is what risk feels like.

This night will likely end in a few hours, after which we will part ways. Maybe we will have had a nice connection, and leave with a nice memory. But my choice is to detach from expectations here. Risks. Future. Me. My Life.

I wind my way through the draped black netting, leering eyes, and thumping music, towards our designated meeting point.

Which way was it? A moment of panic hastens my heartbeat, as I look out between this corridor and that entryway.

I go with my intuition, pick one and keep walking. I pass a familiar point where I sat just a few hours earlier, watching two hot guys fuck in a sling. Another dark corridor where someone fondled my cock.

Ah yes, this way. I pass through another entryway, and then see up ahead, a tall man with white skin, with a short beard and longing eyes. Eyes that are searching for something that's not here.

"I am here," I call out to him. He looks my way, and his face softens. He seems happy.

"I'll come with you tonight, but I just want you to know, I have a boyfriend back home. We're open, though. Is that okay with you?"

He nods. He reaches for my hand, and then we walk out to the Garderobe to pick up our belongings.

I look around the hotel room while Armin is taking a shower. I notice his bag of papers for his research, and sitting atop a chair another black leather bag, which I would later find out holds his toys.

He steps out of the shower in his towel, his chestnut brown hair tousled atop his head, and his joyful gray eyes finding company in mine.

Having already showered, I'm sitting on the bed in my jockstrap. He walks over and looks down into my eyes. The silence is deafening, as we study each other.

He bends down and gently plants his lips on mine. His lips are soft and moist, and I get lost in a wave of ripples throughout my body. This feels right.

"So are you more of a top or bottom?" he whispers to me, breaking the nighttime quiet.

It's a question I dread. I hate having to define myself in a box that has become de facto facets of a gay man's attributes, like blood type or hair color.

"More top, I haven't bottomed much," which was the partial truth. The truth is I loved bottoming the handful of times I did it, but I am resistant to doing it with a stranger with whom I haven't developed trust.

By this point, I could see the tenting underneath his towel. From the Sex Palace, I remember a gorgeous and thick slab of meat. I was curious to see it up close.

He rubs his cock over the towel. His steps forward, standing at the edge of the bed in front of me, my legs spread apart and flanking his.

I alternate between looking up at his face, and looking down at his cock. I'm not sure what all is happening, so many thoughts swirling around in my head, but I do know that in this moment, I want to connect with him this way. I want to pleasure him.

With a swift motion, the towel drops to the floor, exposing his full glory to me. His cock's girth makes my butthole pucker; the length makes me gulp in nervousness.

I reach out and touch the shaft, and gently grip it with my fingers. I look up at his encouraging eyes, which permit me to keep going. I run my fingers along the veins, up the shaft. Near the head, his cock has a patch of white on the otherwise soft pink skin. Farther up, there's a piece of extra skin hanging, which I later learn is remnant of a recent circumcision.

His cock clearly has practice dominating its encounters, forcing pleasure onto its captives, and tonight I have decided I'm going to be its slave.

"So sweet," he describes of me as he looks down at my face. His cock is hanging mere inches from my nose, a sweet clean musk emanating from his body.

I contemplate whether I want to suck him now, but the thinking doesn't last long. He pushes his cock closer to my mouth, and suddenly I want to please this new man who invited me to spend the night with him. I enjoyed being this warrior's latest conquest.

I stick out my tongue, and it touches the pulsating head of his massive member. The firmness feels like the flesh of a plum freshly plucked from the tree. My tongue licks around the head, then down the shaft.

His cock, now fully erect, has veins running down its shaft. The veins mark my tongue's path as it finds its way down towards his body. My tongue licks farther and farther downward until it reaches the base of his cock.

I take his balls into my mouth. "Oooh, careful," he cautions me. I take care in massaging his glorious sperm-producers gently with my tongue.

He puts his hands on either side of my head and then guides it back towards the tip of his cock, and forces entry into my mouth. I open wide, and take the head in. There are about seven more inches yet to come, and I start feeling nervous.

"Relax," he advises me. I sit with his cock's head in my mouth, as I readjust my positioning so that my legs are folded under me on the bed.

Then I take more of his cock. Another inch, another inch, till halfway is in my mouth. The pressure in my mouth expands, the heat in my skin rises. I feel a rush to my head, as his cock starts to hit the back of my mouth. I gag, and wonder if I stop, but he keeps pushing me on.

"Show me your pussy," he orders. I arch my back and push out my hairy brown ass behind me, so that he gets a clearer view of it. He reaches out and caresses my hole, and lightly taps it with his finger.

"Yeahhh..." he moans as I keep sucking his cock. "Suck my cock, suck my cock..."

His dominance feels so manly to me, and I enjoy giving up any semblance of control to this gorgeous man who desires my body. I feel wanted, and it turns me on that I turn him on. I feel sexy and safe, so I want to bring him into me.

He thrusts into my mouth, deeper and deeper. I take about half his cock in till I start gagging. Tears come out of my eyes, and I don't give up. I take more of his cock in, gag again, but keep going.

I run my hands up the sides of his torso. His huge biceps bulge as his hips swivel back and forth. His skin feels warmer as beads of sweat form on his forehead.

"Yes, baby, take it all. Take my cock. Do you like it?" he asks as he pushes his cock into my throat, only to pull out and push again.

I don't know what to say when my mouth is full.

"Say it. Do you like it?" he asks again.

"Mmmhmmmmgmfmfmmm"

"Do you like it?!" He raises his voice.

"MMGMMMMGFFFMMMMM"

"Yeah, yeah, that's good baby, ohhhh yeah..."

The moderately-paced tempo of cock thrusts turn into deeper and quicker fucking into my mouth. My head is swirling with a rush of excitement, of satisfying this beautiful man and his meat in front of me.

My mouth is aching, but I don't care. He keeps fucking my mouth, enjoying the moist saliva that lubricates his tool for its own pleasure.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, I'm close..."

I open my mouth wider and let him use my throat. I gag, but then keep going.

"Oh my GOOOOOOOODDDDDD!" he shouts as his cock explodes cum into my mouth. The sticky and salty man-seed fills my mouth, as his body shudders.

He pushes me back on the bed and collapses on top of me. He kisses me, forcing my mouth open with his tongue. I have yet to swallow his cum, so he tastes his own love juice, as his tongue wrestles mine. He holds me tightly, and I feel protected, as his breathing slows from all the excitement.

I wake up in the arms of a soldier. His well-muscled torso glimmers in the sunlight peeking in from the windows. I had been holding onto him sideways like a koala, with my head on his chest and leg over his legs, and he was holding onto me tightly all night. Surprisingly, I experienced a full, restful sleep.

I know the future is uncertain. I've spent many a night in the arms of someone new, a lover for the night, only to depart ways in the morning and relish in the memories of an exhilarating time together.

I hoist myself above him and gently kiss his neck. One here, one there, one with a little tongue. I move up to his jaw, his chin, and then one on his mouth. On the last one, his eyes open. They speak of warmth and gratitude.

I kiss him again, and then his mouth opens to welcome my tongue in. He breathes in deeply, pushes my legs aside, then flips me over and pins me down. Then he commences the kissing again.

"I had such a good time with you this last night. It is just so harmonious with you," he speaks to me as he gazes into my eyes. My heart starts beating faster.

"Wasn't it special?" he asks me.

I experience flight-or-fight. Is this getting too deep, too fast, too much, too honest?

He invites me for a coffee before we part ways. We leave the hotel room and find a Backerei open across the street.

He gets a regular coffee for him and Milch Kaffee for me, and two croissants.

We sit outside, and he asks me about my time in Berlin, why I came here, and how I like it.

In the fresh morning air after such a crazy and exciting night, I feel more at ease. Somehow that this man wants to spend time with me in public, too, shows me a level of authentic connection and willingness that goes deeper than with the men I would meet in the sex club dark rooms.

"I want to see you again."

I've heard those words before, from many men over the years. They're often the kind of words like "Nice to meet you," or "See you later," pleasantries offered more from etiquette than commitment.

It was nice to meet this man, too, and then spend the night with him, but I wasn't sure I'd be seeing him again. I'm not in Berlin to commit to anything, and my mantra has really been to take things one day at a time.

He asked what I enjoyed doing, and what other places I might like to see in Germany.

"Mountains and lakes," I respond honestly. These are the kinds of scenes I don't get in my gritty New York City life.

"Yes, there are nice places in Germany that I'd love to take you to. We can go to a very nice place, Sachsesen Schweiz," he states, mentally planning.

At this point, I had a choice to make. I could either choose to commit to this idea of his, or I could feign interest to get him off my back. Somehow I felt like he wasn't the type of guy who will accept feigned interest.

"I'll even buy the train ticket for you, if that helps," he adds. "You can take the train down to Freiberg from here, then we can drive together to the mountains." That does help. Having a guy front the bills up front is something I've secretly desired but never asked for. Somehow it makes me feel more trusting, more open, more desired.

It usually takes me time to warm up to a guy's advances, and to accept his actions as genuine. I'm generally skeptical on the onset. But this guy seemed genuine. I enjoyed my night and conversation with him. I check into my gut, and it feels intrigued for me to accept this invitation. So, I decide to commit.

What do I have to lose?

"Yes, let's do it." We plan for after he returns from a work trip to Spain. In two weeks.

In my calendar on my phone, I label the weekend we pick as our "Romantic Getaway".

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