I’ve Gotten Super into Queer Afterhours Parties in My 50s

One night, around 2 AM, I found myself at Ostbahnhof, a queer afterhours party that happens in various warehouses in Downtown Los Angeles. I was there with a friend of mine, Derek. We wandered through the party, dancing and checking out hot guys, before entering the dark room.
The music was pulsing, techno, but groovy. Not dark. The kids were high off the night, and all around us the party moved like a river of energy and sound and light.
Inside the dark room we were surrounded by people fucking, making out, touching, exploring: cis and trans men and women, nonbinary, gay, straight, and the places between: there are no limits to what is allowed and encouraged at parties like Ostbahnhof. Derek pushed me to my knees while a group of guys surrounded us. After I’d sucked him for a few minutes, he bent me over one of the many blow-up beds in the space and fucked me: the two of us putting on a show for the guys watching us.

 

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