Bareback Sex, Slamming And The Chill Outs Where There Are No Holes Barred

Alex Palumbo recounts the dark side of drug taking…

With the vast majority of nightclubs feeling enough external pressure to raise the standard and intrusive nature of their searches, it’s hard not to feel like you’re perhaps being given an enema to flush out your class A’s. Obviously by the time everything’s been taken off you, your drive to go in needs a Viagra or two.

Swallowing fifty badly wrapped pellets or condoms seems a bit ‘Border Control.’ Plus, the idea of squatting over a neglected toilet whilst someone smashes the door down with a broomstick-cum-battering ram screaming “ORRRYY OPPP!” isn’t exactly the best way to get anyone’s anus to dilate. After pulling your ingredients for a fun night out of whichever orifice was feeling particularly packable prior to leaving the house, you’re beginning to think this is getting a bit old.

With the usual chill-out, a ratio of girls to boys is about 1:6, which breaks up the testosterone nicely. If it’s a female host, the majority of attendees will be in drag for at least 30% of their stay. Drugs are a constant theme, but it seems the Vaginal Talisman that is present keeps most sexual activity to seriously heavy petting and bathroom play. These are the chill-outs I went to at first, birthing many a hairy drag persona, and having a great time cuddling friends and listening to music while the roadrunners threw shapes in the living room. Somehow it evolved into something with a much more specific demographic.

It almost takes a second to realize that your drugs do not belong in your shoe anymore, they belong in your hand and in your nose, sharing is customary, too! Music on par with the clubs, washing facilities, sofas and cock on tap seems to be sending the hot half naked boys running around in shorts (that even John Wayne Gacy would have struggled to picture) into a frenzy! All of them squeezed tantalizingly close to one another telling the most interesting stories or just spraying utter shit from their mouths. In almost every room in the house, the scene is the same: legs touching, hands on shoulders, lips lightly pressing together. Oh. Except one room, you can’t go into it, because the host has a roommate that has an angry friend that wants it empty. Whatever. Within five minutes that room has been flipped on its back and fucked mercilessly into the same condition as the others.

“Why did they need that privacy?’ I was already better acquainted with their anatomy than my own. I later learned they were slamming.”

Wide-eyed like Charlie in the Chocolate Factory.

The sexual energy is almost more intoxicating than whatever substance you’re on, 25+ guys, half naked, sweating, horny and high… Excuse me while I mop my forehead. Guys pair off, trios slide away and quartets bound excitedly to soft surfaces that bounce back to unleash the biggest storm of group chem-sex I have ever seen. By this stage people are sporting jock straps or harnesses, some both, some neither. Not everyone is having sex, some people make shots of G, some also fix needles so the sexatheletes can keep going while others watch and slap an arse here and there. Some prefer to just sit and engage in normal conversation.

Over the top of the music you can hear the slapping of skin, grunts of a top to your left and the Californian valley-girl wailing of a bottom to your right. Something becomes fairly clear as time progresses; a lot of people are having fun, a lot of people are high, and a lot of people are barebacking. With new statistics showing a new increase in HIV infections among gay men, sexual behavior like this is hardly something that can be ignored as a partial cause.

People occasionally skulk off into the toilets, or to more secluded rooms. My guess is as good as yours, perhaps a little more sexual privacy, although after witnessing the largest Human Centipede of my short time on this Earth; it dawned on me, with a twinge of fear and swirl of curiosity, ‘Why did they need that privacy?’

I was already better acquainted with their anatomy than my own. I later learned they were slamming. Experience leads me to think that the number of HIV+ guys is to rise, and to expect that at least several people per “sex party” are I.V. drug users. Ensuring clean practice and new needles are used will undoubtedly lower the risk of any cross infection of not just HIV but Hep C, which poses a serious threat in these conditions.

As with any scene, there is always a dark underbelly, in this case I feel as though nothing new or sinister has been born from the lack of club attendance. Instead, a primal stripping of the first stages of clubbing foreplay have taken place: giving way to exactly what some of these men want right from the get go. The clubs haven’t lost out to these sex-parties and chill outs. Instead, the people looking for the clubbing experience have continued to do so. They have continued to enjoy the social aspects of the gay scene, making friends and socialising. What’s changed is that those seeking darker fantasies have left in search of a different stomping ground.

There is, however, a strong potential for standards to slip, and once that happens it becomes a constant weigh up with our own moral compass. With inhibitions lowered and risky behavior on the rise, it’s up to us to make responsible choices during times of reckless abandon. Can we occasionally go to these places, make friends, have fun and fool around with a bunch of nice guys? Or will we end up going repeatedly, just for the drugs, to look at cocks instead of faces and lose ourselves in the drug fuelled and unrightfully glamorized hedonism of it all?

• For drug or alcohol addiction advice: londonfriend.org.uk

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