Parties like Ostbahnhof, or Lights Down Low are becoming LA Cultural Institutions. Derek and I danced and made out, we fell in the lights and the music, the push of the people, and then went home, driving through the city as the sun rose the world bursting into flame. The room exploded with claps and cheers and dancing.Īfter, we went back to the dance floor. “To all the gorgeous fucking, and the children, to being queer, to being alive! To the music!” They raised their glass, and cheersed the room. Standing on a crate in the middle of the room was one of the most glamorous people I have ever seen, wrapped in flowing silvery white satin, with long radiating white hair to match. 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. Derek pushed me to my knees while a group of guys surrounded us. 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.
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