“Not knowing what can happen is part of the excitement of the Black Party,” Randy tells me. We’ve been Facebook friends for a couple of months, even though we’ve never actually met. He’s a fellow pervert who is always enthusiastic to share his exploits.
He was also going to this year’s Black Party, being held in Brooklyn for the first time ever. Though he enjoyed the celebration of the party, he was far more interested in the raunchy sex; he was hoping to get fucked raw as many times as possible, and to top some guys too. It’s a party he looks forward to every year.
On the day of the party, he says, he drove his car from his home in Long Island, which felt, to him, a world away from the openness of the gay life in New York (and all the more reason to indulge). He parked the car a few blocks away from the party when he arrived, but says he could hear the music pounding even from there and could see the men filing around the block to get in. “The men who attend the Black Party are a special kind of hot,” he reassures me.
Once inside, he stripped down to his black and orange neoprene harness and jockstrap that he’d purchased from the West Village specifically for the party. Finally, he entered into the warehouse space, leaving the ordinary behind.
“The space was a huge warehouse,” he says. “It had a decidedly gritty, blue collar kind of feel. I loved it! Being a gay man, I’m quite attracted to blue-collar men of all kinds, such as truck drivers, construction workers and guys who work in warehouses. Occasionally I get to hook up with ‘rough trade’ types like that.”
He wandered through the various rooms, exploring the new party space before finally entering into his beloved play area — the real reason he was there. His hole twitched with anticipation; his body knew what was coming. As he wandered through the darkness, his ass was being fingered by everybody that he passed by as though they were sampling the merchandise — and he loved it. He found himself in and out of orgies, fucking, getting fucked and sucking off random strangers. Everybody was everybody’s, forget individualism — he joined in, horny and seething. This was everything for Randy.
After a couple of hours of play he ended up with a young Jamaican twink who had a ’70s-style Afro and six-pack. Randy fucked his ass, hard and deep, until they reeked of sweat and semen, and he says he found the odour intoxicating. They hung out afterward and bonded over a bottle of poppers. He liked his new friend a lot and especially loved watching him getting fucked by others. Randy’s ass became a public facility for men to milk their cocks into, and as he describes it, he felt it was his public service for the night. It was so dark that he never knew who was inside of him, but that was part of the allure. He lost himself in servicing others — it was addictive. Wherever he looked, he could see sexy young twinks bouncing back and forth on the laps of the tops like a production line.
I’m not sure if it’s even possible, but Randy believes that he was drugged by some semen that he took up his ass — it was either coke or K, he wasn’t quite sure — and that it softened his erection a bit. It could’ve also have been a booty bump, who knows?
In past years he would stay at the party until noon, but he had a calligraphy class that afternoon. He finally left at 9am, but not before getting the number of his Jamaican friend.
He stepped outside into the blinding light of the sun but his head was still back at the party, which was going full force.
He drove back to his home in Long Island, showered and ate. He suddenly felt the comedown — partially from the dopamine crash, but also because it was sad to return to a mundane life after a night like that. But life goes on, and he could honestly say that it was his best Black Party ever.