My enduring fantasy, I am little boy for some reason staying with his schoolteacher, in some leafy steamy paradise. She walking around in swimsuits or nothing at all. F–king him. This will be my book. My Under the Hill. My Willing Cheeks. Berlin? My erotic education.
I used to call it the Kunthotel, in Kuntstraße. I was so uninspired and unaroused this time it never even crossed my mind. In those days the glorious floozies of Hanky Panky, Chocolat, Mon Cheri, Starlight, Night Dreams, Golden Gate, Blue Bananas, Sissi and Monte Carlo took me to erotic highs I had never known before in my life. Those days are long gone.
So yes my trip maybe only lasted 4 nights (the first 3 of which in Berlin were pretty pointless), but the value of my travelling lies in the days and weeks of rising erotic anticipation that preceded this trip, and already the days of lubricious pleasure that have followed it as I remember some of the titillating moments I did enjoy from it. I have no regrets from Berlin: I went to King George, 77, Monte Carlo and Sissi, and all were rubbish. Even BEC was rubbish this time. Glad to get away. My regrets from Brussels are I did NOT do anything with black Bridget when she looked so sexy. I did not speak to the busty girl in black dress opposite Beatrice. I did not do anything with a window girl. I did not get close and personal with Indian Jennifer in Empire. I did not get to enjoy MORE of Cine Paris. Did not get to Le Coin.
Blue skies all the way from Berlin to Cologne, now as we leave Cologne and head towards Belgium the clouds start to thicken. Aachen. I honestly now don’t think I will ever return to Berlin. It joins Munich in being crossed off my list—my famous four “Cities in the Autumn Stars”. Just Brussels and Vienna are left, and Vienna was totally underwhelming in April; and Brussels was totally underwhelming the last two times. Nuremberg maybe my next trip.
I was dizzy with erotic anticipation in the weeks & days leading up to my trip and I wondered whether I would be able to carry it with me and still feel the same when I got there; as I suspected, no. During my stay in Berlin I felt almost completely a-sexual. But as always it just takes one beautiful bottom or one beautiful pair of bosoms to get me in the mood again. I hope it happens in Brussels. My train to Koln is already 21 minutes late, giving me just 13 minutes to spare to catch my connection. I sat drinking my one beer surrounded by floozies in King George, Club 77, Monte Carlo and Sissi Bar and felt completely unmoved and unaroused by all of them. I hope something happens in Brussels to shake me out of my torpor. This is madness.
Blazing blue skies as we leave Berlin; not a cloud in the sky after 3 days of pitiless, remorseless rain. As always when I have a hangover I feel randy yet when I’m actually in the night bars surrounded by floozies I feel NOTHING. All I want to do on this long 4 hour trip back to Cologne is masturbate. A low key trip to Berlin. I did not go out on my last night. Several drinks in the bar, then up to bed. Couldn’t be bothered to waste money in Ciro or Caligula, or on the poor kabins of BEC. Save it for Brussels.