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Hot Fun in the Summertime
Sex in the Sub-City

If you're anything like me - and by me I mean an individual, either male or lesbian, who is attracted to girls, and who lives in a place like New York, a place that is not only filled with a multitude of women from all around the world, but is also situated on the eastern seaboard, and therefore experiences the full four seasons - then summer is the best time to be alive. What do I mean by this? I mean that no longer do I have to rely on my imagination, desperately trying to conjure up my powers of x-ray vision to pierce through sweaters, jackets and the like; for now, with the long, drawn-out days, the sunshine, the stifling humidity, everything is out in the open. What once was hidden away, hibernating behind wool and suede, long jonhs and Sean John, is now displayed prominently, unabashed, undeterred, unhindered.

I'm talking specifically, of course, about the sudden influx of tank tops. Yes, tank tops. Were there ever two words strung together before that so set the heart aflutter (excluding, of course, blow jobs)? Whoever the genius was who came up with these things - no doubt a man (or a lesbian) - I tip my hat to you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Summer is also the best time of the year because of all the parties. Don't get me wrong - there are great ones all year, including New Year's Eve, drunken office Christmas parties, Halloween and the like. But summer has the best by far. Just this past month I attended two whoppers, and I've got the pics to prove it.

The first was the Imperial Grand Orgy Ball, which was held at Webster hall, and no matter how hard they tried, how much they scrubbed and polished, the place still reeked of Jersey sweat and Long Island hairspray (or was it Long Island sweat and Jersey hairspray?). To make up for this, they decorated the club like an S&M dungeon, with whips and chains and nasty-looking apparati adorning every possible surface. The crowd was extremely mixed, hardcore fetish fashionistas rubbing elbows and other body parts with guys right out of Hoboken. There were slaves and masters, catwomen, transvestites, dangerously-high stilettos, eye-popping bustiers and lots and lots of latex.

I had a fun time ogling all the people and dancing to the various DJ's and bands in the different rooms, but what I had come there for specifically - the orgy - never happened. I mean, I did witness a couple doing it in one of the stairwells, and there was a guy giving cunnilingus to his girl in full view of a roomful of people, but that was about it. The only thing that was at all erotic was the lap-dancing room, which was overflowing with willing guys. This was because the girls giving the dances were very eager to please, bouncing on their guys' laps with fervent aplomb. Do you remember those things you used to bounce around on in gym class, those round rubber things with the circular handles? That's totally what it reminded me of.

I also attended the annual Mermaid Parade at Coney Island, which beat the Orgy Ball hands down for eroticism. Maybe this was because it was held in the middle of the afternoon, and the place was packed with kids, a combination that is generally not conducive to getting one excited. But there I was, wandering through mobs of half-naked mermaids and sea nymphs, marveling at these strange creatures who pranced through the packed streets, showing practically everything Neptune gave them, without a care in the world.

The highlight came after the parade, when the Hungry March Band stormed the beach, causing unsuspecting sunworshippers to practically roll out of the way as they ran for the water. Once they all were in the ocean, the band played a tune, and everyone around them splashed, ogled and splashed some more - the perfect way to spend any afternoon.

Later on, as I left Coney Island and made the long train treck back to civilization, I was sad that the day was over. But not too sad. Luckily, there are more parties on the horizon. Rubulad may be over (or is it? That place is like fucking Jason from Friday the 13th), but no doubt scores of other events will rise up to take its place.

I'm already gearing up for the Fourth of July Imperial Orgy Mermaid Parade. It's really not to be missed. They're going to shoot latex-clad mermaids into the sky, and then when they fall into the East River, everyone's going to jump in with them and basically have a huge, patriotic, American Fourth of July Fuckfest right there in the water. If you go, look for me near the UN building - that's where all the hot foreign chicks are going to be. Viva l'été!!!*


*That's "summer" in case you weren't paying attention. Or are simply retarded.

--Russ Josephs

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Free Williamsburg© | 93 Berry Street | Brooklyn, NY 11211
[email protected] | July 2002 | Issue 28
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