8 hours ago
7
Conrad, 36
We keep the connection with subtle signals, glances across the room and an unspoken agreement that we won’t disappear
Every couple of months, Callum and I go to a sex-positive queer party. At some point, one of us will turn to the other and say, “Shall we explore?” and we’ll find the dark room: an almost pitch-black maze of little booths and benches where strangers touch, kiss and have sex. Attraction works differently inside the dark room and rejection can be blunt. People can gently push you away, saying, “No, I don’t want you to be part of this,” which reminds you how vulnerable sex can be.
Early on, when Callum was invited into something I wasn’t, the sudden feeling of being shut out made me leave. Now, we keep the connection with subtle signals, glances across the room and an unspoken agreement that we won’t disappear. We can wander, explore, flirt, touch, but it has to feel like we’re doing it together.
That’s our only rule: keeping the connection and being aware of where the other is. I’d feel hurt if Callum drifted away and explored things that we haven’t. Some acts would feel too intimate, such as intensely making out with one person for too long.
We always have hot sex after nights like these, taking the sexual energy home with us. The sex is freer and more explorative; we might film bits of it, do it in front of the mirror or be more verbal about our fantasies.
We’ve been together for four years, and living together for two. Our sex drives match, though our rhythms are different: Callum is a morning person; I prefer evenings when I feel awake and don’t have morning breath. Most mornings, we make coffee, do Wordle and Connections in bed, then swipe on Feeld for fun, which is actually by far the most boring of the three. Having sex with someone for the first time, you feel so alive, but Callum is the hottest of them all. We’re tender, tactile and expressive about wanting each other. My only fear is forgetting that sex is a way to connect. We never regret doing it, only: why don’t we do it more?
Callum, 35
He claims I tried to seduce him by taking my sweater off and revealing my belly but that wouldn’t be the body part I would use
Conrad and I matched on Tinder twice. I went quiet the first time so he deleted the app, but luckily gave me another chance. When he walked into the bar on our first date wearing a rain jacket, I knew I liked him. He claims I tried to seduce him by taking my sweater off and revealing my belly, but that wouldn’t be the body part I would use to seduce someone. On our third date, he asked: “May I kiss you?” which I thought was cute. I said yes instantly.
That night we had sex for the first time and, at 2am, I asked him to leave. I regret that now, but I was just out of a situationship and didn’t know how to do the intimacy of mornings. A few weeks later, Conrad sat me down and said: I want to be close to you, but I don’t know where I stand. I’d never had such an honest conversation so early on that didn’t end in a breakup. For some reason, I didn’t get defensive.
Sexually, there was undeniable chemistry, but it didn’t fit like a jigsaw piece – both of us have more experience topping. We’ve had to adapt, and most of our sex isn’t penetrative.
The dark room has helped us build connection and trust. It’s a judgment-free place where we can live out our fantasies and explore with other people, with the security of the person we love being there. It removes the mystique around casual intimacy, which makes cheating feel pointless. We always go home together, which is what matters. Afterwards, we launch at each other and can finally have sex. In a way, we use those guys as pawns in our foreplay.
My favourite moments with Conrad aren’t sexual at all. They’re when we’re orbiting each other in our flat; when he spends time with my family. I love how straightforward but also what a deep thinker he is, his lisp, the gap in his teeth. I find it hard to imagine my future, but I find it easy to imagine him in it.
