Berlintercourse: The GIF Guide to Sex Party Etiquette

by Guest Blogger

My first trip to a sex club was about five years ago. I had come to spend yet another weekend visiting a dear high school friend living in Berlin and, on a whim, we decided to go to KitKat. The bouncers let us in after first telling us to remove some of our clothes, and my friend happily obliged, keeping nothing but her panties on. I took off my dress and entered the club wearing just a jacket and my underwear.

The rest of the evening is kind of a blur, but I vividly remember enjoying the fact that we were able to dance wearing close to nothing without any creeps following us around. Which brings us to the first – and maybe most important – lesson:

Sex clubs are meant to be safe spaces, so if you visit one, please make sure you help it stay that way.

Having been a guest at several sex parties now, some at pretty tame yet fun nights like GEGEN and some more adventurous ones where almost everyone ended up getting some, I have come to realise that there are a few things you should know before getting involved. To help out my fellow sexplorers, here is what I have learned so far:


“Alles kann, nichts muss”, as the Germans say. What this means is that the fact you are attending a sex party does not necessarily mean that you’ll end up having wild group sex on the dancefloor. Only if you feel like it and only if the party allows it. While many people probably assume that sex clubs are places where everything is allowed, this couldn’t be further from the truth.

During the sex party I attended a few months back, a significant portion of the evening was dedicated to reciting the event’s rules, and it was made very clear that whoever ignored them would be shown to the door in no time. At this particular party, voyeurism was not welcome – but this isn’t always the case, so make sure you know about the event’s specifics before you misbehave. You will usually find that information on the club’s website but don’t hesitate to reach out to the organisers via email if you have any doubts.


If you are attending a sex event, know that there is no place for politeness. What I mean is that if a situation is bothering you, you should not say so. I have been hesitant myself, but being straightforward is a must, so if you are afraid of making your move, ask someone to do the dirty work for you.

Once in the dark rooms of Ficken 3000, I realised that someone was watching in a very creepy way that I did not feel comfortable with. I ended up asking a friend to tell him, and the lurker was gone within a couple of seconds. As with most things in life, problems are usually solved more quickly if you deal with them directly instead of allowing them to linger on.


Every time I engaged in or witnessed threesomes or group sex, I remember being amazed at the level of consideration couples gave to each other. Much to my surprise, I found that couples that engage in this kind of activity seem to have more balanced and healthier relationships, at least from the outside. They’re the kind of people who will outright say when they are not comfortable with a situation instead of sulking or making a scene. And the other person will take the criticism just fine.

What I learned is that, while you should obviously focus on enjoying yourself, you should always keep an eye on other people’s wellbeing. This is especially true if you decide to engage in sexual endeavours with your significant other: the experience will only be truly rewarding for you both if you make sure you are not being selfish or making your partner uncomfortable.


On a more shallow note, don’t forget that there is nothing worse than attending an event and feeling like your outfit isn’t quite right. In fact, dressing up is a great part of the fun.

Find out whether there is a dress code beforehand, don’t keep all of your clothes on if nobody else is doing so, and don’t stare at people whose sartorial choices are more daring than yours.

When in doubt, remember that this is Berlin and wear black. My go-to outfit is a black bra and black thong, but you could just wear nothing and make Germany proud.


Brace yourself for the fact that you will probably witness a few situations you never expected to. I have seen things that would normally qualify as crazy, such as grown men wearing diapers or a girl holding a knife ridiculously close to a guy’s penis and occasionally poking it.

I did a double take because I was curious, but in the end remembered that everyone has their own dark side and that other people’s should be, at most, considered with a shrug. Try to remember that sex has a lot to do with people allowing themselves to be vulnerable and allowing others into their personal space.


Embrace the fact that this is your chance to try out new things. Most people who attend sex parties on the reg are ready to be your guide if you need them to.

Asking for advice will never be frowned upon and, just as with any regular party, people are usually open to taking new playmates under their wing. If you’re feeling unsure, just look at the way others are behaving and adjust – be emotionally intelligent and empathetic and people will welcome you with open arms.

Don’t believe me? The day after the sex party I went to, I was invited to have dinner with some of the organisers, before heading to a BDSM play party in the evening. That was the night I tried suspension bondage for the very first time, and it was quite the experience. I was incredibly glad to have more seasoned BDSMers around, as they took care of me and shared their precious advice along the way.


While it’s totally fine to be buzzed at “entry level” parties where most sexual acts happen in dark rooms or other dedicated areas, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself while other people are trying to get busy.

I did get pretty, ahem, tipsy during the first sex party I attended, and even though I mostly just ended up dancing and chatting everyone up, I regretted being that person when I woke up the next day. Oh well, it wasn’t my idea to bring all that vodka!


Bring condoms with you (even if you are a girl), but also know that you will always be able to get some for free at the bar – this also applies to Berghain, by the way.

While it can be cute to wake up with a few misplaced love bites the next day because they make for good stories, you don’t want to spend it running from the pharmacy to the STD clinic. Also, nothing says “I don’t respect you” like not caring about this kind of thing. Try to remember what queen Aretha was demanding back in the sixties.

In short, have fun, be open-minded, pay attention to what is happening around you, and you will have a blast! I will soon dedicate another column to my favourite sex parties to help you choose the one on which to try out all these tips – watch this space 🙂

GIFs sourced by @p_a_p_i_

Berlintercourse: An orgy to remember

by Guest Blogger

A theme that always comes up when I discuss my latest sexcapades with my flatmate is the fact that, no matter what kind of crazy situation I have just experienced, a crazier one will follow. I often find myself thinking, ”This is it. It can. Not. Possibly. Get any more extreme.”

And then it does.

Having had threesomes, tried out suspension bondage and attended a sex party, I was wondering how I could possibly add more notches to my bedpost. That is, until I received a Facebook message from one of the organisers of the sex party, asking if I wanted to attend a “crazy bisexual orgy” taking place in a hotel suite a few days later.

No need to guess what my answer was. As always, my first concern was the dress code, especially after I found out that we would all be attending dinner at this fancy restaurant before heading back to the hotel.

On the big day, I hurried down the stairs at work as soon as the clock struck 6pm. Chugging a much-needed beer on my way home, I jumped in the shower to get ready for the evening. After a quick wardrobe check, I ended up settling on a long 90s black dress I had found at Humana, paired with faux pony-fur platform sandals and a baseball bomber jacket. Casual chic, I thought, not entirely sure of my outfit choice.

Thankfully I ran into a foreign tourist in the U-Bahn, who, upon seeing me looking at my reflection, told me I looked really pretty and didn’t need to check any mirrors. He asked me for bar recommendations and I couldn’t repress a smile when he asked about my plans for the evening. “Oh nothing much, just meeting some friends.”

I was the last guest to join the table in the backyard of a Mitte restaurant. (Not the cool part of Mitte; the boring fancy part.) All eyes were on me as I greeted the couple I knew and was introduced to the other participants.

I soon realised that we were basically three couples and me. Fine. The men were considerably older, which kind of worried me, but at least the women were cute. Almost all of them were Russian. Journalists, writers and entrepreneurs – no doubt part of some sort of free-thinking, free-loving, travelling elite.

They were certainly very interesting human beings, and I enjoyed listening to their stories of going to the opera on LSD and driving across Europe on motorcycles. Most of them were divorced and had children, making me feel like a little like a child at the grown-up’s table.

As dinner was served, our conversation switched to opinions on Berlin’s various sex clubs. I listened, occasionally answering questions, unable to shake the thought that I was about to experience something my mind couldn’t have fathomed just a few months ago.

Once everyone had finished eating, one of the guests paid for our meal and announced that we would be making our way to the hotel.

We walked for a few minutes while I talked to this Russian journalist. He was older than my parents and very sweet. His arms were covered with several large tattoos, which I asked about after we’d talked about mine.

“Let me tell you the one thing I’ve learned about tattoos,” he said.

“Growing up, my mother always told me there were three rules she wanted me to follow. One of them was: do not get tattoos, for they will stick with you for all of your life. As you can already tell, I didn’t really respect this one. She passed away several years ago but I still think about her very often. Actually, I was lying on the beach last month and looked at my own tattoos, which reminded me of her rules. And I thought, ‘You know what, Mom? All of your life is really not that long.’”

I was deeply moved by these words of wisdom coming from a 60-year-old man, and decided that whatever was about to happen, the evening had already been worth experiencing.

Arriving at our suite, the host started putting together an incredible cheese platter and serving glasses of insanely delicious Italian red wine. The guy who’d invited me had already asked whether I was into drugs, so I was expecting more of a “pick me up” before getting naked but, to my surprise, everyone started making out before I could take my first sip of wine.

Since I was absolutely not attracted to any of the participating men, I was working on ways to refuse their advances. Thankfully, this really hot Russian girl started kissing me, keeping me busy while the others were at it themselves. We had sex while her boyfriend watched, leaving me to spend the rest of the evening sipping wine and smoking cigarettes half naked on the suite’s balcony, occasionally going back inside to see what was happening.

I never considered myself much of a voyeur, but I found it easy to witness what was going on. Girl-on-girl-on-boy-on-girl-on-boy-on-boy, basically. A string of naked bodies spread over the suite’s living room and bedroom. Heavy breathing, the occasional burst of laughter. Random enquiries along the lines of private parts smelling like cheese – there was a cheese platter, remember.

I decided to take care of the soundtrack, occasionally interrupting our host mid-sex to ask him to unlock his iPad, which for some reason was absolutely no big deal.

I stepped out to get more cigarettes and ended up entering a tacky nightclub to use their vending machine. I was buying three packs, which confused the people standing in line behind me. “It worked, no need to put more money in! Look, your cigarettes are right here.” I briefly considered telling them it wasn’t my fault – I was buying smokes for a whole orgy – before leaving the club and getting back to the hotel.

By then things were coming to an end, and we all chatted some more before the organiser’s girlfriend announced that she wanted to go to sleep. I quickly got dressed and suddenly was standing on the street, feeling slightly dizzy from this oh-so-weird evening.

I bought myself a beer and entered the U-Bahn, which I left again to change directions after deciding some dancing was in order. I had a sip, sighed with satisfaction and smiled about the fact that none of the other passengers had any idea what I had just been up to.

Berlintercourse: My first sex party

by Guest Blogger

You all know by now that my quest for new experiences knows no bounds, so you’ll probably only be half surprised to learn that I recently attended my very first sex party.

It all started during one of my Sundays spent dancing the day away at Berghain. I met a fairly good-looking guy, and our conversation turned quickly and naturally towards sex. Before I knew it we were comparing our number of Tinder matches and sexual partners. I mentioned this upscale sex party I’d heard of, and my new companion told me about a secret one happening regularly in Berlin. He suggested we go together and, without hesitation, I said I’d love to.

Fast-forward a few weeks, and this guy is telling me that he’s arranged for us to attend the next edition of this secret sex party. But as this is Germany, I still had to submit an official application full of disappointingly pedestrian getting-to-know-you type questions, and include a photo of myself. I nervously waited for a reply, and felt like I had won the lottery when I finally received an email welcoming me to this very special club.

It was a fancy dress party, so I spent a few days carefully planning my perfect outfit. I tried to look my ultimate sexy self, in my most slimming high-waisted thong and a transparent mesh crop top. But when I entered the venue, I found that most people seemed more interested in looking fun and artsy than hot. Just as I was wondering, “how come everyone is wearing more clothes than I am?” a girl walked past wearing nothing but a pearl thong, immediately making me feel better about my revealing outfit.

We grabbed our first drinks and scanned the main room, a vast space that nonetheless fostered an intimate atmosphere. I remember anticipating the moment that it would start being all about sex. Was there going to be some kind of signal? Right now, it looked like a large group of old friends catching up and having a regular night out.

Well, except for the guy proudly displaying a drill with a dildo attached to it. He was a non-threatening old bear, but I couldn’t help feeling a little violated when we pointed that thing at me. I sought refuge in the smoking area, always a good place to meet new people. Little did I know I was about to make my first almost faux pas.

I had brought fortune cookies to share and decided to hand them out to the smokers sat next to me on a worn-out couch. After everyone had read out loud what was written on their strip of paper, someone asked, “So, what did you get?”

“Mine says ‘You will have good health’, which I’m happy to hear considering my flatmate just told me that he has chlamydia!” Everyone went silent for a minute, and that’s when I recognised that this might not be the best place to joke about STDs. Then everyone started laughing, and I realised that I might have stumbled on the perfect ice-breaker. Phew!

After a few more drinks, I was approached by a young man who told me: “The first thing I noticed upon entering the room is your butt.” Given what I was wearing, this came as no surprise. He offered me wine and told me he wanted me to meet somebody, before walking off towards a girl who was chatting with somebody else.

He interrupted her to point at me and whisper something into her ear. Then they both walked my way and stood around me. She was his girlfriend and they attended this party with the sole purpose of finding girls to have threesomes with. I actually even got to meet the girl they had hooked up with at a previous party, which I guess was weird – but it takes a lot more than that to make me feel uncomfortable these days.

We flirted for a little while before they made it clear it was time to go to the other room – the darker one filled with mattresses placed on top of piles of euro-pallets. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to have my first threesome, after several missed opportunities, and I had no idea what to expect. Was it going to be awkward? Were they going to get busy with each other while leaving me out? How was my second time with a girl going to be? I had no idea, but we got undressed after making out for a little while. What happened next ended up being one of my best sexual experiences so far.

There I was, lying on my back, while a hot guy and a hot girl were making sure I had the time of my life. I never felt left out and I’m pretty sure neither of them did either. And the other people getting busy on the nearby beds hardly even registered with us. A very natural synergy arose and I kept on thinking, “I can’t believe this is finally was happening.”

Once we were done, we got dressed and I retrieved my shoes from a tangle of arms and legs on the opposite side of the room. I had one more drink with the couple and decided to finally hit the dance floor. The DJ had started playing ridiculous pop songs and the party was approaching its end. Unlike the “regular” music-oriented parties that Berlin is known for, this one was indeed set to finish promptly at 4 am.

I spent the rest of the night talking to other guests, save for a single detour back into the second room on the invitation of a friend. I was seriously impressed with how uncomplicated and easy-going the vibe was. It felt like a hippie, free love-inspired gathering – think more Burning Man than the Shortbus sex club scene.

I never would have predicted that this night would meet – let alone exceed – my expectations. After reading about Slutever and Chelsea Summer’s experiences, I wasn’t sure I’d do anything sexual even if I found myself in a similar situation. But I guess that after all this time I shouldn’t have been surprised to find out that, out of all the cities in the world, Berlin is the perfect place for these kind of liberal, experimental, mutually rewarding parties.

Berlintercourse: BDSM for beginners

by Guest Blogger

The ins and outs of dating in Berlin.

If there’s one thing I never thought I would try out – let alone enjoy – it’s BDSM. I haven’t read Fifty Shades of Grey, didn’t know much about its plot before the movie came out, and where I come from this particular kink isn’t as common as it seems to be here.

Before moving to Berlin, I was convinced that only balding, overweight middle-aged men and faded menopausal women were into BDSM, and there was nothing glamorous about that. Sure, I had been to KitKatClub before, but I never gave much thought to what I saw or heard there. And I certainly didn’t identify with the men who crawled past me on all fours wearing dog collars. But, as with many other things, my opinion on this whole scene has changed drastically over the past months.

It all started with an OkCupid match with two guys sharing a joint profile and looking for girls to have threesomes with.

Their writing was very much “on point” and I really wanted to meet them, despite not even knowing what they looked like – their faces were hidden on all of their pictures. Shortly before our first date, they sent me pictures that screamed BDSM. Women tied up, a girl with a gag in her mouth, a man holding a whip…

I was surprised to find that these pictures really appealed to me. Perhaps that was because of the Vogue-esque aesthetic – after all, Slutever has a column on vogue.com now. I didn’t end up having a threesome, but I did meet up with one of the guys for what was to be my first ever blind date. Luckily, he turned out to be a really handsome and surprisingly normal man in his late twenties.

For the first time, I let a complete stranger choke me. He spanked me, and not in the ridiculous, almost cute way some boys had tried to hit me before. This was for real.

The next day, I noticed that my breasts were covered in bruises, but the emotional traces of the night were much more palpable than these physical marks. I felt ecstatic.

I had my second experience a few weeks later. I met an incredibly good-looking man at KitKatClub and he quickly suggested going back to his place. Shortly before we reached his front door, he asked me whether I had ever heard of Fifty Shades. I told him that I had, and was in fact very curious about its themes – despite having little to no experience of them.

What happened then was one of my best memories so far. Once we got to his place, he quickly vanished and came back holding a crazy amount of BDSM toys and accessories. We ended up trying most of them out and he was incredibly patient, caring and open during the whole process. He taught me how to use each of them, asked me which ones I preferred and why, and helped me find out what my boundaries were. When I went home the next day, I realised I felt even more high than I had the first time.

As of now, I am meeting up with a guy who has agreed to be my sex master. He’s teaching me about the more psychological aspects of BDSM, which is fascinating. Our last session involved me being tied to a chair, blindfolded, with a vibrator strapped between my legs, and told not to come unless he allowed me to. He hardly touched me except for several soothing kisses, but here again I couldn’t believe how satisfying the evening was.

Also, and because this is Berlin after all, my flatmates and I recently had a slave over. He posted an ad online offering to go to women’s houses and clean them for free. Since we’re curious (and lazy), I decided to take him up on his offer. I was asked to boss him around a little, and after a few emails we agreed on a date and time.

I couldn’t help but nervously laugh as he made his way up the stairs. I had no idea what to expect, and the fact that one of my flatmates had showed me which kitchen knife to use in case things went wrong wasn’t really helping. Our “slave” also turned out to be relatively normal. I had no idea how to boss him around at first, but after a few hours I got pretty comfortable – so much, in fact, that I had to repress the urge to be bossy to the cab driver and the barkeeper, and pretty much everyone else I encountered afterwards.

As I’d been told before, control is everything here, so there is definitely room for improvement on my part, but I think I might actually enjoy playing the role of dominator as well. For the record, I have no idea how someone could gain satisfaction from cleaning a house, let alone for free and while putting up with orders from someone else.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned since moving here, it’s that you should avoid judging people. After all, the boundary between normal and shocking is very thin, and Berlin is, and should remain, a place where people are free to behave as they please.

Berlintercourse: The dos and don’ts of casual sex

by Guest Blogger

The ins and outs of dating in Berlin.

I had a few “friends with benefits” before moving to Berlin.

First, there was this boy I used to go clubbing with. I would try to help him find a girl to take home, knowing that if it didn’t work out, I’d be the one he’d end up with. For some reason, I never felt the slightest pang of jealousy, and I kind of enjoyed watching him get rejected by most of the women he approached.

Then there was this other guy who was in a relationship, and insisted on making me spend time with his girlfriend, just so he could pretend there was nothing going on between us. I stopped seeing him when it all became too much for me to handle.

Fast forward a few years and here I am in Berlin, occasionally hooking up with a few guys. Some of them I’ve known for six months now, but I could never imagine developing any romantic feelings for them. So much for the misconception that women are unable to have sex without falling in love, right?

However, despite my previous experience, I realise now that I still had a lot to learn about casual sex when I moved to Berlin – and I have to plead guilty to a few don’ts.

I used to assume that going back to a boy’s place meant that I was sleeping over. I was dead wrong – but fortunately I didn’t have to learn this the hard way. I found myself confused when I had someone over and they’d leave straight after we’d had sex, even if it was 3 am on a weekday.

And I’m pretty sure I overstayed my welcome a few times, but the guys in question were thankfully too polite to say anything. Well, there was this one dude who made me smoke a million joints and then proceeded to ask me whether I knew how to get home, even though I was barely able to make my way to his bathroom. But still, another myth busted: just because your relationship with someone is purely sexual, that doesn’t mean they will treat you like a prostitute.

A huge DON’T, however, is to assume that anyone wants to hear about your problems. There’s no bigger turn-off than hearing you complain about your boss, especially when it’s 1am on a Sunday morning and the other person has already put on their scarf and gloves. Just don’t – you’re only making it uncomfortable for everyone involved.

If you don’t want any of the commitment required of a real relationship, then I’m sorry to break this to you, but you’ll just have to live with the fact that whoever you’re seeing is going to put him- or herself first. One guy did this to me the last time we saw each other and, well, I’m not sure I can go through it again. But instead of trying to change him, I’ll just have to call the whole thing off.

When it comes to casual sex, the single biggest do would be: have fun. Do stuff that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but yourself.

There are few things as amusing as sitting on the U-Bahn on a weekday afternoon, wondering whether everyone around you can tell what you’ve just been up to and why your hair now looks like a bird’s nest. Especially when said encounter happened right after an unsatisfying lunch date with another boy.

To me, casual sex is the ultimate confidence boost. There’s nothing like having a man tear your clothes off right after you’ve entered their apartment, having awesome sex and then leaving an hour later as if nothing had happened. It’s also the best way to live out your sexual fantasies, especially in Berlin. Feel like having a blind date with someone who’s into BDSM and who you would be way too embarrassed to ever see again? No problem.

I guess casual sex has become the norm here, since most people seem to rely on their close friends for the emotional intimacy that a romantic relationship would normally provide. And this is coming from someone whose best gay friend only-half-jokingly suggested we open a joint bank account. In a city mostly populated by handsome young people who happen to be great in bed, it would be a shame not to try some of them out!

Berlintercourse: The ins and outs of dating in Berlin

by Guest Blogger

Dating in Berlin can be weird. I’d been warned before I moved here: “In Berlin findet man mehr Sex als Liebe”; “Everyone is single in Berlin”, etc. But I still had hopes that I would work it out – I even decided to make a challenge out of it. I mean, how could a young, fairly attractive and relatively intelligent girl like me stay single in a city full of hot, interesting and like-minded people? Unfortunately, it didn’t take me long to realise that things weren’t going to go as smoothly as I had expected.

I turned to my smartphone as soon as I arrived in Berlin, to make sure I wouldn’t lose too much time out of the game. I figured Tinder would be my best bet, as I didn’t have enough acquaintances or work colleagues to allow me to meet boys through friends. Little did I know that I was entering a world made almost exclusively of dates serving as both first and last encounter, plenty of shattered hopes and – here comes the silver lining – pretty awesome sex. It’s been over six months now and I still haven’t won the game. I have, however, learned some of the rules. And here’s tip number 1: don’t get indignant if you hear that the Berlin dating scene is insane. Just thank whoever was kind enough to warn you.

If you haven’t been greeted by a guy opening his apartment door with his balls hanging out, and a cock ring dangling between them, then how can you be sure that you’ve really lived?

Before you ask, yes, that did happen to me. But I’ll save that story for another time! Anyway, I’ve learned a lot over the past few months. I’ve gone from almost falling in love upon first meeting a guy to having blind sex dates with people I met through OkCupid and knew nothing about. Not necessarily because of Berlin, but because I had just got out of a four year relationship which had repressed what I would describe as mild nymphomaniac tendencies. And what’s wrong with that? I always make the guys wear condoms, I haven’t got pregnant yet and I’ve experienced my fair share of crazy stories.

My dating spree has introduced me to the good, the bad and the ugly of the Berlin dating scene. And no man that I’ve encountered has behaved in a way that could be described as remotely normal. I blamed online dating for this, until I stopped using dating apps for a month. To my horror, I realised that the men I met in the standard, pre-21st century fashion ended up behaving in an even more absurd way.

To give you an idea – I got dumped by this one guy I wasn’t even dating, by receiving a Whatsapp message at 7am on a Monday, as I lay in bed with a boy I’d met at Berghain.

We’d been to KitKatClub the Saturday before, and, after telling me we were absolutely going home together and convincing me to leave some of my clothes at his place, he got off his face on ecstasy and suddenly decided he wanted nothing more to do with me. In the meantime, he had actually introduced me as his girlfriend and asked what our rules were for the evening. We agreed that kissing strangers was fine, and that we would ask first if we wanted to actually sleep with anyone else. I guess it took him 24 hours to decide that the sensible thing to do would be to break up with me and dare to include the words “let’s stay friends” in his message – because why not, right?

Anyway, I’m looking forward to sharing all these fabulous encounters in even more excruciating detail. Stay tuned for a journey in the life of a desperately single Berliner trying to figure out the in and outs of this sex-obsessed city, one or two insane boys at a time.

Berlin Crushes

by James Glazebrook

Berliners may be a lot of things, but no one really thinks of them as sexy. They aren’t as suave as Parisians, as charming as *ahem!* the Brits, and their typical demeanour is about as far from Latin flair as it’s possible to get. Having said that, we just can’t help but feel an unwavering attraction to this city’s inhabitants, one that emanates from our groinal regions. The natives, and especially the people that moved here, have grown accustomed to lost weekends, lost inhibitions and a healthy disregard for the prudishness that keeps the rest of Northern European in its metaphorical chastity belt. Allow us to take our key, slip it into the lock, and liberate our steamiest Berlin crushes.


Marlene Dietrich
The Schöneberg sexpot was bisexual back before everyone and their mum was. That means both us überliners can fantasise about putting the blue in the Blue Angel, conducting A Foreign Affair, and being the flaming torch burning up between her lips.

Daniel Brühl
Barcelona-born Brühl gives his sometime home a much-needed injection of Spanish spice. When nibbling on chorizo at his Kreuzberg tapas bar, we’ve caught ourselves daydreaming about sinking our teeth into a sausage more substantial. His penis.

If power is the ultimate aphrodisiac, then who could be hotter than the world’s most powerful woman? As breast feeding courts controversy, she has Europe clutched to her ample bosom, threatening to withdraw the nip-nip when our thirsty continental cousins desire it the most. The big tease. Angela Merkel

What can we say about the Mistress of Merkins that she hasn’t said already? Go on love, fuck the pain away.

The Hoff
He’s been looking for freedom, and – if you sneak a glimpse at his stonewashed jeans – he’s been looking so long. The symbolic saviour of Cold War Berlin still has us entranced, swimming in his aqua blue eyes. Just as our predecessors longed to escape the grey concrete of the DDR, we want to break out and run slow motion through the knee-height shrubbery of his chest hair, down to the shoreline of his swelling love. Now where did we leave our red bathing suits?

David HasselhoffAlec Empire
Our hearts have been fire-bombed, and Empire lit the fuse. The rarely-shirted, skinny-pantsed prince of digital hardcore has been confusing us sexually since our formative years. And his refusal to age even remotely means that, somewhere deep in our nethers, a teenage riot is always raging.

Nastassja Kinski
In Cat People. Seriously.

Dominic Monaghan
Although overlooked in our Lord of the Rings fan fiction, we’ve still got eyes for little Merry Brandybuck. Born in Berlin, Monaghan grew up in Stockport, England – which is where he picked up that sexy Northern accent 😉 – before pulling on those irresistible fuzzy feet and becoming one-half of everyone’s second-favourite Hobbit coupling. Let’s roll up some Halfling’s Leaf and just see what happens…

Hey, where you running to baby? Those collars and cuffs match, firecrotch? Wanna show me what you got in those parachute pants? Hey baby! ….Baby?

Iggy and Dave
These two come as a couple, just like they used to when they lived here. Pop and Bowie certainly made sweet music together in their Schöneberg apartment, and rumour has it that their knob-twiddling didn’t stop at the mixing desk. Just imagine being rubbed up and down Iggy’s washboard stomach, then hung out to dry on the rail-thin White Duke.

David Bowie and Iggy Pop