It was announced earlier today that New York City’s legendary gay dance club, Splash, will be permanently closing its doors on the 10th of August 2013. After over two decades of being the go-to nightlife venue, Splash will be celebrating the countdown to its final farewell by hosting ten amazing parties starting on the first of August. Before I say goodbye to the place where so many epic adventures unfolded, I’d like to look back and highlight some of the best times I had getting kicked out of my favorite New York City club.
When I first stepped foot inside Splash I was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed twink still blinded by the bright lights of Manhattan. They catered to every queer demographic, from twinks, bears, jocks, and every color of the rainbow. I had my first taste of what it was like to be a real New Yorker during their college nights that allowed patrons eighteen years and older to dance the night away. The social group, Gorgeous, Gay, and Twenty-Something (GG20) was a but a flicker of an idea when I met nightlife promoter Justin Luke, who took me under his wing and placed me onstage to strut, twirl, and earn my keep. If I wasn’t on a go-go box or downstairs in the locker room, I could be found in the middle of the dance floor gyrating to the rhythm of the music with a new hottie I’d met that night.
At the time I was still living and commuting from Westchester County as a college student, and Metro North shut down around 2AM, so I had to either commit to staying in Manhattan until the early morning hours to make it back in time for my first class, or find a cute trick who would keep me occupied until the trains resumed operations. On one particular night I made the mistake of not paying attention to the time and stayed past my curfew. It was also one of those weird nights when a random influx of straight people crowded the bar, cockblocking the gays with a diminished pool of available men.
It was 3AM and the crowd was beginning to thin, leaving behind the incoherent and the desperate. Just as I was about to walk out the door, the guy I was cruising all night grabbed my hand and led me back to the dance floor. The lights in his eyes were dimmed by several cocktails, but he was still handsome with an athletic build. Much to my disappointment, he recoiled from my advances as our faces nearly met for a kiss. Instead, he replaced his somehow more drunk friend onto me as they danced circles around me. Ready to leave, I began to head out once more but was invited to join them at their apartment nearby.
Give me some grace here, for I was young(er) and had missed my train home for the night. Agreeing to their belligerent offer of a place to stay, we walked – okay, stumbled – up to their unit, where my original dance partner left me with his friend. This boy couldn’t form a sentence, so instead led me into his bedroom where the night took an interesting turn. Closing the door behind him, he fumbled for his pants and revealed, to my surprise, a massive cock flopping out. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he pushed me down to my knees, and ordered me to suck it. Like any good guest, I obliged willingly and with gusto, taking his growing manhood into my mouth when the first boy walked into the room to join us.
They took turns using my mouth until I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and the cool, wet feeling of lubed fingers sliding inside my hole. The one behind me pushed my mouth deeper onto his friend’s cock as I felt him slowly penetrate me. I held back tears as pain and pleasure overtook me, gasping in ecstasy as he forced the entirety of his shaft into my eager hole. Just as I was getting used to his thick dick, they switched positions to spitroast me again like the piggy bottom they were searching for all night.
A few hours later my alarm woke me up, reminding me that the first train would be departing soon. I didn’t bother to wake them up to announce my departure. Typically, I would have left my contact information but I knew better than to try to make this more than the drunken, passionate fling that it was. I quietly collected my things, jumped into a taxi to Grand Central Station, and relished the memory of my holes being filled.
The memories I can recollect from my time at Splash are near and dear to my heart and hole. I know I’m not alone in making questionable and drunken decisions there. It was where many of us got our first taste of New York City nightlife, so let’s pay our respects and make one last pilgrimage to the place that started it all! Join me in reliving our wayward youth and be my teenage dream for one more night.