A few weeks ago, after ascertaining if I had a drivers’ license, a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to go with him to an adult sleep away camp… thing. What’s an adult sleep away camp… thing?
Well, at the time, I didn’t really know. He said it was a part of a group of adults who are pretty much fall into the category of “other.” Poly, bi, trans, gay, etc., and almost all into some form of kink. In fact, later, one of the guys in our car kept referring to it as kink camp, and that seems like the best appellation, so we’ll go with that.
I met my friend, and his group of merry travelers, at the rental car place and we headed out. There was some talk and questions about what was going to happen and was I excited, and . . . well, I couldn’t tell. I had no idea what was going to happen, and after a really long week, I wasn’t thinking past the next bathroom break. Eventually, we turned off the turnpike and down a long, long country road, which was rather idyllic, instead of being incredibly creepy. It was a good thing I couldn’t see the corn fields until we were driving home. Anyway, at the end of this country road was the entrance to, what I was told, was an old Boy Scout summer camp that had been bought out by someone. I didn’t really ask too many questions.
We checked in and I found out that I was actually late for my “chore duty.” You see, to help the camp run smoothly, you were assigned a chore duty. So, after checking in, I hustled down the hill in the dark, only to be told that I wasn’t needed. Much walking and waiting ensued afterwards, as I tried to find my cabin, in the dark.
After unpacking, there was a game night at the pavilion. Game night included hangman being played while a rope artist suspended you, spin the bottle where each chair had something you had to do if the bottle landed on you, some variation of Twister, slap jack that ended in spanking, and others. Oh, and an open bar. A moderator was on hand at each station to ask for the people’s consent in playing the games. That was one of the most important rules of kink camp. You had to acquire consent before doing anything, which we’ll get more into later.
Game night was followed by midnight snack. While we were provided meals at camp, most people ended up sleeping through breakfast, so a fourth meal “midnight snack” was added at some point. Afterwards, we retired to the cabin to schedule the next day or two, followed by a brief stint at the dungeon (yes, there was a barn where there was a large S&M dungeon) where I was introduced into being flogged…
Days were taken up by a series of classes, seminars, and a swap meet/craft fair. The classes were things like “A Map of Your Vagina,” “The Gay Guy’s Guide to the Blow Job,” “Anal Stimulation Techniques,” “How to Be a Loving Dom,” and “Tantric and Magical Sex,” to name a few. The craft fair and swap meet had a variety of vendors selling sex toys, leather gear, chain mail, floggers, and sexy outfits. The schedule was pretty open, and you just had to show up. I think I went to one, that day, and took a nap, followed by a walk in the woods. At some point, we were in the smaller barn, where my friends and I found a carriage, and sat in it to have a drink. I have to say that you really haven’t lived until you’ve sat in a barn, drinking your drank in a carriage while an Asian sub boy slow dances with an elderly transvestite while two people of indeterminate gender fuck in the corner.
The big event, that night, was a brothel, where you could spend the hard earned Monopoly Money you won at game night, in exchange for agreed on sexual services of a varying nature. You meet at a large party tent where drinks were being served (it was pretty much open bar the whole time), and arranged things with the Madame. There were a few other rooms and events going on, but I spent most of my time hanging out in the party tent chatting with some folks. You see, the one drawback to kink camp is that men who were into men were made something of a minority. Sure, there were a few bi guys to add to the mix, but most of them had girlfriends, and … Well, let’s just say that fooling around with a bi guy with a girlfriend who’s still exploring his sexuality is VERY different then having sex with another gay man.
After the brothel/social hour, a few of us retired to our cabin to just hang before completely crashing. The next day wasn’t too much different, at least in terms of basics. Classes and seminars on sex, people meeting up, watching people having sex, you know. A weekend. Again, I can’t stress enough about how everything was done safely. Consent was always asked, and protection was always worn. There was even a small talk during the blow job seminar about how the kink community and the gay community are at slight odds, regarding condoms, since the former thinks they should be used during blow jobs and the latter is more ok without them, during blow jobs at least.
On the whole, kink camp was a very freeing experience. The very first day, some part of my brain kicked in and started screaming that I had entered modern day Sodom and Gomorrah and that I was destined to go to hell. I have no idea where that came from. At some point in time, I started warming up to the folks there. Most people were respectful, because you had to be. Most people were happier than many of the folks I see in the city. They weren’t beholden to anyone, and were vocal about what they wanted and yet respectful of other people and other tastes. By the end of the trip, I hadn’t really had any sex, well, ok, once, and it was more of a “here’s what the vagina looks and feels like” situation, but I felt freer than I have in a long time. I felt more connected, both from being outdoors and away from the city, but from also being around a large group of open and accepting people. I would even go to say that the collective positive energies of all the previous “kink camp” sessions had lent the campground with an almost religious aura, something that even the religious retreats I had to take at my Catholic high school couldn’t always achieve.
Unfortunately, there’s a lot that I’ve glossed over. I’m not sure how comfortable many of the campers would be having me talk about them, and there are a few things that went on that could very easily get a judgment call from the general internet. However, at the end of the day, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that welcomed and accepted, and I would love to go back.
Image: Flickr/Pat David
