Museum Erotica

I remember being asked what I was doing with my free day before I had to fly out; mentioned I was going to spend some time at the Museum Erotica. I don’t remember how I found out Copenhagen had a sex museum and the memories of the visit have faded with time. I do remember it was late fall because Tivoli Gardens was closed; I saw it briefly from the taxi on my way to the museum and remember saying to myself I must come back in the summer. 

The museum itself was on Copenhagen’s main shopping street and easy to find because of the bold sign over the archway announcing its presence — Museum Erotica. As you enter, you are greeted by a large gold cock standing at attention, which like everything in the museum, had some sort of historical significance. The museum was curated and set up as a historical journey of human sexuality from past to present — historical images and artifacts on human sexuality through the ages. I spend a few hours wandering the halls, admiring the art, questioning the barbarism behind chastity belts and enjoying the explosion of pornography with the invention of photography. But unlike the Picasso Erotique exhibit I would see later that year, there was no sexual excitement from the experience. I left with an academic perspective on mankind’s sexual journey and a very nice poster featuring a circa 1854 photograph of a naked woman on a chaise lounge looking over her shoulder. By the time the taxi dropped me off at the hotel it was dark, and with my poster in hand, I went directly to the hotel restaurant for a light meal before I packed for an early flight the next day. The restaurant was empty and as I ate my thoughts turned to what I needed to get done before I went to bed. The wake-up call and the obligatory back-up alarm would come soon enough. I love Denmark but it was time to go home.

As I drifted, the distinct sound of a woman moaning came from the next room and I found myself awake and staining to hear — the rhythmic sound of a bed and the moans of pleasure were soft but distinct. I listened to the sound of her pleasure and its interruption by muffled conversation and soft laughter. Before any disappointment could set in, they would return to the sounds of pleasure. I could not help but think of you. 

I watch your cunt slide over the shaft my cock as your lips spread leaving the mark of your excitement; a gentle moan escapes and fills the room. You shift and with your hand, take my cock deep inside, leaning into me as you grind your cunt hard into my pubis. You look at me, smile and lose yourself in the rhythm and fill the room with the sound of your growing pleasure. You hold my cock tightly, shaping it with your contractions as we both build — sound fills the room. You shift to ride the cock you have shaped, and with your hands pressed into my chest, you throw your head back. I watch your pleasure and listen to the sounds fill the room. 

The rhythmic moans end with a final shriek of pleasure and the room is silent. You kiss me one last time as muffled sounds from the other room creep into the silence.

 W