Istanbul litvinya sex partner
It was 8 p.m., and I was on my way home from my office, which is generally quite conservative (as in, try not to be seen heading to a sex shop after work).Instead of crossing at the kofte meatball stand to my apartment, I continued down Tarlabasi Boulevard.t was a Sunday afternoon, and while other Istanbullus were strolling through markets and lingering over brunches along the Bosphorus, I was in hot pursuit of a sex shop. I had gone to sex shops owned by men before in Istanbul, and if I learned anything from that experience, it was to not do it anymore.This shop I was searching for was something quite different: woman-owned, woman-run.All I could come up with was “Sik istemiyorum,” which literally translates to “I don’t want penis.” That seemed to throw him off long enough for me to get out. The 8” x 11” “Eromega” sign is easy to miss next to the bars of the first-floor window of what looks to be a newly painted apartment complex. “We have normal working hours and are closed on Sundays.“I’m just looking,” I said with a polite, tight smile.“Let me help,” he insisted, his eyes following mine as I scanned the unimpressive selection of vibrators. “I bet I know what you want,” he said, pointing to the back wall of nothing but dildos in every size and color. There was another sex shop, “owned and operated by a woman,” he said. That’s how I came to be chasing down an address scribbled on the back of a receipt and weaving in and out of the side streets of Taksim on a perfectly good spring day.
It was, according to its website, the oldest and only of its kind.
ut first, let’s back up to the first shop I had ever visited, one run by men.