In April Greeks are out butchering the trees, they cut all the branches the off. If this is done at long intervals it will prolong the life of a tree, but every year it is unnecessary and deprives us of much needed shade. One jacaranda is being killed by having every shoot rubbed off its trunk which is all that remains of the tree. The senile old woman in the shop died and the family holds the tree responsible.
The Greek islands were all forested originally, but farming has rendered most of them desert. Greeks are a race of peasants. They hate nature, are blind to natural beauty and no flowering tree is safe. I think the annual butchering is a celebration; it is an affirmation of man’s necessity to control nature.
I went to the sandy beach and met the very handsome Greek with steel blue hair who came to the Hamam some weeks ago. He is 45, but because of his hair, looks older. We talked for three hours; he got burned down one side and I got a stiff neck. It will last for weeks and cause headaches. He has half Finnish children and his eldest boy has blonde hair with his Greek eyes. I checked his eyes, they are large and the darkest possible shade of amber.
He nearly died in his 30s because he had a coronary. He was fat then but lost weight and is now very careful about diet. He left his family in Finland and returned to Greece because he is gay. People, who have been lucky enough to escape death, have a very relaxed but positive attitude to life. They don’t waste their time with false values, they are honest with themselves because I imagine that they have faced the ultimate truth and just to wake up every morning is a source of satisfaction plus gratitude.
My new friend nodded towards some trees. I could see nothing so we went closer. There were about seven boys all naked, laughing and in their early teens with stiff dicks. They were fucking one another and it was all a game. They were kissing, wanking, sucking and kept bending down for fun. I have often seen groups of young boys with older boys on the beaches. I would like to have studied their interaction and the accepted roles. They were blatantly free of embarrassment, inhibitions and guilt. It was uncomplicated fun and I was curious, but watching them felt invasive.
Such sexual behavior would cause concern in England and if reported it could involve the authorities. Intervention by authority can cause lasting harm; it is the fears and guilt of the inquisitors and their tone of voice that can cause the irreparable damage. It is significant that in England any hint of sex pre-empts the starting gun but with cases of cruelty, they are notoriously slow to react and often too late.
It has occurred to me that one aim of life could be to try and rediscover the ‘Garden of Eden’. I was given a glimpse of the Garden of Eden in the uninhibited fun of a group of adolescent boys. We can safely assume that sex existed in paradise before the snake whispered in Eve’s ear. What is the symbolic shame that still plagues us after Adam and Eve were dismissed from the Garden, hiding their genitals?
There are so many complications concerned with the problem of being human and we have little guidance, only imposed concepts of sin. To quote my Aunt who married at 40, “sex is a sin before marriage but a duty after.” Either way it’s not healthy. The most precious gift is the most forbidden, this could be fundamental to our confused value systems. A weekend of love is called a “dirty weekend.” Love for some is a spiritual or profound experience but for others it must be debased, unclean or violent. Guilt makes sex dirty and for some difficult. Whichever way, it is confusing.
We think in symbols, but symbols are open to interpretation. Thinking in symbols is what makes objective thinking possible, ideas, mathematics, also the Arts, all the sciences, philosophy and of course religion but symbols are also the basis of our crass stupidity; no animal would die for an idea. They will risk their life for food or their young but never for a flag. Animals live in the real world not the world of beliefs and symbols. Animals are only concerned with what is immediate and real. It seems to me that the loss of paradise had more to do with our intelligence than our dicks. Animals didn’t leave Eden.
We had the usual conversation I have abroad, about my life of near celibacy in England and it always seems to be incomprehensible. My assertion that gay sex is very hard to find in England (outside London) is scoffed at. It seems to be accepted that England is a gay capital of the world, this is far from true but they do not believe me. It is universally believed that British graciousness and good manners denote homosexuality.
It makes me a bit angry so I told him that “in northern Europe and America, I understand that most gay men are either married or celibate”. I added that “in the army, eight years in art schools and twenty-three years in education, I never knowingly met a gay man with the possibility of a shared understanding”. I gather that my friend’s experience of America and Europe is very different to mine.
It has been a day of revelations. In the park, I have just met a boy, probably a Greek solider. He came to talk to me and asked me to fuck him. I was amused but not interested. He explained that his brother had been fucking him since he was ten and he misses it, I asked, ‘Did you like it.’--- ‘Yes’ he replied with indifference. He seemed reluctant to leave me but apologized, saying ‘I am sorry but I had better go if I am to find what I want.’ I watched him walk away, a very normal healthy uncomplicated boy in his late teens. The outcome of such a scenario in England does not bare thinking about.
April 15, 2009:
Yesterday, I massaged ten clients, that should help Vangelis’s overdraft but it was hard work, they were all fat or old. At the end of the afternoon the soldier with the permanent semi-erection spoke to me directly ‘How much is a massage.’--- ‘For you it’s free’. As my client was leaving, he appeared at the door and led me directly to the hot room. Fortunately, the Hamam was free of homosexual nuisances.
We stood close and he took charge. ‘I need a very good massage because I am carrying guns all day and training very hard.’--- ‘Ok lie on the floor’. I massaged his back and shoulders he is very firm and I found no points of stress or tension. His ass is full and round, his legs short heavy and powerful. He moved his legs apart and I ignored his invitation. He turned over and presented me with a fine sight that made my heart glad. His legs and arms were out stretched, his torso muscular and his dick straight and thick. Greeks have chunky well-formed dicks, thick in the middle and the length of my hand.
He relaxed totally, hungrily enjoying a vigorous massage. I ran my hands down the whole length of his resilient body, avoiding his dick; creating a deep need for genital relief. I massaged his groin, stomach and thighs, sensing a sudden passivity. He lay with his knees akimbo; his arms out stretch and heavy on the floor. I soaped my hands and took hold of his balls before holding his dick. I held his genitals for a long time watching the growing sense of relief and pleasure on his face.
He took hold of his own dick and started to masturbate but I took control, my fingertips found his anus and I wanked him very slowly. He picked his knees up and my fingers strayed into his asshole. ‘Turnover’ I whispered (my voice unrecognizable). He quickly turned over and spread his legs wide. Kneeling between his legs I placed my hands around his loins and raised his eager ass so I could see his asshole and the full length of his thick dick from behind. I was so impressed by his beauty and clean perfect anus that I berried my face between his checks, caressing his asshole with my tongue. Taking hold of his dick I then began to masturbate him but I got soap in my eyes.
It is imperative to rinse well before burying one’s face in a boy’s soapy ass. With my fingers, still in his ass I tried rinsing soap from my eyes with my other hand from the marble basin. Of his own accord, he turned over and laid with his legs apart, his body relaxed so I could wank him to an easy orgasm, with my fingers still in his ass. I didn’t delay his orgasm but brought him smoothly to a perfect climax, his asshole spasms gripped my fingers as he ejaculated in an easy abundant flow over his stomach. ‘A very good massage, thank you’ and he left immediately.
Vangelis asked, ‘What did you do to that soldier? I hardly r
ecognized him when he left, he was so happy.’ I replied, ‘Nothing, he just wanted a wank.’--- ‘was he gay?’--- ‘I don’t think so’ I lied. That soldier is not my type but he is a very sexy boy.
There was an American boy who stayed all day. I massaged him briefly on three occasions between clients. He always chose to lay face down and seemed to show no objection if I caught his asshole by mistake. On the last occasion, I deliberately soaped my elbow and on the pretext of massaging the backs of his knees I let my elbow breach the plump cheeks of his ass. The massage was quite sexual but I did nothing directly that could have been mistaken as intrusive. ‘How are you feeling?’ I asked, ‘I am feeling a lot better now thank you.’--- ‘How old are you?’--- ‘I am 21.’--- ‘Twenty-one is wonderful age but it’s gone too soon. Don’t waste it my friend, follow your feelings, you are in Greece not America.’---‘Thank you, I know what you mean.’--- ‘you are a very sexy boy.’---‘Thank you.’
April 21, 2009:
Today I massaged (among others) a very beautiful man from Belgium, tall and fair with everything in perfect proportion and symmetry. He was trained to perfection but still pliable, resilient and so very smooth.
Later a French footballer arrived, tall muscular and brown. He could probably have been my height but he did not look big. Big is usually ugly. He responded to the massage, his dick became tumescent and he oozed pre-cum in vast quantities. I marveled at the perfection of his body and gave him a very searching and sensual massage, but I received no invitation beyond a deep sense of intimacy. His girlfriend was equally beautiful.
After the French-man I massage a young fair man from South Africa. He was gay and wanted his ass washed. I was not interested but went along with his wishes for my passing amusement. He was suddenly eager so I inserted three fingers in his ass and taking hold of his dick he ejaculated without warning, crushing my fingers. The only client I recall clearly was the French footballer.
April 22, 2009:
Today a father brought his two sons to the Hamam. The eldest boy was 14 or 15, and had an erection most of the time. He deliberately took his shorts off so his dick could flop around and he could jiggle it in his brother’s face. They are from the Basque country. I did not know that Basque means ‘ice wall’, that must have been the edge of the icecap during the last ice age. They have traveled from Spain by car. The whole family does a lot of walking and camping. I found them a total delight. How very different to the vulgar, ignorant masses bent on pleasure and ruin. My love for humanity has returned briefly.
April 23, 2009:
Today the handsome Greek with blue hair came to the Hamam. He gave me a bag full of creams, shampoos and lotions. He told me that his boyfriend has decided to concentrate on his girlfriend. We shared a moment of silent mirth. He then shared a secret fear, ‘Much as I love boys and their asses and fucking, I believe that if I get fucked just once, I will become passive.’ To put his mind at rest, I told him that people are either active or passive or both, it all depends on their partner at the time. He nodded his agreement but without conviction.
The Basque family returned today and I massaged them. The sexy15, year old wallowed in sensual pleasure, but it was in no way sexual. His brother, probably 13, held my eyes for the entire massage and he had an erection the whole time. He offered me every part of his body as the massage progressed and he begged his father to bring him again. It was a very sensual experience but I avoided all sexuality. Waiting outside the Hamam was a beautiful woman with soft brown eyes and sandy hair, I immediately recognized the mother of the boys from the Basque country.
Last night, I walked past a fine Italian villa built in the 1930s. It has been a fast food restaurant for some years. The decking was beginning to decay and they are removing it, exposing a vast garden of steps, paths and low walls in white marble. A significant comment on our times! They covered something of value and historical beauty, to create ‘Shanty Town’. The modern world is like the barbarians from the North camping in the palaces of ancient Rome.
April 24, 2009:
Today I found my way onto the roof of the Hamam. I have been asking Vangelis for months to show me how it works. I don’t think he had a clue what I wanted. At one end of the Hamam is a huge fireplace that burns wood, it heats the water and the hot air travels under the floors. I discovered on the roof rows of tiny chimneys or flues and most of them had a brick blocking the air flow, underneath the bricks most flues are blocked or nearly blocked with soot. All the walls must have flues for heating them. I showed Vangelis and suggested that we remove some of the bricks so I could study how the Hamam works. He replied, ‘But Seb, the bricks are there to keep the heat in.’ I could not begin to explain the need for oxygen and airflow when heating a building the size of the Hamam.
Vangelis took all the bricks off and then over stoked the fire with green wood. I suggested leaving some bricks in place and filling the water tank in case it over heats. He refused, because they always fill the tank on Fridays. The following morning the green wood had burned and smoke was issuing from every chimney. Also, the Hamam was full of smoke and the water too hot to use. Vangelis replaced all the bricks.
April 25, 2009:
Today I fell on one knee in the street. I couldn’t walk and telephoned Vangelis to inform him that I cannot work and suggested he sends for dirty Tassos. I have bought Brufen tablets and they seem to be helping.
April 26, 2009:
I can’t get out of bed because my leg is swollen from the knee down. Claire has bought me some elastic bandages.
April 29, 2009:
Today I visited the Hamam but am unable to work. Dirty Tassos insisted one huge black man wait until the end before giving him his massage. The Hamam was empty and dirty Tassos managed to get the black man’s dick into his mouth, but it was not easy. He is always spitting blood. He must have Gonorrhea of the throat and gums by now.
May 5, 2009:
Alexander is back, he came to the Hamam with his girlfriend. Tassos was all smiles with anticipation. I managed to massage Alexander but it was not easy, I couldn’t move because my damaged leg had to remain straight. The massage was disappointing; Alexander did not participate and he seemed disappointed. His back is unusually long and he is soft like a student. His dick is big but it did not stir, and for the first time he did he draw attention to it. We met his girlfriend afterwards and they invited me to join them for a walk with the words ‘if you want too’ they sounded polite, not keen, but I couldn’t anyway.
May 8, 2009:
Some weeks ago, I met a young Greek outside the Hamam and I met him again a few days later by the harbor. He is a student of classical piano. He arrived today but was too late and Vangelis objected, so we came home. He sat at the piano and launched directly into Chopin’s second piano concerto. After the first movement, he asked, ‘Do you mind if I remove my trousers’ he did, and then continued playing. His excuse was that he found them too restricting. He plays like Alfred Brendel and then said, ‘I feel tired. Will you give me a massage?’
Claire was in the street listening at my door and she telephoned me. I said, ‘I am busy’ and she replied, ‘Yes I know, do you realize that every word can be heard in the street.’ Her excuse for telephoning me was to invite me for Spaghetti Bolognaise, but this was only an excuse to interfere.
The musician stretched out on my bed on his stomach and removed his underpants, revealing a small hard dick. With my bandaged immobile leg and in underpants only, this was going to be quite difficult. He lay with his legs wide apart; he is a stocky muscular little man with a hairy back. He has a patch granular tissue at the base of his spine. After a general massage, he turned over; his dick smelt of his last wank, so I avoided it.
After a rudimentary exploration of his torso and thighs, he asked for a condom. Still on the bed I put my left foot on the floor and leaning I managed to rummage in my bed-side-draw. He started pressing his smelly little dick against my side.
I passed him the condom o
ver my shoulder and it was on even before I had found the lubricant. Still on my side, my painful leg stretched along the edge of the bed, my right foot still on the floor, he crouched above me and asked permission to enter and come immediately. I was still trying to close the draw, ‘Sure, it’s no problem, I am not a woman’ and before I could adjust my position he entered and brought himself to an immediate orgasm. He is a capable lover and handed me the used condom. I managed to get back on the bed and we relaxed.
He played the piano for a long time before requesting a second fuck. When I returned from the toilet, he was already sitting on the edge of my bed, his erection covered with a condom. ‘Sit on it’ he demanded. With a bandaged painful knee this was not going to be easy. I managed to suspend myself on my arms with my painful leg out stretched and managed to sit on his dick.
We went for a meal together and I got very tired. The musician concentrates too hard at listening but fails to grasp the sense of any sentence; he only hears words, rather like tunnel vision. Conversation became bizarre because the introduction, development and conclusion of any sentence or subject did not connect in his mind.
Few people hold conversations; some people tend to only hear what they expect, while others are planning their next monolog. The musician is also studying law. He plans to be a lawyer or a diplomat. He understands very little, his skill is dedication and perseverance, not comprehension and understanding. He could start a world war or get the wrong person convicted, but I won’t tell him.
May 12, 2009:
The musician stays in touch and we went to a concert together. I arrived at 8:25 pm because the concert was due to start at 8:30 pm and I found my friend sitting alone in an empty hall. By 9:15 pm the hall was nearly full and a young woman with a remarkable profile came onto the stage and sat at a small old Yamaha.
The Hamam Diaries Continued Page 8