We went into the small cool room and fortunately the Hamam was empty. His body is beautiful, being narrow and well-muscled. His dick is large but beautiful, the skin fully covering his glans and he had continual brief erections. I was not short of time so I gave him a thorough scrub and massaged him back and front, before progressing to sensuality.
I concluded that he was probably older than I thought; I guess he is in his mid-twenties and a student. I started a sensual massage and was pleased to find that he welcomed this new approach. I felt him slipping into total passivity as I progressed to his erogenous zones and was overjoyed to find that he welcomed the increased sexuality.
His dick was close to a full and impressive erection; the skin began to ease from his glans and without the restraint of his foreskin it expanded like a delectable pink fruit. His dick was not washed but I was hungry for his taste and I sucked it clean. He smelt warm and sweet. I used all the skills I had acquired on his balls, dick and groin but he did not welcome my fingers near his ass. All his attention was focused on his shaft and glans.
Resting my head on his thighs I sucked his balls while caressing and exploring every centimeter of his dick with fingertips and quite suddenly he was close to orgasm. His ass welcomed two fingers as I closed my mouth over his glans and with my tongue and by rotating my head I brought him to an explosive orgasm. I continued to stimulate his glans taking him to his limit and stopping on the very brink of tolerance. I rested my head on his stomach, his dick still in my mouth, we remained in that position, until every flicker of orgasm had ceased and his anus expelled my finger.
Sitting cross legged by his side I continued to caress his body very gently, believing him to be unwilling to terminate what I imagined had been a profound experience, but he asked ‘have you finished yet? I replied, ‘No, stay there I have to rinse you with warm water.’ Getting no further response, I eventually asked, ‘How do you feel?’--- ‘I feel ok now’ he replied with some hint of relief or gratitude.
I wanted to have the last word, ‘You know where to find me, and I’m always here’. He left without even a glance in my direction. I missed that boy but he made me feel used. I am learning to accept the vast differences between people after orgasm, but I still need some response.
August 18, 2009:
Yesterday another Russian boy came to the Hamam. He is studying “How to save the world” in Finland. His sister is studying in London and she found a cheap fully inclusive holiday for them both. It is a curious fact that Finland and Sweden both have low populations and vast forests and they are concerned about ecology. The rich nations with high populations seem to be prepared to let the next generation inherit their devastated planet. He is a vegan, also training to have ‘Out of body experiences’ and we talked for hours.
Very late in the afternoon a young Greek arrived and we made no pretense of a massage. He wanted to explore sex and it was uninhibited fun. There was nothing distasteful or overt. On our knees, our arms around one another’s shoulders, heads together we watched him orgasm and spurt his semen on the floor between my knees.
August 19, 2009:
This morning my married Greek friend whom I met some days ago and believed to have shared something precious and indefinable returned but, he asked for D. Tassos. I was deeply hurt. I passed by my old room and saw my friend on his back, his legs and arms outstretched like a star being violently wanked, with soap flying everywhere. I am not interested in crude sex and I believe that I have had some meaningful experiences, but it seems that the anonymity of uncomplicated release is all that’s required. Later, our eyes met momentarily, he looked embarrassed and guilty, and he knew I was hurt.
Two Israeli boys came and one had to go to Tassos. I him “If you don’t want to remove your shorts you don’t have to. And you can stop the massage at any time”. Tassos insisted the boy remove his shorts but I overheard and intervened. Tassos was transfixed with incomprehensible rage. My Israeli customer relaxed but I can’t say the same for his friend.
Then a Greek father brought his son and booked two massages. Vangelis brought the boy to me. After the massage the boy joined his father before I could check and I saw him turn around in Tassos’s door way and sit on a marble bench looking very sick. I checked Tassos and saw a very embarrassed father with a well washed dick. I told Vangelis about the incidents adding, ‘I have told you before you must never split a family or friends’ Vangelis replied, ‘I can’t Seb, whatever I say he doesn’t understand.’ I have the feeling that neither of them understands.
August 20, 2009:
A quite handsome middle age Greek asked me for a massage. I sent him to Vangelis. Then D. Tassos came running to tell me that “There are gays in the hot room and they should go home or he will telephone the police.” I told Vangelis to give the handsome Greek to DT, he spent over one hour washing his dick and his ass and the harmless gays in the hot room were left in peace.
At the end of the day a very fine and handsome young Greek came straight from the beach. He obviously, trains and his body is perfect but he had burned the end of his dick (not a pretty sight). After the beach, he was eager for sensual pleasure. He lay on his stomach and pushed his dick and balls down between his legs so I could soap them. I avoided sex because the Hamam was still busy and I felt that he only needed uncomplicated fun to satisfy his current needs for sensuality and pain. He loved the hot water poured and dribbled over him. He held his burned dick under the stream of scalding water. I saw the middle age Greek getting his goodbye kiss from Tassos.
Last year I met a Nordic man in his late twenties with his partner, a pleasant young man with slim body, a nice ass and a smallish dick. The first time I gave him a massage, the Hamam was very busy. He returned for a second massage but I didn’t recognize him until he turned over and I saw his dick. I promptly moved him to one side so we were partly hidden and had some privacy.
I gave him a sensual massage verging on the sexual and he returned most days for his massage. They have returned this year and he is having a massage every day, but now I am making love to him. Today during a break, I joined him on the heated podium and absent-mindedly touch his leg for some reason. I probably thought that his partner was party to the nature of our massages, but my friend tightened in shocked embarrassment and I tried to look equally surprised.
We had just experienced a very intense half hour. By alternately stimulating his prostrate and glans I held him suspended on the brink of orgasm, his mouth wide, not breathing for what must have felt like an eternity. His anus felt like a battle ground before a victory. Much later we met by chance in the changing room and I apologized, ‘Sorry for the mistake, Is he jealous?’ He paused, as if needing to talk and said, ‘yes’. I remained silent. Looking worried and grateful for the opportunity of sharing his worries he began ‘I have never known anything like the feelings I have here with you and I don’t understand.’ Full of concern I endeavored to defuse a disconcerting situation. I replied, ‘It’s not real my friend you’re on holiday, it’s the place, the circumstances and your boyfriend being in the next room.’ I felt his trust and continued ‘Reality is what you share at home with your boyfriend, and this is only fantasy.’ We sat in silence sharing something that neither of us chose to put into words.
August 21, 2009:
This morning a very fine Polish boy arrived before me, Vangelis did not inform me but gave him to D. Tassos. The boy left with a Greek, after a two-hour massage. Today was difficult, dirty Stavros is being a nuisance engaging all the students in suggestive conversations while playing with his own four-inch dick. Another man from northern Europe who looked like Brad Pit arrived with a friend. I massaged his friend and then D.T gave him a second massage while he had Clients waiting.
Vangelis lost all control but he blamed my client not Tassos. The heat of August is making everybody short tempered. Tassos had some problems with two Greeks and I saw them leaving together after only half an hour. They looked very unhappy. Another Greek stopped hi
s massage with D.T and joined his friend who was with me. My client immediately stopped his own massage after exchanging only a few words, they made their disgust felt. I felt guilty for no reason. I think the phrase “tarred with the same brush” is appropriate.
August 22, 2009:
Last night I did not sleep, D. Tassos is on my mind and beginning to make me ill. Novak is irritating me, he talks about himself nonstop, he tries amusing me by singing and he has started farting to prove the intimacy of our friendship, but if I speak, his mind wonders or he tries being clever by interjecting when he doesn’t have a clue what I am talking about. He is on permanent ‘transmit’ with no button for ‘receiving’.
My brother has returned from Russia; he is very impressed by St. Petersburg also by the beauty of Russian women. I am very impressed by Russian boys. Today my last Russian friend returned to say goodbye and Vangelis charged him the full entrance fee. I finished my massage and we only spent five minutes together before he left. He had brought his sister with him, so that little trip probably cost them as much as twenty euros. All the people I meet from the eastern bloc are pleasant and agreeable, full of hope, fresh, honest, reliable and open. It is said that poverty is the best conservationist of the past and it would seem within reason, also of human values, or is it perhaps a matter of ideologies.
I am beginning to evaluate my situation. I love young men not only for their beauty but also for their qualities of hope and discovery. Sex has become an uncomplicated and somehow innocent activity neither furtive nor overshadowed with guilt. Is it the Hamam that releases fears and inhibitions freeing some to find pleasure and liberation If only briefly.
Mediterranean and South American boys seem to maintain a degree of innocent exploration in the Hamam, probably because of their culture and a tendency to not over indulge in self-examination. I have discovered enormous complexity in human sexuality and notions of gender seem to be imprecise. The fact that a man’s G. spot is up his ass makes all attempts at categorizing sexual activities by gender vague.
Some German scientists concluded that the number of homosexual men born after the war must be due to their mother’s having been stressed while pregnant, and this effected the development of a male brain by limiting the supply of testosterone, so they devised an experiment to prove this theory.
They placed pregnant rats under great stress and then presented their adolescent sons to an active male rat. It was presumed that if the young males presented their ass to the Alfa male it proved that they must be gay. The observations might very well be true, but as usual, the conclusion probably wrong. This could be normal rat etiquette; I know it is with baboons.
The normal interaction within a rat community probably involves presenting the ass as a gesture of submission to avoid untimely confrontation with dominant males. The theory that a fetus can develop a female brain and this is the cause of a homosexual man sounds to me to be invalid.
A visit to any gay beach will reveal the usual compliment of men with high levels of testosterone both physical and mental, just as a visit to a mixed beach will reveal the normal complement of smooth soft men tending their children.
The question remains why some men and some women regardless of hormone levels find their own sex sexually preferable. I consider myself gay not because I practice sex with men but because I fall in love with young men. I am only attracted sexually by the smell, the shape and the feel of young men. This is fundamental to me being human.
All life starts out as female; to make a male requires chemical intervention. Primitive life is hermaphrodite. We all have nipples and a dick and our psyche must be equally ambivalent. Some men are nurturing by instinct and some women are dominant. There must be nothing more boring than the stereotype male, an uncomplicated walking sperm bank obsessed with football. He resembles a machine not a human being and a robot would be preferable, it won’t fart, can be programed to perfection and best of all, can be switched off.
August 23, 2009:
I am getting very tired, today there were no interesting massages but a large group of macho Middle Eastern men came into the Hamam. They all wore swimwear and were disgusting. Once in the changing rooms it was all about style and fighting over the mirror. The phrase, “All swagger and no balls” sprang to mind. Last night in the street I saw a boy on a skateboard with one of those cold-lights in his mouth traveling backwards, as they do. He was shouting obscenities and it was delightfully surreal, as his illuminated mouth yelled “fuck off”.
August 24, 2009:
Tonight, I went for a meal with my friend Penelope to Marco Polo’s restaurant. The manageress, an ample Italian woman talked so much to Penelope that when she asked for our order, I replied ‘I haven’t got a clue, I’ve forgotten.’ So, she continued her monologue and I don’t recall Penelope saying a single word.
The restaurant filled with Italians and the noise was getting horrendous so I interrupted her flow and she replied, ‘I’m busy, sorry, I must get on’ and she left. We exchanged a look of dismay and a waitress whom I know took our order. It was supposed to be shared expenses, I paid and Penelope forgot.
We called on Christos, it was late but Luke was still lurking at the bar. Claire would be waiting for him at home to share their meal. Christos was out of his mind on alcohol and his German women engaged us in a monolog for half an hour. I paid but she was so slow giving me the change I told her to keep it. Penelope found it all very funny and we left like lovers’ arm in arm.
Both hostesses by engaging us in conversation were doing their job or even duty. But I don’t understand why we must pay to suffer? The fat Italian is very pleased with herself and the anorexic alcoholic burdened us with her difficult and lonely life. The biggest mystery to me is why do they imagine that I’m interested in them?
I have never understood the point of talking. I object to paying for the privilege of listening to a self-satisfied woman glorifying herself or hearing about an alcoholic Germans life of abuse and rejection. The first should burden her lover and the second should pay a psychiatrist. Do they believe that I was sharing their warm glow of satisfaction as they did their duty? We were abused and drained, but able to laugh about it.
It is true that I have burdened complete strangers and my readers with complaints about my sister-in-law who destroyed my home and condemned me to a life of exile, but I hope that my comments of significance and are shared truths on our human predicament.
My sister-in-law is interesting because, it is the weak who insist on having their own way. The ignorant, who insist on being experts and those devoid of character it seems, inflicting their lack of personality onto their homes. They call it, “making a statement” and of course, people who have nothing say insist on talking.
For the benefit of readers not familiar with my life, my resent Sister-in-law destroyed my home to make it nice. It was a working farm house with inherited furnishings and she imposed her own suburban ideas of taste. It is now tidy with beige fitted carpets in a permanent state of readiness for the non-existent visitors. In her eagerness to obliterate the past she destroyed the focal point of many people’s lives. She made everybody miserable until my brother agreed to dispose of the valuable carpets bought by my Grandmother at huge expense in 1947 as an investment, because they would take the wear and tear of a farmhouse for at next 100 years.
Having made her mark, she now spends her days working in charity shops because she has nothing to do. Shirley first came to Orchards End when she was 16, they married when she was 56. My Sister-in-law has no excuse for her crime; she visited us for 40 years and knew that it as a working farm house the focal point of the local community and she also knew that the Donegal carpets were our only true heirlooms. Of course, her intention was, after making her mark to end the constant flow of visitors and the endless cups of tea. The day that Mother died Shirley lost the child’s voice and the silly walk of a four-year-old. She now surveys her achievements with the self-satisfied smile of a halfwit.
/> A few days ago, while selling Novak’s music, I saw the most beautiful boy. He had very fine long black hair tied in a knot on the back of his head. I thought that he could be Indian, because he is a dusky shade with high cheekbones and a delicately defined jaw. His large black eyes held mine briefly. Then, standing in front of his father and drawing his arms around his body caressing his hands his eyes engaged mine. He reminded me of Nefertiti.
August 25, 2009:
Today an English man, who was very nicely put together, booked a massage. He works in New York, probably a financier. He is about 22, of medium build with a perfect ass. I indicated his baggy shorts with a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged and removed them. I scrubbed and massaged his back and legs with no apparent response but when he turned over he grabbed his massive erection. It was bending under pressure with the skin tight and, to his relief and amusement I placed the steel bowl over it.
He sniggered as it remained suspended above his stomach. I ignored the erection and gave him a professional and searching massage, paying special attention to all erogenous zones. He apologized for his erection, so I told him, ‘I am use to them, and don’t apologize it’s a fine example. It won’t always rise to the occasion so be grateful and welcome it.’ I removed the steel bowl and we both sat admiring his dick, it responded to our admiration by nodding with every heartbeat. I checked its hardness with fore finger and thumb sensing an immediate release, as if an electrical charge had been earthed.
I said, ‘We close in half an hour’ and swilled warm water over his body, the bowl catching his pole many times. I sat beside him running my hand over his firm body. ‘What do you want to do until closing time’? I asked. ‘Everybody’s gay and if you want we can go into the hot room. Or I live quite close, or if you prefer you can just relax.’ He looked uncertain and we needed some form of closure, so I added, ‘if you’re happy, we can leave it.’ Avoiding my eyes, he replied ‘leave it,’ and he left.
The Hamam Diaries Continued Page 13