Last night Nashwan came home drunk, he lay on my bed and asked for a massage. His ass was raised and his legs wide apart. I massage his whole body avoiding his ass and he fell asleep. During the night, he woke up and said, ‘Sebastian did you touch my ass last night?’--- ‘No, it wasn’t me.’ Men keep offering Nashwan money for sex and he is getting very upset because he’s afraid that they think he is a pousti gay. I know that he fears that if he ever got fucked he would be gay for life. I told him, ‘You are worried for no reason; all men enjoy having their asses touched. It does not mean they are gay.’ He did not understand, his face showing deep concern and he repeated, ‘Sebastian you have to understand, there are no gays in Islam.’ Nashwan has an irreconcilable conflict; gay sex is common place but forbidden and always denied.
My landlord has declared war on the tiny ants. I don’t know why they do no harm and he’s using so much spray it is affecting the air and killing the lizards. Greeks hate even fear nature.
I tried to arrange Nashwan’s position to get a better angle for fucking, I am tired of being prodding from behind and he said, ‘Don’t touch my ass Sebastian’ I tried explaining how to fuck but as always, the totally ignorant are experts and instruction is impossible. I even drew him a picture but both anatomy and the subject are taboo.
I hear that one Egyptian boy got to Athens and thought that he was in Rome. He asked for help on the airport and got arrested. I have not asked what Nashwan is doing, I don’t want to know but I now understand that he is involved in human Trafficking. I also gather that if they don’t arrive at their destination Nashwan does not get paid. Nashwan told me the immigrants give him fifty euros each, to cover expenses but if they have no money Nashwan looks after them anyway. So far Nashwan seems to be out of pocket.
I am now writing in the park and Nashwan has just walked past me with two very beautiful boys with golden eyes. I keep seeing such beautiful people with Nashwan. In this fucked up west they might have a chance if they are joining family or friends but what are they hoping to find? They keep on coming to an over populated Europe that is short of money and has no work to offer. They might just as well have stayed at home, but they believe the propaganda of freedom, human rights, equality and privilege where everybody has the opportunity of a job and a home.
July 3, 2010:
I am surprised by the extent of Nashwan’s curiosity; history and Geography are his obsessions. Nashwan has an excellent academic brain but his belief that the Quran is absolute and comprehensive on all matters means that vast areas of understanding are obscured. I keep meeting Nashwan with boys from North Africa and the Middle East. I see in their eyes a yearning and total trust, they are polite and eager for acceptance. I dread to think how these boys will survive alone in the capital cities of Europe. I have always traveled but with some money, I was poor but independent. I experienced the vast impersonal machine of modern life and I felt very alone and vulnerable. With such inexperience and yearning in their eyes they will be susceptible to abuse. They will be the victims of con-men and sex. The only available aspects of most cities are drugs, sex and crime and even if they have a protector it is usually for personal gain. Nashwan looks street wise and very different in contrast to these lost beautiful boys who are escaping poverty and persecution or just chasing their dreams.
Yesterday I visited the Hamam and met a young Italian doctor. We agreed to meet today at 14.00 hrs. I arrived on time but my friend had arrived earlier and was ready to leave. He told me he had had sex, I shrugged my indifference and said, ‘But you asked for a massage.’ The only people in the Hamam were dirty Kostas who was still making his rounds and the Hitler with the child bearing hips. My friend had been fucked twice. His attitude eased as we fell into conversation and Dirty Kostas left. Only then did the Italian ask me to massage his shoulder. He lay on the floor and was suddenly relaxed and happy.
I soaped his body and we laughed at his new erection. Sitting behind the doctor easing his neck that genuinely showed signs of tension, I looked up and saw the Hitler in the door way. He had the look of self-satisfied revenge, ‘You behave yourself’ he said looking at the doctor’s soapy dick. Shocked and speechless I made no reply; my friend was embarrassed and left after we had discussed the possibility of meeting again but made no arrangements. I asked the German what his comment was about and his reply was offensively dismissive. ‘There is nothing to discuss’ so I said, ‘You know about the work I do and what I have achieved so I want an explanation’ and he repeated ‘There is nothing to discuss.’ His manner was nasty.
After about one hour I left and got a profound shock when the spy on the desk challenged me with these words ‘Next time Mr. Sebastian I get the police’
Upset and angry I asked ‘What for?’
‘You know what for, you massage’
‘Customers have been massaging friends in there for 450 years and I massaged a friend.’
‘The police next time Mr. Sebastian’ she has little English; she must have been learning that speech by heart. I telephoned Vangelis and he told me, ‘It has nothing to do with you Seb, it’s to do with me. Meet me on Friday at eleven.
July 4, 2010:
I arrived at eleven but Vangelis had forgotten. I asked for him and the spy seemed defensive. He arrived half an hour later looking surprised to see me. I said in a subdued voice, ‘We are going to have some fun.’ And then in my teacher voice, I said, ‘Tell that cashier, if I broke the law in any way last Tuesday to telephone for the police now.’
Vangelis, who is not very quick on the up-take, looked confused and the spy telephoned her head of department. I reminded Vangelis how I had met a friend with a painful neck and massaged him. At that moment, the Italian doctor was leaving. ‘That’s my friend, ask him yourself’ I said but Vangelis did not understand until my friend was outside the building. Vangelis went to the door and called after him, but the doctor took fright and started running.
The head of department agreed to come to the Hamam. I told Vangelis to ask the spy what is her problem, and, what does she imagine I do in the Hamam. Eventually I got her reply, she accused me of “Bothering people and of giving massages.” I replied, ‘Tell her that I am an educated English gentleman over seventy and I have never bothered anybody in my life’ with a sneer she informed me via Vangelis ‘You bother me.’ Vangelis went on to tell her that I was one of the finest men he has ever known. She was neither impressed nor interested.
Their boss eventually arrived and I decided to play, the innocent obliging gentleman. Vangelis explained the whole situation and I looked suitably confused by the boss’s explanation. He told me, ‘You have not been singled out; any form of physical contact even between friends is forbidden. This is the public baths and you are welcome to come to wash and then leave.’ The spy looked as if she had scored a win so I offered a naive explanation, I said, ‘but everybody massages their friends, I thought it was expected.’
I gathered that Vangelis was then telling his boss about the sexual activities in the Hamam and it is becoming obvious to me that this whole situation is instigated by Vangelis’s lack of discretion. This whole travesty is achieved by the false accusations made by dirty Tassos to the spy, regarding everybody but him and the officious attitude of the Hitler with the huge ass. I made no mention of the absurdity of Greek officialdom or the truth. If the Italian got two fucks, that can only be, Dirty Kostas and the fat assed Hitler.
Ten years ago, the Hamam was vital because few people had bathrooms and now everybody has a bathroom and it is a fact that no tourist needs to pay for a public bath. I should have asked why the Greek perverts are not reported to the police for committing repeated acts of gross public indecency, and the Hitler’s ass is an act of gross indecency. The Hamam should be profitable and world famous contributing to the fame and wealth of this island. This is all so very typical of Greece’s international problems.
It is obvious that somebody is trying to close the Hamam for personal gain, probably to make a nightclub. It is als
o obvious that the Greek authorities have no concept of what a cultural and architectural treasure they possess and they have no concept of the power of the pink pound, euro, dollar or yen. I intend to write a letter to the Mayor, as if from a disgusted tourist.
July 6, 2010:
Last night on TV I saw a snippet of very old film showing a young Chinese woman carrying a baby and prancing around on her bound feet. She was full of energy and wore baggy trousers, tight at the ankles to draw attention to her tiny feet. It had the same effect as somebody on stilts. The Victorian corset was equally ridiculous, but also seen as essential to beauty at the time. Finding deformity beautiful is still an obsession. People can now resort to silicon to turn themselves into monsters in the name of beauty or fashion. I once saw on television a man who’d had his dick and balls pumped full of silicon. He looked very proud of his hideous appendage; it resembled a gross hernia and looked disgustingly medical.
July 7, 2010:
Today Vangelis telephoned me; he said that ‘Nobody will bother you at the Hamam if you are discrete.’ I returned today and inside I met my beautiful friend from Athens the salesman for women’s dresses who visits twice a year. One boy in swimming trunks was obviously very curious but when my friend approached him, he left. In the changing room, we shared a cigarette and Maria, the cleaner was sent to check on us. I nodded towards her, obviously trying to look busy and explained everything. My friend laughed out loud and announced, ‘Well there was a great deal of physical contact yesterday.’ I like sex with this friend, because he is uncomplicated, willing and devoid of all inhibitions but we did not make love because of the cleaner sneaking around, he asked me to suck his dick behind a door. I did not enjoy the experience, even though I had the opportunity to run my hands over his body, it felt furtive.
Nashwan is now very busy. He asked me if an old couple from Iraq, on their way to Germany could sit in my house because they were tired. They declined coffee or any hospitality. Unfortunately, they came with seven girls and one young man. The house and yard was full, I stayed in case the land lord came home because I can see no reason why I can’t entertain in my own home. The young man was good looking and full of himself, he was on his way to England to open a car wash business and employ Pakistanis who work long hours for very little money.
A few days ago, a group of Muslims were praying in the square and it caused some consternation with the residents. The Balkans was occupied by Muslims for hundreds of years and the Greeks have an instinctive reaction to seeing Muslims in groups and in addition there is some resent history of Greeks resident in turkey, being massacred.
Later my landlord found the ‘car wash’ boy’s ID card in the street and took it to the police. I discovered that the car wash boy proved to be an imposition and caused problems in the airport. He eventually got to Athens but no further. If they get deported to Turkey, they can be put in prison and kept there.
July 10, 2010:
I have decided to find out what Nashwan is doing, two nights ago he brought me a boy from Afghanistan with the words, ‘Sebastian this boy is donkey.’ It seems that the boy arrived at the airport and was supposed to get the bus to town but failed to get off the bus. He was turned off half way back to the airport and Nashwan borrowed money from a client to go and find him. They had to walk back. The boy has no money, no English, he is only sixteen years old and unattractive. Nashwan had been hitting him. I tried to feed the boy but he declined, I gave him a mattress for the night and told Nashwan to give him his documents back. Nashwan telephoned the boy’s mother, he is her only son, she has no husband and she begged Nashwan to take care of her son. How does a widow find seven thousand euros to try and give her son a chance of a better life in Italy? He had a letter of introduction I hope it’s genuine. They borrow and pay massive interest on the gambol of a better life.
Nashwan showed me the boys air ticket booked with easy jet and told me, ‘Sebastian it cost no money, they hack air company.’ Today Nashwan gave me all the money he owes but tonight while I was watching television he called to me full of excitement, ‘Sebastian, come and look, they beautiful.’ Outside I was confronted by a sight that broke my heart, a young married couple with two tiny babies. The couple was small and exquisite, they looked vaguely Chinese. Nashwan said ‘they from Afghanistan, can I have the money I give you? I want to take them to hotel.’ The young man gave me a deep and appealing look and they had a long walk to the hotel where Nashwan has arranged to sheltering immigrants. He showed me their Bulgarian passports, but Afghans don’t look very much like Bulgarians, they are all travelling on stolen passports, with the photograph replaced.
July 15, 2010:
Nashwan is still hanging around the house when Pauline comes to clean. He tries everything for fuck apart from asking her directly. She finds him far too young and delicate. Novak tells me that it is easier to get women to orgasm if you fuck them up the ass. The way things are going the vagina will become obsolete. It is a very different world to the idealism, innocence and belief in love and the deep adoration of women that was normal in my youth.
Two days ago, I saw the strangest sight. There is a man who sells those whistles that sounds like bird calls. He demonstrates the whistles and has a wonderful rapport with the public (it pays well). He has a container of water for filling his whistles and perched defiantly on the edge, was a tiny fledging sparrow. It refused to move, drink or eat and it was not disturbed by my friend filling his whistles with water. It died that night. Who can comprehend what comfort that tiny scrap of life gained in its brief moment of awareness in eternity, surrounded by faux bird song.
July 27, 2010:
The graphologist did not return. I should cancel the case because everything is dependent on a report that questions the validity of one signature. Today a boy came to the Hamam obviously in need of sex but he was not to my taste. He sucked dirty Kostas’s dick and got fucked twice. The Hitler with the fat ass showed no concern. A retired Frenchman called Claude, who travels Europe and visits Greece regularly looking for sex, told me that many years ago he got into conversation with the Hitler but nothing happened. The Hitler then told his lover lies about Claude, claiming Claude had approached him for sex. I wonder if some people are turned on by his huge ass. My problems with the Hitler seem to have originated over Nice Niko. Perhaps he he’s fucked the German’s fat ass at some time. It is a biological fact that exaggeration is fundamental to attraction.
August 8, 2010:
I am leaving for England on Sunday and will be landing at Newcastle. A few days ago, my soldier friend telephoned at night and I left Novak to go and fuck him. He asked for the big dick, ‘Very slowly’ he said as he lay on his stomach. I told him to pick his ass up so I could push two pillows under him. I spent a long time rubbing body lotion and baby oil onto his ass, balls and dick. Kneeling above him with the plastic dick strapped to my body and the end close to his ass I spent time masturbating the dick with Vaseline with my fist banging his ass. He instinctively raised his ass until the end of the dick was pressing against his anus. I held the dick firmly to prevent it bending and massage his asshole with the end. He said, ‘Now’ and I pushed the huge end just inside. He gradually eased himself onto the dick and I felt the muscles of his sphincter giving way fraction by fraction as the dick was swallowed. Once passed his ring, his ass suddenly eased and the whole dick was engulfed. He held my hips with his hands and this gave him the confidence to relax. This boy is crazy for dick. I explored the depth and width of his rectum and there was suddenly no resistance. My soldier said, ‘Now fuck me as hard as you can’ and at last I had the satisfaction of banging his magnificent buttocks.
He wanted to change position so I stood on the floor and he brought his ass to the edge of the bed. This was not as perfect as we envisaged, my legs are too long and I am not as agile or as strong as I use to be, so I turned him over on to his back and pulling his legs up around my head I drew his body onto my thighs until the dick was directly in line wi
th his ass. From this position, I could hammer his prostate with short fast stabs. This made him open his mouth wide and he made choking noises as he started to masturbate. He seemed to want more dicks because his hands reached for my ass, so I pushed his legs over his ears and by changing the angle of the dick I achieved full penetration. My soldier masturbated while gripping me tight, with his legs. There was a smell of shit, I had penetrated too far and he ejaculated all over his face. Thank God for Plastic dicks.
The soldier then told me that he had left the army and he had no money. The thought, ‘You should pay me’ did cross my mind when he asked for fifty euros. Lying I said, ‘I must go to the bank’ and we arranged to meet at Novak’s in one hour. I told Novak about my soldier and he couldn’t wait to see him. My soldier arrived on time and in typical macho style, he stood opposite Novak, legs apart, hands on hips smiling, his eyes confident, he said ‘Hey, he’s good.’ My soldier mentioned some story about repairing my piano, as I handed over the fifty euros. I walked with him but he was not happy. I said, ‘If you pay me back we can continue our arrangement’ he said, ‘don’t walked with me’ and we parted. Novak looked at me shaking his head, as he said, ‘You sure he’s gay’--- ‘No, but he’s crazy for a dick up his ass.’--- ‘He doesn’t look gay’--- ‘No, they don’t.’
September 5, 2010:
I am back in Greece. I arrived in the middle of the night. Nashwan full of sleep let me in and put his arms around my neck holding me tight, as his body molding to mine. His back must have recovered because he slept in my bed. My next visit home will probably be my last, but I say this every time and then something crops up. The keystone of so many people’s lives has gone with the installation of my sister-in-law, in my former home.
I saw Durham Cathedral from the train, I should have got off and visited it, but it was early morning and too soon for making decisions; I had little motivation, judgment or purpose. I was welcomed and we chatted like a family. A meal had been prepared and I gave my sister-in-law a very beautiful wind chime for the house. It was made from perfect slices of blue agate and she hung it in a tree at the end of a garden. I am not sure if she was making a point or just being ignorant. We discussed our future and I agreed to accept full responsibility for the amassed possessions hoarded over 83 years of family occupation. The entire contents of the attic had been piled up in one half, awaiting my attention.
The Hamam Diaries Continued Page 22