I was fresh. Fresh to death some would say, and on my own in London. And when left alone in a new city in a different country, with extremely limited resources, what is one to do? Explore your sexuality with strangers!
Luckily a strange and suspiciously handsome man was willing to oblige. And this man’s photos were SUSPICIOUS. In retrospect, I know what I looked like back then, I’ve seen the pictures, I should not have trusted that a gorgeous late twenties Spanish gentleman would have wanted to have liaisons with me. But, turning a blind eye to stranger danger I embarked on the tube ride there. He said he liked his men (imagine sexy Spanish accent) “with natural sweat, man smell.” It was above 30 degrees outside and in the tube it gets famously hotter. Sweat? I can give you sweat, baby.
After wandering some back alleys, fearing for my life and finally finding his place I was welcomed inside. The lounge was nice, with tasteful midcentury furniture, great natural light and two other men already having sex on a couch. They were both unreasonably sexy, but I was too excited to realise that in comparison I look like Eric Trump having run up ten flights of stairs. How exciting.
Unfortunately they were just there to provide ambience and I was to engage with my sexy Spaniard on his own. His tan. His face. His body. The kind of attractive to leave a scarring impact on my perception of self. I had hit the jackpot. And sweat, you know, thats not even a particularly left field kink. So him asking me not to shower before coming seemed very reasonable, and I could cast aside the fact that I had come from New Zealand winter and was drenched in sweat from my journey.
We started making out (his lips!) and progressed quickly (which made sense as I was the most clothed person in the room). Quickly, I was naked, but more importantly, he was also naked. I was flipped over onto all fours. Wow, such strength! He begins analingus, like a true gentleman. But something was wrong. I had the distinct feeling of a tongue in the ass, but in a frown. He pulled me up and grabbed me by the hand. “Come with me.” It was so sexy when he whispered.
He led me upstairs. But not to the bedroom. No, this man dumped me in the shower and BATHED me. I was too gross for the man who was into sweat. I realised, too late, that I didn’t look like a sexy man of men, I looked like the red faced tourist from Lilo and Stitch. He meant sweaty in a sexy way, a light mist, and I provided the Thames River. It was hard to recover after that. He offered me poppers to help us both forget, but ultimately, his foray into normal looking people had let him down.
We made out some more, he was a charitable man, but I left unfortunately soon after I arrived. I miss him, and thank him for his service. Better luck next time, me.