London Aquarics Centre

I’ve been living near the London Aquatics Centre for nearly two years now and only today I decided to visit it… I’m kicking myself for this!

The place is gorgeous, the pools clean and perfect. Tom Daley trains there often apparently, if you’re lucky you can even catch him in the changing room after.

I walked past a sexy guy with grey stubble and a shaved head on the way in, and later he chose the locker beside mine to get changed (in a massive changing room that was empty.)

It was a quiet hour but there were some cute guys in the pool. A short, smooth Asian guy packing some heat in his speedos caught my attention. He stared back at me as I stretched after my swim and then watched me get dressed from the open showers.

(One disappointment was that the private  showers were not communal – you have to use private booths.)

Can’t wait to go back though.

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Life changes, lighter heart

A lot of things have happened since my last proper update. 

Back in October, my boyfriend and I decided to visit a gay sauna together for the first time. We went to Lads Locker Room in Bristol and it was a bit of a comedy night. A proper update on this will come soon.

Then in November, I nearly had a threesome with my best mate (straight) and his ex-girlfriend. This threw my head into a spin as it got me thinking if I was actually bisexual and never allowed myself to explore this before.

Finally, some weeks ago, I finally confessed everything to my boyfriend. Everything except this blog (but that’s probably happening one day too.)  I told him about all the toilet cruising over the years, the guys I met up and had sex with (and talked about here), the sauna visits in Leeds and then in Germany.  

I can now understand why the Catholic Church has the confessionary… the experience was almost religious emptying my heart to him. I felt so light the week afterwards, like I had taken LSD and wouldn’t come down. The experience was strong for him too, made him question who he thought I was. It led to many, many conversations – sometimes in the middle of the night – but it’s all been very positive.

Since then, we’ve been very open and honest with each other – we’ve realised that as 41 year old men we still have a long way to go and that we should be free to follow adventures if they arise – we want to keep things open but still respect and love each other. It’s a new journey for us, involving a lot of communication, but I think it’s going to be good.

This morning, I told him I had a fantasy of being in an orgy, and that led to more interesting conversations. I feel like I can finally be myself to him and not have to hide anything anymore. 

Tomorrow, I’m thinking of visiting Sweatbox, the gay sauna in central London. Would be my first time in a London sauna – and I’ll be telling my boyfriend all about it afterwards!

In a month’s time, that straight friend of mine is coming to visit and staying with us for a week… I predict a lot of deep conversations with him too. He knew everything before I told my boyfriend, he’s another one I can open my heart completely to.

And spring appears to be arriving in London… and life feels good.

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Camden Blowjob

Camden High Street Gents

I dropped by Camden High Street’s toilets last week at lunch time. Was feeling horny and up for looking at some cocks at the urinals. There were three guys in there: a short Chinese guy, a short South East Asian guy, and a stocky Eastern European guy wearing glasses and a tweed cap.

I stood next to the stocky guy as I could see he already had a hard on – a cock about 6 inches long and nicely thick. As usual, I couldn’t really get hard (my heart still beats too fast when I’m cruising public toilets) but I didn’t feel shy about showing it to him or checking him out.

He moved closer and pressed his cock’s head with his thumb. I licked my lips and he gestured for us to go into one of the cubicles. When I didn’t move, he gestured for us to go outside. I nodded OK, innocently thinking we’d just exchange phone numbers.

The Chinese guy followed us out, looking a bit sad that he wasn’t included. Stocky Eastern European guy pretended he didn’t know me and crossed the street – I followed, leaving the Chinese guy behind. He walked up to a nearby pub and made a head gesture for me to follow him inside.

I was some steps behind him, trying not to make it look like we knew each other. He went into the gents and stood by the urinals. As there was a guy already in there, I went into one of the cubicles and pretended to piss. Once the guy was gone, I moved to the urinals but he went into the other cubicle and gestured for me to join him. I was a bit reluctant but he kept insisting with his head, so I finally took the plunge.

He locked the door and pulled out his cock. I went down and took him with my mouth. Soon, he grabbed the back of my head and started face fucking me. He then pulled me up and started shooting his cum on the toilet. I leaned down and took the last shot, then sucked him until he was soft.

Somebody came in and we tried to be quiet, my heart beating like crazy. He kissed my mouth and pulled my cock out. When the person was gone, he went down and sucked me until I warned I was going to cum. He kept going until he had sucked me dry, then he stood up and spat it out in the toilet.

Another guy came in so we went back to kissing. He started huffing, squeezing my tits, grabbing my ass. To my surprise he got hard again and in another minute had his cock in his hand and was shooting a second load into the toilet.

Once we were alone again, he snuck out and I locked the cabin behind him. When he left, I came out and washed my hands and mouth. But as I walked back to my office I could still taste his cum on my lips.

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Third Sauna Visit

metropol-sauna

The opportunity came up this past September for me to leave London for an extended weekend and visit Germany. I ended up spending a few days in Frankfurt, a city I didn’t know and which I enjoyed very much.

The weather was lovely throughout my stay – shorts and T-shirt temperature – and the friends I was staying with supplied me with good food, drinks and, occasionally, ecstasy pills.

On the Saturday night (3rd September), early hours of the morning, I took leave of my friends for a bit of exploring, with the hope of bumping into a cute guy. It was 2 a.m. and most guys were drunk and heading home or trying to find bars that were still open. It then dawned on me that this was the perfect opportunity to visit a gay sauna – the chance of anyone knowing me were practically nil.

I looked at my phone and saw there was one called Metropol a few streets away, in the centre of town. Its entrance was so unassuming – it looked like the entrance to a regular gym – that I walked right past it. Once inside, I climbed some stairs to the second floor and rang a doorbell to be buzzed in. A shirtless bear with a fake tan greeted me from behind the reception desk. I said I didn’t speak German and he said in English that it was 17.50 euros for one towel and a locker, and that I should bring the lock and the towel back to him when I chose to leave. He also asked if I needed flip flops and I replied that I didn’t (for the next few hours I noticed guys wearing them – white plastic sandals that were actually quite sensible to wear in that environment.)

Through the entrance was a large, brightly lit locker room. A window to one side looked into a mini gym. I took off my clothes next to two guys that were leaving, wrapped the complimentary condom found in my locker in my towel’s fold, and started my exploration.

Everything looked cheap and tacky, like a low budget sex fantasy. Loud, dark and ominous house music played through the whole sauna, giving it an unfriendly vibe. The fake tanned bear at reception was now behind a bar next to the lockers, serving drinks to some guys. There were some café-style tables nearby and a TV room beyond them. There was also a corner with computers where guys could go online if they wished to.

Past this area, there was a Jacuzzi (cold both times I went in) and a communal shower room next to it. The steam room was next to the showers, and the dry sauna some feet away. From the dry sauna you walked past a massage room, a relaxation area for people to take naps on sun loungers, and a few park benches scattered around for guys to sit and check the talent. You then entered a maze.

There were maybe 30 guys in the sauna, all silently walking around or sitting by themselves. The dry sauna was my favourite place – hardly anyone in there, clean and warm. The steam room wasn’t warm at all – it was more like a dark maze where you walked through a mist and had some wet tiles to sit on if you chose to.

I went first to the toilet (just past the massage room) because I needed to piss. A guy was in there, slowly drying his legs by the urinals, looking at me in a meaningful way. I had taken ecstasy earlier in the evening and was beginning to come down – so I went into one of the cabins instead and stood there for a while, waiting for anything to come out. I was a little worried I wouldn’t be able to get an erection (ecstasy makes my cock go inside itself). I then went to the shower space, feeling a bit paranoid about my cock’s size, and washed myself.

I decided to hang out a bit at the dry sauna, warm up. I went in just as a balding, bearded guy with long hair was coming out. (For the next hour this guy would follow me everywhere, trying to get me interested in him.) From the dry sauna I went into the maze. Most of the guys were in there, walking up and down, or inside rooms, either lying on their stomachs (wanting to be fucked) or their cocks on display (wanting to fuck). Nearly all of them were obese and elderly.

Deep inside the maze, past the rooms, were some cages, a few glory holes and some devices I couldn’t make sense of (maybe for spanking?) Then there was a small dark room, with two slings. Every time I went in there for the rest of the evening there’d be at least one guy hooked up, either getting fucked or waiting for a fuck.

None of the guys interested me and so the weird, silent walking around continued throughout the tacky surroundings. I thankfully started to relax a bit and decided to do like the other guys – leave my towel in a cubby hole at the entrance to the steam room maze and hang out in there. I went in, past two shadows standing by the walls, and found a wet ledge inside, slick as if covered with cum, where I could sit down and watch the steam through the faint blue light on the ceiling. I started jerking off, imagining a guy in the shadows watching me. And a guy did show up – the balding, bearded guy with long hair who’d been following me up until then. He walked past me, seemed to watch me for a while in the shadows, then came back and sat down next to me (this wasn’t the first time he’d done this – he’d also sat right next to me in the dry sauna, but he couldn’t bring himself to make a move.)

In what I thought was typical German fashion, he waited for me to make a move. He pressed his leg slightly against mine. I decided if he wanted me so badly, he could have me. I pressed back against him and he grabbed my cock. We started kissing. He moaned something in German and I said I didn’t speak the language. “You are very handsome,” he said in a thick accent.

I squeezed one of his nipples, moved my hand down his back. He started jerking off and stood up to lean against me, almost straddling my legs. I pressed his ass, kissed him, and tweaked his nipples as he beat off. A guy came out of the shadows and touched his shoulders but he gestured the guy away. In a minute, he was shooting his cum all over my chest. He then walked away without a word, washed himself with cold water from a tap in the corner and disappeared. I followed suit and used the same tap to wash his cum off me.

Back outside, I took another shower, this time beside three other guys. I wasn’t feeling anymore so shy about my cock size, despite it being obvious that all these German guys were very well hung. I then returned to the dry sauna to relax, where I found a tall, young blonde guy lying on his back.

He had long arms and legs, and a nicely toned body, with a bit of blonde hair on his chest. His blonde hair was buzzed short, like a soldier’s, and his face was like a little boy’s. He looked at me with seriousness and I smiled back. He then smiled and looked away. He did that a few more times and then said: “fuck, you are making me hard.” I laughed and said: “I’m glad.”

He then stood up to leave and I decided to follow him. I liked that he was in his 20s, that he was toned and strong – but not in a gym bunny kind of way – and that I’d made him hard. He wandered into the maze, checking rooms, checking out guys, getting checked out, with me tailing behind him. We briefly sat in the porn room, on its large vinyl mattress, but a young pudgy guy with glasses sat in between us so after a while we left.

At first, it was as if he were after something else, but maybe my tailing started to convince him I’d be his first fuck of the night. We stopped in the dark room with the slings, two guys already at it in there, and I kissed him.

“How did you know I was English?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” he whispered back, and kissed me back.

We left the darkroom and this time he opened each cabin door, looking for one available for us. Finally, we found one and stepped inside. I closed the door and was about to lock it but he stopped me and smiled: “leave it.”

We took off our towels and showed our erections. His cock was thick and about 8 inches long, a thing of beauty. I pressed mine against his, kept kissing him. He got on the bed and ordered me to join him and get on all fours. I took his cock in my mouth and started sucking.

While I blew him he spat on his hand and started working the spit into my asshole. Then he slapped my ass and shoved his cock hard in my mouth. I took it all in, cupping his balls, working his shaft.

He turned me around and licked my asshole. “You ready for my big cock?” he teased with a fake American accent. (Throughout our fuck he’d keep talking like that, like he was an American porn star, never quite able, though, to escape his German accent – “you’re my bitch now”, “how do you like my cock in your tight hole?” etc.)

He started pressing his cock against my hole. I picked the condom that was wrapped in my towel and handed it to him. “No…” he moaned in my ear and pressed his cock harder. It hurt and wouldn’t go in; it was thick and large in a way I wasn’t used to. “You’re too big for me,” I tried to joke.

“Let’s try it this way,” he said, lying on his back. I straddled him and led his cock – without a condom – to my hole. He looked even more child-like staring at me, blue neon light lighting up his face. His breath smelt faintly of alcohol.

As his cock went in, I flinched in pain. “Are you OK?” he kept asking. And I laughed and said yes even though I was feeling discomfort. Finally, his cock was all the way in and I started riding it. He squeezed my nipples, pressed my ass, shoved his cock up, all the time sporting porno talk (“yeah baby, ride that thick fucker”, “show me how much you want it baby”.) Then he said: “let me know when you’re coming baby, I want to shoot the same time.”

Problem was, because I was coming down from ecstasy and my nerves were slightly frayed, I was lasting longer. “Shoot on my chest baby,” he said as he jerked me off. Eventually he couldn’t hold it any longer and shot his cum inside me. Amazingly, his cock continued hard (recently, I found out from a friend that he had probably taken Viagra – in all my innocence I didn’t pick up on this!) I kept riding it for some time longer until I shot my load on his chest. He scooped some of the cum and stuck it in his mouth, then pulled my head down and shared it with me in a kiss.

We weren’t over yet. He made me lie down and lift my legs; he straddled me and his rock hard cock went in. Now it felt really pleasurable, he was fucking me real good. “My hole isn’t going to be tight anymore by the end of tonight,” I joked.

“That’s right baby,” he moaned and fucked me harder.

At this point I noticed someone peeking through the half open door, but they then went away. Maybe there had been others before that I hadn’t been aware of. Then an older, unfit guy walked in to watch us (I thought later how it must have looked like a 3D porno to him.) We kept fucking, talking dirty, dripping sweat all over the place (the vinyl mattress was completely wet by this stage and my German boy had to keep wiping sweat from his face with my towel.) The older guy started touching my head so I flicked him away. Then he gently stroked the German boy’s shoulder, making him also flinch. He then stuck his head in between us, to see the cock up close going in and out of me. My boy ordered him to leave in German (I think) and so he did.

He then leaned down and started sucking on my cock, while still fucking me. “Shoot in my mouth baby.” But although my cock was hard and I was in heaven, I just couldn’t. Again, he couldn’t hold it in for any longer and shot his second load inside my well-used and wet hole. Still, his cock stayed hard and he kept fucking me, waiting for me to cum. Eventually it became clear that it wasn’t going to happen so he pulled out and said: “I’m going to take a shower OK?”

After he left, I wiped the sweat off the mattress with paper towels from a dispenser and waited for him. I wasn’t sure if he would come back so I concluded it was best if I also take a shower. There were some fit young guys showering and some chatty young guys walking around (maybe they had just arrived from the clubs.) I showered and got inside the cool Jacuzzi. I watched the boys come and go for a while, including my German boy, who strode past me without noticing me and seemed to be looking for something or someone (me? A new fuck?)

It was 5a.m. by this stage and I decided it was probably enough for one night. A good looking guy stood by the lockers checking his phone and, outside, another good looking guy in his twenties was talking to the fake-tanned bear at reception. The guy gestured to the receptionist to serve me first as I only had to return my key and lock, but the bear receptionist, maybe hoping to make some lame point, insisted on taking payment from the guy first, chatting to him a bit (in English, as if I cared what they had to say). Finally, he took my lock and key and I left.

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Playing in the Cemetery

On Friday 26 August, a week after the evening I had with the married man, I went to my first gay sauna in London. Except that I didn’t go inside. Instead, I sat at a bus stop, on the other side of the road, for over an hour, watching who went in and out, trying to make up my mind if I should join them.

It was a very warm, balmy night. I’d initially planned on going to The Greenhouse sauna in Luton but then I got lazy after I’d had dinner and figured out I’d need to travel for an hour and a half just to get there.

I washed myself, douched, and stepped out for a walk – with half a mind to visit the Sailor’s Sauna in Limehouse, East London, later on.

I walked through Victoria Park, everything dark already, eavesdropping on the conversations of friends sitting at picnic tables, on the grass, their voices sounding drunk and stoned. On the other side of the park I entered Mile End Park and followed its canal south, heading towards Limehouse. There were plenty of people about, mostly couples and cyclists. Further inside the park, I checked out the area around the sports field, according to Squirt.org where all the cruising takes place, but I didn’t see any guys.

22887596

Finally, I reached the Sailor’s Sauna. The bus stop across the street was perfect to watch it – I could just hang about and pretend I was waiting for a bus. In the hour and a half I sat at that bus stop, only 6 guys went inside. They were all out of shape – four of them being in their 50s and two in their 30s. (One of the younger guys was a nervous Pakistani/Bangladeshi guy who snuck in, and the other was a tall, white bearded guy.) Nothing against bears, nervous guys (so was I, after all, sitting at that bus stop like an idiot) or older men (which I have a fetish for anyway) but none of these guys turned me on. Some seemed to have stumbled drunk out of a pub. And they mostly looked like married men. One guy was in there for no more than 10 minutes (it’s 17 pounds to go in.)

I bought a Redbull to try and stay awake, watched the sauna for a bit longer and then around midnight decided to head back home.

On the canal, on the south side of Mile End, I walked past a tall, good-looking guy with a shaved head, who smiled at me. I smiled back and after a few paces turned around to look at him. He had also turned around. I felt that familiar tremor: “Should I?” And so I decided to walk in his direction.

He had sat down on a stone ledge and one of his legs shook, maybe out of nervousness. We said hello, chit chatted about the night and how it was good to go for a walk. He grabbed his crotch and asked if I wanted to go elsewhere, and I replied that I did.

Being close to him, I realised he was much better looking then I first thought – he was actually gorgeous. He said his name was R. and he gave me a firm handshake. I lied to him (I don’t know why) and told him my name was James. He said he was a painter/plasterer and had lived in that area all his life. He couldn’t wait to get out and see the world – his dream was to go to Australia – but then he said with some resignation that only a lottery ticket could get him there.

R. was slim and strong. He wore sneakers, shorts and a t-shirt. Whenever we looked at each other as we talked, we smiled.

“Where should we go?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I laughed.

We walked into the sports field area of Mile End Park, past a gay guy drinking from a water fountain, who stopped what he was doing to watch us go by. Further down the path, we went behind some trees by the field and began to feel each other’s crotches. He unbuckled his shorts and opened my jeans. He was wearing white briefs and his cock was hard, lying to the side. It was a thick, beautiful 8-inch toy.

I leaned down and started sucking him. He held my head and fucked my face, shoving his cock all the way down my throat (thank god for my good gag reflexes.) Suddenly he stopped and started buttoning up.

“There’s someone here,” he said and we fixed ourselves and moved back to the main path. I saw a shadow standing nearby, between the trees, watching us. It was the guy from the water fountain.

He then suggested we go to the nearby Tower Hamlets cemetery. Again, he teased me if I already knew it, and I told him that I honestly only knew the front gates. “We’ll go in from the back, but you wouldn’t catch me in there by myself at night, no way,” he said.

“We can stay near the exit,” I suggested, “and leave quickly if we have to.”

He thought that was funny.

We talked some more as we walked to the cemetery. He let slip that he helped in the care of two children, but they weren’t his. I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, if he was actually married. He seemed very straight. He asked if I was single, he asked about my partner, he complimented my gray hair, my age (“40 is a great age”, to which I said “yes, it is.”) I wish I had asked how old he was – I think he was in his late 20s, early 30s. He asked if I went to any gay clubs – Soho, Vauxhall – and I said I didn’t.

A woman walked out of the cemetery’s south entrance as we reached it – she looked like a crack addict. Away from the streets, in the darkness of the cemetery, the temperature suddenly dropped. There was nobody else around; we were all alone.

towerhamlets

We went through the gates and found a spot behind a bench, underneath a large tree. He seemed so straight to me, I didn’t dare lean forward and kiss him. But he then surprised me by moving in for a kiss, licking my tongue, then brushing my stubble with his hands, as we unbuckled and jerked off together.

“Do you want me to blow you?” I asked.

“Yeah, suck me off.”

We took turns sucking each other, kissing and jerking off. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. He was incredibly hot and sweet. Finally, he shot his cum; I swallowed some of it and got my stubble all covered with his cream. He tasted really good. I then held on to his tight ass as I jerked off. He was impressed with the big load I shot on the grass (and he was even happier I didn’t hit his shoes.)

We walked back to Mile End Road together and he asked if I wanted to swap numbers. I said “sure.” I sent him a text saying “hey” and he confirmed receipt. He said he believed things happened for a reason, shook my hand and we said goodbye.

When I got home, I texted him: “It was good meeting you mate. If you ever want company on a walk, drop me a line! Enjoy the weekend.” I didn’t get a response.

He was the kind of Eastend lad that you might walk by and notice working in a house, coming out of a white van, and think to yourself that he’s quite good-looking, but that he’s for sure straight and you should probably look away. You’d never suspect he was interested in guys.

Thinking back on our conversation, I remembered the look of surprise on his face when I told him he was good-looking. He said he didn’t feel it. I stressed again that he was good-looking and he was taken aback by it. It made me think of how fragile the male ego is and how we guys so easily assume things about people when the truth is quite different. We also probably don’t realise that people’s perceptions of us are very different from how we feel inside.

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The Night with the Married Man

1

Years ago, a reader of this blog warned me to never bring a stranger back home for sex while I was in a relationship. And for many years that was a rule I didn’t dare break. That is, until this summer.

As I mentioned before, I’d been chatting off and on for a year to a married guy I’d met on a gay cruising site. The few times we tried to hook up didn’t work out as he was very worried about being seen in public with a gay guy – he was very insistent on us meeting somewhere private (i.e. my home, as he had a wife and kids.) I didn’t want to bring him home, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about him. There was something about the way we talked to each other – the things we wanted to do to each other – that made me think we’d be great in bed together.

I finally took the plunge this August and emailed him to say my boyfriend was traveling on business and that he had given his blessing (lie) for us to meet at our flat. He took a whole day to respond – a day that I spent checking incessantly my email. Finally, he said he was happy and excited with this news, and asked for me to send him photos so he could remember my face. And so I did, photos that showed my new body after months of working out. He immediately replied to say how sexy I was, how excited he was, and to share some of his photos – photos I hadn’t seen before: two of his face, one in which he was smiling (and looking very camp), one of his furry chest and big belly, and two of his cock – a cock about 6 inches long, thick, with a massive mushroom head. We ended up agreeing for him to come to my flat on the eve of Saturday 20 August.

I tidied the flat on that Saturday and spent the whole day thinking about him. I’d never invited a stranger home before – would he turn out to be a psychopath? Should I alert friends so they could check up on me later? He emailed me in the morning to confirm he was still coming, even offering to bring a bottle of wine. I said that was fine, that I looked forward to meeting him in a few hours after a whole year of email exchanges.

I went for a 5K run that morning so I could get rid of some nervous energy, douched my ass to perfection so he’d find it nice and clean to play with (just the way he liked it). I even told him I’d had recent STD exam results from Dean Street Express come back negative so he didn’t have to worry about catching anything from me. He thanked me for letting him know. As a married man and a father, he couldn’t afford to catch a disease. He said that made him even more horny for me and all the things he’d like to do to me.

I paced around the flat, watched porn, kept an eye on the clock. I thought: “holy shit, he’s going to be here in x hours, we are going to kiss, we are going to fuck.” Then, he emailed to apologise he was running late, about to take a shower, but he’d soon be with me.

And so he did. Just after 8:30pm, my intercom rang. I buzzed him in and opened my front door. He came out of the lift wearing jeans, a grey polo shirt, a baseball cap and glasses. He scanned the hallway until he spotted me. I said hello and let him in.

We were both nervous and awkward. He asked if he should take off his shoes in the hallway and I said that was fine. I was wearing black shorts and my lucky black V top. He came into the living room, checking everything out, taking in my place, taking me in.

“We finally meet,” I said, trying to be friendly. “Would you like some water?”

“You know what?” he said. “I completely forgot the bottle of wine.”

“No worries.” I grabbed two glasses of water for us and we drank them while standing by my dinner table. Very quickly, our glasses were down on the table and we were kissing.

He was the same height as me, 5’11, but 10kg heavier. His head was shaved, soft like velvet, and he had a goatee. He kissed me with hunger, hard. Before he’d arrived, I’d turned off all lights and lit candles around the flat – small, white scented candles I’d bought from Poundland. I also had turned on my Spotify and put on shuffle the “Nightmare on Wax” radio.

“Should we continue here?” he asked, pointing at my sofa. I took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom.

There were candles also lit in the bedroom – two on the windowsill and one on a bedside table that also held strawberry-flavoured lube and a pile of condoms. We stood at the end of the bed and continued kissing. Then we started taking off all of our clothes and dropping them onto the floor.

Underneath his top was a golden crucifix chain. He took it off and placed it near the pile of condoms on the bedside table.

“What do you want to do?” I asked him.

“Let’s just go with the flow.”

Once we were completely naked, he gently pushed me onto the bed. I moved up to give him space to join me. I could see our reflections on the wardrobe’s mirrors (large mirrors that run the whole span of the bed.) Throughout the night, I’d find myself watching us in the mirror, when we fucked or just held each other, the candles flickering in them.

He started sucking my cock and then lifted my legs and ass to access my hole. It was the first time a guy rimmed me (my boyfriend is not into it.) He gave me a deep, intense, long rim job. Then he put my legs on his shoulders and pressed his fat mushroom head against my hole. A few moments later he rolled onto my side and whispered: “what do you want to do?”

“Anything you want. You’re in charge.”

“I want you to ride my cock.”

I climbed on top of him and spread some lube on my hole. I guided his cock there but it was too thick, I couldn’t get it inside. So I leaned down to kiss him as he rubbed his cock on my butt crack and held me. And then I was moaning: “Oh shit, I’m coming,” and I shot my first load all over his furry stomach.

“Really?” he laughed. “Should I still stick it in?”

“Yeah, do it.”

I lifted a little and tried to get his cock in again, but then he started shooting his hot cum all over my ass.

We laughed together for a bit and I reached for the pile of towels I had on the other side of the bed, which I’d left there earlier in case we needed them.

“First of the towels,” I said as I wiped the cum off our bodies and then dropped it on the floor. We then held each other, kissed and talked.

He stayed for a total of four hours with me, until 1am. Throughout these four hours, we fucked three times, kissed, hugged, touched each other, and talked about our lives. It was a mixture of hot sex with therapy.

He was completely unlike any guy I would normally find attractive – and I enjoyed the realisation that I could be so open and accepting of someone who didn’t conform to a previous image in my head of what constitutes a “hot guy”.

Aside from being a big boy, and out of shape, he had hair covering every inch of his body. But I really liked it! His fur was soft and I loved stroking it throughout the night. I also loved how full of testosterone he was, how aggressive he turned when we fucked. There was a side of him that didn’t care if I orgasmed or not, and I liked that – my mind frame was of being a guy completely at his disposal, there to satisfy all his needs.

He told me about his wife and how cold their marriage had become, how she didn’t meet his needs anymore. He told me of previous hook ups he had with guys, their complications, their lies. He told me of his little boys and how he wanted to be a great father to them.

I didn’t talk too much about myself – I was there as a listener, and I didn’t mind.

After we’d rested a bit, he climbed on top of me and lifted my legs again onto his shoulders. He lubbed me up and pressed his cock in. He had told me his sexual history, how he got tested often and never bottomed. We silently decided we weren’t going to use any condoms.

He pushed hard and I flinched with pain. “Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, just need to go in a little slower.”

I relaxed and his cock worked its way in. Then he started fucking me, nice and hard. I slapped my hard cock against his belly as he fucked me, we kissed. I’d then smile at him and he’d smile back. Before long, he was shooting his cum inside me – the first time a guy had ever done so… and then he continued to fuck me and shot a second load. “Fuck, I’m having a multiple orgasm!” he grunted. Then it was my turn to shoot all over my chest. He scooped some of my cum into his mouth then shared it with me in a kiss.

We were now covered with sweat, and my ass was wet with cum and well used by his cock.

Later, after midnight, he turned me on my stomach and climbed on top of me. Again, he fucked me hard, pressing his heavy body down on me, filling my hole with cum. This time it was all about him satisfying his needs. I was feeling so fucked and well used, I didn’t mind. My whole body was tender, I was loving being in bed with him, watching the candles one by one die, hearing the music far away in the living room.

As the time got closer for him to leave, he became melancholic. He held me close and said my boyfriend was very lucky, that he would do everything to live my life, be with me. That he’d like to meet again.

I didn’t reply, I didn’t want to commit to anything. By that stage, I’d begun to feel an immense emptiness in him – this life he’d built on lies, this life where he couldn’t be who he really was, having so many secrets. I didn’t want to be a secret his wife might find out about. Maybe I saw a little of myself in him too, having sex with other guys without my boyfriend knowing, but I knew I was in the path to changing that, to being more honest with him, and I just didn’t see a place in that new life for this married man.

He then told me that every time he hooked up with a guy, he couldn’t wait to leave once the sex was done, but with me it had been different. For the first time he didn’t want to leave. I just held him tight and stroked him, and he moaned and held me tight.

I offered my shower for him to use but he declined, said he didn’t think he smelt of sex. He said it would look weird if he came home newly showered. We got dressed up and I led him to the front door. He nearly forgot his gold crucifix on my bedside table. We kissed a final time and I told him he was a great guy, that he would be an amazing father to his sons, that everything would work out fine in his life. I was standing in the hallway shirtless, just in my black shorts, reeking of his sex, and he said I looked so good – he flinched away, almost as if it was too painful for him to look at me.

I took a shower once he was gone and slept on the sex-filled sheets. I could still feel his cum inside of me, smell him all over the room. I washed everything in the morning after I woke up.

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The strange decline of the English cottage

public-lavatorie-pond-square-london

I went into the cubicle to take a piss; lingered a bit before leaving. As I washed my hands, I had that impression you get of being watched so turned my head slightly to see a man standing in the cubicle doorway, looking at me. He had his cock out. As he looked, he rubbed it. My first reaction was the thought that I had never seen one so big; my second was of slight discomfort at the intensity of his gaze. My third was an erection.

Really nice article in VICE about one man’s history with gay cottaging.

He’s working on a documentary The Strange Decline of the English Cottage. I’m very much looking forward to watching that. So many busy, popular toilets have disappeared since I moved to London in 2000.  Marble Arch, Oxford Circus, Piccadilly Circus…

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