To SPA or not to SPA

One cannot imagine how it is - actually - hard to get laid in a gay SPA.
One would think that the mere fact of being in a place where everybody knows way too well that sex definitely is on the cards, where each and everyone goes around naked but for a towel around hips that's only slightly larger than a napkin, condoms and lubricants are largely available everywhere for free (when you're abroad, not in Italy...), would just make finding a partner something of utmost ease and straightforward.
Well, it is not. Indeed.
You've got to get ready to accept the fact that:
-  lots of people isn't actually ready to overcome the physical barriers of lurking around ("general lurkers");
- that most aren't really out for sex because they haven't got at pace with the complexity of human relationships - even when at this primary physical level - and are only there to watch XXX video ("extreme lurkers");
- that some simply don't match your idea of sex, and so they'd rather just have somebody give them some oral sex than extend that shallow idea;
Not to mention all those who just either doesn't match with you (they're out for the same guys you are) or doesn't like you. The latter proving that gay-sex isn't really just sex-with-anybody.
Then, there also is the - indeed fascinating - fact that not every place in a SPA is like every other.
You would more easily find opportunities of having sex in the hammam than (in order of chances) in the darkroom, in the maze, in the jacuzzi, in the finnish sauna, in the lounge. While, typically, chances are that quality of the kind of sex partner you shall have the oppportunity to encounter are inversely proportional. Exceptions apply, of course, given the "local fauna", and the quality and accuracy of "your judgement".
Generally speaking, anyway, a certain degree of both entrepreanurship and of being picky is sure required, if you wanna get laid but also want to get some satisfaction out of it.

It's a tough word, as they say, not just a hard on-...-e ;)

I like it when you like me

I really likes the way he looks at me when I am there, I enjoy - as anybody does, in fact -  being appreciated, he clearly wants me, it clearly shows, and I definitely appreciate it a lot.

I rode the motorbike to their home, and when he  saw me there I could catch a smile on his face  that was saying it all much clear.

We had a little talk, he offered me something  to drink, and we told jokes on some recent news  and played throw an collect with theirs dog.
One would call G. the cuckold, and R. the bull, and would be right, indeed.
They are a couple since more than twenty years and they are lovely to look at and lively to talk to.
 When "the Bull" suggested we moved upstairs I was  glad he had done it. I followed him,  diligently: I like being told what to do, and  he knows that at heart and always, instictively, leverage on that.
He immediately took his clothes off and started  to kiss me, while peeling me away of both my  clothes and the remains of my - usual -  hesitations. It only did take a few minutes  before I could feel his hands on all of me, his  lips on mine, and I was ready to be his little slut. I was there, with only my g-string and shoes on, so  I did bend so to try and take them off, when he reached for my buttocks; the "Cuck"  has arrived and had added his hands to those of his mate: he was kind of getting his share of me for  his own good. Not that I had anything to  complain, it had took me by surprise and that  sure always turns me on.
I saw him sitting on the bed, and wanking himself slowly, while never stopping looking  at me; my Bull reached for my hip and - almost  literally - threw me on their large bed, face down, ass up, softly moaning. The Cuck must have heard me and thus started to caress my head and to gently strobe my hair: I was feeling well and I was at ease and was ready to give them anything they might have asked me.
And what the Bull wanted wasn't much difficult to guess, as I immediately had the distinct feeling of his hands taking my thong apart, without stripping it off of me, and licking my greedy, soft, little hole, while slapping the buttocks from time to time making me moan loudly, at which he always groaned as a sign of appreciation and started licking again.
I glanced at the Cuck: he was smiling. I was too, somehow...
It was then one finger then another fingers then, in what looked to me to be but a bunch of seconds he had worn a condom and had got inside me. He entered softly, but immediately started to pound its large dick inside of me, rapidily bringing me to climaxing loudly and making me shake as if I was shattered. He loves it when I do like that, so he didn't find it a good reason to stop, all the contrary: he got a hold of my hips, lifted me up and started again, with new and fresh vigour.
I couldn't resist it, and I collapsed on the bed, shattered by waves of pleasure making my body tremble with tremors.
He didn't stop at that and just kept fucking me really hard, my legs between his, for a few more minutes, while I was moaning harder and harder, until I screamed, and he did scream too: he'd climaxed and was not laying on me, with no more energies, and yet he was gently caressing my head...
When we woke up and got to dress back - because I really had to go back to the office - I just wispered to me "I like you", and I wispered back "it shows... thanks, anyway" and kissed him.

Out of curiosity.

"Thank you. Very entreprenual, indeed, but fun. And it - definitely - did tickle my self-esteem; it always works: you got my attention".
I had to check it twice before to send it: I wanted to be sure of what I was letting filtering out of me. I wanted to give the anonymous admirer a chance to get back so I had not to nurture my expectations too much, yet signs were this was no mistake.  But I also wanted so badly that it wasn't a mistake...
I got the answer before the remorse of having sent the message had had the time to reach DEFCON 1 warning level...
"I thought I might have copied your number down wrong. I had to learn it at heart because I could not find a pen right in time. My name is Paolo."
Ok, so we then knew we were talking a male. And this made it all more intriguing: I would never have expected such a thing like a man to eavesdrop to guess my phone number so that he could then text me "I found you sexy".
I replied: "Well, you know who I am so I need not introducing myself; you might instead be interested to know that I find it flattering that a man find me sexy enough to try and overhear my phone number, only to let me know he founds me sexy."
Kind. And neat. By then he sure got it that I might be a good catch.
"Did you guess who I am?"
Damn it, no, I didn't know and thies sure had its part in making the first message a surprise: I didn't get any "sneaky glance", nothing of what you may find in erotic novels. I was totally unable to even try to tell how was it that I was messaging with.
"Honest: not at all... How naive of me, isn't it?"
":)"
":)"
... a few, very long, incredibly long couple of minutes...
"Why don't we meet, you may have lunch with me, this time...?" he wrote.
"Ok. What about tomorrow? Same place, same time?" I couldn't ignore the cozy flavour of that  "same place, same time" and again I thought how intriguing all this was.
It took me about 30 seconds to think it, write it, and send it. I was damn curious!

Unexpected.

"Hi. You don't know me; I've seen you at the restaurant and heard you dictating you phone number to your guests. I just wanted you to know how much sexy I think you are".
Really unexpected.

I was talking with this new partner, in the meeting room and I got such a text message on my iPhone. Who in the world was the he? Or she? Or whatever!?
He must have been sitting not far away, though, or I wonder how could have ever listened to me saying to K. my phone number so that he could call me tomorrow morning to arrange for a pick up at the hotel.
A very message going direct to the point, anyway. I appreciated that, and I won't deny I enjoyed the content of it.
It's written in English, he must have thought I was a foreigner, and thought to seize the chance, that it would have been riskless.
Or it could have been some foreigner, here on holiday. Somebody from the campsites around the place here.
Somebody who can make use of punctuation, and likes to use it when texting a message: not a common person.
And a daring one, anyway.

Intriguing, indeed...

The foreigners

"We will be there this week"
"Can we meet?"
I had to reply to him: "how long will you stay?"
"All of this week, can we meet?". He really wanted me...
I could then only say "I don't know, it's a busy week for me here"
"Please do try". Yes, he definitely wanted to lay me down...
"I will try" - I said - "Glad to hear that" - he replied - then we text a smile each.

The "foreigners" are here again. They always call me when they travel around.
And it's always a hard call not to reply to.

Hence, I'm thinking of going there tomorrow, at lunch. I'll try my chances and will text him tomorrow morning, and will see what comes...