Saturday, 2 March 2013

A paper bag and a white sheet

It was on a Friday that my internist gave her approval for me to start with my preferred medication (see Meds [2 of 2]). To me this seemed the best day to start, so I had the prescription sent to a pharmacy right away.

The only pharmacy that was sure to have my pills in stock happened to be one of the few that was open until late, and it was around the corner from Erdem's place. I had bothered Erdem with my pros and cons of starting a treatment, so now I thought it would be nice to take him to dinner to celebrate my decision after I picked up my meds. During and after dinner we'd drink wine and booze and then I would take my first pill. It was my way to imprint in my brain that my daily pill should not limit me in any way.

And so I walked into the pharmacy where an Indian-looking pharmacist of around thirty helped me. After first denying that any prescription had been sent, he went to the back and looked through the faxes. Suddenly he grabbed one, read it twice, walked back with a big smile on his face, and then checked my date of birth, address and my doctor's name with me.

Pharmacist: I couldn't find you in the computer.

Jackdaw: It's my first time here.

Pharmacist: Where do you normally get this then?

Jackdaw: Well, nowhere. It's the first time I will use it.

He walked to the back again and while opening drawers he smiled at me several times. He returned with the box, but just before he was back at the desk he looked shocked and turned around. Then he took a brown paper bag from a cabinet into which he put the pill box with very obvious discreteness before he returned. From this moment on he spoke in some sort of loud conspiracy whisper while leaning over the counter.

Pharmacist: This is the only pharmacy in town that always has this... medicine...  in stock.

Jackdaw: That's nice to know.

Pharmacist: Yeah, just so you know. We are the number one specialised pharmacy for... this.

Jackdaw: Oh, okay.

Pharmacist: Do you suffer any side-effects from... this medication?

Jackdaw: No. Well, I don't know. I've never take it before.

Pharmacist: So what did you take instead?

Jackdaw: Nothing, I'm gonna start with this one.

Pharmacist: You know, I think it's interesting. I'm very much interested in... this. I'm specialising in it.

Jackdaw: Oh.

Pharmacist: Are you also going to the party on... December first?

Jackdaw: Huh?

Pharmacist: There's this party in the city that's for... this.

Jackdaw: I'm not sure I understand what you are trying to tell me.

Pharmacist: On... December first... there's a party for people who need... this.

His whisper got very loud and he pointed frantically at the brown paper bag.

Jackdaw: Oh, right.

Pharmacist: Are you going? I am!

Jackdaw: I don't think I will.

Pharmacist: But there'll be lot of people with... you know… this.

Jackdaw: I think I'll be abroad that weekend.

This was a lie, but I wanted to move on and there was a room full of people waiting and following the secretive conversation.

Pharmacist: That's a pity. Say, why are you only getting one box? Most people who take... this... take supply for three months each time they come.

Jackdaw: Well, since it's the first time I will use this medication, my doctor first wants to see how I respond to it before I order it in bulk.

Pharmacist: Oh, you never used it before?

Jackdaw: No.

Pharmacist: So what did you use then?

Jackdaw: Nothing... it's all new to me.

Pharmacist: Oh... yeah... right. Just remember -- very important -- take it at exactly the same time every day and only on an empty stomach. That's very important! Hope to see you again! Maybe on the first of December?

Jackdaw: Who knows. Bye.

My doctor had told me I could take the pills with or without food, and that there was an eight-hour window one day after the previous pill that I could take the next one. I somehow trusted her better than the pharmacist.

After dinner Erdem and I went for a nice dinner and had a few drinks. At his place I took my first pill, afraid that I might get nauseous or sick. But that didn't happen: I felt nothing, I felt great (see Meds [2 of 2]).

"Rocky", the guy who had drugged me in order to have unprotected sex with me, the guy with whom my whole HIV drama had started about twenty months earlier (see Rocky horror [1 of 3], [2 of 3] and [3 of 3]) didn't feel quite so well though. Several hours after and only a hundred meters from where I took my first pill, he died from a drug overdose in a gay sauna. While his naked body was cooling down in a puddle of vomit, horny men crossed the police lines and stepped over the white blanket that covered him, cruising for the next guy to fuck with. Was this a coincidence?

Wednesday, 27 February 2013

Meds [2 of 2]

When my blood turned out that good (see Meds [1 of 2]) I was suddenly doubting my decision again to start using antiretroviral drugs. Who better to ask for advice than my doctor?

She emphasised that from a medical point of view it was completely unnecessary, that I could maybe do another five or ten years without needing medication, and that the long-term side effects of the drugs were not that well-known but that the liver and kidneys were surely put under a lot more stress. "And you're still very young," she added to my utmost surprise -- I guess she's around my age. 

Moreover, the medication could cause nauseousness, headache and insomnia on a daily basis and regular diarrhoea. And then there was this one side-effect that she stressed a lot and that scared me a bit: the diminishing of ups and downs in one's emotions and generally feeling a bit more down. Erdem's boyfriend, who is poz, clearly suffers from this side-effect: he doesn't seem to feel that much anymore. This was something I certainly wasn't ready for.

Then my doctor down-played her earlier remarks. My liver and kidneys were  way better than that of the average person my age, as was my general physical condition, and I struck her as a generally happy guy. She wasn't too worried, but emphasised once more that it was entirely up to me as the any medical necessity was absent and then she told me to think it over for at least a week.

I then visited the nurse consultant, to see the actual pills for the different treatments I could choose. "You think the meds are bad for your kidney and liver... And you think the HIV virus is not?" she asked. That was a bit of common sense I wanted to hear, "In the first few weeks many patients suffer some side-effect, but in the long term most do quite well," she said, and, "You can swallow it with beer." It seemed that the consultant wanted me on meds as much as the doctor wanted me to wait.

I thought it over for one more day and then I let the safety of my boyfriend and the diminished chance of cancer prevail over the daily inconveniences the meds may cause. I made a phone call to the nurse consultant, went to the pharmacy, and took my first pill.

The first two nights I had very lively dreams and woke up after each ninety-minute dream cycle. It was said to be a possible negative side-effect in the first few weeks. Apart from the waking up several times a night I loved the realistic adventures. I was actually sad that it stopped after two nights.

Then on the fourth day I suddenly had a fever and my glands were all swollen. I stayed home from work, but was fully recovered the next day. After this I never experienced any inconvenience from the treatment at all. And that for only thirty euro a day!

After a month I had another blood check and the results were great: almost no virus in my blood anymore and my liver and kidneys didn't suffer from the meds at all. Then my doctor told me that many of her patients who had started with the medication suffered from nasty lasting side-effects, and that in particular she noticed how they were emotionally numb and often quite low. She noted that of course it worked out for some patients but that it only happened once or twice in her career that the medication worked as well as it did for me. And it was going to stay this way!

I couldn't be happier. My decision worked out medically, it protects my boyfriend in case a condom ever breaks, I'm feeling 'cleaner' and more comfortable when having sex, and very importantly, I don't have to ponder anymore about whether to start with meds or wait.

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

Meds [1 or 2]

I don't like medication. Even a paralysing headache cannot count on as much as a paracetamol. I'll rather try and sleep it off. The only exceptions are when a strong headache starts early in the morning or when it interferes with my productivity at work. Then I will take one.

When I found out I carried the HIV virus, I was given the choice to start with antiretroviral drugs. It wasn't necessary at the time so I didn't want to. My antipathy for unnecessary drugs was the main reason, but there were more. 

First of all, long term effects of this medication were quite unclear: for sure it wasn't too good for your liver and kidneys in the long term, and the longer I could postpone starting with medication, the longer I would postpone, on average, kidney and liver problems. And then there were the immediate effects: the convenient-and-flexible-one-pill-a-day meds might not work for me, or have nasty physical or psychological side-effects, in which case I'd have to switch to a three-or-more-pills-a-day-during-meals therapy. And quitting was not an option once you started. In the worst case every pill would have some nasty side-effects. Anyway, knowing how absent-minded I can be, I was sure that I'd forget to take my pill at set times, and that soon enough my virus would develop a resistance against the pill that suited me best. My guess was that because of my forgetting to take them, within a few years the convenient pills would no longer work for me and I'd be stuck with the nasty ones.

There was only one reason why I would want to start though: to protect my sexual partners in case a condom would break. Although no condom that I put on myself has ever broken and I'm extremely careful, I've never cum inside someone ever since I'm poz. If just feels like too big a risk: the risk that the condom might break and that I might infect someone, and also the risk that after the condom breaking and my dutifully explaining to the guy I'm poz and that he should see a doctor immediately, he will tell this to other people and spread the word about me. I'm so afraid of getting marked in the not-so-big gay community of my city!

Yet my dislike and fear of unnecessary medication and my tendency to keep options open  have prevented me from starting an antiretroviral treatment. I chose to wait until my immune system would be deteriorated to the level that medication was actually necessary, which is actually the common approach in my country. However, now that I had a boyfriend (see Meeting each other again) I thought I should at least rethink that choice: the last thing I'd want was to infect him. And although I never noticed any hesitations when we had sex, I knew that it was on his mind.

I wanted my boyfriend to enjoy sex with me without having to worry and I wanted to protect him. Was that a good enough reason? I asked the few friends that knew about the situation and got very varied advice. The generally more opportunistic ones told me to start, the risk averse ones told me to wait somewhat longer. And my boyfriend, he said I should certainly not do it just for him and that he had no say in this, because we only knew each other for a few months. But in fact he was by far the most important reason to start with meds.

Reading more about it, I managed to find a second reason to start with meds: the virus increases the chance of getting certain kinds of cancer. As most of my family members have died from cancer I've always tried to reduce the risks as much as possible: no sunbathing, no smoking, healthy eating. Suppressing this cancer risk increasing HIV virus would be a good addition, certainly considering the impact the cancer types involved would have on me in particular.

After thinking this over for a few days, I made up my mind. At my next routine blood check, which was already in two weeks, I would ask my doctor if I could start with meds.

Then I got the results of my blood test back. Instead of having continued deteriorating linearly, my immune system was stronger than it had been ever since I was infected; similarly, the virus content in my blood was by far the lowest since the infection. Without any pharmacological help my body coped with the virus surprisingly well. I started doubting again: starting with meds seemed very silly now. What to do?

Friday, 15 February 2013

Meeting each other again

When the airport bus arrived at the main city square Serge wasn't there to pick me up (see Foolish love). Was this a bad omen? No way, he was just late: call it an unfortunate habit, call it accustomed to Mediterranean life, but it was just something I would have to learn and live with. That is, if Serge and I would ever become boyfriends, which was out of the question: we lived too far apart for that and he was far too attractive to stick to the illusion of loving me for much longer.

After a few minutes he appeared and we ran toward each other the way people do in films, ignoring everyone around us. Then we hugged and kissed in a tight embrace. He held me as if to say, "I'll never let you go!" And it felt great, and he looked so handsome.

We walked to his apartment which was small but cosy. There we talked, kissed, and hugged a whole lot more. It was an amazing weekend: meeting some of Serge's friends, private beach, art expositions, city walks, and all with Serge by my side. This was clearly not just a fling, from either side. I was sorry for having stated such a radical opinion about long distance relationships soon after we first met, and that Serge had fully agreed with it, for this was in fact what I most wanted now, however foolish it may be.

It was going to be a path paved with negative emotions: longing for and missing each other constantly, jealousy, sexual frustration, expensive flights, the inability to be there for each other when needed. My brain took over and said 'no'.

Two weeks later Serge came over to my place for a weekend and three weeks later I visited him again. We introduced each other to our closest friends and behaved as boyfriends both one-on-one and around them. I realised he made me feel more complete than anyone had done before and that we formed a great couple together. I realised that although he lived far away I would fight for him and be there for him no matter what. And so I decided to follow my heart instead of my brain before I changed my mind again and ask Serge to be my boyfriend. He said 'yes' of course.

On the morning of my birthday I opened my eyes to find my new boyfriend lying next to me, and a feeling of love and happiness filled me completely: I was glowing.

Thursday, 31 January 2013

Foolish love

Serge stayed two months in my city for work and I was lucky to meet him in the first week (see Broken doorbell). A long second date followed and soon enough I felt we should be careful where this led (see Misunderstood). He was going to return to his resident country and neither of us believed in long distance relationships. After two months, a day before we said goodbye, we exchanged gifts and told each other we had fallen in love, knowing that this relationship was not possible (see Last supper). In order to be completely honest with him, and to make it easier for Serge to get over me, I told him I was HIV positive.

We had agreed that several weeks after our goodbye I would visit him "as a friend" for a long weekend: he wanted to show me his city as I had shown him mine. I expected nothing from that weekend. Serge had been in my city all alone, maybe in a vacation mood, and that made it very easy for him to fall in love, but I was sure that as soon as he'd be back in his own city, among his friends, this feeling would easily fade away.

Following our goodbye I went on a short vacation with Erdem (see Good food and Room sharing policy [3 of 3]). Contrary to my expectations, Serge and I had video chats every day from the day I returned until our weekend together. Naturally, he had this romantic idealised image of me in his mind, and that was going to be rigorously adjusted as soon as he would see me again in his own environment. I looked forward to our weekend together, but I was more than ready for awkward silences, small quarrels, and general disappointment.

Seriously, what could a guy like Serge see in me? He's handsome, intelligent, educated, honest, funny, sexy, healthy, adventurous, has a good job, great friends, a loving family, a nice apartment. How could he really want to be with a dull, average looking guy who's nine years older, HIV positive, and living in a different part of Europe. 

Monday, 28 January 2013

Room sharing policy [3 of 3]

Three months after my trip with Jake (see Room sharing policy [2 of 3]) I went to yet another Southern European country with my ex-boyfriend Erdem. We had a most wonderful week together but it was our room sharing policy that caused the only small fight halfway the vacation.

After we picked up our rental car from the airport and were finally on the southward highway, Erdem said out of the blue that if I would want to have sex with guys I could use our hotel room: I'd only have to tell him and he would just go for a walk. I was genuinely surprised by his offer. Although I had become used to this policy on my previous two trips (see Room sharing policy [1 of 3] and [2 of 3]), I had never expected Erdem to offer it spontaneously. We hadn't even talked about having sex on vacation.

It was three days later and we were staying in a city hotel for a few nights. We slept in two adjoined single beds and there was a third bed in the room that I used to put my luggage and clothes on. After a long day of walking through the city, we rested a bit in the hotel room. I turned on the dating app on my iPhone and soon enough I got many messages from sexy locals. In this country gay men under forty can generally not host because they are not out to their roommate, parents, or wife and children. Instead they want to have sex outside or in my hotel room.

Apart from the fact that I feel outdoors sex is clumsy, I also don't think it's safe in countries where homosexuality is still an issue: I could be arrested, robbed, or worse. In the next hour of chatting narrowed the field of interesting guys down to three who were attractive and willing to come over, hoping that I could meet one. 

"Can I ask someone to come over before dinner, while you are buying souvenirs?" I asked Erdem. He thought for a moment and then asked me, "How many sex dates are you going to have on this vacation?" I thought it was a silly question. I have sex dates when I'm horny, there is a nice guy to meet with, and it doesn't disrupt my holiday schedule too much. How could I know in advance whether or not such a situation would arise again during the week, and what's more, why would it matter? I told Erdem this and added my best guess: "Probably one or two."

Now Erdem wanted to know, "One, or two?" When I inquired why he needed to know, he said he'd be happier if it happened just once. So now I had to estimate whether tonight would be the best opportunity or if I wanted to keep the option open for later that week, maybe with a hotter guy, maybe when I'd be even more in the mood. It was actually perfect this evening: the hottest of the three guys had time exactly when Erdem planned to go shopping. And so I told Erdem that I wanted to invite someone over that evening for an hour.

"I actually don't want you to use the hotel room for sex dates at all," Erdem then said. So whence his questions? How could my answer have mattered if he had already made up his mind? And why did he offer it to me in the first place? He said he had never offered it, that it was a case of misinterpretation, and that he really didn't want to sleep in a bed that I had had sex in. "Obviously, I will use the spare bed!" I tried, but his mind was made up already.

I was pissed off, so pissed off in fact that I didn't count to ten. This was not even about me being able to have a sex date, it was about him changing his mind and not admitting it. If he was going to be this childish, then so could I: through an online service I immediately booked a single room in a hotel nearby and moved there. Karma is a bitch: when I checked in at my new hotel for a night, I saw that it was a small, family run hotel. Guests passed the reception very closely and it was not at all clear which of the door led to the hotel rooms. It was impossibly to keep my sex date unnoticed. "Let it be noticed then," I thought, "my childish move had been expensive enough."

The guy was tall, handsome and hairy, and he fucked me like a pro, but without the passion I had hoped for. Of course, as soon as I came the guilt set in: guilt about fighting with my dear friend Erdem and guilt about wasting money. I called Erdem, apologised, and moved back to our shared room.

I told Erdem I had been stupid to waste money on a hotel room just because I was stubborn and that I needed to live a bit cheaper for a few days, both to save money and to punish myself. "Did you at least fuck with someone?" he asked. "It was a very small hotel and unfortunately it was  impossible to receive anyone unnoticed," I replied. I don't know why I deliberately misguided him into thinking I hadn't had sex, but I did.

Erdem couldn't accept my saving money and, because it was dinner time, he took me to an amazing restaurant, and bought us a very good dinner. Effectively he paid half the price of my extra hotel room. It only made me feel more guilty about my childish act and about not telling him about the guy. The rest of our vacation we got along perfectly.

When several days later on a beach Erdem asked to turn my dating app on again, I almost immediately got a message for an attractive guy.

Guy: Your boyfriend is hot!
Me: He's hot indeed, but he's not my boyfriend.
Guy: Is he single?
Me: No.
Guy: Pity.
Me: I am single. Don't you like me?
Guy: No!


Friday, 25 January 2013

Room sharing policy [2 of 3]

Two weeks after returning from one mediterranean capital (see Room sharing policy [1 of 3]) I went to the next -- it was a busy month. I took Jake with me, who had never been there before, so this time I was the guide. We had a great time sightseeing, exploring the city, tasting the delicious food, and going out.

I had chosen a cheap hotel right in the city centre, since location was what mattered to us most. Yet we had quite a large room with television, air conditioning, our own bathroom, two separate single beds, and free Wi-Fi. The latter was convenient as we were both curious about the local gay guys, and so at the times that we rested in the hotel we checked the gay dating apps on our smartphones.

Jake said that we could each invite guys over to the room, and that the other should then enjoy himself in the city for an hour or so. Sharing a guy was not out of the question either, he said, but knowing him I knew it sure was: he's very openminded until the point that things are about to happen and then he gets scared. 

In the end he didn't do a thing, and I since didn't want to ask him to leave the room I didn't invite anyone over either. Instead I had a sex date with a local on location. When he opened the door the guy whispered that I should make as little noise as possible while walking from the front door to his bedroom: his brother was staying over, slept in the living room, and was not supposed to know about our encounter. The long tour through a huge building indeed lead to his bed.

There we kissed and touched very passionately but in total silence. Then he asked me to fuck him and while he was lying flat on his stomach and I fucked his tight hole, we suddenly heard footsteps near the non-lockable door. My Spanish was not good enough to understand a word of the conversation that followed through the door, but it seemed that the older brother wanted to check if his sibling had also heard someone walk through the house. "It was me. Don't worry. Go back to sleep," was what the response sounded like.

Maybe I should have felt uncomfortable with the situation, but it actually turned me on that we could be caught any moment. When my guy spoke I didn't move much, but while his brother was talking I fucked him as hard as I had before. When his brother was out of hearing range we came simultaneously and a few minutes later I left, very satisfied.

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Room sharing policy [1 of 3]

In the spring of last year my friend Gary told me he wanted to show me one of his favourite cities in Southern Europe. He had been there thirteen times already but loved going there whenever he had the chance. He asked if we could stay in his usual hotel, which according to him was nicely located, clean, cheap, and run by a very friendly family. I tend to be a control freak but once I accept someone as my guide I blindly follow his every suggestion.

The way Gary had made it sound, upon arrival I expected him to hug the patron, have a short conversation, and be guided to the best room in the hotel. However, Gary tends to brag a bit, so checking in was done by me and the unwilling receptionist told us our room was not ready yet. The bed in the room was quite small for two people but sharing it was feasible.

A mutual friend of ours was wiser than me. When he heard Gary and I were going to this city he immediately booked a luxurious six-person apartment for himself in the best possible location. He had been to this city even more often than Gary and took any opportunity to visit it again. They turned out to be perfect guides and great company. 

It was the first vacation for me on which my travel companions were actively looking to hook up with the locals. For my friend with the huge apartment that was easy, but I had no idea how this would work for Gary and me, until he suggested that if one of us would hook up, the other should clear the hotel room. That was fair enough and the way he said it it actually sounded pretty normal.

As our flight back was the first one on Sunday morning, we figured it would be better not to sleep at all and just enjoy our Saturday night out. We'd have to take a taxi to the airport at half past four latest. Just to be safe we made sure that at around three we were back in the hotel.

Packing our stuff took less that five minutes and with nothing better to do we each activated the same dating app on our phones. There was one guy whom I had been chatting with before, whose body looked amazing but who didn't want to show his face. That usually means the end of the conversation for me, but I was too curious about him. He said that this night he worked until 3 a.m. close to my hotel. That's not a time to kick your roommate out, but he said he actually preferred a threesome and Gary concurred.

It was 3.50 a.m. when he arrived. I wrote him that the door downstairs was unlocked and that the hotel entrance at the second floor was next to our room, so I could easily open that for him: the receptionist was sleeping on a bed in a closet behind the counter.

When I discovered that the door downstairs was locked and the guy was already standing there for a few minutes, I rushed downstairs in my underwear and button-down shirt. I was still in time and what a beauty he was. After we shook hands he was the most handsome guy I had ever touched. He seemed pleased with me as well and followed me up the stairs.

When we arrived at the second floor the receptionist stood at the hotel entrance with a  stern face, imitating a metronome with his index finger. I wasn't sure if he meant that I wasn't supposed to run through the building in my underwear or that I wasn't allowed to invite someone to my room, but there was no way I would send this guy away, so I ignored the good man.

I led the hottie to our hotel room, and the receptionist followed. I suggested to pretend that the guy was a friend who would bring us to the airport and the guy agreed. The bed was very squeaky and the receptionist was still standing outside our door, so sex on the bed was not an option. Instead I let the guy stand at the foot end of the bed, and stood behind him while Gary lay in front of him.

When I lifted the guy's shirt I saw Gary's eyes sparkle. Above the flat but not too muscled stomach was a beautifully muscled chest, fully covered with short black hairs. Only twice before I had had sex with a guy with such a great body, but didn't have the attitude of the first (see Perfect body) and had a prettier face than the second (see Pinch me: I'm dreaming). In fact, the guy was super friendly and his face was just amazing. Why was it that when I'm in a room with the hottest guy I've ever been with, I'm sharing him with my roommate, the receptionist is listening at the door, and in fifteen minutes I have to take a taxi to the airport?

The guy was a good kisser too, but he didn't seem very experienced with men. I fucked him from behind while kissing him and moving my hands over his perfect torso, and Gary lay on the bed and sucked his cock while holding on to the guy's strong, hairy legs.

After we came the guy nicely waited for us to pick up all our stuff so we could leave together. "Our friend is bringing us to the airport," I told the receptionist while I checked out, and I almost thought he believed it. The guy led us to a nearby taxi stand and kissed us goodbye.

Monday, 31 December 2012

The message [3 of 3]

After Will had lied to my face and sworn that he had nothing to do with the message (see The message [2 of 3]), I had slowly revealed knowledge of information that narrowed the possible senders down to him and his boyfriend. Yet it wasn't until I said I'd confront his boyfriend that Will confessed to be the culprit.

Following the confession Will said he loved me and he had missed me so much and had just wanted to talk to me more than anything. After he unfriended me on Facebook he had expected me to send a new friend request, and when I didn't do so he had felt all alone without a friend in the world. He repeated several times how much he loved me and that I was the most important person in the world to him. He said he had been close to killing himself, which is an old tune of his. Then he begged me not to tell Aaron about what he had done, because it might mean the end of his relationship. I could make that promise.

At that point Aaron walked past the cabins calling out Will's name. "Has he seen you already?" Will asked. "Yes, I said hi to him but he ignored me completely," I replied. Then Will shouted, "I'm in a cabin with Jackdaw. Got to the bar, I'll be right there," and then whispered to me, "If he has seen you he will want to leave. Let me go to him and change his mind." Will returned shortly: "Aaron wants to leave; we only have a few more minutes." He still sounded very remorseful and even offered me to give him a good beating. When I refused he seemed to see it as acceptance of his apology, and his tone changed. 

In a bragging tone he now told me the operational side of the story. Will had wanted to go to some gay place on the evening before my vacation, but once Aaron realises Will and I are in the same building he forces Will to leave with him immediately. Will wanted to make sure they wouldn't walk into me there but he was afraid that asking me not to go there would prompt me to do the opposite -- that's what he would have done (see Just a joke). A day in advance he created a profile on a dating app using the photos of a tourist he had fucked that weekend, took the afternoon off, drove fifty kilometres to my city, and from the car park of a hotel one kilometre from my apartment he started a conversation with me telling me he was staying in that hotel. Then he tried to plan a date with me for the next day and have me show up somewhere far from the location he and Aaron were, so Aaron would not see me, get jealous, and make a drama.

The day after their evening plans Will had thought it was a funny joke to let me think that there was a rumour that I be HIV positive. It was meant to be very ironic because I was always so extremely careful with protection when we had sex. Will had wanted to bareback with me several times but I had always refused and lectured him about the dangers. He thought I was being too scared of the virus and liked to make fun of it, joking that he wasn't wearing a condom after he entered me sometimes and such. 

Then he bragged how well he had lied to me. "I'm an extremely bad liar, but this was a matter of life and death for me because I was afraid I would lose you, and I was so good: You looked me in the eyes and still thought I was telling the truth. You even thought Aaron had sent the message!" There was no reason for me burst his bubble. "I really have to leave now," he then said, "Aaron is probably already fully dressed. I'm so happy we are friends again. I love you so much!" I didn't say a word and he left.

When I later checked my phone I saw a message from Aaron saying, "You should cut it out with your pathetic drama and stop harassing my man." I hadn't expected Will to tell Aaron what we had actually discussed, but for him to make up a story in which I was harassing him was a bit too easy. What I wanted to send back was childish and mean and would make Aaron explode with anger and would destroy any chance of me and them ever making up. In fact, sending it would make sure that they would never play games with me again, and so I wrote it: "I haven't asked you anything, you...," followed by a painfully accurate physical and mental description of him that he would be reminded of every time he'd drive onto his street.

Aaron exploded indeed. He started with name-calling, but when I didn't seem impressed he said that every time during our 'threesomes' when he let Will and me play with each other, he had secretly recorded us. I was quite sure this was true. Aaron said that he had some "nice stills" that he'd drop in all post boxes in my building, and that he had collected phone numbers and e-mail addresses of my friends, family, colleagues and business relations from Facebook, LinkedIn and so on, and that he would send all of them the same photos.

At the same time Aaron sent me a stream of threat messages, Will panicked and tried to mend everything, sending me loads of messages instructing me how to help him please and calm Aaron.

Aaron's threats were enough reason for me to go to the police, but I had a better plan. I wrote Will: "Please stop messaging me for an hour or so, I'm at the police station and I'm showing them Aaron's messages. Do NOT tell this to Aaron!" Three seconds later Aaron wrote me that I was a coward for going to the police and that he had never really threatened me. He pointed out that he hadn't explicitly said the pics were nude pics, just that they were "nice stills". So clearly Will had Aaron read all his messages all along. They had been playing a game from the very start.

A few minutes later Will wrote me that I had made him confess "everything" to Aaron: the cheating with me, with the many young fathers in his city, our threesomes with Atan (see Just a joke) and Cemal (see Heat), his secret weekly visits to the gay sauna, everything. I didn't see how I had made him confess that, because I would surely have kept my word and my mouth shut about this. Then I suddenly understood his panic. The combination of me being at the police station and their house being stacked with recreational drugs had of course been too much risk for Will to keep his mouth shut.

However, the reason that Will gave Aaron for all this cheating wasn't that he's addicted to  sex and that Aaron never gives him any -- that was what Will had told me -- but instead Will convinced Aaron that I had forced him to sleep around, threatening to tell Aaron about his adultery if he didn't. How he got Aaron to believe that story was beyond me, but it worked. "You cannot blackmail Will any longer, he has told me everything," Aaron wrote.

Had I really wanted to blackmail Will, then I would never have used his cheating: Aaron could surely forgive him that. No, it would be the emails in which he wrote very elaborately how repulsive he thought Aaron was, things he stole from him, scenarios to kill him, and confessions of attempts to do so. But I would never share that with Aaron. That was sent confidentially, and besides, I would do them both a favour causing them to break up. They didn't deserve that.

Suddenly Aaron made his threat conditional. He said the only way I could stop him from revenge was by apologising to Will and him, withdrawing statement I had made to the police, writing them a letter in which I would claim I had made it all up, and never contacting him or Will ever again. I replied that I was neither afraid of him nor his threats. Honestly, spreading nude pics of me would be cause me some discomfort at most.

Aaron kept bugging me for a week through text messages on all platforms where I couldn't block him. At the end of the week I called Will, had a fifteen-minute, very adult conversation with him after which he told me he would make Aaron stop threatening me. We agreed never to contact each other again, and he promised to never contact my friends again or use my photos on a fake profile. Good riddance!

Wednesday, 26 December 2012

The message [2 of 3]

Despite the fact that I was on vacation I couldn't relax anymore. I was extremely nervous about returning home. My vacation was ruined, but I tried to not let it ruin Erdem's vacation so I kept my spirit up. Yet ten times a day I would look at this dreadful message the tourist had sent me (see The message [1 of 3]), hoping somehow that would all of a sudden I would know who had told him about me condition. I even read our whole conversation back several times.

I had sent the tourist a message back saying it was either a sick joke or his date had mixed me up with someone else, and I asked who his date had been. I expected him to either reply or block me, but he did neither: he read my message a few hours after I had sent it and hadn't been online since. I thought this was suspicious. Then I carefully reread our whole conversation and I spotted two very small mistakes in his English that were typical for people from my country.

The guy had hidden the distance between us, which the app usually displays, but I could still have the app sort my contacts with respect to distance. And lo and behold, he was sorted between two people who live in the same house. This could of course be coincidence, but after travelling a few hundred kilometres in our rental car, this was still the case. The last time the guy was online was from Will and Aaron's house.

It was immediately clear to me that it must have been Will using a fake profile. Aaron might be socially inept and psychotic, but he neither shared Will's twisted sense of humour nor his tendency to push the limits of the acceptable. Besides, I had once caught Will using my profile name and my photo on his profile.

I was relieved that I could dismiss the gossip theory, but the question that arose was how Will knew I was poz in the first place. I certainly hadn't told him myself, he couldn't have found anything the time he broke into my phone (see Just a joke), and he couldn't have found out accidentally when talking to my friends using a profile identical to mine: even in the rare case that a friend would use a dating app to talk about this subject to me, they would always do it in code. I warned my friends Will might be using my profile while I was on vacation and put the subject to rest until after my vacation.

The day after I returned I rode to the city where Will and Aaron lived and established that the last time the 'tourist' had been in their house, the last time he was online, eight days earlier.

During the next weekend I went to the gay sauna in my city and ran into Will and Aaron there. Will was mostly inside cabins with hot guys while Aaron sat in a chair near the bar watching the clock with a grumpy face. When Will heard my voice he jumped out of the cabin he was in and shouted "Jacky, Jacky" with over the top enthusiasm as were he calling a dog. I ignored him. 

Later he saw me again near the lockers and said he thought I was childish: ignoring him because he had not come to my dinner (see The missing backbone). I replied I had long forgotten about that and that he surely knew what I was angry about. He said he didn't have a clue, but somehow he didn't seem to be curious why I was angry. Instead he started acting angry himself. It's the defence mechanism of his boyfriend, but I didn't fall for it.

After some time Will wanted me to tell him in public but I said I needed some privacy for that. We went into a cabin and there I explained a tourist had sent me a message indicating that someone is spreading a filthy rumour about me. I said I could only think of two people crazy enough to do that, and that I had been from the other guy's radar long enough to not suspect him (see The psychopath [1 of 2]).

Will didn't seem surprised, but he said he hadn't met any tourist. I then told him I had reasons to believe the tourist was not a tourist at all, but someone using a fake profile. Will swore he hadn't contacted me in any way since he had unfriended me on Facebook. He wanted to know what gossip the 'tourist' had mentioned. When I told him, he said that even though he has a twisted sense of humour, even he would never do something like that. "Jack, you know that I can't lie. Look me in the eyes: I swear that I have nothing to do with it. Please, believe me. I swear it on everything I have."

I proceeded by telling him that the signal had come from their house, and that if it hadn't been him then I should confront Aaron. Will seemed to think that I was bluffing and said it was impossible, but when he realised I wasn't bluffing he changed his tone completely. I had to promise not to get mad, which of course I didn't, and then he confessed that it had been him.

Tuesday, 18 December 2012

The message [1 of 3]

The first day of our vacation at the Mediterranean sea (see Good food) was wonderful. Through the beautiful hills we drove to an ancient city where we admired hidden treasures under a clear blue sky. For lunch Erdem had chosen one of the best restaurants in the region. This week in September would be my first vacation of the year and surprisingly already in the middle of the first day I could leave all the work stress behind me.

In the evening we reached our hotel in an old mountain town. During a quiet evening walk we sat down for some delicious local snacks and wine. Curious about the local men, Erdem asked me to open a gay dating application on my phone. It was then that I saw the message that was sent to me earlier that day and that distressed me incredibly.

Two days earlier a tourist had contacted me on this same application. He wanted to have a sex date with me. I wrote back that I didn't have time that day -- I was working and in the evening Serge would come over -- but that I might have time the next day. The next morning he contacted me again but I could only think of Serge, with whom I'd have a goodbye dinner that evening (see Last supper), so I told the guy I couldn't make it.

The message that distressed me so much was sent by this same guy one day later, during the first day of my vacation. He wrote that he had had a date with someone else instead, had discussed me, and that his date had warned him I was HIV positive. He added that I he thought I ought to mention that on my profile.

When I read the message my heart started pounding heavily. This was information that I had shared with very few people, all of whom had vowed me to protect my secret. Clearly, one of them had betrayed me, but who?

It didn't make sense in the first place: Why did the tourist discuss me on a sex date? He must even have shown a picture of me! The few people that know me either don't have sex dates, were no match with the tourist, or were busy that day. So it was even worse: his date had the information second-hand. I had to trace back who it had been, so I called all my trustees one by one with the insulting question if they could swear to me they had kept my secret to themselves. All of them did, of course.

Whoever told a random stranger my biggest secret would surely tell his friends. Knowing how gossip spreads I figured that before I'd be back from my vacation most of the people I knew would know. No one would dare mention it to me but everyone would share it with each other with the additional message not to tell anyone else. Potential dates would be warned for me long before they got to know me, and finding a partner was going to be extremely difficult.

This was exactly the situation I had feared so much when I heard I was infected (see Morbid relief): not the slightly reduced life expectancy, not the daily medication and its side-effects, but the return to social exclusion as I had known it for the first eighteen years of my life (see Long ago: The name of the game).

Saturday, 15 December 2012

Good food

The day after I said goodbye to Serge (see Last supper) I flew with Erdem to a nice summer destination at the Mediterranean sea where we had rented a car for a week. Two years earlier, when Erdem and I were still boyfriends, we had made a similar trip and decided that we were ideal travel partners. That didn't change after we broke up. In fact, now that Erdem had a new boyfriend, travelling with him was more relaxed because he didn't worry about my diet all the time anymore (see Overanalyse this!).

I drove the car and planned which natural and cultural highlights we'd go and see, and Erdem navigated and selected the restaurants where we'd eat. The food in this area was already delicious, but Erdem's restaurant choices were truly amazing. I've been a difficult eater for as long as I can remember and always scared of trying something I never tasted before. In the last few months I had been dining in excellent restaurants in my own country and discovered that I actually like a lot of food I didn't dare try before. My new motto was "Prepared by a good cook any food is worth trying", although admittedly I made exceptions for meat that was not for human consumption.

In good restaurants my new motto allowed to order anything from the menu that had otherwise looked terrifying with all these ingredients I didn't know. Now that I had a more open mind it didn't matter much that the menu was in a language I didn't speak, or that Erdem took me, a real meat eater, to fish restaurants. I tasted food better than I had ever tasted before and that really contributed to the holiday experience. Apart from the nature, culture, weather and men, there was also the local kitchen to enjoy.

Tuesday, 11 December 2012

The missing backbone

My friend Will has been in an unhappy relationship with his boyfriend Aaron for over ten years (see Bad advisor, good advice). Aaron stays at home as much as possible because he's afraid of people and has several phobias, and he demands that Will always stay home with him. Will cleverly became a fitness trainer beside his regular nine-to-five job: this way sports was work rather than a hobby and Aaron would have to allow it. If Will does stuff Aaron doesn't like, he beats him up.

Being Will's best friend and Aaron's only friend I know they both want to divorce but are afraid to, because they don't have a life besides their socially very limited shared one. Any alone time they have they use to cheat on each other. Will is young and attractive and is manic-depressive, Aaron is older, fat, grumpy and depressed, and both are slightly autistic and use even more recreative drugs than they admit to each other.

Will is a good guy, but being caught in this abusive relationship without any friends notably changed his morals (see Just a joke). He needed to be in tough with normal people again, build a friend base to fall back on, and then break up with Aaron. That was his plan and I was going to help him with it. 

I had already invited Will to an outing with some of my friends on a summer day. Of course, Aaron would neither want to join him nor let him go alone, so they had a big fight about it. Will behaved very nicely and my friends liked him. I was proud of him, until I found out he used my friends' friends lists on Facebook to find 'snacks' to cheat on his boyfriend with.

I invited Will and Aaron for a night with dinner and games with friends two months later, knowing very well that Aaron would not come. I carefully selected the people such that not everyone knew each other and chose people who shared some interests with Will. He was very grateful I organised an evening to socialise him and said, "Whatever happens, I will be there. Aaron is not going to like it and he may even threaten to break up with me if I go, but if he does, so be it. He cannot take this away from me. No way!"

The day before the dinner and games night Aaron sent me text messages asking me to withdraw my invitation. His point was basically that when I first met them "he had seen me first" and therefore Will's contact with me should always go through him. I gently told him I wasn't aware of being anyone's possession and that this was something he should discuss with Will instead of me.

Then he got more aggressive and in a long message he summed up all the contact he knew I had had with Will: "accidentally" running into each other in the city once, having a drink on a terrace, summer outing with my friends, and now there would be this evening having dinner with friends at my place. "What's next," he wondered, "dinner for two!?" I'm glad he couldn't see me when I received his message: I laughed out loud. Will and I had already had several "dinners for two" usually after an afternoon of long fun and sex.

I figured that the reason Aaron had turned to me to cancel the invitation was because Will hadn't let Aaron talk him out of coming. I was proud of Will for standing firm. The next morning Will even sent me a message that he was looking forward to spending the evening with some nice people. However, while I was preparing dinner Will suddenly sent a text message saying, "I won't join."

When I asked for an explanation Will replied very plainly that Aaron didn't want him to go. I was flabbergasted: for two months Will had been telling me that there was no way Aaron could stop him and now he stayed home because Aaron didn't want to be home alone all evening. Will knew that the evening was basically organised around his socialisation, and he knew that I was already making dinner. It pissed me off and I told him he was a dick with no backbone. In response, he immediately defriended me on Facebook and broke all other ties with me. 

The evening was a lot of fun after all, but the situation with Will really troubled me. The next day I tried to call him, but as always he preferred to discuss everything over text messages. He explained that Aaron had threatened to kick him out of their house would he have come to my place, and added that he didn't think an evening with nice people was worth breaking up for. Most of all he was furious at me for calling him a dick: it was the most cutting insult he had ever received and as far as he was concerned you wouldn't even say that to you worst enemy, let alone a friend. But I didn't have to worry: he was not the type of person to stay angry for long, he reassured me, some day soon his anger would have subsided. And again I was flabbergasted. 

Friday, 30 November 2012

Last supper

On sex dates I never tell the guy I'm poz (see Closure). I take all precautions and know I'm responsible, but since the other guy doesn't know me well it's also his responsibility to protect himself. When I date with someone more often then a bond of trust grows and the guy may assume I would tell him if I had something and I'm morally obliged to share my condition with him.

When Serge and I got to the point where we had this bond of trust we only had a few weeks left together (see Misunderstood). It didn't seem to make sense to distress him and ruin our wonderful time together, although especially in the last week I felt I would most certainly have told him if there had been any possibility of our relationship to grow.

It was two months after we had met. Serge had already arranged that he would work an additional week in my city. It was a sweet surprise if it weren't for the fact that I left for a vacation abroad halfway that week. Of course our feelings for each other had grown but this was really going to be the end of our time together.

Our goodbye would be on the street after a decent dinner: since neither of us liked emotional goodbyes this seemed the best way. The night before that, Serge stayed at my place and we exchanged gifts. His gift was accompanied by a postcard that had a three-word postscript in Russian. I'm sure you can guess into which three important English words these translated. I told him I loved him too.

We were lying on the sofa in each other's arms when I felt very strongly that I should tell him my secret. I think I hoped it would make me unattractive to him and that it would help him get over me. And so I told him.

He was shocked but took it in a very mature way and we had a good conversation about it. He told me that, had he known this in advance, he would probably not have wanted to meet me, but now that he knew me it made no difference for him. Those are nice words but I didn't believe them until an hour later he initiated sex with me before going to sleep.

He said that he was glad I told him but that, even though we had always had safe sex, he would not be able to get the worried thoughts out of his head for the next three months, until he was certain I hadn't infected him. He said he'd get tested immediately as soon as he was back in his home city.

The next day he hadn't been able to concentrate at work and the main topic on our goodbye dinner that evening were his worries. I regretted telling him: I'd visit him only once for a weekend in October, as a friend, and then we would probably never see each other again. Why did I ruin our last two evenings together and have him worried for months?

We said goodbye on the street with tears in our eyes. I'm going to miss him so much!

Wednesday, 28 November 2012


A few days after we first met (see Broken doorbell) Serge and I had our second date and we spent the whole weekend together, and most of the nights in the week that followed. This guy was boyfriend material and I could certainly fall in love with him, but knowing that he would only reside in my country for two months, that didn't seem wise.

I sensed he felt the same way about me and in my best attempt to protect him from later pain I said: "We should be careful not to fall in love with each other. It will make our goodbye in two months from now much more painful."

He seemed offended and said that falling in love was a process that took many months and that it was scary that I should mention this only such a short time after we had met. When he finally understood that it hadn't been a cowardly "I love you" from my side he actually agreed. We both believed that the prevailing emotions connected with long distance relationships were missing each other and jealousy. It was wiser to make the best of our two months together and then never see each other again. Well, almost never: Serge told me that after showing my city to him for two months he'd want to pay me back and at least show me his city once. I would be visiting him as a friend in October.

It was great that we felt the same way about this and that we could discuss it in an adult way. In fact, we agreed on a lot. If we wouldn't be living so far apart I would do everything to make him my boyfriend, but I was proud I let reason limit this useless, maybe even dangerous, love seed that I noticed sprouting in my heart.

Thursday, 22 November 2012

Broken doorbell

I recovered much faster than the other people I knew who suffered from this stomach flu (see Poison), but then again I'm in very good health, as my last blood test showed. I felt a bit guilty for staying home in the afternoon though I was fully recovered, but travelling to work and back would take more time than I'd actually spend working and besides I needed some time for myself.

In the late afternoon I saw a sexy guy online on a gay profile site. I greeted him and he almost immediately invited me over for the evening. He would have looked easy if it weren't for the fact his direct message was nicely wrapped in remarkably polite and sophisticated wording. This guy seemed interesting and whatever we would end up doing in the evening, I was sure it'd be fun.

A few hours later I took my motorbike to his place. I rang his doorbell: no answer. I tried again: nothing. I double checked the apartment number he had given me and the name of the street I was in but I had certainly rang the right doorbell. Maybe he was showering, so I waited five minutes and tried once more: still nothing.

It crossed my mind that he might have seen me through the intercom camera, didn't like me as much as he liked my photos, and chose to ignore the doorbell. That stupid helmet had ruined my hair! Of course it could be that his doorbell was broken, but wouldn't he know? I send him a message on the profile site, and another one but he didn't respond to those either. it was about twenty minutes after I had arrived and I put my helmet back on, ready to leave, but just before I mounted my motorbike the guy replied that he would come down immediately.

When he let me in I was glad I had waited: he looked even nicer than on his pictures and it was clear that he was not only well-mannered in his messages but also in real life, which I think is very sexy (see My type).

He offered me a drink and we talked for quite some time about travelling and the philosophy of language. This guy was boyfriend material, but unfortunately he didn't live there: he was only working in my city for two months and would then return to his mediterranean residence. This was his third day.

From the start it hadn't been clear what the expectations of this date were and the conversation was too interesting to ruin it by having sex. Yet, it's something I certainly wanted from him, if only he'd want it too but neither of us dropped any hints. The conversation was far too engaging for that. I decided I had to take my chance: I moved closer, took his glass out of his hand and put it on the table, and then kissed him very tenderly on the lips. He sighed as if he had been waiting for this moment.

We kissed and caressed each other on his sofa until he suggested we go to the bedroom. We did but he then paid a brief visit to the bathroom. I think in such a situation it would be normal for me to make myself comfortable, to undress, to lie down in a sexy pose, to readjust my foreskin or drink some water to wet my lips.  The view was already one of the best in my city, but now the night sky made it look amazing. I quickly shot the photo and then quickly hid away my camera: I realised it had not been the most romantic thing to do.

The sex was good, but not great. He was clearly quite nervous and that seemed to make him clumsy. Yet even if the sex wouldn't improve, I wanted to meet this guy again and get to know him. He had something about him that enchanted me.

Thursday, 15 November 2012


It was the middle of a Sunday night in July and I woke up with stomach cramps. It was certainly not the same thing I had had several times some years ago (see Poor health): this was less painful but more, well, messy -- I spent most of the night on the toilet.

Although I never had this condition before, I remembered the symptoms from the descriptions friends and colleagues gave me when suffering from food poisoning. I thought of what I had eaten that day. For lunch I had eaten a salad with my favourite Russian and his boyfriend, who were visiting my city for a concert. Maybe the Chinese cabbage or the moyashi hadn't been washed properly. For dinner I had enjoyed sushi and tempura with Jake and I remembered that the duck gyoza tasted funny. Six hours later the cramps started. I had found the culprit: a sickening duck!

After a short night's sleep I went to work. At the station halfway the toilet gates required coins to open and all I had on me was notes. I returned home again and changed into clean trousers. At work I spent more time in the men's room than behind my desk so early in the afternoon I decided I'd better go home.

To my disappointment a friend told me the symptoms indicated a food infection rather than food poisoning, which sounded a lot less cool to me. Then I learned that my neighbour Atan and my friend Will suffered the same symptoms as I, and since I had done a threesome with them three days earlier the duck was cleared. It was interesting to see on Facebook how this stomach flu spread and had spread among Atem's friends.

The next morning the stomach cramps and diarrhoea were finally gone, but since I had missed another night of sleep I decided to stay in bed. When I got up around noon I felt fit and very relaxed. The preceding nineteen days I had been running from one social event to the next, and apart from the time I spent sleeping I hadn't been home alone at all. I really needed this.

I still remember that day very well, but mostly because of what happened in the evening.

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Exchanging numbers [3 of 3]

When Jake and I used to go out every weekend, more than three years ago (see Excerpts from a night out), there were two night bars everyone went to when all the other ones closed. Although both were horribly crowded, the mix of folk and camp music, the cigarette smoke, and the people were just a bit worse in one of the places. One of the regulars -- at least at this time of the Saturday night -- was Jason, a guy whom I had once had a chat with on a gay profile site. Online we had had a brief chat, but he hadn't seemed all that interested and I had felt too proud to try harder.

Although there was something odd about him, I felt strangely attracted to him, and so, at one of our Saturday nights I had a chat with him. He asked me to come home with him, but I was out with Jake and didn't want to abandon my friend. Later I talked to Jason online but he didn't seem to remember me. Again he asked me to come to his place, but this time he revealed his interest in either fist fucking or bare backing -- I don't remember which, but it was a definite turnoff for me. I wished him good luck and never had any contact with him again. Until...

Until I went to a nearby gay sauna with Erdem two years ago. As we sat at the bar I discovered that Jason was a bartender there. It was nice to watch him do his job while he was joking to us. I still thought he was a handsome guy, but I had already ruled him out and more importantly: I had a boyfriend.

More than a year later, I took Will and Aaron to the same sauna (see Hypocrisy) and Will told me he took a liking in Jason. I said that Jason's sexual preferences had once been a turnoff for me, but that that was already four years ago, and that I might take a chance on him. Will apparently saw me as a threat and as soon as we were in the bar he shouted something at me ending on "since you're a total bottom." The three bottom guys Will and I had been flirting with, including Jason, immediately lost any interest in me. Will said it was a "just a joke" (see Just a joke) but then why didn't anyone laugh? There was no subtle way for to let the guys know that I was more top, so I went home and Will ended up fucking all three guys.

Knowing that I liked Jason, Will said he had suggested him a threesome with me, but according to Will, Jason said I wasn't manly enough for him. Also, Will secretly met him outside the sauna a few times and even cancelled some plans with me for that. He even seemed to develop feelings for Jason, but after meeting him a few times Will said he had lost interest. When I asked Will if he still had feelings for Jason he clearly denied it. In the course of the next few weeks he told be several times that I was free to try and get Jason, but that I would certainly fail because I wasn't manly enough. I didn't even want to try.

Months later I was in the sauna again and as I was undressing Jason opened the locker next to mine. He was there as a guest rather than personnel. He greeted me and tried to make conversation, but a combination of disinterest and nervousness rendered me speechless, and I smiled, nodded and mumbled something.

An hour later I was sitting in a cabin with the door open, playing a bit with my cock, when Jason walked by. He glanced passed me and then his eyes locked on my cock. Suddenly he acted shy and took more than a minute to come closer. I knew he had no interest in me and didn't want to be part of any games he might want to play, so I ignored him. Then he touched me and said he hadn't expected me to have such a great cock. He asked if he could suck it.

To cut a long story short, I spent two hours with him in the cabin, but every fifteen minutes he had to leave for about two minutes. He said he had to give a sign of life to his friend, but somehow I figured it involved drugs. We spent most of the time sitting in front of each other, kissing, touching and sucking. I very much wanted to fuck him, but he said he never did that in a sauna. Afterwards he asked to exchange numbers.

The following evening I went to his place. We sat on his sofa touching and sucking one another while he smoked a joint, drank a beer, and sniffed some poppers and I drank my Diet Coke. He suggested we order some cocaine and that I pay for it. "I'll pay you back this week," he said, but I hate lending money to people even more than I hate cocaine. We went on with the oral pleasure but again he said I couldn't fuck him. I figured that he had only been trying to use me for my money and felt used. 

Yet he invited me again about a month later, and when I made clear in advance that again I wasn't going to use drugs and that I wanted to fuck him this time, to my surprise he agreed. It was actually really great. He asked me to stay the night with him and he slept in my arms. When we woke up he made me breakfast and asked me to stay until he had to go to work.

It was a month later when he invited me again, and it felt as if we were old friends with benefits. Sitting on the sofa, television on, alternating between discussing the news sucking each other's cocks. He told me he had told Will he liked me but that Will didn't want a threesome with me. I wondered what more Will lied about, but I would soon find out.

As for Jason, he seems to need weed, beer and poppers to have sex and only focusses on my cock. I think it's better if we don't see each other again.

Monday, 22 October 2012


It was Friday afternoon and Will (see Bad advisor, good advice) and I were just back from the beach. The doorbell rang and a very hot mechanic stood in front of the intercom camera: it was the heating repairman.

I let him in and showed him the problem. When he bent over to read the numbers with his hands behind his back I signaled Will, who grabbed him from behind and put a cufflink on his right arm. Despite his struggling we managed to get his right wrist cuffed as well. He kept kicking and resisting as we moved him to the bedroom. We threw him on my bed and tied him down on his back with his arms and legs spread.

While he was pointlessly squirming trying to get loose, Will and I caught our breath and looked at each other, our hearts pounding madly. "Want are you guys gonna do with me?" the mechanic asked with fear in his voice. I replied that I certainly had some plans with him, but the only thing he needed to know was that we would let him go unless he screamed or hurt us. I had him confirm that he understood and put my hand on his chest. His heart was beating very fast and his beautiful brown eyes were wide open.

Will and I softly touched his face, his stubble, his dark eyebrows. Will tried to kiss him but the boy tried to bite Will's tongue. Will punched his torso and reminded him not to hurt us. Then I made him swallow an ecstasy pill, some ghb and half a viagra pill (see Pills, powders and liquids) and Will and I went to the living room to drink something.

When we returned he was calmer already and we touched him some more. He didn't fight our kisses and he protested less when we felt his nipples. When I held my cock in front of his mouth he turned his head away and kept his mouth closed. I grabbed his nose so he couldn't turn away anymore and held is close so that he would have to open his mouth at some point to breath. When he did I pushed my cock in and released his nose for air. "Suck it!" I shouted and squeezed his balls through his pants until he sucked me nicely. He was rock hard and when Will fucked his mouth I lowered his pants and admired his tool. That he was cut was no surprise -- he was clearly a muslim -- but it was done very well. I put it in my mouth and sucked it well. 

While Will restrained him I briefly released his feet in order to remove his pants and his hands in order to remove his shirt. There he was, naked on my bed: his chest hairy and slightly muscled, broad shoulders, some fat on his belly and strong hairy legs. It felt great touching him everywhere with my hands and tongue. His balls were very ticklish when Will licked them I enjoyed watching him squirm and flex his muscles.

We turned him on his belly and I massaged his back and licked his hole. I know I'm good at it, but judging from the sounds he made the drugs were definitely kicking in. We made him put on a jockstrap of mine and brought him to my clothing room, which has mirrors from floor to ceiling. There we put him on his knees in front of Will, so he could see himself while he was giving head and while I played with his bubble butt.

The kid was losing himself in the moment and I slowly let go of the rope I had been restraining him with. Then Will laughed and said our mechanic liked cock a bit too much for a straight guy. This wasn't a smart move: the kid, unrestrained, attacked Will and they wrestled on the floor of the room for minutes. As Will seemed to be winning I stayed out of it and fixed myself a drink instead.

Will indeed won and forced his opponent into the bath tub. I stood above him on the rim of the tub, one foot on each side. He begged me to piss on him and I did. I'm not a fan of golden showers at all, but seeing this hot guy enjoy my yellow stream on his hairy chest was amazing. I then pissed on his cock and his chest again until his beautiful brown eyes begged me to piss directly into his open mouth. As disgusting as it may sound, it was in a strange way very hot.

He cleaned himself up and we returned to the bedroom where the three of us fucked each other in all possible combinations and positions. The guy moaned my name and when I kissed him he said, "Jackdaw, your eyes are so amazingly beautiful!" I was just thinking the same about his. I think it made Will feel a bit jealous: he is used to being favoured, being ten years younger and having a far hotter body than I.

After we came Will went home and although the guy wanted to continue with me I sent him home as well with the instruction to put some good music on his headphones to come down from the trip. He said it was by far the best sex he had ever had. I couldn't say the same but it sure was memorable for me.

It was three days earlier that Cemal, the Turkish guy whom I had met in a sauna, came over for a sex date (see Exchanging numbers [2 of 3]). After the sex he told me his sexual fantasies; these included being tied up, raped, spat on, pissed on, wearing a jockstrap, using ecstasy and blond men. I told him to ring my doorbell that Friday as a heating mechanic and promised him a nice surprise. I told him the drugs I was planning to give him, and that I would invite a friend. As you just read he took the chance and I didn't disappoint him.