I've been mildly chastised by some faithful readers for skimming over some of my hookups in Istanbul, so I thought I'd give you a some more deets on the more memorable of those encounters.
As anyone who has been to Istanbul or any city like it in North Africa or the Middle East, the men and women who sell stuff at their markets and bazaars don't take no for an answer. You can be desperately trying to ignore them but they suck you in. That was how I found myself sipping tea and nibbling Turkish delight with a carpet seller, even though I had nowhere to put a carpet.
The man who was sharing his hospitality with me was in his 50's probably, balding, fat, hairy, sweaty, wearing a sweaty white business shirt, black trousers and leather sandals. Sweaty though he was, he only smelled of cologne and was actually a charming guy. I was wearing my cutoffs, a loose stringer vest that showed off my pecs and shoulders with frequent glimpses of pit and nip, and flipflops with my hair tied back; I was a bit sweaty myself to be honest and the dude was clearly enjoying the view. I finally tried the tack that I couldn't afford a carpet. And he said slyly "So young friend, do you need money?" I nodded the affirmative and he intimated that he could help with that as he rested a big hairy hand on my bare thigh. At no time did we explicitly say what we were talking about, but we didn't need to. We haggled back and forth and settled on 500 Turkish Lira, then he closed and locked the door and led me to a storeroom at the back of his shop.
"Please my friend," he said politely, "take off your clothes". I did as I was told, slipping out of my flipflops, peeling off my damp vest, then pushing down my shorts and jock, adjusting my sticky sweaty junk as I stood there naked. Breathing heavily, my customer came in close, felt my body all over, leaned in to nuzzle my neck and then kissed me deeply, his saliva tasting of strong Turkish tobacco. My cock grew thick and hard in his firm grip, then he had me sit on a pile of carpets and pull my legs to my chest as he dragged up a wooden stool and sat. He leaned in close, spread my glutes and spent about 20 minutes just eating out my sweaty asshole as I slowly stroked my cock. I felt his breath quicken, and I was getting close, but before I came he moved my hand aside and directed my hardon into his mouth as he pushed a finger up my wet mancunt, jabbing my nut and sucking my cock until I blew, and I writhed and moaned on the pile of carpets as he continued to stimulate my sensitive glans and prostate even after I'd cum. When he leaned back I thought he'd want me to finish him off, but he already had his chubster out and there was a splash of cum on the carpet between his sandaled feet. He tucked it away and scrubbed the semen into the carpet with his sandal as I dressed. Then he counted out 500 lira, kissed me affectionately, and saw me out.
****
It was only the next day when I found myself haggling over a nice, masculine cuff bracelet of beaten silver with Arabic engravings. I was stubbornly sticking to a stupidly low price because I was hoping the shopkeeper would strike a different kind of deal. He was a lean silver fox with hawkish features who could have been anywhere between 40 and 60, wearing a collarless shirt, trousers and leather sandals on his feet. He was looking frustrated at my refusal to play the game properly until I said I had no more money and I'd be happy to pay him some other way. Looking decidedly happier, he locked his shop door, flipped the "CLOSED" sign and took me to his office.
In there he pulled me in for a tongue kiss while his hands roamed over my body (I was wearing the same clothes I'd worn the day before, freshened with a few spritzes of cheap lemon cologne the hostel had freely available). Then he placed his hands on my shoulders and gently but firmly pressed me to my knees. I extracted his hard, wickedly-curved cock from his flies and started to suck it deeply as he slipped his fingers into my hair and sighed softly. After a while I stood, passed him a condom from my day pack, pushed my cutoffs down to my ankles and bent over the desk, my ass exposed in my well-worn jock. Silver Fox pinched and rolled the condom over his weapon and smeared spit over the head to supplement the meagre lube the latex already had, while I dribbled some spit on my fingers and wiped it through my sweaty trench. I pulled one asscheek aside with one hand and winced and breathed deeply as he pushed his cockhead past my tight ring and up into my rectum, and when he was balls-deep he started to fuck. As he did he pushed my loose vest up my back until I got the message and tugged it off over my head, and to make life easier I also slipped my right foot out of its flipflop and through the leg of my shorts so I could lift my bare foot, plant it on the desk, and give my client superior access to my fuckhole.
He was good with his meat, and mine was soon uncomfortably rigid, so I pushed the pouch of my jock aside to free my cock n' balls and started to wank in time with his thrusts. He went on for a good while before withdrawing and guiding me onto my back on the desk, raising my legs and slipping the shorts and remaining flipflop off my left foot. Gripping my ankles and pushing my legs back, he continued his smooth, elegant strokes until I gasped and tugged my jizz out over my abs. That seemed to set him off and he slammed his hips into my glutes and unloaded into his rubber.
He passed me some tissues to wipe up my load as he unsheathed and wrapped his condom in a wad of tissues, wiped his cock and put it away. As I got dressed, he nicely wrapped my new bracelet in tissue paper and a little satin bag.
****
I used the gym near the hostel on most days. Loads of people on the circuit gave in to hedonism and let themselves go, but I really don't understand why. In between all of the travelling and experiences, it really wasn't hard to fit in an hour of exercise every day or two. Gyms of all kinds were everywhere and even many hostels had them. I ate and drank pretty much what I wanted, and as long as I kept an eye on my protein intake (not difficult in Europe) and exercised hard, it was all good. Besides, whether you were on the pull or actively hustling, you wanna be in shape to be appealing, and as a 24 year old lad my metabolism and hormones worked in my favour. Having said that, I did need to clench a bit for my abs to stand out at that time, I wasn't a miracle worker.
As I wasn't travelling with gym shoes, if I could I'd work out barefoot. In the cheap-and cheerful gyms in hotter Mediterranean countries, this attracted no comment at all, in contrast to other parts of Europe where I'd have to wear my hiking boots, which was a proper ball-ache.
The gym I used in Istanbul (with a discount as a hostel guest) was in a run down building in a pretty run down section of the city. It was a heavily male environment, very spit-and-sawdust, the machines pretty old and clanky, but the free weights section was big and well-stocked. The showers out the back were communal and open-plan, and had definitely seen better days, mostly illuminated by sunlight through the opaque windows because the electric lighting was shit. The members often worked out topless and went socked or barefoot for squats and deadlifts, which meant I could get away with wearing nothing but my Aussie Rules footy shorts over my trusty jock. I did get a few appraising glances, especially as I did pullups or squats, which was fine as I was perving at them just as much. I enjoyed showering afterwards, usually with a couple of other men, but nothing sexual ever happened with the members. Sometimes I'd head to one of the small local non-touristy hammams for a scrub before heading out for the day or evening (depending on when I'd squeezed the workout in).
One day I'd slept late and had no plans other than to wander around, so when I arrived at the gym it was empty except for the shift manager. I kicked off my flipflops, peeled off my vest, stuffed them in my day pack and proceeded to hit the heavy weights in my short, tight footy shorts over my jock. Whenever I glanced around, the manager was checking me out. He was in his 40's, with the stacked physique of a full-on body builder, though he was darkly hairy all over and not shaved or waxed for competition. His head was shaved and his face carried a trimmed beard of thick scruff. He wore a gym-branded stringer vest that revealed most of his hirsute torso, short gym shorts with slit sides and black Nike sliders on his bare feet. He came over and offered to spot me at one point, and though I hadn't asked for it I decided to make the most of his help, added a couple more plates to my bench press and went for it. He hung around, chatting in his limited English as I switched excercises and continued to lift.
When I was finally done and sheened with sweat, I picked up my day pack, smiled and waved at him and started to pad towards the showers. But the manager kept chatting, walking with me, and as we got to the dimly lit rear of the building he rested his hand on my shoulder and started to insistently steer me towards a toilet cubicle. If I hadn't been a bisexual man-whore slut up for anything, this could have been a bit scary to be honest, as I'd have had to exert myself to resist (though if I had, I am 90% sure he would have taken his hands off me and backed off... but I didn't). As it was, I let him push me into a cubicle and turned to face him as he locked the door behind us. In close quarters, he was massive, and he shuffled right in close and started to paw me all over. I stood fairly passively (rapidly boning-up under my shorts and jock) and let him have his way as he pinched my nips hard, raised my arms and sniffed my wet hairy pits, ran his hands over my chest and arms and back, sliding them down to cup my glutes, and pulling my pelvis in to grind into his. I thought about asking for money but something told me this wouldn't be well-received, so I just accepted that I was gonna get fucked.
He held me close, continuing to molest me (there was no other word for it, frankly) as he tongued my ear and murmered Turkish into it, and I loosely wrapped my arms around his massive torso so they weren't just hanging limply by my side. Reverting to thickly-accented English, he hoarsely whispered "I want to fuck you", as expected, so I turned in his arms to face the rear wall, snapped open the fastener on my shorts and slipped them off (keeping my jock on), putting them with my daypack behind the squat hole in the floor as his hands started to caress then spread my furry buns. I passed him a condom from my bag as I squirted  a dollop of lube onto my fingers from my little travel bottle; he grunted (maybe disappointed that he wasn't gonna get to use me bareback), pulled his chubby hardon and hairy balls out over the elasticated waistband of his shorts, then sheathed himself as I wiped the lube through my trench and fingered my hole. I spread my asscheeks apart for him and he pushed forcefully up through my slippery ring and into my warm rectum. Gripping my hips, he started a rapid no-frills fuck while I braced one arm against the back wall and used my free lubed hand to push my jock pouch aside and wank. It took him a couple of minutes to load up the condom with his scum, and so I turned and squatted over the toilet hole, tugged off his sheath, dropped it down the hole and sucked his softening cock clean as I continued to wank, finally spurting my load over the tiled floor between his feet.
I stood as he tucked himself away, and surprisingly he gave me a brief, slobbery kiss as he shuffled back out of the toilet cubicle. I used the bidet hose to squirt my jizz down the loo and grabbed my kit, slipped off my jock and showered.
On the way out, the manager gave me a free pass for one more visit - score!
****
The Cagaloglu Hammam in the centre of Istanbul near the Grand Bazaar is stunning, and an essential experience, but it is decidedly not suitable for cruising. Having said that, I did have a bit of luck there on my second visit.
It was after I'd been in Ankara and I'd swung back Istanbul for a few days before elaving Turkey. I'd just used my complimentary gym pass to do a workout and decided to go to the Cagaloglu again for a thorough bathe. I was still wearing my Aussie Rules footy shorts over my sweaty jock post-sesh, and had slipped a vest over my wet torso and flipflops on my bare feet. I had my cutoffs and a sleeveless tee in my daypack to change into after the hammam; I'd have to go commando afterwards because my jock was just too ripe now, it would need a rinse and an air dry at a bare minimum before I'd put it on again.
As those of you who have been to the Cagaloglu before know, you strip and stow your stuff in small cabins and you will often share the cabin with another customer of the same sex who may arrive at the same time. So it was that I was shown to my cubicle with an absolutely fuckin' gorgeous Turkish demi-god of a bloke. I'd say he was mid-to-late 20's, and slightly taller than me. He was wearing a tshirt with a manbag slung across his chest, jeans and trainers, and he filled out his tee very nicely with his athletic, gym-honed bod. His full head of hair was buzzed down to a grade one, or it was a week or so grown out from a zero, and he had a couple of day's worth of dark stubble. Facially, he was one handsome dude, and he gave me a friendly smile as we slipped into our cabin. I was actually surprised that a young Turk would use this bath, as it is expensive by their standards and, beautiful as it was, tourists made up a large proportion of the clientelle. I'd have asked but it was soon apparent that he didn't speak English.
We both undressed unselfconsciously, and I was happy to have the chance to check out his broad hairy chest and decent abs, not to mention a very pretty, thick, circumcised cock. He had a few small black ink tattoos on his arms and torso as well. I let my hair down so it could get a good wash, and we both donned the peshtemal​ around our waists and headed out. During the bath experience, we were near each other but not with each other, if you get what I mean, and I got to check him out a fair bit, especially as the peshtemal was folded to a small square and rested on his buttocks as he was scrubbed lying on his front. Fortunately we progressed through together, and I made a point of staying in the steam room and each stage of the process for at least as long as he did. I definitely got the feeling he was keeping an eye on me almost as much as I was on him.
Eventually, feeling super clean and super relaxed, wrapped in fluffy white bathrobes and slippers, we returned to our cabin where we were welcome to stay as long as we liked. We sat next to each other in the small room, sipping water and relaxing in the coziness, and I was nearly dozing off when suddenly I gave a little jump as I felt a hand on my towelling-covered thigh. I looked at the Young Turk, who'd jerked his hand back and had a worried, apologetic look on his face, but I smiled at him, gently put my hand on his, and guided it back to my thigh. He smiled and relaxed, then slowly, carefully, slipped his hand through my robe to stroke the bare hairy skin of my inner thigh. Spreading my legs for him, I sighed happily and decided to go for it, tugging the belt of my robe undone and fully opening it, slowly so as not to spook the horses. The front of my damp, hairy, muscled torso and rapidly stiffening cock were exposed and the Young Turk looked me up and down appraisingly and then rubbed his hand gently up and down my front (interestingly, not quite touching my stiff cock), a different kind of smile now on his handsome gob. As he opened the front of his robe to show me his sculpted hairy torso and delicious seven inch baton, I slipped my robe and slippers off completely; taking my lead, so did he.
I leaned in toward him and slipped my arms around his neck, and the Young Turk also leaned in, put an arm around my shoulders, and we began to kiss tenderly. Soon our tongues were duelling, and he started to lick my beard and face, kiss my eyelids and he even took my nose in his mouth and briefly sucked it - odd but sensual. He brought his hand up to my face and cradled it as we kissed, and as he slightly drew back and looked into my eyes I opened my mouth, my tongue out. He obligingly spat into my mouth, but it wasn't a sleazy-gobbing-on-a-bottom-pig kind of spit, it was more a generous act, and no sooner was his saliva in my mouth than he sucked my tongue and kissed me some more. I invited several more spits as we kissed, and as I melted into him, his hand slipped under my wet groin and butt - completely bypassing my cock - and tugged me closer in towards him using my undercarriage and shoulders as leverage. Hmmmm, that felt nice. Even nicer was that he didn't remove his hand from under me, he left it gently cupping my taint, covering but not touching my anus, my sweaty balls resting on his wrist. As we continued kissing and spit-swapping, he finally pressed his fingers in and started to stroke them slowly through my slick trench, pleasuring my taint and teasing my moist asshole. I moaned happily as one of his digits began to apply more pressure, pushing slowly and gently just inside my ring with only sweat for lube. This guy knew what he wanted and how to get it. He drew that hand up to his mouth, sucked the same finger to wet it, and moved it further up my chute, then withdrew it again and this time slipped it inside my mouth so I could taste myself, then sucked it again himself, and pushed it back up my ass. Again he had us both suck his wet fingers, then I felt the girth of two of them pushing inside me, and I raised a leg in the air to make access easier. He started to slowly but firmly fuck his two fingers in and out of my ass as I held one leg back by my thigh and we continued to kiss deeply. Changing tack, he pulled my raised leg back further, slipped it behind his broad sweaty back, and leaned forward so he could spread my cheeks and look at my asshole as he pushed his wet fingers in faster and faster, regularly wetting them with more of his spit, and I had to stifle a loud groan of pleasure. He really started to play with my hole enthusiastically, exploring until he found my prostate, alternating fingers with his thumb to get a different directional rhythm going, then pushing two fingers plus his thumb into me. I just stroked his back and whimpered as he took his time, clearly having great fun.
Finally he left my hole alone, let my leg down and resumed snogging me, sliding his ass-fresh fingers between our mouths so we could both taste the wetness of my clean chute. Then he leaned back on the padded bench and I slid onto my front, one leg stretched out behind me on the bench and one foot braced on the floor, and started to lick his balls and his cock's underside, before smoothly, confidently, taking it down my well-trained throat. He sighed and stroked my hair and shoulders as I slowly worked on his solid member. After a while, I decided to try my luck on his asshole, but given how he'd completely ignored my penis and so enthusiastically engaged with my anus so far, he was clearly a committed top and I wasn't sure how he'd react. I sucked his balls and then let them rest on my beard as I probed behind them with my tongue, and to my delight he raised his legs and pulled them back, exposing a trench thick with black wet hair. I spread his tight glutes, uncovering his dark tight pucker, and started to lick it with broad wet strokes. He sighed in appreciation and let me enjoy the taste of his clean sphincter for a while before lowering his legs and gently guiding my mouth back to his cock.
After a few more minutes of cocksucking on my part, the Young Turk cupped my face and lifted my mouth to his lips for another kiss, before gently guiding me onto all fours on the bench with my ass towards him. He spread my glutes, used his thumbs to open my hole, muttered something in Turkish and then, fuck me, I swear I felt his nose nudging just inside my slightly open ring and taking a deep sniff. Eager to please my Turkish lover, I bore down with my gut muscles to make my hole flare open (knowingly risking a fart, which fortunately didn't happen) and he muttered again in Turkish as he took his fill of my scent. As I strained to keep my hole open, I felt his tongue slide inside my chute and as gasp of pleasure escaped me. He alternted wet lapping with firm probing with his tongue, giving me a top-knotch rimjob. I was going to see if I could reach my daypack for my condoms and lube, but pleasingly, when he stopped eating my ass, he got his own supplies out of his little manbag. He rolled and stretched the condom on and squirted lube at the top of my crack, moving it down to my hole with his fingers and easing two of them inside me to slick my chute. Liberally slathering his sheathed shaft, he put the head at my mancunt and steadily pushed it up inside me until I felt him filling my rectum - no ache, no discomfort, just a shivering wave of pleasure up into my guts. He drew back my long hair and wrapped it around one hand, using it to pull my head back, the tension in my scalp adding to my pleasure, as he started a steady, smooth, rhythmic fuck. After a couple of minutes he put one hand on the front of my throat and wrapped his other arm around my chest, and as he sat back on his heels he drew me back with him until my back was against his chest and I was sitting on his lap, cock balls-deep in my cunt. He turned my face towards him as much as possible and started to kiss me, lick my beard and ear, and tug and twist my nipples as I made slow circles with my hips, my untouched cock leaking snot liberally.
After a few more minutes I lifted myself off him, and when he sat comfortably on the bench with his back to the wall I stood on it, my bare feet planted on either side of his hips as I faced him. I then lowered myself into a squat and guided his sheathed rod back up my open pussy, starting to bounce on him. We held each other's heads in our hands and pulled our faces close, alternating kissing with long periods of intense eye contact as I rode him, his breath sweet and hot in my face. The underside of my precum-sticky tool was sliding through the central groove of his hairy sweat-slick abs and I realised I'd have to stop or I'd cum. I gave him an apologetic little smile, gestured at my leaking cock and started to rise, but he planted his hands on my shoulders and held me where I was, bringing his own ass up off the bench to fuck up into me. I stared into his face and whispered hoarsely "no no no mate I'm gonna shoot", but even though I hadn't heard him say a word of English he just smiled at me and stared into my eyes. Mine widened, my mouth opened and he clamped a moist hand over my gob to stifle my cry as my 'gasm washed over me and ropes of jizz lashed up to the lower curve of his hairy pecs, splattered his abs and started to puddle in his treasure trail and thick pubic bush as the jets calmed and the batter flowed down the underside of my shaft. The Young Turk collected some of my seed on his fingertips and fed it to me, then kissed me with my cum still on my tongue, then swept up another gobbet and dripped it onto his own tongue before kissing me again.
Panting, muscles quivering and dripping with sweat, I slowly stood, his tool slipping out of my open hole, and then got on my knees between his legs. I methodically licked and kissed his body, licking up my cum, sucking it out of his bush, and he'd snog me occasionally for the taste. I tugged off his rubber and sucked his cock some more, then he stood and guided me onto my back on the bench, my legs in the air, as he knelt down and ate my well-fucked hole as I massaged the last oozing drips out of my semi and he wanked himself vigorously. When he was close, he stood, knelt on the bench by my face, and held the head of his cock just inside my open mouth as he finally rewarded me with spurts of thick hot Turkish seed. When he came down from his cum and my mouth was still open and full, nearly to overflowing, he snogged me deeply as he stroked my bristly throat and I swallowed it down.
He lay the full length of his body on top of me and we kissed and caressed eaach other for a while, until there was a polite knocking at the door. I got slightly panicked, but the Young Turk just smiled and ran his fingers through my beard, keeping me there for a few minutes longer. Eventually he stood and pulled me to my feet by my hand. We used our robes to carefully wipe each other down, drying off the excess sweat and remnants of jizz, before dressing. He gave me one last sweet peck on the lips just before we opened the door. We must have been in there for nearly an hour and I don't think we'd been completely silent; I may have been paranoid but I swear there were knowing looks from some of the attendants. For all I knew though, even in this tourist hub, what we'd just done was common.
In the street, the Young Turk gave me a warm embrace and wandered off into the crowd, turning just once to grin and wave at me.
I hadn't intended to write about this encounter. It was the closest I think I'd ever come to being made love to by a man, not just fucked, and for a while I'd get warm flushes every time I thought about it. However it felt good to fully recall and type it down, to share it, and though you may assume I've romanticised it somewhat - and maybe I have - it stands out in my memory as a beautiful encounter with a beautiful man in a beautiful city.
As promised, this is a true account of my experiences as I remember them. I'd love to hear what you think of it, and especially for this chapter from any guys who have experiences of Turkey anything like mine. Email me if you want at [email protected]
