In the Greek Macedonian city of Thessaloniki, I shared a room with two sets of bunk beds in a hostel with three other guys. We hung around together for a few days, exploring the city. On the last day before I was due to take a train, two of the guys wanted to visit a museum. Me and other dude had had enough of museums so we decided we'd just go for a wander around for the day and see them later for dinner.
Of course there was a reason for this decision. The guy who I was going exploring with was named Patryk (yep, another one, just spelled different, and totally different in every other way as well!). He was Polish, 32 years old (which is ancient for the backpacking circuit) and a few months out of the Polish Army. He was fuckin' hot. Over six feet tall, with short dark hair, a couple of days' stubble on his handsome face, and well-muscled, and though since leaving the Army he'd chilled out and developed a slight belly, it was a sexy belly. I'd seen him topless and in his underwear while getting dressed, and I knew his broad chest was shaved smooth and adorned with an eagle tattoo, its wings spreading from shoulder to shoulder, with something Polish in gothic script curving over his navel. He had sections of fine script down his obliques on one side, and a large, thick, greyscale rattlesnake coiling all over his back, its tail vanishing under his tight white briefs. Apparently Polish Army regs forbade visible tatts on the arms, legs and so on back in 2017, so lots of soldiers got them on their torsos (apparently the regs have relaxed since). I'm sure he caught me checking him out because I wasn't making a secret of it, and when we showered together in the communal showers I got an eyefull - the rattlesnake tail cupped his left glute, and an old-school tribal pattern in thick black lines spread over his right asscheek. What really grabbed my attention was his other snake: His cock was long and thick, hanging from a stubbled shaved groin which sported another line of indecipherable script inked just above his root. I don't want to put a length on that weapon in inches, but it was intimidating and fascinating at the same time. Yeah, I stared as we soaped ourselves, and he turned towards me, stroked the long limp meat with a soapy fist and said "You like this?" I was jolted back to reality but I wasn't shy, so I just replied "Yeah mate, I do". "You want it?" he asked, waving it lewdly, but before I could answer there was the noise of other guys coming to the showers so I turned the taps to cold and rinsed my soapy semi under the chilly water to get it to go down - Patryk just grinned, re-lathered himself all over, and proceeded to methodically shave his face, pits, chest, belly, pubes and junk with a disposable razor - not my bag usually but hell, he could do what he wanted. As other hostel guests got under the showers, he completely unselfconsciously continued shaving his body, and I wasn't the only dude there who kept sneaking peeks.
The unspoken agreement was that our exploration of the city would be at least partly to find somewhere I could get my mouth on that cock and get fucked. He wore a pair of camo-patterend cargo shorts, a fitted khaki vest, a baseball cap plus trainers and black crew socks. I was in denim cutoffs over my jock, a loose surfie vest, minimalist hiking sandals and a cap, my ponytail poking out of the hole at the back of it where the adjustable strap was. We each carried a small day pack with water and stuff (including, in my case, condoms and lube). After walking around in the sun for a couple of hours, we stopped for a couple of cold beers at a sidewalk bar, then we started poking around the backstreets until we were around some semi-derelict buildings being redeveloped. Usually I'd never stray into this sort of area, but I was horned up and Patryk looked like someone you wouldn't mess with.
We eventually found an alley behind an unused building (the ground already littered with a few used condoms and other less-savoury shit) and after a quick look around, Patryk unbuttoned his shorts and fished out that impressive tool, which was already swelling. Without a word or hesistation, I slipped off my day pack and dropped it to one side, got in close, dropped to my knees on the dirty ground, gripped him by the base and started to stroke, watching his thick skin hood slide back and forth over the moist glans, before taking the first four or five inches to the back of my throat. It was a real gobstopper and I felt like I was ratcheting my jaw open to take it. He left me to it, tugging his vest up slightly, and I occasionally broke off to tongue his shaved-smooth balls and groin. Getting back on his cock, I worked hard at taking it as deep as I could until he started a slow face-fuck, drawing gargling gagging sounds from my throat and, soon, pulling strings of thick mucous-laden spit out over my beard on his outstroke as thin snot started to run from my nose into my moustache. I didn't care, I was well into it, and though my own cock was straining inside my jock pouch, I didn't release it, I just felt like being used today. If I came, I came; if not, I'd find another willing hole or beat one out later.
Looking up into Patryk's face, he was silent, expressionless, even a bit scary, but that just made my tool leak more into my jock. He flicked my cap off and rested his hand on my bare head as he picked up the pace and I just knelt there and took it. Eventually he pulled out, and I panted, wiggled my aching jaw and wiped my hand over my face to clear off some of the juices. He said "I want to fuck your asshole". So fuckin' direct, I loved it. Nodding, I rummaged around in my day pack and passed him a condom and my lube. Then I stood, unbuttoned my cutoffs and pushed them down to my ankles, keeping my jock on, turned, braced my arms against the graffiti-covered concrete wall and pushed my ass out. Once sheathed and lubricated, the latex stretched tight and glistening over his schlong, Patryk got behind me, pushed the head of his cock between my cheeks, found my tight hairy pucker and forced his way through it without pause. Man, I don't mind admitting, it hurt like fuck, and though I was a fairly experienced bottom for my age, I had to fight hard to get my anus to open up. I made an inarticulate snarling growl - surprising myself with that sound - as my sphincter was spread wide open and my rectum was filled with more cockmeat than I've ever had. It was like taking a warm fleshy baseball bat, without any foreplay. I lost my hardon almost instantly and my cock went limp inside my jock pouch as my attention shifted completely to the uncomfortable sensations from the invader in my guts. Patryk gripped my shoulder with one hand and cupped my bristled throat with the other and started to fuck without waiting for me to adjust, sending waves of stabbing ache through my stomach. My straining ring did relax pretty soon though, and as he slid smoothly in and out of my hole the feelings began to change. I started to regret not pissing out the beers beforehand because each stroke was nudging my bladder, and I couldn't tense because that was the exact opposite of what I was trying to do. To my horror, my jock pouch suddenly became flushed with warmth as his pounding sent a squirt of piss out of my limp dick. Another surge of hot urine and another, and then I just gave in and allowed the piss to flow; the best I could do was shuffle my ankles back a bit so as my jock soaked through, the liquid which started to trickle to the ground didn't wet my shorts. It turned out that giving into the urge to piss was the best thing I could do, as the sensations in my ring and rectum began to get really, really interesting as Patryk kept plugging away as my ass and gripping my throat tighter and tighter, strangled grunts and moans of pleasure starting to bark from my drooling gob with each thrust. I fuckin' hoped no-one was around to hear. Suddenly, my whole body seemed to be swelling with waves of pleasure, my limbs were shaking, my vision blurring, and a stream of cum just flowed out of my limp cock and flooded my sodden jock pouch as I let loose a gutteral groan. I'd cum hands-free from being fucked before, but I don't know, this was just different, so fuckin' different. Still Patryk kept fucking, harder if anything, and as I crested one wave of orgasm, another swept over me and I cried out again as a few more feeble squirts of jizz dripped from my shrivelled dick. I started to shiver and shake all over, almost sobbing, then Patryk stopped and I felt an unbelievable emptiness as he abruptly withdrew from my gaping cunt.
"Get on your knees so I can cum on your face", he said in that toneless voice. I straightened up, feeling dizzy and seeing stars, and dropped to my knees in the puddle of piss as Patryk tugged off the straining, shit-smeared condom and tossed it on the ground. He started to jerk his cock and I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, until finally a shocking load of soldier seed splashed my face and beard in a series of powerful jets; I leaned in close so the last few doses drooled over my tongue and I could swallow the pungent gravy. I sucked his head clean, then he tucked it away as I rested on my heels, soaked with sweat, spit, piss and cum. Patryk didn't comment on the piss puddle and my soaked jock, so maybe he'd had this kind of reaction before - it wouldn't have surprised me. "Come on, clean yourself up and we can get some lunch" he said as he held out his hand. I took it and he hauled me to my feet. I gingerly stepped out of my shorts, trying hard not to get them wet, then slipped off my sodden jock and gave it a bit of a wring out. I fumbled around in my pack but I hadn't brought any wipes, so I peeled off my damp, cum-spatted vest and used it to wipe down my face, chest, pits, groin, knees and hands as best I could. I squatted and gingerly wiped the dirty vest through my wet trench, noting that it came away stained with shit and lube, but fortunately no blood. I wrapped the jock in the vest, stuffed it in the bottom of my pack, pulled my shorts back on over my bare aching ass, then donned my cap and slipped my day pack on my sweaty bare back.
Wandering back to more populated areas, Patryk bought us a couple more beers and a pannini each as we sat al fresco in the sun - I was the only guy around with my shirt off but it didn't seem to be a problem; in any case, when our second round of beers arrived, Patryk peeled his vest off too to give me something to look at as he soaked up some rays. We chatted shit, not mentioning the intense session, and because he paid for lunch I could kid myself that he was paying me for my ass (though in reality he was just being nice and to be honest I would have paid him if I'd known what the end result would be). Back at the hostel I threw my filthy vest, shorts and jock in the communal washing machine along with his vest, briefs and socks, hoping the stains would come out of my top. With towels around our waists we both padded to the shower block and had a long, steamy soak. I felt between my asscheeks where my ring was puffy and still slightly open, so I gave it a firm but gentle soapy massage to help it recover. I looked over and Patryk was watching me, grinning, water streaming off him as he cheekily waved that lethal weapon at me - I couldn't help but laugh.
The next day I caught my train, heading for Istanbul, still nursing a tender asshole and daydreaming about the most intense fuckin' orgasm I'd ever had. The experience was to make me even more of a cock hound, if anything, because I was always chasing that elusive true prostate orgasm. I exchanged numbers with the guys and texted Patryk to tell him to look me up if he hit London by the end of the year.
****
Istanbul is an incredible city and I had a great time there for about ten days. Greek and Turkish men have a reputation for being hetero-flexible; like all such things, it may be an over-generalisation, but the truth, in my limited experience, is that the Turkish attitude to male sexual contact is very different to more western cultural norms. I have never been hit on so much in my entire life by all manner of ostensibly straight guys than I have been in Turkey. I mean, like all the time. Having a British or Nordic look, being blond and fit, and Australian (Turks love Aussies) all combined to make me a target, and of course I didn't mind one bit. Young, old, in-between, they all tried it on. I don't mean like every single guy did of course, but loads did. I've compared notes with mates since (many of whom would not have been responsive to those advances) and we all agreed. So though throwing stereoytpes around is uncool, well I experienced what I experienced, and Istanbul in partular was hands-down the best city for easy trade I've ever visited.
It was a very rewarding ten days:
- The young manager of the hostel I stayed in had me suck him off on three separate occasions, and he "accidentally" gave me two nights for free.
- A sweaty fat dude selling Turkish carpets seduced me over a tray of tea and Turkish Delight. I kept trying to explain that his carpets were beautiful but I had nowhere to put one, so eventually he took me to his storeroom and paid me 500 lira to strip naked so he could lick my asshole and suck me off.
- I haggled with a handsome man in his 30's who ran a jewellry shop in a bazaar over a beaten silver engraved cuff bracelet that took my fancy. I stuck to what I thought was a cheekily low price no matter what he countered, until eventually he flipped the sign on his door to "Closed", led me to his office and fucked me over his desk. I got the cuff, I never really knew whether it was a good deal or not, but I still wear it.
- The manager at a spit-and-sawdust open-air gym very overtly ogled me as I did a hard lifting session, in my Aussie Rules footy shorts over my jock, topless and barefoot. He was 40-ish, hairy and stacked, and when I slipped back to use the shower he ushered me into a toilet stall and fucked me in exchange for a free pass the next time I wanted to use the gym.
- The attendant at a small, backstreet Turkish bathhouse, a middle-aged bear of a guy, gave me the usual full-body scrub down then wanked me off as he fucked my mouth. I tipped him though, not the other way around.
As I type this, I realise it sounds too good to be true, but I promise it is completely true and I'm not making it up. Maybe some of you guys out there reading this know exactly what I mean about Turkey - email me and back me up!!!
After a week or so, dressed in my trusty cutoffs over my well-worn jock, flipflops and a loose stringer vest, I checked out, hauled my pack and caught a ferry across the Bosphorus to the larger chunk of Turkey. I rode the dolmus routes south (a dolmus is a kind of public minibus that travels a fixed network of routes across the country). On that trip, more action was to be had. On the very first leg of the journey, a burly, hairy middle-aged guy sat next to me near the back even though the dolmus was half-empty and there were plenty of free seats. It didn't take long before he rested his big hairy hand on the warm bare skin of my thigh. After a minute or so I signalled my openness by spreading my legs and adjusting my slowly swelling semi in my shorts. His hand moved to caress my bulge as he alternated between staring straight ahead and looking down at my crotch. I tried to slip my hard cock out of the leg of my cutoffs but they were way too tight, so after scoping the bus to make sure there were no onlookers, I unbuttoned my flies, raised my hips and pushed my shorts and jock down mid-thigh. I kept my eye out nervously as he stroked me until I got too anxious and tucked everything away.
When the dolmus stopped at a roadside shop and restaurant for lunch, the Turk indicated I should follow him, so I did (slipping a condom and travel bottle of lube into my back pocket), as he led me to the toilets. They were traditional Turkish squat toilets, and we went into separate cubicles until the other punters had left, then he knocked on the door of mine, locking it behind him as he stepped in. I'd already stripped off my shorts and flipflops so I was naked from the waist down, barefoot on the wet tiled floor, rock-hard and wanking; he came in close and snogged me, filling my gob with sweet tobacco-flavoured tongue as he jerked my cock for me and I fished his chubby bristly boner out of his jeans. I squatted over the toilet hole and sucked him for a while, then he bent me over and used the Turkish bidet hose with its spray nozzle to clean my sweaty anus (unwashed since my morning dump) before starting to rim me. I wanked as he fed on my hole and then he spat on it and slipped a finger inside me. I reached for my discarded cutoffs and passed him the condom and lube, and a minute later he was stuffing his sheathed knob up my whorish mancunt. He gave me a pretty good seeing-to and I sent a load of my baby tadpoles spraying on the floor and dripping down into the toilet hole just before he flooded his rubber with batter. Withdrawing, he tugged off the loaded latex and dropped it down the toilet hole. While I was still bent over, he thoughtfully used the hose to gently cleanse my wet fuckhole and sticky junk, before hosing his own penis clean and drying it with paper. He slipped out of the cubicle as I used the paper to dry my trench, junk and bare feet as well as I could, then slipped my jock, cutoffs and flipflops back on, remembering to hose the splatters of my cum down the toilet before I left. The kind Turk bought me a decent lunch and a bottle of cold beer in the restaurant before we set off on the next stretch.
****
Eventually my meandering route took me to Pamukkale, where I found a great hostel and planned to spend a few days enjoying the thermal pools and exploring the area. The hostel was run by a German-Turkish guy in his 40's called Noah, and he had two assistant managers: Christina, who was a cute Dutch girl in her early 20's, and Hamza, who was a fellow Aussie of Turkish background.
Hamza was in his late 20's and had been working here for nearly three years, content with a simple life. About my height, he had long dark hair he wore tied back in a man-bun, a seriously good full beard, and a decent physique he maintained lifting weights at a local open-air gym and doing kick-boxing to a locally competitive level. He had a nice hairy chest and moderately hairy shoulders and upper back, and he had a collection of eclectic tattoos scattered all over his body. When I was there in the height of summer, he rarely wore more than the same pair of tattered, holey cutoff jean shorts and one of a selection of loose vests, and an assortment of woven leather bracelets. Though the holes of his vests I'd noticed both his nipples were pierced with barbells. Hamza also nearly always went barefoot, even if he was out running errands, but leather flipflops if he was going out of an evening. Growing up in Oz I was used to seeing guys being casually barefoot but it was less common in Europe, which was making me appreciate it more. I was developing a full-on fetish, not for men's feet per se, but for men being casually barefoot, especially in slightly atypical cicumstances. So Hamza was the main target of my sneaky peeks and ogling.
Hamza and Tina were both very friendly with the backpacking crowd and socialised freely with us - Noah didn't care. As I learned during a seriously chilled drinking and pipe-smoking session late one night not long after I'd arrived, Hamza was properly omnisexual. I freely told him about my bisexuality and my hustling, and he thought it was seriously cool and related some of his own stories. He told me about the traditional Turkish oil wrestling, where men in short leather trousers drenched themselves in olive oil and wrestled; he sometimes participated in a local contest and it sounded seriously sexy and he admitted it sometimes led to post-practice fun. Though straight-tending, basically he'd fuck anything if it was legal, he just didn't give a shit and was totally sex-positive, freely calling himself a "slut" and a "man-whore" and owning it.
He was on duty a few nights later when I brought a chick back to the hostel, though it was supposed to be against the rules. Everyone was out or in bed and he was the only staff member on, so he let me bring her in. I'd planned to make out with her in the lounge and then we could fuck there when Hamza eventually went to bed, but instead he joined us in the cushion-strewn lounge with a water pipe. Soon we all had a nice buzz on and, ignoring Hamza's presence, my hook-up and I started to snog each other passionately. To my surprise, after we'd made out for a bit, Hamza gently turned her face to his and had a go as well. She seemed more than cool with it, and I settled in to watch. Having ascertained she was happy with where things were headed, we indulged in a three-way kiss where my and Hamza's lips and tongues had plenty of contact, and then the girl tilted her head away and guided ours together, moaning in pleasure as she watched us enjoy a man-on-man snog. I started to work on her tits as Hamza slipped his hand up her short denim skirt to test her pussy wetness, and within ten minutes all three of us were naked, and I got to see Hamza's impressive cut cock with its curved-barbell Prince Albert piercing, gleaming with precum. Hamza and I started eating out her cunt and asshole, mindless of our tongues slipping and sliding together. Soon we were taking turns on both of her ends as we pleasured her with a spitroast, and as I was getting too close I decided to suck her clit while he fucked her. Hamza withdrew at one point and guided his latex-sheathed cock into my mouth so I could taste her juices on his condom, then spent a while alternating his strokes between her quim and my gob. Withdrawing completely, he moved aside so I could slip between her legs; he gently gripped my tool and guided it inside her for me, then changed his condom and applied some lube to it as I started to fuck her hard. He moved behind me and between my legs, and I paused my hips' motions so he could push his freshly-sheathed cock up my ass; I was so relaxed from the beers and puff that there was no discomfort at all and I liked the novelty of the PA's steel balls tickling my ring and then rubbing against my fucknut, even through the rubber. He fucked my pelvis into her and I came quickly, but managed to keep thrusting as I rubbed her clit until she made it. We stripped off our rubbers and stood tongue-kissing as the girl sucked my cock clean and got Hamza to cum in her mouth. We dozed naked on the cushions in a tangle of sweaty limbs until Hamza's phone alarm woke us and we managed to get dressed before anyone else got up or started work.
Late the next afternoon night before I headed out and we were briefly alone, Hamza said "Last night was cool mate, tell you what though, I'd fuck you again".
"Yeah? You know it'll cost ya", I laughed.
"Fuck off", he laughed back, "you should fuckin' pay me. Don't be late tonight, I'll sort you out proper".
Laughing, I high-fived him and went for dinner. But his words had given me the horn and after food and a few drinks I claimed tiredness and went back to an "early night". Hamza was at the desk, grinning at me as I came in. "Changed your mind?" he said cheekily.
"Maybe", I replied.
He handed me a key. "I've got a couple of hours of work left, go and get some kip in my room, I'll see you later."
Hamza had a small triple room which he'd share with any male staff, but there weren't any at the moment so he had it all to himself. I put my lube and condoms on the bedside table, stripped off and flopped naked on my front on his bed on top of the bedclothes. I was out like a light in minutes.
I woke to the feeling of his hands kneading my glutes, spreading them, and a moistened finger or thumb making firm circles on my sweaty hole. "Hmmmmm", I murmured to let him know I was awake, and moved my butt towards him. I gasped as I felt his bushy oiled beard against my ass and his tongue slipping and sliding over my quivering mancunt, and I started to slowly hump the bed. He spent long leisurely minutes patiently teasing and probing my anus with his tongue, occasionally sucking on my stubbly ballsack, and then he guided me up onto my knees so he could pull my dripping hardon back between my legs and teasingly lick its underside and harvest my pre before getting back into his ass-munching. Needing a break from the stimulation, I rose and turned, noting that he had stripped fully naked before starting to wake me, and we gently but firmly swapped spit as I stroked his sticky hard cock and thumbed the glistening slippery balls of his PA barbell. Then I lowered myself and took him bare into my mouth and throat, tonguing the piercing as it passed my lips, tasting his cock skin unsheathed for the first time. He started a slow and steady throat-fucking rhythm while stroking my sweaty back and reaching forward to run his fingers up and down my slippery hairy trench and rubbing my cunt.
He drew me up to kiss me again and whispered "Can we do it raw?" I smiled but said "Mate, you are a walking Petrie dish, be serious". He chucked softly and muttered "Fair enough". I hoped I hadn't hurt his feelings but the guy was a careless man-whore and was probably riddled - I'd had to gently insist that he rubber-up when we'd double-teamed the chick the previous night. I pinched and rolled a rubber over his beautiful tool and squirted some lube on my fingers before handing the bottle to him. He lubed his cock as I lay on my back, my legs drawn towards my chest, and smeared lube over my hole before easing two slick fingers through my dude ring. He shuffled up to my butt on his knees and took my bare feet in his hands, licking the soles and sucking the toes as I moaned and reached down to guide his tool to my hole; hooking my legs over his shoulders, he planted his hands by my ears and moved his hips forward, painlessly puncturing my ring and sliding up my chute into my guts. I pulled his chest down and sucked his pierced nips as he started to fuck me, slowly at first then with increasing speed and force, and engulfed my mouth with his so we could duel tongues.
We moved from missionary to me squatting down on top facing his feet, then doggie, until he flooded his condom. Feeling dirty, I slipped the full sheath off him and squeezed its warm salty contents into my mouth. "Fuck dude, that's hot. Cum in my mouth?" he said. Surprised, I stood as he knelt in front of me, and wanked my load out over his tongue and beard. Then we lay down and kissed for ages as I licked his beard as clean as I could.
"Fuck, I need a slash", he muttered.
"Gimme your piss mate." He glanced at me, now his turn to be surprised, and said "Sure". He led me to the little bathroom and had me kneel in the tub before unleashing a flood of pungent urine over my face, my open mouth, my furry chest and abs, and slick hairy junk. I swallowed what I could and rubbed the fluid into my skin and body hair.
"I wanna try that", whispered Hamza, and he climed into the bath with me and knelt as I stood, then took my hot stream in his mouth and over his body. When my flow slowed to a trickle he remarked "Tastes OK doesn't it? Not like I thought." We took down the hand-held shower attachment, put it on a low pressure and rinsed each other off before sharing a towel and returning to his bed. We chatted as we stroked and fondled each other's bodies, and I ascertained that, though he was very experienced, broad-minded and up for anything, he'd never had a dude's cum in his mouth or done piss play before. Though he'd topped guys plenty of times, been rimmed and fingered, he'd also never actually been fucked. As I continued to gently question him, he must have sensed where this was headed.
It wasn't long before we were hard again and I persuaded him to let me rim him. He swivelled cross-ways on the narrow bed on his back, his head and neck braced against the wall, and pulled his legs back to his chest as I knelt on the floor and spread his inked glutes, parting the thick dark forest of musky hair that hid his tight virgin anus. I hawked and spat a wad of thick saliva onto the dark pucker and then I wedged my face right in there and started to circle his ring with the tip of my tongue, making him squirm. Graduating to firm, spit-slicked sweeps with the full flat of my tongue, I eventually managed to push it through his ring to lick the inside of his chute. I ate his ass for some time as he wanked himself, then I pushed a lubricated finger up inside him, hooked it and started to massage his prostate. "Ooooohhh fuck mate, that's so good, keep doing that," he moaned, and I took the opportunity to add a second finger and start a slow but firm fingerbang. Finally, he accepted my sheathed and well-lubed cock up into his virgin rectum. I took it really slow, withdrawing often to let him adjust and to add more lube, and having recently cum I was able to last a good while. I made sure to wank his cock to climax with my tool still pistoning in and out of his bum so he got the true feeling of being properly fucked for the first time. When his hairy belly was pasted with thick seed, I withdrew, tugged off the rubber and wanked my own load out over his hairy pierced cock and balls. I'd notched up my second anal cherry so far this trip.
Both spent, we slept naked together on top of the covers, rising early to use the little bathroom and shower the next morning before curious eyes woke up. For the next three nights I slept in his room until it was time for me to move on - and he didn't charge me for those night either, so I reckon that counts as getting paid, don't you?
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]
