When I was in Australia a few years ago I had sex with a guy in the sauna who was convinced his birth-mother (or father) was Aboriginal. But he could have been Greek or Lebanese. He was very into queer movies and while I was fucking him he quoted whole scenes from a movie made by a guy I used to go out with, which was kind of weird. This Austrian guy I had a short fling with used to be a girl. I’d seen him in a movie before we met and thought he was hot. The weirdest bit was the rimming. I felt too self-conscious about being rimmed by him. A kind of prudish side came out of me, like: Girls don’t rim.
Maybe because of its location, I’ve met quite a few Bangladeshi guys at the sauna in Shoreditch. We usually have good sex. There are one or two guys who I make out with every few months, the same guys, and we enjoy fooling around. One of the guys has this weird thing of spitting into the bin in the cubicle after we kiss. The last couple of times he did it I made a mental note to remember him and to not go into a cubicle with him again. It’s disconcerting when someone spits after kissing. But he’s so cute and slim and pliable and his skin is soft and his hair is black and thick and he likes it when I bite his shoulder, hard, just to the point before the skin ruptures. In Belgium I didn’t get laid. On the whole, I was bored in Brussels. No, not bored. Something else. I stayed in a hotel not far from where the Gestapo headquarters in Brussels used to be. I did go to the sauna a couple of times, but it was more like a pub, with everyone sitting around and chatting, as if they’d all already had sex with each other. It was a few years ago, so maybe I’m not remembering well; maybe I did get laid. Maybe I’m confusing Brussels with Lisbon, where I met a cute Brazilian guy in the sauna. My big regret about Lisbon is that i didn’t go home with the cute Brazilian guy who I chatted to on the street 10 minutes after I arrived in the city. We’d walked past each other, made eye contact, turned around, and started chatting. The weather was hot and everything felt sexy, but I chickened out. It would take me a while to go into any detail about all the Brazilian guys I’ve had sex with.
Casual sex can be like a geography lesson, an intimate kind of Wikipedia. This Chinese guy I had sex with once was 
from somewhere in the North West of China where people are allowed to have more than one child. It wad something to do with him being from a minority. The sex was good. On the whole I’ve had good sex with Chinese guys, though there’s never that kind of abandon, that letting go and kinkiness that I’ve experienced with Brazilian guys, or English guys, or French guys. Colombian guys in particular. I don’t like making generalisations, but it’s a bit like astrology; when I find out someone’s a Scorpio, I expect certain things. Scorpio’s make me cautious; Leo’s make me wonder if it’s going to be too much hard work. With guys from Colombia I assume they don’t have many inhibitions. I first discovered the joy of face-slapping with this cute Colombian guy, much shorter than me, but who really loved being slapped when he came up from sucking my cock, and I discovered that I liked it to, the slapping and the being slapped. It was one of those experiences that change your sexual repertoire. Another first was when I was in Prague and this Czech guy slapped my hand away when I touched him in the steam-room. He did it in such a bitchy way that it was kind of funny. The Czech Republic was another place where I didn’t have much sex success. I seem to have more success with men from the Caribbean, like the guy from Costa Rica, for example, who just wanted to suck my cock in the intense heat of the dry sauna cabin. When we chatted afterwards he told me that he’d always loved sucking cock, since the age of eight when a cousin shoved his big dick in his mouth and forced him to blow him.
There should be someone from Denmark to write about, but there isn’t.
England will make up for that, and besides, so many of the white population of this island are descended from the Danes who’ve been coming to this place since about 790, mainly to kill and ransack, and kidnap monks to use as slaves. The English are a violent lot, and despite myths and sexual stereotypes, are, on the whole, quite good in bed. I used to go out with this guy who is the most liberated and joyous man I know in his approach to sex. Just about everything excites him, and he has very little shame, if any, or inhibitions. All that really turned me on when we first met. And he had a great cock, although he wasn’t very good at fucking me, but that might be because I’m not very good at letting go and being fucked. I have had sex with an Estonian guy, but the only thing I remember is that we talked about Finland and the similarities in their languages.
When I was in Helsinki I tried my best to have sex with a Finnish guy, but it didn’t work out. Some places you go to and you’re just not a big hit. It might have to do with who you are, but it could be luck. The only sexual contact I had in Helsinki was in this weird sex club in a sex shop – there were all these cabins and peep-show kind of booths downstairs. It felt sleazy and decadent. People were even allowed to smoke. I fondled the cock of some guy who was lurking in a dark corner, and it really was the biggest and thickest cock I’d ever touched. It genuinely was the size of a can of Coke. Anyway, when I go to France I always have a good time. I always get laid. As an adult, I’ve only been to Paris and Lille, but in both places the sex has been good. And plentiful. The couple of times I went to Lille I had considerable success at the sauna, Le Lokal. The men were all beautiful. I remember this one blonde guy in particular – he looked like a thug and wouldn’t talk at all, but he loved having his smooth hole licked and fingered, and his body was porn-star perfect and exciting to touch. We cruised each other for quite a while before we had sex. He looked rough and angry, and it turned me on that he might strike out at me. I liked the danger of it, even though I never go out seeking danger.
There was a Greek guy a while ago, but I don’t remember much, although I do remember quite a bit about the two guys I had sex with from The Gambia.
[to be continued…]
Michael Wynne 