Thursday, 16 July 2015


After the debacle last night, I don't even bother with the apps.  I take myself for a very nice dinner, then plan a route through the recommended bars in the area.  Bloody hell....

First up, the twink and rent boy bar (more for the ego boost and the sport really - I don't particularly like to pay), but it's full of shrill and shrieking young guys who are literally swaying as they clutch their wineglasses with some very large silver bears lurking at tables - I actually do a lap of the block to make sure this is the place, and it is, so I keep walking.  Next is "The Firehouse", where some older and shall we say flamboyant guys are clogging the footpath outside an empty bar.  I wriggle through and go to order a beer, but the barman looks me over and returns to his glass washing - clearly this place is for regulars only.  On now to the 'biggest and best', which has pavement tables largely occupied by drag queens (Pride Day remember), who are catcalling passersby to the delight of their coterie, so again I keep walking, to a random place that has a friendly reputation.  It's me and 4 x stupidly drunk young guys, who surround me once I get my beer and start begging for drugs.  Then a group arrives, clearly some suburban women having a night out 'with their gay friends', and the noise is too much so I finish my beer and leave as the barman gives me the "sorry" shrug.

Damn it's getting tough, so next on the list is the leather bar - "The Ox", which is totally not my scene, although many are looking in my direction, but in an oddly disinterested fashion.  I finish my beer and go for a leak, and as I exit the bathroom I see that I've been sitting directly beneath a TV playing hardcore porn.  Aaaah.  I decide I clearly have nothing better to do than watch the porn too, so grab another beer, and although a post punk guy draws up a stool next to me I'm not that keen and he leaves, as do I soon after.

Last stop is the place from last night, and solely on the basis it has good internet, I return for a drink and to scout the apps.  I walk in, and the barman points behind me, where there is now a dedicated beer stand.

The guy in front of me is just finishing up paying, and he turns holding two beers.  He looks at me, smiles, and hands me one of the beers.  "This is for you - come chat".  The guy is amazing.  Imagine the actor Jeremy Piven, but 6' tall.  Same stocky build, same killer smile, same sparkly eyes, same damn bald patch even.  Totally not my type, but we've clicked immediately.  He tells me straight up he runs a nearby mountain resort, so let's call him the "Tyrolean".  I ask about the beer, and he replies that his friend can get his own, then taps the guy next to me and tells him so.  The friend smiles and shrugs, gets himself a beer and returns to engage me in conversation as the Tyrolean talks to someone else.  I think I've been handed over, but in fact this is the interview.  I apparently pass, as Tyrolean soon returns to press me against the wall to talk some more and to kiss me.  I've already told him I live in the sandlands and I'm not comfortable with this, but he replies that we're not there and this is Germany in 2015 so shut up, and he kisses me some more.  Ok.  After another beer and more chat, he wants to leave, and he's staying not 100m from my own hotel, so we head off.  Halfway there, he stops us in front of a church and he kisses me some more, 'just to piss them off'.  I'm laughing by now, and we continue our way to his hotel.

He's staying in a suite bigger than some apartments I've owned, and we leave a trail of clothes as we move to the bedroom.  Once naked, I can see he's a guy who is clearly extremely fit, but also not shy about drinking his fair share of beer.  Sturdy legs, bubble butt, solid shoulders, a hairy chest & a paunch that doesn't detract from him at all.  Turns out that running an alpine resort means you spend your life hiking, skiing and drinking.

We're soon onto the bed, and it's clear we both want the same thing - to be fucked.  I'm a bit drunk and quite hard, so as his incredibly wiry stubble tears at my face, he positions himself on top of me and with a handful of spit wets us both and slams himself onto me.  I gasp as his muscles contract around my cock, and I know I'm barebacking him, then he starts to thrust himself up and down on my pole like a madman, alternately leaning in to kiss and leaning back to get more in him, when he suddenly starts grunting and pops a load onto my stomach.  He comes in for another kiss, then cleans my cock up, but I'm drunk and I don't/can't cum.

We lie about chatting for a bit, and he's very clear he wants me to stay over, so I do.  I wake with a monster fucking hangover and a huge hard-on, and I want to shower.  I slap him on the rump and tell him to join me, and with the assistance of some hotel toiletries, I fuck him in the shower before he washes me, then fuck him again over the basin once we're (almost) dry.  But I cannot bust a nut to save my life.

We go back to bed, and he's desperate I should blow my load, but I'm buggered if I can, so I get my legs around his waist, his nicely sized and uncut dick poking at my hole, but he won't take the hint and we move to a 69 until he shoots again, this time on my chest, and has actually chafed my own dick with all his sucking.  Another shower, just washing and kissing this time, then we dress together.  He walks me back to my hotel, then, like a shy schoolboy, he passes me his number.  Almost a week later and we're still chatting...

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