Whippoorwill

The old "rule" is never mix business with sex. I would add to that, never mix sex business with another business. Rife for misunderstandings all the way around.

When I lived in the Middle East, "Pay me whatever you want" was a common practice, whether you were buying shoes or ---. There, I think it came out of the typical practice of bargaining for everything. Most westerners may not know it, but bargaining only works if both the seller and the buyer know the "correct" price, and are going through this dance to get a little more money or pay a little less money. But only a little. Trying to really underpay is a huge insult and really overpaying, you are taken for a fool. Here in the US I have had people (often originating from a culture where bargaining is common) say "Pay me whatever you want". If it happens before the service takes place, I just walk away. Its a formula for bad feelings all around. For bodyworker services, I have only had one instance where he provided more extra services than I asked for or wanted. As I was counting out the agreed on fee, he started to ask for extra, just as I was taking the extra out of my wallet. He saw that I was doing it without asking, and smiled. I crossed him off my list and never went back.

My husband was diagnosed with sleep apnea and came home from the doctor with the machine. He took one look at it and said he’d never use it. “Anyway, you go to bed feeling fine, and you just don’t wake up in the morning. What’s the matter with that? Sign me up.

I can't seem to figure out how to post this article, but if you google: Greek Love Through the Ages > The Near East and North Africa > Other Near Eastern Lands > Boys for Sale > The Arab Near East you will find it. It's worth a read. And just to update this article a little, in 2019 I visited Dubai and Abu Dhabi for a week. When my driver brought me to my very first class "American" 65 story hotel, I was immediately greeted by what we might call a hotel concierge who took me to the front desk and "to be sure all was in order". He was way too friendly and obviously had figured me out right away. I was hardly in my room ten minutes when there was a knock on my door, and I opened to a smiling Hamza, who let himself in "to be sure I was comfortable". I must admit I was a little nervous because he was obviously a hotel employee, but having previously lived in the Middle East for a couple of years, I knew that in a country where women and girls are segregated from men and boys, well, boys will be boys. Further, In Dubai, 90% of the 3 M population are immigrant workers. And by comparison, they are very poor and we are very rich. Hamza was a 20 year old Pakistani, who had been working in Dubai for three years, to earn enough money to go back to Pakistan and find a wife and get married. Like every immigrant worker I met there, he was going home "next year" when he had enough money saved. And I had a wonderful week adding money to his kitty. Clearly everyone in the food chain knows what is going on, everyone gets a piece of the action, and no one acknowledges the camel in the living room. Just keep your wits about you, treat them very nicely, and opportunities abound. Greek Love Through the Ages.doc

Greek Love - Pederasty Through the Ages - Arab Near East in Boys for Sale - Greek Love Pederasty.html

I love the verbal interactions with young guys...learning what interests them, what their take on life is, and after a number of visits, maybe being asked for my take on things. Young people bring energy, new ideas and opinions, current culture, and hot sex; old guys bring life experience, perspective, knowledge, and cash. At its best, works for everybody.

There's an old saying..."when something is absolutely prohibited, it is absolutely available". And from my experience, that is absolutely true of gay sex in the UAE. Dubai is the second busiest airport in the world; in 2022, there were 87 million on/off boardings at Dubai airport and over 17 million overnight stays in Dubai. Abu Dhabi is somewhat less but still substantial. And as we all know, gay hotel staff and airline crew are legion, and they are all single immigrants. In addition there is the Emerati population, and among moslems, limited mixing of the sexes in public. Do the math. Having lived and worked in a moslem country, they do not pay any more attention to their priests and government that we do. Gay men are traveling to Dubai from all over the moslem world for sex. You just have to act reasonably discrete in public. It's not that hard. While I have been fully out of the closet for decades, I am not pawing guys on the sidewalk, except in San Francisco's Castro, Palm Springs, P-Town, Key West, Mardi Gras in New Orleans, etc.

When I was in my early 20's I was traveling around the world with backpack and sandles, and seriously cock-hunting. One day, I was in Hong Kong waiting for the Star Ferry, and up he walked. He engaged me in conversation, and it turned out he was a local Chinese boy and had just graduated from high school. We went out to lunch together, and at some point he asked me if I had ever had sex with another boy. I never said YES so quickly. He spent the next three nights in my bed at the YMCA in Kowloon, which is actually a very nice hotel with views of the Harbor. At some point we were joined by a gay classmate of his. We three went to the private beach that belonged to his Catholic high school, and his friend photographed the two of us fucking in the showers. I don't know where one got porn photos developed in HK, but they obviously did. We spent our days being tourist and shopping and our nights fucking. After three days he moved out of his parent's house to rent himself a room at the Y. Alas I was flying out to meet my parents in Hawaii (that's another story) so we parted, me now a confirmed rice queen. I promised to keep in touch, but of course didn't. But I will never forget being fucked so mercilessly, and quickly became a confirmed bottom as well.

For an erotic massage, the masseur ending up on the table is a given, in my experience. In my book, and arm's length HE isn't an erotic massage, it's just sensual.

As someone told me when I moved to SF, there is no such thing as being late for work here. You get there when the bus gets you there. That being said, it is the responsibility of the traveler (whether client or provider) to allow for "normal" traffic delays. As a client, I sometimes arrive fifteen minutes early, in which case I walk around the block or find a place to surf the net, until I ring the doorbell at the appointed time. For a purely social date like lunch with a friend, (not a business date where the provider has a schedule and likely multiple clients thoughout the day), fifteen minutes after the appointed tim constitutes "on time." And today it is so easy to text with ETA, it's just common curtesy.

It brings to mind the time I was dating a youth who lived with his parents in council flats in Liverpool, where the walls were at most three inches thick. Happened to be his parents were both deaf, and his bed was against the wall of his parents' bedroom and they were literally inches from us. We fucked like rabbits and screamed like banshees, with not a worry.

Bedding clean; bathroom/shower clean; floor clean; appropriate temperature. That's all it takes. But then that being said, I once tricked with a japanese man at his apartment. The next morning, in the bathroom, he had laid out a beautiful wooden box, like a bento box, with a personal toothbrush, toothpaste, deoderant, comb, face cloth, etc. It made me feel special, until I went to contact him again a few days later and he'd ghosted me. Six months later he tried to contact me, but I decided the statute of limitations had run out.

Unmitigated truth is overrated. I go for truthiness...kind of like monagamish. When Truth Is Overrated: The Advantages of Dishonesty | Psychology Today WWW.PSYCHOLOGYTODAY.COM It’s crucial to consider whether it’s kind to share something that might be too unsettling, scary, or...

Some decades ago I had a long-term affair with a British identical twin...he gay, his twin "straight." He reported that when they were teenagers, his straight brother would go out on a date, and if he didn't get laid, would come back home and fuck his gay brother. I happily stayed in the family home in Britain with him, and fucked his eyeballs out, in his childhood room, separated from his parents by a 3" stud wall, in the council flats (public housing) where they lived. Fortunately, his parents were both deaf and dumb, and did hot hear a thing. But...vibrations, anyone? He haa now been with an American lover I introduced him to for over 30 years. The "straight" brother is on his third wife.

What’s a check?

He has told you everything you need to know. Run. In the opposite direction.

Twice a month, alternating between two regulars; When traveling, twice a week.

I am familiar with a young Asian student in SF on a student visa. His RentMasseur add does not show his face, and says he offers Therapeutic and Sensual massages, but not Erotic. What you do in private is your business, but as Frank R say, better to be a little discrete in your public advertisements.

I just read "Playgirl" for the stories.

Let's hear it for nips. It took a teen-aged me until someone turned me on to nips that I admitted I was indeed gay. Jacking off with the other guys in Boy Scouts and Catholic boys school? Everybody does that. No homo. Eating my jizz? Just keeps the sheets clean. No homo. Sucking off Tony in 8th grade? Not that different from eating my own jizz. No homo. Letting my best buddy corn hole me? Well, none of the girls would do it in those days. Just helping a friend get off. No homo. But then having my nips played with and sucked, and getting an immediate boner. Electric currents flowing between my nips and cock. Jizz all over the place and knowing there is nothing better than having sex with another male. Yep. Me homo.

How about some more stories, guys? I have others to tell, but I don't want this to be the Whippoorwill column. But here's another. When I was living in France, I was driving one Saturday morning for a few days vacation in the Loire River Valley. Leaving Paris, it was sprinkling, and as I passed under an overpass, there was a comely young hitchhiker decked out in jeans, a black leather jacket, and backpack, avoiding the rain. I have always been a sucker for picking up hitchhikers. Now I didn't want to get my hopes up, as every Frenchman, straight or gay, from age 2 to 92, has a black leather jacket. So I stopped and picked up Jean-Hubert, who had just graduated from the lycée (and thus was maybe 17 or 18) and was off to visit his Grand-Mere in Bordeaux for the summer. As we talked, we got warmer and friendlier with each other. I saw him glancing at my crotch (also undoubtedly jeans-clad), and returned the glances. At some point, we both put a hand on the other's thigh at the same instant. The groping and rubbing went on for some time as we were speeding through the French countryside. Eventually the sun came out, and we stopped at a roadside rest stop located on the edge of a cornfield. We went off into the cornfield, which was high enough to hide our waists, but not our torsos. The pants dropped to the ankles, and we blew and jacked each other off. We then went into the (empty) restroom and washed the bits. When the road to Bordeaux split to the southwest, Jean-Hubert and I said our goodbyes with some passionate kissing, and I wished him a hot and slutty summer cruising the parks and beaches and T-rooms of Bordeaux. And I had a new appreciation for cornfields.

I remember back in the early to mid '70s, when things gay were just starting to creep into polite society, there was an interview with a Levi's executive who was asked, "To what do you attribute the success of your product?" (501s). He replied something like, "We say it's because they wear so well, but we know it's really because they show such a good basket."

I have had a couple of hotel staff experiences in Paris. Once, some years ago, I was staying in a 2 star hotel (great location, unremodeled 1900 building - today it's a four-star, unfortunately) and had been out to one of those really sleazy sex clubs Paris was so famous for. I crawled back to the hotel in the wee hours, totally drained, covered in cum and who knows what else, and had to ring for the night attendant for entry. And ring, and ring, and ring. I could see through the front door to the desk, and finally a fine specimen of a young Frenchman stood up behind the counter, with no sign of any clothes. He came to the door, his shirt around his waist, and let me in. When he went back behind the counter to get my room key, his trick for the night, a hot young African immigrant stud, stood up behind the counter next to him. Had I not been totally spent by the evening's prior activities, there would have been a 3-way behind the front counter. On another occasion, I had decided to try a gay hotel. The proprietor was gay, but most of the clientele weren't. After I got settled in my room, the proprietor came up and asked if he could do anything for me. One thing led to another and I ended up fucking him. He said we should do it again, and that I could stay in the hotel anytime I wanted to for free. I didn't take him up on it because he had the stereotypically poor French bathing habits, including dingleberries. We didn't do it again, and I never stayed there again. Not that a gay hotel was necessary to get laid in Paris, at a time when most bars had free sex "caves" and T-rooms were common. I found hotel rooms better suited to recharging my batteries for another day's easily-had debauchery.

In the mid-'80s, I was an aficionado of one of the jack off clubs that were popular in San Francisco at the time, intended to provide safe sex opportunities in the early days of AIDs. In 1984, Drummer magazine did a 7-page photo spread on the club, entitled "The Joys of Self-Abuse." I thoroughly enjoyed showing off my well-lubed meat for the cameras. However, unlike Lycrathong I have never been in great shape, so this was a once-off. If my bod had been better, it would have been a different story.