I’m assuming your trip was a number of decades ago. You touched on a couple of spots where I too had some marvellous sexual experiences with European men. Just two I’ll relate. The first in Nice, where in 1982 I met a hot Corsican at a club and went back to his apartment. He was shorter than me, built like a stud muffin, with a huge appendage. I remember his being a physiotherapist and his clinic was in his apartment in the old town near the harbour. It was a night of carnal bliss and I walked back to my hotel in the early morning, smelling the damp salt sea air as I trod the cobblestones. We kept in touch for a short period by mail and I still have his letters. The other experience was in Rome in 1979. I spent a week and met a Swiss man about my age at a gay club. The club was boring but we repaired to my hotel where we spent the night. We dated several more times that week, always ending up at my hotel. He was living in Rome and had numerous Italian gay friends and one night I had dinner with them all at one of their apartments. It was a bit like Boys in the Band, without the bitchiness. On our last night together, we ate at this marvellous restaurant operated by nuns. We corresponded for over a year later and I still have his many letters. One day I am going to have to burn these letters, amongst many others.
During my first trip to Europe and North Africa (two+ months), I explored and experienced the various cultures as well as the men in each of the countries that I visited. Some still reign supreme; others happened that I remember but think it's best to limit on the forum "to spare the eyes of my fellow members."
I had a Eurorail pass that gave me an entire spectrum as to where and when I would be traveling. At one point, I boarded the train in Paris and ventured to Nice.. ...had a nighttime arrival and no hotel reservation, so I walked to a park that was nearby and not too far away from the train depot and sat comfortably on a bench while analyzing the environs. An hour passed, and while I sat and basked in the entire ambiance, a strapping, dark-haired, nicely-built guy passed by and lingered a bit. We struck up a conversation, and during our conversing, I keenly remember his asking me what I was doing here. Much to my surprise, I candidly told him that I was "man-hunting." He took me up on it, and within a few minutes, I found myself walking with him on the beach where we found ourselves inside of a cave. At the time I did not know where we were going or anything. I thought it best not to question and just go with the flow if I felt no danger. Well, immediately after we arrived, the action began. To this day I remember this stud fucking out my brains and my enjoying his physical prowess as well as sexual talents. After the deed was done, I mentally recovered from what had transpired and decided to return to the train depot and await a returning train. I think I waited for four or five hours before I found myself back in first-class to return to...
On that same trip, I went to Greece. Mykonos was on my itinerary, so off I went for a few days where I spent the majority of my time at Paradise Beach. While there I met an Italian male couple: one a somewhat handsome "daddy type" and his youngish partner (the one for whom I had the hots, big time. On my first night, the couple stayed in a small tent on the beach. Because of limited space, I remained outside and covered with a thinnish blanket while enduring the air and the slight breeze from the sea. After breakfast the next day, I eagerly joined these two again and spent the morning and afternoon. Before leaving the immediate area, I was invited to join the couple inside of their tent for a fuck-fest. Damn, I wanted that "young stuff" oh so HOT young Italian so bad.
Well, my desire for "Italian" did happen on that trip as well. After arriving in Rome, an ex-pat American met me at the train station and walked me to his red convertible sports car. Before we arrived at his apartment where my room awaited me, he decided to give me a short tour of the scenery. We passed by several popular plazas and managed to go to one that was unbelievable. There were lots of super-hot and handsome men that just from my observing got my blood and all fluids stirring. I did manage to control myself and recoup some modicum of civility. When we arrived at the apartment of the host--an Italian friend of his met us from out of nowhere and went up to his apartment. The two of them spent about ten to fifteen minutes talking when the occupant of the apartment yelled down to me. "Do you want to fuck." He caught me completely off guard as well as filling me with a little embarrassment. My response was, "no thanks."
For three or more days, I spent my time meandering around by myself, taking in the sights, and going to the gay bars that were in the area. I found these venues to be dull and non-happening, not like some of the places I had gone to while in Amsterdam, Brussels, London, and Madrid.
But, before I was to leave, my luck and fun changed. While the owner of the apartment had left the apartment for a while, the young guy who had had "designs for me" on the night of my arrival had joined me earlier, for he and I had ventured throughout certain areas of Rome. Upon our return to the apartment, he and I had the best fuck that I'd received in my life up to that point. He fucked me into oblivion, something that I'd never experienced at home or during this first visit to Europe.
After he'd "done the deed," he left, much to my chagrin, for I was never to hear or see him again. We had failed to exchange addresses. In my looking back-- I do thank the owner of the apartment for bringing this chap into my life for only two or three days. I write three days because on a Sunday he and I explored the Sistine Chapel. I remember when he and I walked the many steps that led to the roof, I, at several points, almost reached over to him to embrace and passionately kiss. But, that was all right. He showed his sexual expertise and prowess on the day before my leaving Roma.
There are other sagas that I could relay, but as I wrote in the opening sentences, I'll spare you gents.
The shape of this fellow's face and especially the lower half of it reminded me once again of that remarkably transformed
actor who played Neville Longbottom (Matthew Lewis), but now that I've gone to the bother to look him up, I see the body hair doesn't match at all. But I'm wondering if anybody also sees any facial resemblance:
There is anecdotal and then there are statistics. And there is history, which is only useful if people are aware of it. Unfortunately, most people are not schooled in history. I always think there is something to learn from other peoples’ experiences, or anecdotal evidence. But then there are the cold, hard facts of history, as much as we can trust the sources. Reading accounts of the black plague in Europe, where populations in large centres such as London were reduced by one third or more, COVID19 doesn’t even rank in the same league. Nor will it, I dare to say, given modern scientific knowledge, assuming the politicians don’t screw it up.
Covid19 will not even compare to the Spanish flu, which killed at least 60 million worldwide. Just over 1 million so far. And the world is at last 3 or 4 times more populous. If I had to make a comparison, I would not say Covid19 is “nothing” in terms of previous plagues, but it is certainly not the mass killer that those earlier pandemics were. On the other hand, the economic impacts have probably been the worst, since we are so interconnected globally today, as never before, even 100 years ago.
