A Gringo in Santo Domingo (long)

[Guest Deweywop]

This comes very late, but I promised stilllovely and mike_m, who helped me with their info, that I would report back on my, um, scouting in the Dominican Republic. Things have been hectic since I returned.

 

I’m not sure I have much info to add to what they’ve posted here a while ago. Things seemed quiet when I went, possibly because of 4th of July in the US and Gay Pride in New York. (The shadow of New York, I learned, falls heavily on the gay scene in the Dominican Republic.) Then again, I’ve been known to chase away all things gay-friendly whenever I decamp on a place. (Think of me as the St. Patrick of trouser-snakes.)

 

Anyway, the Bar Phoenix on the edge of the Zona Colonial is a reliable hustler bar. The guys there were polite and generally low-pressure. I had a somewhat hard time finding the place, even though it's very central, because it had no sign out front, and taxi-drivers weren’t familiar with it. So get your addresses and directions before you seek it out – then it’s not hard at all to get to.

 

At the Phoenix, I met up with StillLovely and his Santo Domingo “papi” Samuel for our own very, very small version of the M4M convention in Rio. We toured the barrios in Samuel’s car and I saw a slice of pulsating Dominican urban life on a Saturday night, one most tourists probably won’t see. We hit two other clubs, both conveniently in the same neighborhood.

 

The one that impressed me was Club Aire, not too large, but very refined, with shows, an outdoor bar, and several chill lounges. Skimming the cream of Dominican gay life, as well as a visible portion of the hip straight crowd, Club Aire is full of beautiful men. But what differentiates it from similar establishments elsewhere is the Caribbean warmth and friendliness. The DR is a country where the hot bartender actually thanks you when you give a tip and the drag queen emcee winks when you pass her on the street in civilian garb the day after. (Okay, there was one bar brawl, but it wouldn’t be a Latin country without, would it?)

 

Well, a little beauty in a baseball cap walked past that night that gave me instant wood. Was it his dulce de leche complexion? the lush, pouty mouth? the tantalizing hint of both boy-next-door and rough trade? Baseball cap played “coqueta”, and it was pretty hard to read what the deal was, but hey, I’ve always liked the chase at least as much as the capture. Finally, after 4 a.m., we got to talking, and yes, he was in the market for a sponsor.

 

Baseball cap and I left the club for my little pension and I had to sneak him past the resident owner's apartment. He seemed nervous and unpracticed, which in this case added to the charm. I put a hand on his stomach and – chil’! (as Whoopi Goldberg used to say) I was taken by this boy’s face and general demeanor but had no idea he had writhing pythons for abs! My draw dropped when removing his shirt revealed a smooth, sculpted gymnast’s body. It dropped even further when his pants dropped and another writhing python dropped halfway to his knees.

 

I was in heaven. This boy didn’t do very much, and I could imagine how some clients might get annoyed with his somewhat defensive and hurried style. But while excitingly nasty, he was never mean or pushy, and he was just “my type.” (And to get exactly my type is the only reason I pay.) As one with a taste for trade, I was happy to do all the “work.” He gave up a few chaste kisses.

 

Well, not far into our bliss, a massive fight broke out in the room next door. A woman wailed. Drunken rumbles and crashing furniture added to the alarum. My boy didn’t need anything more to add to his skittishness, and he made like he was going to fly. But macho chivalry forbade him to ignore a woman in distress. So imagine my dilemma, as I scrambled to put on shorts while body-of-death, with my towel around him, went out and settled the marital brawl next door. At this point, I imagined, half the other rooms around the courtyard were awake and peeking through their windows at MY half-naked and very gallant man. (Be still my heart!)

 

Now, we had to finish things up – before the policia came, he insisted. (At least we got to finish; interruptus might have killed me.) Well, sometimes it’s nice to have a languorous romantic session. Sometimes, it’s awfully fun to make love like a band on the run. In any event, the deed was done and will never be forgotten. I rushed him out past a thoroughly scandalized other guest.

 

In my next post, I’ll cover a few other spots of note.

[Guest Deweywop]

This comes very late, but I promised stilllovely and mike_m, who helped me with their info, that I would report back on my, um, scouting in the Dominican Republic. Things have been hectic since I returned.

 

I’m not sure I have much info to add to what they’ve posted here a while ago. Things seemed quiet when I went, possibly because of 4th of July in the US and Gay Pride in New York. (The shadow of New York, I learned, falls heavily on the gay scene in the Dominican Republic.) Then again, I’ve been known to chase away all things gay-friendly whenever I decamp on a place. (Think of me as the St. Patrick of trouser-snakes.)

 

Anyway, the Bar Phoenix on the edge of the Zona Colonial is a reliable hustler bar. The guys there were polite and generally low-pressure. I had a somewhat hard time finding the place, even though it's very central, because it had no sign out front, and taxi-drivers weren’t familiar with it. So get your addresses and directions before you seek it out – then it’s not hard at all to get to.

 

At the Phoenix, I met up with StillLovely and his Santo Domingo “papi” Samuel for our own very, very small version of the M4M convention in Rio. We toured the barrios in Samuel’s car and I saw a slice of pulsating Dominican urban life on a Saturday night, one most tourists probably won’t see. We hit two other clubs, both conveniently in the same neighborhood.

 

The one that impressed me was Club Aire, not too large, but very refined, with shows, an outdoor bar, and several chill lounges. Skimming the cream of Dominican gay life, as well as a visible portion of the hip straight crowd, Club Aire is full of beautiful men. But what differentiates it from similar establishments elsewhere is the Caribbean warmth and friendliness. The DR is a country where the hot bartender actually thanks you when you give a tip and the drag queen emcee winks when you pass her on the street in civilian garb the day after. (Okay, there was one bar brawl, but it wouldn’t be a Latin country without, would it?)

 

Well, a little beauty in a baseball cap walked past that night that gave me instant wood. Was it his dulce de leche complexion? the lush, pouty mouth? the tantalizing hint of both boy-next-door and rough trade? Baseball cap played “coqueta”, and it was pretty hard to read what the deal was, but hey, I’ve always liked the chase at least as much as the capture. Finally, after 4 a.m., we got to talking, and yes, he was in the market for a sponsor.

 

Baseball cap and I left the club for my little pension and I had to sneak him past the resident owner's apartment. He seemed nervous and unpracticed, which in this case added to the charm. I put a hand on his stomach and – chil’! (as Whoopi Goldberg used to say) I was taken by this boy’s face and general demeanor but had no idea he had writhing pythons for abs! My draw dropped when removing his shirt revealed a smooth, sculpted gymnast’s body. It dropped even further when his pants dropped and another writhing python dropped halfway to his knees.

 

I was in heaven. This boy didn’t do very much, and I could imagine how some clients might get annoyed with his somewhat defensive and hurried style. But while excitingly nasty, he was never mean or pushy, and he was just “my type.” (And to get exactly my type is the only reason I pay.) As one with a taste for trade, I was happy to do all the “work.” He gave up a few chaste kisses.

 

Well, not far into our bliss, a massive fight broke out in the room next door. A woman wailed. Drunken rumbles and crashing furniture added to the alarum. My boy didn’t need anything more to add to his skittishness, and he made like he was going to fly. But macho chivalry forbade him to ignore a woman in distress. So imagine my dilemma, as I scrambled to put on shorts while body-of-death, with my towel around him, went out and settled the marital brawl next door. At this point, I imagined, half the other rooms around the courtyard were awake and peeking through their windows at MY half-naked and very gallant man. (Be still my heart!)

 

Now, we had to finish things up – before the policia came, he insisted. (At least we got to finish; interruptus might have killed me.) Well, sometimes it’s nice to have a languorous romantic session. Sometimes, it’s awfully fun to make love like a band on the run. In any event, the deed was done and will never be forgotten. I rushed him out past a thoroughly scandalized other guest.

 

In my next post, I’ll cover a few other spots of note.

[Guest Deweywop]

A Gringo in Santo Domingo (Part 2)

 

As I said, things seemed strangely quiet when I was in the DR. The Duque de Wellington hotel, which by all accounts is supposed to be a bustling whorehouse, was empty when I checked it out, and there were no boys hanging out. There were also no libidinous teens around every corner in the Zona Colonial, as I perhaps too optimistically expected.

 

By far the busiest action in Santo Domingo was the Lido porno theater across the street from the tourist crafts market (Mercado Modelo). This place fit the mold of similar establishments around the Caribbean – lots of cruising, innocent socializing, and plain getting down everywhere. The men spanned all types and ages, though there didn’t seem to be any just horny straight guys wanting to get off. The clientele seemed exclusively gay, though many were quite attractive and macho. And believe me, it’s not a myth what’s been said about the size of Dominican men.

 

For example, the hottest guy I saw there had an 18-inch baton. I mean that literally, more literal than you’d like – he was a member of the “Policia Nacional,” the most visible police force in the tourist areas and apparently staffed exclusively by cute 20-year-olds. I actually sat next to him and chatted briefly and in my younger, riskier days might actually have made a move. But I chickened out. He was definitely on duty, though he wasn’t terribly concerned about the shenanigans going on. But, sigh, wouldn’t that have been a story to tell? Fortunately, there were other options. Enough said.

 

The bad thing about the Lido was that it was only open in the evening, and the later the busier, but the surrounding area looked menacing. That may be why the policia boys were there, and out front. Stick close to the building and look for a cab.

 

Someone suggested checking out a little lighthouse across the river from the Zona Colonial. I did. Unfortunately, nada.

 

I went back to the Bar Phoenix and hooked up with an aw-shucks kind of boy from the campo. He was cute and friendly but not very skilled or participatory either. But he did have a thick Dominican special that spurt big. With him, I also discovered one of the hourly hotels used for these purposes. It was around the corner from the Phoenix, facing the Parque Independencia, and charged around $5 for two hours. It was basic but clean enough and air conditioned. The guy in charge was a hot light-skinned black stud, but showed no interest in making a little extra dough.

 

Outside of Santo Domingo, I went to Cabarete and Sosua, two closely-situated resort towns on the north coast. The first is a real Baywatch kind of place for windsurfing hunks and babes. The second was notorious a few years ago as one of the premier sex tourism destinations in the world. Sosua’s infamy, and child prostitution, provoked a clamp-down and now, though working girls could be found, I saw zero hint of working guys.

 

Perhaps this is a cautionary tale for us Brazil-nuts. When things get too big and well known, the politicians will be pressed to act.

 

On my last day, I called up my baseball cap dreamboat. We went to the hourly hotel. His cool straight-trade act seemed a little more petulant, but I still got mine. It was a good thing I was leaving the next day. Else I might have wasted myself away continuing to try to melt the chilly heart beneath that volcanic body.

 

Some practicalities: The going rate seemed to be 500-1000 pesos, depending on how many New Yorkers are flooding the market, I suppose. The peso was trading around 32 to the dollar. The DR is going through economic turmoil, with galloping inflation and currency devaluation, so your mileage may vary. A cultural note: Some of the boys might expect to hang onto your arm for your whole stay. (Cuba was like that too.) That might be pleasant to some, but I’m not sure I was in the mood for any temporary husband. Try to find out what the expectations are.

 

And that’s what I did on my summer vacation …

[Guest Deweywop]

A Gringo in Santo Domingo (Part 2)

 

As I said, things seemed strangely quiet when I was in the DR. The Duque de Wellington hotel, which by all accounts is supposed to be a bustling whorehouse, was empty when I checked it out, and there were no boys hanging out. There were also no libidinous teens around every corner in the Zona Colonial, as I perhaps too optimistically expected.

 

By far the busiest action in Santo Domingo was the Lido porno theater across the street from the tourist crafts market (Mercado Modelo). This place fit the mold of similar establishments around the Caribbean – lots of cruising, innocent socializing, and plain getting down everywhere. The men spanned all types and ages, though there didn’t seem to be any just horny straight guys wanting to get off. The clientele seemed exclusively gay, though many were quite attractive and macho. And believe me, it’s not a myth what’s been said about the size of Dominican men.

 

For example, the hottest guy I saw there had an 18-inch baton. I mean that literally, more literal than you’d like – he was a member of the “Policia Nacional,” the most visible police force in the tourist areas and apparently staffed exclusively by cute 20-year-olds. I actually sat next to him and chatted briefly and in my younger, riskier days might actually have made a move. But I chickened out. He was definitely on duty, though he wasn’t terribly concerned about the shenanigans going on. But, sigh, wouldn’t that have been a story to tell? Fortunately, there were other options. Enough said.

 

The bad thing about the Lido was that it was only open in the evening, and the later the busier, but the surrounding area looked menacing. That may be why the policia boys were there, and out front. Stick close to the building and look for a cab.

 

Someone suggested checking out a little lighthouse across the river from the Zona Colonial. I did. Unfortunately, nada.

 

I went back to the Bar Phoenix and hooked up with an aw-shucks kind of boy from the campo. He was cute and friendly but not very skilled or participatory either. But he did have a thick Dominican special that spurt big. With him, I also discovered one of the hourly hotels used for these purposes. It was around the corner from the Phoenix, facing the Parque Independencia, and charged around $5 for two hours. It was basic but clean enough and air conditioned. The guy in charge was a hot light-skinned black stud, but showed no interest in making a little extra dough.

 

Outside of Santo Domingo, I went to Cabarete and Sosua, two closely-situated resort towns on the north coast. The first is a real Baywatch kind of place for windsurfing hunks and babes. The second was notorious a few years ago as one of the premier sex tourism destinations in the world. Sosua’s infamy, and child prostitution, provoked a clamp-down and now, though working girls could be found, I saw zero hint of working guys.

 

Perhaps this is a cautionary tale for us Brazil-nuts. When things get too big and well known, the politicians will be pressed to act.

 

On my last day, I called up my baseball cap dreamboat. We went to the hourly hotel. His cool straight-trade act seemed a little more petulant, but I still got mine. It was a good thing I was leaving the next day. Else I might have wasted myself away continuing to try to melt the chilly heart beneath that volcanic body.

 

Some practicalities: The going rate seemed to be 500-1000 pesos, depending on how many New Yorkers are flooding the market, I suppose. The peso was trading around 32 to the dollar. The DR is going through economic turmoil, with galloping inflation and currency devaluation, so your mileage may vary. A cultural note: Some of the boys might expect to hang onto your arm for your whole stay. (Cuba was like that too.) That might be pleasant to some, but I’m not sure I was in the mood for any temporary husband. Try to find out what the expectations are.

 

And that’s what I did on my summer vacation …

[Guest Gringo]

RE: A Gringo in Santo Domingo (Part 2)

 

Thanks for the DR info. My experiences were very similar to your own. I found it to be much grittier, in a third world desperation kind of way than any of the places I've been to in Brasil. The meat is definitely heavy, the heaviest I have found anyway, but the presentation is often lacking. Sometimes the lack of enthusiasm is a call for prompting.:+

[Guest Gringo]

RE: A Gringo in Santo Domingo (Part 2)

 

Thanks for the DR info. My experiences were very similar to your own. I found it to be much grittier, in a third world desperation kind of way than any of the places I've been to in Brasil. The meat is definitely heavy, the heaviest I have found anyway, but the presentation is often lacking. Sometimes the lack of enthusiasm is a call for prompting.:+

[catnip]

RE: A Gringo in Santo Domingo (Part 2)

 

Great evocative posts! Sitting here on a hot, humid NYC night, I'm looking out my window to see if baseball-cap is hanging around outside.

[catnip]

RE: A Gringo in Santo Domingo (Part 2)

 

Great evocative posts! Sitting here on a hot, humid NYC night, I'm looking out my window to see if baseball-cap is hanging around outside.

[Mavica]

Great Trip Report!

 

Great trip report! I prefer the non-professional guys as compared to the hard-core "professional" sauna trade seemingly so commonplace in Rio.

[Mavica]

Great Trip Report!

 

Great trip report! I prefer the non-professional guys as compared to the hard-core "professional" sauna trade seemingly so commonplace in Rio.

[Mike_M]

Nice report! You described the charms and limitations of the DR very well. Right now I'm finding Rio a whole lot more satisfying, but am drawn to the backwoods kind of innocence and will return someday. By the way, airfares are very low right now. Just received the Travelzoo newsletter and they advertise Punta Cana $199 rt from NY. The beaches there are the most beautiful I've ever seen and bus and air transport to other areas of the DR is available.

[Mike_M]

Nice report! You described the charms and limitations of the DR very well. Right now I'm finding Rio a whole lot more satisfying, but am drawn to the backwoods kind of innocence and will return someday. By the way, airfares are very low right now. Just received the Travelzoo newsletter and they advertise Punta Cana $199 rt from NY. The beaches there are the most beautiful I've ever seen and bus and air transport to other areas of the DR is available.

[joselowe]

Thanks for the review

[EZEtoGRU]

Thanks for the review

 

Seriously?? Is your goal to dig up every old thread for no reason at all?

[joselowe]

Seriously?? Is your goal to dig up every old thread for no reason at all?

 

I'm sorry for bumping threads that I want to talk about, which interests me, instead of discussing politics and socials issues like all the current threads!

 

Gurl bye! Only speak when spoken to