Nathan’s rules were, ‘no orgies, no meat’. So, no cock, no comfort.
Alberto did something to displease a Russian customer, who, as a sort of warning, mimed slitting his throat.
His most recent relationship had been with a pre-op f-m sex change, but Yaron grew bored and ended it.
After exertions, he told me more about his life. He is, of course, involved with someone, blah blah, they’re breaking up, blah blah, or maybe not, blah blah.
It may have been my sympathetic manner, it may have been the badge that says ‘Cock’ that I wear on my lapel, maybe it’s Maybelline, who can tell, but Ido soon began to tell me scandalous stories about his busy sex life.
He was the colour of honey, a few freckles across his shoulders, his pale-pink nipples catching the sunlight.
The service was conducted, of course, by a large angel with glitter in her hair.
Finally, I sat in the barber’s chair. “Not too short,” I said. “You want me to cut your eyebrows?” he asked.
I have measured out my life in expensive hotels, it seems, and I gauge my tan in types of honey. I am now millefiori, and aspire to castagna.
Unusually for Israel, this Land of Blutos, he had no beard, no stubble, no hairy chest. He said, “Let’s go in,” so in we went.
Nathan imagines they’d be caught and, besides, the man may be a serial killer, so suggests the cruising park behind the Hilton instead. Much safer.
He’s too polite to say he thinks he’s more handsome than me, but he’s not too polite to think it.
She lies on a rug with Alberto, they are playful with each other, then nap, their bodies touching, like incestuous twins.
You are cute and cute and enjoy the beautiful hugs of life. And I actively love kissing hugs and blowjob pussy flowing.
He sends me an email, ‘Since im back idont find myself here and cant wait to be back there.’ I know what he means.
We’re drunk and happy, and howl into the night, like wolves in the forest.
He says I should come back to the table and talk to him more, and blows me a kiss. I wink at him, like a playboy.
He laughs. “I wish! I wish you’d fuck me.” He howls this into the night. He doesn’t care who hears. “Fuck you all!”
It’s all quite plush, for a sex room, newly built and well maintained. It’s better finished, by far, than my flat, and spotlessly clean.
He asks me if I know Little Britain, and shows me a picture of the year he dressed up as Daffyd, the only Iranian gay in the village.
The man said, ‘I hate Jews.’ Alvin said ‘Ok’, and continued showing the property…
I go to the bank to check money has been transferred and to convert it into shekels. My rent won’t be paid without it. This simple job took nearly three anxious weeks last month, but has gone more smoothly this time. I’m thrilled to learn the pound has strengthened by a minuscule amount since I… Continue reading Nathan loves Alberto loves Rufina
A man, Sharon, comes over. He’s wearing a kippa, which I find quite sexy.
Tasks always take a stage or two more than you expect in Israel.
Rainbow flags everywhere; hanging from balconies, flying from lampposts, in café windows. If this isn’t the gayest city in the world it is, at least, trying to be.
He shows me the top of his tattoo, which is of a large feather. It’s well drawn, actually. It starts at the small of his back and, I don’t really want to imagine, sweeps downwards.
The last time I came to the Old City I turned a corner and an Arabic man standing, on guard, maybe, I don’t know, wagged his finger and said, menacingly, ‘Don’t.’ So I didn’t.