The Hamam Diaries Continued

by Sebastian J Stone

  Vangelis came to tell us that Sylvan’s family was waiting. We talked afterward and Sylvan told me that he would always remember me and he had never felt so wonderful before. He said that he would never forget our time together in the Hamam. I confirmed that I felt the same way and we held hands delaying his departure. I could sense his gentle power, his emotional harmony, equilibrium and satisfaction; he is a totally beautiful young man, somehow untouched. I could hear his family waiting around the entrance, ‘can you come next year?’ I asked, ‘I don’t know’ and he left.

  Being dressed I wandered into the reception area where I could hear a commotion of hysterical girls so I climbed the steps and could see Sylvan in the distance, still with his vacuous smile of incomprehension, surrounded by what look like a school party of screaming girls. They saw me at the door and went silent. In England, we say “If looks could kill.” I wondered if Vangelis had tried one of his little remarks, intended to be funny, or if Sylvan had said too much and been misunderstood. Previously in conversation I told Sylvan that I enjoy beauty, and am fascinated by physical perfection. I felt that I had only confirmed what he already knew, understood and accepted.

  I was sitting outside the Hamam absent mindedly looking at a woman thinking, she looks like Catherine when a familiar tiny child’s voice calling to me, ‘Sebastian’. It was a very strange moment; I needed time for my mind to catch up with an unexpected situation. I had never met Laurie, her husband but knew of him, we shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Catherine explained how she was dying in hospital from cirrhosis of the liver and had demanded to be allowed to die at home. Laurie said, ‘We meet at last.’ Catherine looked very much like herself but ill and her skin seemed to be covered in tiny bruises. I don’t think she can live much longer but I was moved by how close and how happy they were. They did not stay more than a few minutes but promised to come and see me again. (It was Catherin who first brought me to this island)

  August 28, 2008:

  A boy I have been admiring on the gay beach for many years invited me into the hot room. He has a very beautiful face, a sturdy well-nourished body but a tiny dick. He was very sensitive to touch and being gay he openly enjoyed the massage. It was not sexual but he enjoyed everything I did without becoming aroused. After the massage, he said he felt as if he was back in the womb. I had caused him intense pleasure by simply trailing my finger nails over his stomach and thighs. He is now a teacher in Athens.

  I later massaged a very fine Italian. He was unusually tense but sensitive and responsive. When I started massaging his ass he stopped the massage, but then agreed to continue when I suggested that he turn over. So, I spent a long time on his hands and feet and his dick kept becoming slightly engorged. I avoided massaging below his naval but when I started to massage his thighs, smiling at me he took hold of his dick and asked me to stop the massage.

  It is possible that if I had been cautious and taken more time we might have explored his complex sexuality or even fears. For a moment we stood together reluctant to part, ‘You’re more like English than Italian.’ I suggested implying guilt and inhibitions but he seemed alarmed. I should have said nothing; we had explored something that remained within the limits of tolerance, but he was anxious. Once again my belief that Italians are uninhibited and uncomplicated has been disproved. (My boyfriend Mario was Italian and full of complexes)

  Today a man I have often seen on the gay beach came into the Hamam. He has a huge dick and out of curiosity I offered him a massage. He declined, but later when the Hamam had nearly emptied he walked into the small cool room and lay face down on the floor with his legs apart. The invitation was obvious so I joined him. I soaped and massaged him back and front.

  He is probably about 40, and getting fat. He lifted his ass so I could soap his dick and balls from behind but I was not interested and massaged his body again. His dick remained tumescent but failed to become fully erect, it resembled a German sausage. He then grabbed my shrinking dick so I put his hand on my ass. Standing up he offered me his dick to be sucked, it was thick and swinging in my face. I rinsed it and taking it in my mouth the thought ‘what the fuck am I doing’ past through my mind. I made an excuse and went to inspect my locker. A Greco Australian standing in the door way pulling on his dick thanked me and took my place on his knees and I departed with relief.

  Stuart and Meg

  The pound has lost value again. This makes a considerable difference to my income. Last night, I telephoned Stuart (a lifelong friend, he married my girl-friend) who told me that his friend Meg has sent her manuscript to the publishers. Meg is a compulsive writer of historical novels. After Eleanor’s death, Stuart out of desperation turned to the lonely-hearts column. He advertised for someone interested in opera who also liked walking in the country. Most of the replies were from bored television addicts who never walked further than the nearest shop and didn’t have a clue about opera.

  Eventually he met an intelligent divorcee who was very keen on walking, gymnastics and sex, but his supportive friend Helen, demanded that he end the relationship. Helen is a dried up, neurotic and controlling head mistress that became menopausal at the age of 28. She suddenly became possessive and jealous. Stuart ended the relationship to oblige Helen. This was unfortunate, Stuart had recaptured his youth briefly, and his skill in the bedroom was helping a woman in her prime. She needed an experienced lover and a mature friend.

  Then he met Meg, she has many problems. She has huge tits that stick straight out and is afraid that people are looking at her, so she wears sunglasses in the belief that they make her invisible. Crowds panic her, she is agoraphobic and Claustrophobic and so taking Meg out is a challenge. She is clever, witty, and endlessly curious. Stuart is in his element, taking her to places of historical interest and educating her on all aspects of history, art, antiques and life. They visit country houses every weekend especially the small ones of a more intimate nature. Meg’s background is interesting. She is an orphan reared by her Grandmother; she is not educated but highly intelligent, endlessly fascinated and neurotic.

  Meg had a lover; he was a doctor whom she believed to be passionately in love with her and she embarked on a very adventures sex life, denying him nothing. One day she thought to surprise him and called at his home. The door was answered by her lover’s father who said. “Oh, you must be the latest, you’d better come in.” Meg was one of the doctor’s many mistresses, in addition to his wife. Meg now has no interest in, or need of sex. She was a woman with many problems and now because of the disastrous love affair and her own unacceptable sexual behavior she is in a state of renunciation. Stuart now has the problem of having to consider two disturbed women and gets no sex at all. Meg needs support and understanding as does Stuart and they are of immense value to one another.

  After Eleanor’s death Stuart tried a prostitute. There was a menu of possibilities with the prices attached. He overdosed on Viagra and had a troublesome erection that would not go away. I think the discussion that he had with the young very fit single Mother, proved to be of more significance and value than the sex. She managed to convince Stuart that she earned good money and had no problems with her profession. Stuart did not bother with a prostitute again.

  August 29, 2008:

  Yesterday I spent three hours with Panni. She was working on the penal case and having to sit on the very edge of her chair to use the computer, because the back was loaded with ironing. There was nowhere to put the ironing because she is now hoarding old bread and there are boxes of green moldy bread stacked from floor to ceiling, every surface is occupied and she complained that her house is too small. She offered me potato waffles but they were also green. It didn’t put her off eating them. She has done an excellent job on my court case. The bread must have been rescued it from a bakery or super market. Panni was in Lebanon during the war and has become a compulsive hoarder.

  After leaving Panni I met mad Niko. He was clearing the grass from between the pebbles in the street and t
aking it home along with all the dog shit he could find to mix with his own shit and piss for his orchard. He insists that I visit him some time; I make detours to avoid him. Niko is schizophrenic and though in his 60s, very handsome. I once saw him in full flow in the new town, every gesture and intonation was supreme, he should teach the Greeks how to act. He looks like ‘The Merchant of Venice’ and spends his days listening to his voices, he is convinced that he will eventually understand the nature of everything and find all the answers. He is very worried, as he told me, “They are stealing our sperm and putting ants into our brains.” I am living in a fucking mad house.

  I have had a very busy day, first an American boy of Indonesian origin with a big dick of American proportions came to the Hamam. There is an American aircraft carrier in port. He got an erection as soon as he lay face down. I find boys from the Far East always get stiff when they lay face down. He spread his legs apart and I could see the thick base of his dick. I soaped and scrubbed him all over; he was very responsive, welcoming all physical contact. I did not embark on any form of sexual arousal until he turned back onto his stomach and raised his very round beautiful ass for me. Only then, did I soap his genitals from behind. He turned onto his back again and lifting his knees he put them each side of his head so I rested his back on my thighs and he then wrapped his legs around my body, as we gazed into one another’s eyes. I caressed his shoulders, chest, stomach and genitals. I have never known such sweet innocence and spontaneous eroticism.

  He was unperturbed, interesting and unusual. I sensed the need of privacy and the possibility of a condom and directed him into the hot room ‘Wait in there I’m coming back’. I went to fetch a condom to avoid the possibility of disrupting this boy’s erotic adventure. On my return, I met him in the door way, he looked uncertain and had decided to leave. He is in the American navy and had sudden doubts.

  In the changing rooms, we talked, I told him not to worry, this is Greece and he is free to explore his own sexuality. I considered his beautiful disturbed face where I sensed a whole psyche of conflict and confusion, so I continued, ‘Nothing is expected in gay sex and there are no obligations. Just don’t do anything unless you want to, it’s only like having a wank with a friend.’ He seemed to relax; I was probably hoping that he would change his mind and go back inside. But sadly, the moment passed.

  His reality is the pretenses of an all-male society in a confined space where homosexuality takes on the guise of abhorrence and denial is one means of maintaining a clear conscience and social acceptability. I had sensed the possibility of discovering innocent and uninhibited eroticism in the privacy of the hot room and a deeper significance to a casual encounter. Fate had conspired a unique moment, an empty Hamam, a half eastern American sailor with a big dick on shore leave in Greece, but the moment eluded me because of forethought. One should always stay with the flow.

  I had missed an encounter with a boy who could have abandoned himself to instinct and desire. Just what shared sexual exploration could have been realized? Would I have been intuitive enough to leave him fulfilled but free of doubts and guilt and perhaps even enlightened? A whole banquet of erotic wonders had been before me, I was free to taste the delights of youth at my leisure. I am not a greedy man but a teacher and connoisseur, paradise was within my grasp, I felt that I had encountered my perfect disciple or even, soul mate. I am missing that boy.

  Later two magnificent American black boys came into the Hamam. I massaged them, but they were far from happy and remained tense. Tonight, in my usual restaurant I overheard some American girls off the aircraft carrier talking. One of them had suggested that the black boys visit the Hamam. She regretted it because the other sailors had given them a rough time.

  I became involved in their conversation. The ship is leaving for the black sea tomorrow. The subject of the black boys came up again but I did not confess to working in the Hamam and being the source of their torment. I did remark how sad it is that such a conventional prejudice exits towards Turkish baths particularly the real thing built by the Turks. She agreed but was dismissive.

  It is now policy for sailors on shore leave not to wear uniform. Perhaps they have been unwelcome; flag waving can become an act of aggression. American foreign policy is being questioned worldwide. Invading Iraq dismayed the world. The twin towers are being considered to be George Bush’s Pearl Harbor, and an excuse to flex some muscle and advertise arms. One truth is becoming apparent; at least Saddam Hussain kept the peace. Shia and Sunni Muslims are now fighting for control. American intervention caused havoc and then they departed.

  September 1, 2008:

  Today just before closing time Vangelis brought me a French man, probably in his mid-40s and of indifferent appearance. I did the usual efficient massage with no hint of sensuality and I detected no sexual awareness. Not having clients waiting I took my time before rinsing him down. I made long sweeping strokes down his torso, thighs and legs ending with a gentle massage of his feet. Feet often seem to be involved in sexual arousal.

  Kneeling, I observed some awakening of his flaccid dick. This aroused my curiosity so I increase the sensuality of the massage. His dick lengthened and then thickened before very slowly raising from his groin. At that moment, I felt a sudden release of tension as he entered a state of passive sensuality and sexual awareness. I renewed the shampoo on my hands and working upwards from his knees I caressed his inner thighs and balls and then with finger tips I made a detailed examination of his entire genitalia. His shaft stiffened to rigid and I felt him abandon himself to the situation, as he became eager for sexual release.

  I held his shaft feeling his contractions and mounting need to ejaculate before beginning a slow masturbation, gradually increasing my speed I brought him smoothly to an uninterrupted spontaneous climax. Maria called from the door, she wanted to lock up. The French man sat up and I rinsed him with copious amounts of warm water before he stood up. I am not sure what his body language told me. Probably that he is married and never had sex with man before. The standing joke with Vangelis, “was he gay?”--- “I don’t know but he is now’ could well be true...

  September 2, 2008:

  Today I massaged a beautiful boy of Spanish origin from Mexico. He came with his girlfriend and I massaged him in the hot room. His dick was perfect and neat and he kept getting sizable short lived erections. I enjoyed his perfect body as he responded readily to every type of massage with no trace of tension or anxiety. I had no other clients so I began a second massage and this time he relaxed totally. His head lolled and a satisfied smile hovered continually over his lips and our eyes kept engaging. The South American boys seem to be the most relaxed and uninhibited. A crowd arrived so we moved into the empty cool room.

  He did not lie down but remained standing, so I stood behind him one hand on his loins the other caressing his beautiful firm ass. He leaned against me, I put my arm around him and I held his dick, it was very hard and he was already on the verge of orgasm. I put my finger tips against his anus and he leaned forward so my soapy fingers slipped inside his asshole. I could feel him trembling as his anus enclosed my fingertips. His asshole began sucking on my fingers so I started gently masturbating him.

  Twenty-year-old dicks are as responsive as a highly tuned violin. Every centimeter produced a different nuance of searing sensation. I alternated between stimulating his eager ass and insistent dick. His shaft responded to even the lightest of touch and with my thumb over the end of his dick I kept him on the brink of orgasm for a long time. For my own pleasure, I cupped one resilient cheek, but when I returned to his anus a tiny turd had escaped and was firmly lodged between his resilient buttocks. He leaned against me and I brought him easily to a spontaneous orgasm and he flooded my fist with hot cream. Once his contractions had subsided he went to the marble basin to rinse himself and as I left I wiped his semen over my chest, stomach and genitals, breathing his essence.

  This afternoon, I massaged a very fine dark man from Venezuela.
He was a magnificent specimen, tall, of mixed race and very well-muscled. His dick sprang to attention immediately he lay down. He was so lean; the origins and form of every muscle was clearly defined and his dick looked like a 10-inch branch. He and his dick were so hard and taut, he resembled a tree. He responded well to his massage but did not relax.

  His dick remained erect so I held it first to one side and then the other to scrub his groin and, he opened his eyes raising his head, ‘don’t worry, I am use to erections, Italian’s always get hard.’ This seems to mollify any doubt regarding matters of masculinity or sex. ‘Turn over’ the formation of his back was wonderful and his dick was sticking out beyond his hip. To finish the massage, I brought my hands down the whole length of his body unavoidably catching the resilient swollen end of his dick. I got no sexual invitation but after the massage he immediately returned to the hot room where dirty Tassos and the other dirty old gays were congregated, I felt deprived disgusted and cheated.

  Vangelis seems to be very curious about gays, if I tell him about an impressive dick, he always checks it out. He also believes that gays remain sexually obsessed longer than straight men. In a discussion Vangelis asked me, “Would you prefer to be straight?” The conversation moved to being born again and would I chose to be straight next time. He was very disappointed even shocked when I told him that if I were born again I would choose to be gay, but added that, I would hope to enjoy it the second time around.

  For some reason this discussion triggered memories of teaching. The teaching profession encourages conformity but I instinctively encouraged any child that had the potential to be different. Vangelis refuses to have a massage, I think, he fears getting an erection, but he often asks me to massage his sons; I take this as a great compliment.