A tale of exceptional retail service from “BoteBoy” of Provincetown, Massachusetts:

After years of hearing about one of those fabled Euro-gay hotspots, the Greek island of Mykonos, I finally got there about five years ago after a visit to Athens, and it was a pretty fun time — maybe not quite as much as Ibiza — but memorable anyway. I did the beaches, roamed the old town, had some tasty food and crisp retsina white wine, and mingled with all sorts of people from across Europe (almost everywhere but Greece, it seemed). I got especially up close and personal with a fetching lad from Croatia, and that was really great, but it was after he left that I had one of the more “interesting” experiences of my checkered love life.

I was wandering some of the cobblestone back lanes of the old town, and I passed the window of a shop with some really amazing modern artwork — it was like classical Hellenic but with a modern twist. I walked in and saw there was one other person browsing. I immediately started browsing myself — one spectacular piece, a silver winged-Mercury mask, particularly caught my eye, as did an old-looking painting on a narrow piece of wood of a beautiful boy in a toga, from the Pelopennesus. One of the two shopkeepers came over to help, and he was pretty hot himself, with piercing black eyes. I bought both, and as they were being wrapped I chatted with both of the owners, the one who first helped me the other, who was shorter and less classically handsome but still extremely sexy in a hairy, muscular fireplug kind of way. So naturally I found myself flirting a little bit.

I was heading out to the beach afterward, so rather than drag my unexpected booty all the way back up the hill to my hotel, the Elysium, they said I could leave it in the back, and the taller one brought me past the black velvet and pointed at a spot. As I bent down to deposit the bag, I felt his hand on my ass! Turning around, surprised, as I faced him he pressed himself against me a stuck his tongue in my mouth. I was caught off guard but went with it, and in a minute the other guy– who I guess was his lover — joined us, pulled down my pants, and started deepthroating my cock like mad. Then one would be kissing or jacking or blowing me while the other kept an eye out for new customers, then they’d switch. This went on for maybe 10 or 15 minutes, and finally I blew my load, as did the shorter, darker one who was slurping away at my balls at the time while my finger was up his butt. We pulled ourselves together and they told me to come back at closing time to collect my stuff, etc. I did, and we all went out to dinner and then to their place about 15 minutes out of town, where we got properly naked and rolled around on their bed for a couple of hours. I sure never guessed what was really “in store”!

Editor’s Reply:

And I’ll bet you’ve never had such attentive sales help before or since!

In this forum we’d like to hear about your hottest, most memorable or romantic, funniest, strangest, or otherwise superlative date, love story, or just good ol’ sex, with someone(s) from another culture–either abroad or in your home country. Got a tawdry tale of your own? Do tell!

Oh, lordy — they’re baaaaack! Natalee Holloway and Aruba in the news, that is, with this week’s re-arrest of those krazy kidz we all saw slathered endlessly across over the media back in the summer of ’05 (triple fie upon thee, Nancy Grace). I never understood why so many folks whipped themselves into such a frenzy over this story. I mean, as Joan Rivers might caustically mumble through her facelifts: “Oh, grow up!” People do stupid, sometimes even fatal things and/or disappear all the time all over the world. I guess it takes a young, hot blonde spring breaker in a popular vacation destination to get the media morons a-slavering, though.

Anyway, I was down in Aruba just last month, and not only survived with life and various body parts intact but had a super time — in fact, I didn’t expect to like it nearly as much as I did. I’ve gotta hand it to ’em, the folks living on the “A” in the Netherlands Antilles’ ABC group (Aruba-Bonaire-Curaçao) have managed to take a dry, dusty rock down way down south off the coast of Venezuela and not only managed to do pretty well for themselves but create a tourism industry that provides a little something nice for everyone — and it’s a whole lot safer and friendlier than, say, Jamaica. It starts with sun and sea, of course, but adds shopping, a poppin’ nightlife (including a dozen casinos, if that’s yer thing), and pretty interesting cultural and natural attractions — all overlaid by a distinctive windmills-meets-palm trees flavor, from the cute, pastel, gables-and-curlicues architecture of old Oranjestad to the homesteads of the cactus-studded countryside and windswept coasts. There’s even a distinctive local language, called Papiamento (if you know Spanish you’ll get a decent chunk of it) and cuisine (don’t forget to try keshi yena, a savory meat concoction cooked inside a

Furthermore, in a lake infested with toxic spots like Jamaica, more homophobic than not (as I write this, for example, Grenada was leaning toward slamming the door on a gay cruise port call), Aruba and Curaçao especially stand out as fairly easygoing, friendly, tolerant than most other islands, even though most of the locals are hardly what you’d call bleeding-heart liberals (they recognize same-sex marriage here, but reluctantly, forced to by a Dutch court). Oranjestad’s got a small gay scene, revolving mostly around a bar with a dance floor called Jimmy’s Place (Kruisweg 15, 297/582.2250), on a downtown side street. Cute retro feel, cute guys and girls, good music, plenty of cold Balashi beer – jeez, Louise, what more ya want?

Down the street and around the corner, there’s also the sleek second-floor First Class Karma Lounge (Aventura Mall; 297/588.7928), with a mixed scene that doesn’t get rolling till after midnight. For a slightly rowdier scene with lots of Dutch people, look for the cow-spotted paint job down on the waterfront at The Paddock (

13; 297/583.2941). At the bigger indoor-outdoor dance spot south of town, Havana Beach Club (L.G. Smoth Blvd. 1, 297/592.6584), you can usually find something of a mixed crowd on weekend nights, too (and try to make it to a monthly Full Moon Party here). If all that’s not enough partying for you, try coming down here for the annual Carnival (in 2008 it’s the first week in February, so if you’re interested, get a move on re reservations, like, asap).

You can even stay gay if you want; at Little David Guesthouse (Seroe Blanco 56A; 297/583.8288; $) a cute, clothing-optional B&B with in the Regentspark neighborhood, several blocks in from the water just south of Oranjestad. Run by a couple of Dutch dudes named Noud and Frans, it’s got five units with TV/AC and a nice back courtyard with a nice pool. I myself stayed a ten-minute drive north of Oranjestad in the resort district along beautiful Palm Beach in the marvelous — and just spiffily South-Beachified — Hyatt Regency (Irausquin Blvd. 85; 888/591.1234; $$-$$$). If you want to bunk a little closer to town and/or on a stretch of sand that’s a little more local-frequented (including by gays), Eagle Beach is the ticket (good resorts to stay here include Manchebo and Bucuti). If being close to the shops and party spots is paramount, your best bet’s the Renaissance (LG Smith Blvd. 82; 888/236.2427; $$) actually two separate resorts, one on the main drag with a cool upstairs lounge and elaborate mall complete with canal, the other across the road with a larger pool area plus a little stretch of beach.

Keep in mind, BTW, that these days you need a passport to get here. Get more info at 800/ 862.7822; on the web, there’s a lot available at the official tourism site, Aruba.com, but also sites like VisitAruba.com, Aruba-Travelguide.com, and Aruba Ta Hot! To line up contacts and/or dates ahead of time, I’ve found Manhunt is where lots of the local boys seem to be, and beautiful chaps they are…

Yours truly,

Dave

A beat-the-clock tale from Darrel K. of Atlanta, Georgia:

I just love South Africa, especially Cape Town, and I must say it does have a pretty decent gay scene where I’ve had great experiences with all types of guys — black, colored, Afrikaner, Anglo white, you name it (well, no Indian yet). But in a way the oddest encounter was with a European, from a little town called Delfzijl in the Netherlands, which reminded me of how funny (and not necessarily always funny ha-ha) the Dutch can be. Once in 2003 when I was down there on business I met this guy Ron at the Bronx — blond, very tall like some of them tend to be — and went back with him to his apartment in De Waterkant neighborhood (it was a vacation rental — very stylish; I was staying in a great gay hotel called The Glen out by the Sea Point beaches, but this was more central to the nightlife). Ron was sharing it with a girlfriend, and the moment we walked in the door he pointed to his watch and said, “we have exactly one hour.” Oh, nice, the meter’s running, let’s get to it, shall we…?

So get to it we did. Finally, at one point he’s on top of me with my cock up his butt, and suddenly he cums all over my chest. I found that really hot and was about to go for it myself when he stops cold, looks down at me, and says, in that very precise, clipped English they all speak, “Well, I suppose now I have to wait for you to cum, right?” Our hour wasn’t up, but I just said, “No, actually you don’t.” I’ll be more than happy to go.” And I did, just got dressed and left. I mean, I realized years ago that the Dutch are frank and blunt sometimes to the point of rudeness, and this was after all just a casual fuck. But I’m sorry, I really felt this took “being an asshole” to a whole new level. But I think you’ll agree it at least it does make for an amusing story.

In this forum we’d like to hear about your hottest, most memorable or romantic, funniest, strangest, or otherwise superlative date, love story, or just good ol’ sex, with someone(s) from another culture–either abroad or in your home country. Got a tawdry tale of your own? Do tell!

Hola muchachos! This time out we’re spotlighting Central America’s most popular eco-destination, in honor of the mid-October release of my guidebook, Pauline Frommer’s Costa Rica (that’s not my drag name, she’s the very capable series editor). A lot of people complain the place is overrun, Americanized, and generally ruined—and in certain areas they have a point (I’m thinking especially some honky-tonky Pacific beach towns and some San José ’burbs). But there are still plenty of beautiful and fascinating areas packed into an area the size of Vermont plus New Hampshire, including remote spots like the Osa Peninsula with some deep rainforest and unspoiled coasts, plus pockets of social action rife with surfers, backpackers, New Agers, sprinkled with some upscale types. The Pacific coast down near Montezuma and Malpaís sports a similarly cool surfer-beach-bar scene, as do the Caribbean shores around Puerto Viejo, which throws in a rasta vibe (the locals are the great-great grandkids of Jamaicans). If on the other hand you prefer the bigger resort thang, the Guanacaste coast’s for you, from mom-and-pops under $100 a night up to the Four Seasons. And as you’ve probably heard, Costa Rica’s the gay-friendliest country in Central America, with a pretty fair selection of range of lodgings, nightspots, and other spots catering to non-hets.

Can’t cover the whole country at once, though, so I’m starting out with the capital (next up, the most gay-popular beach area: Manuel Antonio). Nicknamed “Chepe” by some — sorta like calling San Francisco “Frankie” — San José’s a sprawling metro area anchoring the country’s central highlands, with a climate cooler than on the coasts and in the rain forests. Most visitors either skip it altogether or spend just a night here en route to somewhere else — too bad, because it’s no great looker, true, but there’s enough culture and action to keep you happy for a couple of days (faves: the National Theater, the National Museum (set in an old fort), and museumloads of pre-Columbian gold, and jade).

My lodging picks: for cheap, a hop and a skip from a raft of hopping nightlife, Costa Rica Backpackers (Avenida 6 between Calles 21 & 23; 011.506/221.6191; $) delivers one of the best bangs for the buck, with nice private rooms as well as hostel beds, along with a pool, restaurant, and its own friendly social scene. For an inexpensive gay option, check out Kekoldi (Avenida 9 between Calles 5/7, 248.0804; in U.S. 786/221-9011; $), in the historic Barrio Amón nabe a couple of blocks above downtown; It’s a cute, Deco-style 10-roomer with a peacful little garden area. Just west of downtown in a nice neighborhood called Rohrmoser, the 20-room Colours Oasis (200 meters from end of Bulevar Rohrmoser; in U.S./Canada 866/517.4390; $) has more of the feel of a resort — pool, Jacuzzi, bar, even a mini-gym — for about $25 more per night than Kekoldi. For a centrally located, homey experience with a touch more privacy, rent an apartment like Casa Don Tomás (011.506/258-1847; $), a pretty stylish two-bedroom penthouse with extras like stereo, cable TV, DVD, Wi-Fi, maid service, and Jacuzzi. For something a little New Agey-feeling, out in a green neighborhood away from downtown called Santa Ana, my queerboy-lovin’ pal Vicki Skinner runs a cute guesthouse called The Fountains (Santa Ana-Escazú road, across from Plaza del Río mall; 866/673.5869 in the U.S.; $).

In the mid-range, if centrality is important, fags ‘n’ dykes will feel more than comfy at a big mid-range fave of mine, smack in the middle of downtown astride the main pedestrian Central Avenue, is the Hotel Presidente (Avenida Central @ Calle 7; 011.506/ 222.3022; $-$$), with 100 full-featured rooms, a bustling café, and a busy second-floor lounge and casino. And though it’s a little bit farther afield (at the western end of downtown), El Grano de Oro (Calle 30 between Av. 2/4; 011.506/255.3322; $$) is a recently expanded coffee-plantation-owner mansion with one of the best restaurants in town. The highest-end property convenient to downtown and nightlife is the Radisson Europa (Calle Central between Av. 3/15, 888/201.1718 in the U.S.; $$-$$$), now adding to its 107 rooms; there’s a nice pool and something of a social vibe going on in its bar and attached casino. If you don’t mind a bit of a cab ride, you’ll really love the Alta Hotel (Carretera Vieja Santa Ana, Alto de las Palomas, 888/388.2582 in the U.S., 011.506/282.4160; $$-$$$), a romantic dream of a 23-roomer in the nearby suburb of Santa Ana with another of the best restaurants in town, called La Luz.

Most Costa Rican food is nothing to write home about, but as it happens there’s some pretty good dining in San José (like the above mentioned La Luz and El Grano de Oro, at the higher end of the price scale). Great spots for a feed and some mingling include the Presidente Hotel’s News Café (Avenida Central @ Calle 7; 222.3022), on a corner with tables alongside downtown’s pedestrian main drag and a pretty good gringo-Latin mix (both eats and peeps). For something a little trendier and more gay-popular, Café Mundo (Calle 15 @ Av. 9; 222.6190) several blocks northeast of downtown, is a cross between a restaurant, art gallery, and bar, in a cute woodframe house. The food’s decent (not spectacular) but the vibe and setting definitely make it worth a stop by. Another gay fave with even better food is in nearby Barrio Escalante: gay-owned Olio (200 meters north of Bagelmans; 281.0541) whose tasteful décor is matched by tasty Spanish, Italian, and Latin dishes at reasonable prices.

When it comes to gay nightlife and “other,” it doesn’t get any better in Central America (and in fact, it ain’t bad for Latin America as a whole). There’s even a decent bath house here, called Hispalis (Avenida 2, across from National Museum; 256.9540); it can be hit or miss, though, and sometimes can seem more full of old gringos than young Ticos). Two downtown nightspots not to miss are Bochinche (Paseo de los Estudiantes; 221.0500), a split-level video bar that can get very packed on weekends, and the two-story La Avispa (Calle 1 between Av. 8/10; 223.5343), a big place with multiple bars which is holding up pretty well after a quarter century (of course, it’s had some work done—always helps). It also, by the way, has ladies-only nights twice a month (usually a Wednesday or a Friday). Possibly the biggest draw for the cute boys, though, is the former Déjà Vu, several blocks below downtown: Club Oh! (Calle 2 under the Clínica Bíblica; 248.1500, 248.1424) holds 2,000 and boasts a huge-ass sound system whose electronica and house will set you vibrating at cellular level.

Wherever you go, you’re likely to find that Ticos (which is what locals call themselves) are some of the friendliest people you’re likely to ever meet. You’re likely to come back with part of your amazing vacation experience including a few great new friends. It is, as the Ticos say — sometimes to the point of being irritating — pura vida! (awesome!). And don’t forget to pick up our Gay Spanish for Love + Hookups, which will fill you in on some of the slang specific to gay Costa Rica (like playo for “fag”)

Plenty of tour operators run gay-oriented tours to Costa Rica, such as locally based GayTours Costa Rica (011.506/777.1910), and in the U.S. Alyson Aventures (800/825.9766), and Venture Out (888/431.6789). Another, Gays In Costa Rica Tours (011.506/307.5141), is specifically aimed at folks interested in moving down there.

For more details, start at Visit Costa Rica, GayCostaRica.com, and the Gay & Lesbian Guide to Costa Rica.

Yours truly,

Dave

Time to polish yer poles, powderhounds! You know that time of year is already around the corner, so I decided to offer some quick notes on best Euro-bets this winter for their mix of prime downhill action with a gay old time après-ski (in a soon-upcoming post I’ll tackle North America, and down the road I aim to focus on top slopes in the Southern Hemisphere, so stay tuned). Not that there’s much—in most cases, you’ve gotta import your own scene. But there are also a handful where there’s something going on all season.

Down the road apiece, I’m looking to scout out ski spots in Eastern Europe and in South America (when it’s winter during the northern hemisphere’s summer). But for now, in keeping with the “foreign-relations” angle of our site (and our books), we’ll start with the sophisto slopes of Western Europe’s top four biggies (where your Gay French, Gay German, and Gay Italian for Love + Hookups will of course come majorly in handy).

Austria Ja, mein Schatz, Arnold Schwarz- enegger and the Von Trapp family’s homeland is just rippling mit thrusting peaks and well-known Tirolean resorts like Kitzbuhel, Klagenfurt, and especially the Innsbruck area (host of the 1962 Winter Olympics). Obviously, the big I’s a picture-postcard little city that best combines slopes (in the outlying villages of Igls, Tulfes, Mutters, and Aximer Lizum) and gropes (sorry, I was reaching for a clever rhyme, but what I really mean is the best skiland social scene). OK, so it’s not Vienna (or even Salzburg or Graz) in terms of the scene—but it does have several bars and cafés, and it’s right in the thick of things, snowsportsmanly speaking (and closer to Munich than to Vienna, by the way); get more details, including gay-friendly places to stay, at QueerTirol.com. For gay chalets in ski towns nearby, consider the Hotel Alpenhof, a half hour away in Fügen-Zillertal, or the beary nice Pension Montana in Achenkirch, 45 minutes away. Another ski area with a certain amount of gay vibe is the above-mentioned Klagenfurt, between Innsbruck and Graz. In February and March, a German outdoors group called Männer Natürlich runs gay ski weeks in Ischgl, Kitzbuhel, and Arlberg. More details: www.SkiAustria.com and the Austrian Tourist Office, with its very own gay section.

France The Rhône-Alps and Savoie départements bordering Italy and Switzerland include the world’s biggest ski region and a few famous names (Chamonix, Courchevel, Val d’Isère) along with resorts that are plenty appealing if a little lower on the radar (La Plagne, La Clusaz). There are middling to majorly buzzy après-ski scenes in most of local resorts — and more than a few G/L schussers scattered throughout. But for more specifically queer action you’d need to head to the bigger local cities, like Lyon (famed for its dining, silk-making and UNESCO World Heritage Old Town), Grenoble (fetching host of the ’68 Winter Games and university town — par-tay!), and Annecy. This last, a small, cute lakeside city just south of Geneva, Switzerland, is especially convenient to beaucoup de slopes — just over an hour from Chamonix, 90 minutes from Courchevel, and two hours from Val d’Isère. It’s got lots of little bridges and canals, museums and galleries, a medieval castle — and almost a dozen gay-oriented business, including a dance club, sex club, and not one but two saunas). Just 40 minutes from Annecy is the little resort town of La Clusaz, with dozens of restaurants and nightspots in addition to Beauregard and four other peaks soaring up to 8,530 feet. For more info, try Franceguide, Skifrance.com, and Gay Provence.

Italy More than a few people wouldn’t immediately think sunny Italia when it comes to skiing (though certainly more so since the 2006 Winter Olympics), but you’ll find it outstanding in the Dolomites, a nice chunk of Alps in the south Tyrol, snuggled along the Swiss and French borders in the north of Piedmont and the Veneto plus Valle d’Aosta and Trentino-Alto Adige. Big names including Cortina d’Ampezzo, Courmayeur, Bolzano, Belluno (site of yours truly’s very first ski trip!), Cervinia, and Sestriere (where parts of the ’06 Olympics were held and whose Club Med was the base for the annual Euro Gay Ski Week in ’02). Italy’s the least gay-friendly of the countries on my list, but you can still hump it downhill to a bigger city with a gay scene like Turin (Torino in Italian), an hour and a half from Sestriere, or Venice, just under two hours from Belluno. Of the resorts mentioned above, you’ll find plenty of fags and some dykes sprinkled throughout, but Cervinia in the Valle d’Aosta is one that might especially be worth a look, as a couple of its hotels (the Albergo Grandes Murailles and Les Neiges d’Antan) popped up on GaySpace.it, as did one of its discos, the Etoile. Also, within 30-45 minutes of several swell ski spots like Val Gardena, Merano, and San Martino (aka Reinswald), Bolzano has several gay clubs and even a bath house (get updated specifics from the Homosexual Association of South Tyrol. If you head to Val Gardena, chances are you’ll find some kind of crew of butt pirates at the gay-owned Hotel Maciaconi. Check with my buddy Fabrizio Mescoli’s group Sci Gay Veneto re trips it’s running this winter, and get more info on the overall scene from SkiItaly.com, DolomitesItaly.com, and Suedtirolerland.it.

Switzerland This almost all-mountain country is, language-wise, a three-fer: you’ve got yer pick of resorts that do their schussing in German (like St. Moritz, Zermatt, Davos, Saas-Fee, Grindelwald, Gstaad, Arosa), French (Verbier, Leysin, Les Diablerets), or Italian (Nara/Leontica-Cancori). But it’s the big cities like Zurich, Geneva, Bern, Basel, Lucerne and Lausanne that have the kicky queer scenes; while the slopes are spectacular, the resorts around them aren’t exactly schwul meccas. Probably the closest you’ll find, 6,000 feet up in the German-speaking canton of Grisons (home of glam St. Moritz) a couple of hours from both Zurich and Lucerne, is the 50-hotel town of Arosa, with famous nightspots like Nuts and Kitchen Club attracting a hot mixed crowd where you’re likely to find something to your liking (the Hotel Eden is especially gay-friendly — it even runs ads with naked muscleboys posing in the snow); the Grisons capital of St. Gallen, with several gay clubs and no fewer than three bath houses, is an hour and a half away. Then of course Arosa also hosts the annual Switzerland Gay Ski Week — January 5-11 in 2008—pulling in 500-plus snow queens (check out this video from this past winter’s event; if you miss Arosa’s week, there’s another one called Swing 2008, being held this season March 1-8 in Lenzerheide/Rothorn, an hour and 45 minutes from Zurich). Also a couple of hours from Zurich and Lucerne, Davos is another homo-popular world-class (and very upscale) resort. More info: Skiswitzerland.com, MySwitzerland.com, GaySwitzerland.com.

Now it’s up to you — pick a peak, and happy ski trails!

Yours truly,

Dave

A prime porn-flick scenario down South America way, from Bill G. in Hamilton, Ontario:

Last year I was planning to visit Rio de Janeiro for the first time with a buddy, but at the last minute he had to cancel. I almost didn’t go myself after that — but boy am I glad I did. I stayed in the Ipanema Plaza and did all the tourist stuff — the beach, Sugarloaf, Tijuca, Santa Teresa, a favela tour (I even found out they have a little Carmen Miranda museum — you know, the kitschy gal with the fruit on her head). Everybody back home said, be super-careful, Rio’s so dangerous. And maybe I was just lucky, because I was OK, even walking around at night. And at night, of course, I was hitting the clubs all six days I was there. One of my favourites was LeBoy, a huge ol’ ex-movie theater in Copacabana right near where Ipanema begins. Big boom-boom and jeez, humpy Brazilians galore. Anyway, I struck up this conversation at the bar with one of them, a guy named Estevão — almost 6 feet, cinammon skin, beautiful dark eyes, a nice swimmer’s-type bod. I don’t speak Portuguese but I do have a little Spanish, which is close enough in some ways (I used to have a Mexican boyfriend), plus he had a little English.

We were really hitting it off, even copping feels and smooches as the night went on. And every once in a while the spectacular muscleboy dancing up on the bar would lean down and say something to him — and was checking me out, too, though I figured it was just the usual come- hither-and-give-me-a-tip kind of thing. But eventually the dancer’s shift was over, Estevão and I went out to the floor to dance, and suddenly there’s the stripper, right there dancing with us! Finally Estevão leans over and motions, like, vamos. The other guy walks out with us, introduces himself as Wilson (he spoke only Portuguese, though). I gathered that they were boyfriends and that we were going someplace in Estevão’s car. Normally I would never do anything like this — and I admit it was a dumb thing to do — but I was feeling mellow, horny, and these guys gave me good vibes (yeah, I know it was probably just the horniness talking). But we did stop at Wilson’s apartment where he lived with his mom and sister, and they seemed really nice, so that made me feel a little more relaxed about the situation.

Neither of them had a place of their own, so we ended up going driving to the outskirts of town where it turns out there are a few drive-in by-the-hour motels of the kind you find all over Latin America (I could’ve taken them back to my room, but for some reason they wanted to do it this way). The one they took me to sure was certainly no dump. We drove into a walled compound around to this row of garage doors, and went into one that had a green light outside. There was a door that led right into this beautiful room with a white slate wall, flatscreen with porn, and sunken jacuzzi — all for like $30 for four hours or something (you push the money through a drawer, so you don’t see the cashier and s/he doesn’t see you). Within 15 seconds I was sandwiched between these two studs, getting it from both ends, and we fucked our brains out for something like a couple of hours till they finally fell asleep. As hot as it all was, I was kinda nervous about letting myself doze off, so after they dropped me off at the Palace a little after sunrise I crashed until well into the afternoon.

I saw them a couple more times, including another amazing fuck session in my hotel room, and I’ve got to say it could’ve really turned out badly (I later heard about a Canadian guy in a very similar situation who got robbed by a couple he took to bed), but I was lucky enough that this really turned into a fantasy come true. Of course the guys expected me to pay for the motel, but didn’t ask me for anything else. BTW, they taught me a few cool phrases, like Voce é muito gostoso (You’re really hot) and Me fode! (fuck me!), but it would’ve been great to have a gay Portuguese phrasebook. So you’re coming out with one, right?

Editor’s reply:

My, my, what a busy gringo you were in boom-chica-boomland! And no, I wouldn’t recommend getting into a car with someone (especially two someones) like that, as tempting as it might be. Re our upcoming Gay Portuguese for Love + Hookups, we’re aiming to have it ready by the time the next Carnaval in Rio rolls around (Feb. 2-6). In the meantime, you can find some spicy Portuguese in one of our out-of-print titles still being sold on Amazon.com; it’s called Hot! International/Gay. For our updated and expanded title, stay tuned!

In this forum we’d like to hear about your hottest, most memorable or romantic, funniest, strangest, or otherwise superlative date, love story, or just good ol’ sex, with someone(s) from another culture–either abroad or in your home country. Got a tawdry tale of your own? Do tell!