Contrary to this picture, I’m not starting this edition off with a King James bible verse.
Long overdue update: My memory for where I’ve been in the last couple of months is getting hazy, so let’s get right into the thick of it before I forget how to masterbate to free porn on the web using a rather small laptop trackpad.
New Orleans in the summertime is basically like serving a prison sentence without the ability to constantly walk around shirtless. The humidity is oppressive, the Quarter’s all-too familiar funk hangs even stronger and spontaneous rain will guarantee that you’ll be enjoying the Big Easy in some state of moist.
Are we having fun yet?
Sadly, developers bought out/shut down the two remaining baths, replacing them with high-priced condos. Much of lower Bourbon- near the gay bars- was under street repair, making it difficult to navigate sober or drunk. Thankfully, old city standbys for me like Clover Grill, Meauxbar and Jacques-Imo’s are still going strong. It was good to see Harrah’s casino now smoke-free: From the looks of it, it wasn’t hurting their business. Better yet, it seemed to be a younger crowd and not the typical glazed-over, leathery chain smokers that you see at most regional casinos.
I did make the mistake of booking a room at the Jung Hotel, a new property that was renovated from an old insurance building on Canal St. The finish out in the public areas was beautiful. It had a cool, grey-on-white-on-gold, marble-infused Art Deco feel to it. The rooms were another story: Small, cave-like and cramped thanks to furnishings that were too large for the space. It didn’t help that the tiny windows weren’t touched during the flip, so the rooms feel dark with no sense of time. The most unkind cut of all, the hotel staff had no clue on how to manage much of anything. It was a case of the patients running the nuthouse.
My fellow guests were about what you’d expect from a $99/night flophouse. People rolled coolers through the lobby and passed out freely in the hallways. It was a frat house without the benefit of any hot guys, sexual hazing or paddles.
The saving grace for this trip was discovering the New Orleans Athletic Club. In all of my travels, I’ve never seen a gym space quite like this and it was the kind of place that I’d join in a second if I lived anywhere near the city. Rarely can you say a gym has real character, but this one was in a league of its own.
An original gymnasts club from the early 20s, this gigantic space feels a little like a repurposed department store. While they offered a map for me to find my way to the locker rooms, I had fun just poking around and figuring it out for myself. A dozen or more rooms of equipment. Three rooms for free weights. An awesome atrium-style pool. A full bar (well, it’s New Orleans). A library. A room for newspaper reading. It all felt relaxed and very civilized.
Oh yeah, and did I mention, enough men’s locker room shower action to put those old baths in the Quarter to shame. Wasn’t expecting it.
The locker rooms have communal showers modeled after traditional Turkish baths: White marble, open showers, long spans of flat, warmed stone. If you’re an exhibitionist (like me), good luck keeping your shit together. The floorplan of the wet area must have been designed by a latent gay guy as there was a dividing wall to the singular entrance into the showers, giving the room privacy but easily allowing you to hear when people come and go.
I bet you can see where this is going. I mean, c’mon.
Fast-forward to post-workout, muscles pumped up, full of testosterone, looking to shower off but as usual also looking to shoot a load. I figured I’d just head back to the hotel to find some trouble, but as I was stripping down in front of my locker, a compact, muscular, 40-something with a squats-day bubble butt came into view, also getting ready to hit the showers.
Nice legs. CHECK.
Nice feet. CHECK.
Hairy pits. CHECK.
High and tight haircut. CHECK.
I wanted to pound his hole immediately.
I chummed the water by walking naked across the room, getting a clean towel and heading into the wet area. He followed behind.
Large open shower area, but he opted to shower next to me. Empty room. He made an admirable, strong opening move, dropping to his knees while I was rinsing off and putting my dick in his mouth. I had a feeling that this guy would have been cool just servicing me, swallowing my load and moving on… And while that would have been the express route, where’s the real fun in that? Public play isn’t truly fun unless you’ve got the thrill of getting caught.
I pulled him up off his knees, put his hands against the wall and bent him over just enough to arch his ass up. Huge bonus points to whoever stocks the NOAC showers with conditioner that’s scentless and super slick: Split-ends are one thing, but a dry fuck is something you save for your enemies.
My dick eased into him, quickly working into a hard rhythm, the pounding echoing loudly around the marble-clad room. The reverb sound of fucking him turned me on almost as much as actually fucking him. The thought of another guy in the locker room hearing this was hot.
Let me take a quick break to speak with you about a topic that’s near and dear to my heart…
No, not term life insurance. So, I regularly get email from guys asking me about my blunt honesty about bareback sex: Why, how, when, fear, pleasure, etc. The whole gamut. People who applaud me, people who hate me and everything in the middle.
For years, I was a big advocate for condoms: Then came Truvada for PrEP and that changed a lot of things for a lot of guys. While I’ve been on it for awhile now, I waited until research caught up regarding PrEP-based raw sex while on a regular blood panel schedule, paired with steady doctor supervision. While I’d never say no if someone was wanting to use condoms, I find the feeling of fucking- or getting fucked- raw to be a lot more attractive. Being a bareback top has allowed me to learn to better control my orgasm and when I’m in the mood, getting fucked by a guy who wants to put his load in me makes me crazy hot.
Frankly, I’d rather be open and honest about all of it instead of the many, many guys who say they’re using pill protection and really aren’t doing shit. No PrEP. No condoms. No regular testing. Nothing. That’s fucking insane.
Bottom line: If you say you’re on PrEP, don’t bullshit. Get the pill. Get the bloodwork. Get the checkups.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled fuck story already in-progress…
I settled in for what I had hoped would be a nice 20 minute thing, but what this guy was doing with his ass was straight up New Orleans voodoo. He’d slightly tighten, loosen and somehow twist, making his ass feel like a Fleshjack. I couldn’t last more than five solid minutes. I was ready to blow my load.
Being the well-mannered top that I am, I told him I was ready to nut.
Being the experienced Southern bottom he was, his reply was ‘which hole, man?’
The choice was made without saying a word. I started to tag his ass harder and ten seconds later, I fucked a load into him. I noticed he was still jerking off, so immediately my years of reading Judith Martin columns kicked in and I kept pounding him until he shot. I call this the ‘churning butter’ technique.
Showered off. Got dressed. The moral of this whole depraved thing? Every hook up should take place in a open, all-marble shower area.
The rest of NOLA was pretty calm, kinda rainy and as it was pre-Southern Decadence, the whole city felt hot & sleepy… And that was fine by me. I was able to eat at a longtime favorite spot (Meauxbar), enjoy the Quarter’s architecture and spend time with good people. If you’re a frequent traveler, you know the worst part about vacationing in New Orleans has to be their airport which hasn’t been updated much since 1986. Rumor has it that they’re nearly done with a new terminal, but I think it’s a ploy to just give locals hope. That there’s no decent cajun food at MSY is nearly a crime.
What’s more, they’ve killed a number of nicer things about the airport space. Not really the smartest way to introduce or say goodbye to a city that relies heavily on conventioneers and tourists. First and last impressions are everything.
Had some downtime the other day at a Dallas K-spa, enjoying the recent remodel of the men’s wet area at King Spa. New pools, updated steam, colder cold plunge and most all of the wet areas have been refurbished and feel new again. Pretty quiet as they no longer use Groupon to get a crowd, but that’s not really a bad thing. It was actually relaxing… That is, if you’re comfortable being totally naked. I always recommend stripping down and jumping in with both feet.
As I’ve mentioned here before, it’s a fun afternoon if you just like hang naked around other guys and enjoy a little sexual tension. For me, there’s nothing more relaxing than going after a tough gym session, stripping down, soaping up, soaking in seriously hot water and then getting the top layer of me scrubbed off by a surly older Korean man. Honest truth. He’s a fucking beast. Just get the scrub.
While there’s nothing inherently sexy about being treated like a slab of ground round on a waterproof massage table, there’s a general fun of being naked the entire time and attempting to not bone up while some random stranger is scrubbing your inner thighs. Overall, for me it’s an incredibly relaxing thing and you leave with the most smooth, soft skin. Totally worth going once a month to keep your skin looking perfect.
I do usual the cycle of hot pools, cold plunge and then shower off. This last visit didn’t involve any real play, but a good looking black guy kept his eye on me from the pools while I was finishing up in the shower. I ended up doing a little too good a job soaping up, got fully hard in the middle of the open wet area and basically had a ‘what the fuck’ moment. The guy in the pool smiled and I finished my shower like this was just another Tuesday afternoon.
Let’s finish this edition out, but know I am already working on the next one: I’ll get into some details on Mexico City, Bangkok/Koh Samui, Destin and Kauai trips.
It’s been a really busy summer but it’s not over yet, as I’m currently in Manhattan, but heading back to CDMX next week, Orlando and Key West the following week and then Punta Cana for a quick hope-I-come-back-alive visit.
I’m also thinking about putting together a more in-depth look at what I do to keep myself in good shape, not just from a muscle-gym perspective, but the ins and outs of skincare routine, personal care products and the added help from a trusted dermatologist. If I’m regularly told that I look 5-8 years younger than my actual age, I think it’s fair to share a look into how I do it. It’s no secret… It’s just self-discipline.
Be safe and be well,