With a steady, grey rain consuming Dallas, I gladly escaped back to a sunny- and humid- Puerto Vallarta in search of the perfect pastor taco, some beach relaxation and perhaps some guy-on-guy fun if the option presented itself.
The truth: When I left PV, my dick had a hangover
I decided to go back to the same house I was at before: It’s quickly become one of my favorite properties I’ve ever rented. It’s sprawling, has a private infinity-edged pool, the beds are comfortable and it’s just far enough away from the action to offer peace while only being a 10 minute Uber to the party scene. The house is fully staffed, but you’d never know it, as they don’t hover and I really don’t ask much from them.
I ended up inviting a small group of friends to share the house with me. Since all of us spoke Spanish, it was easy for us to get around and communicate. We spent a day at Blue Chairs, enjoying the low-key, easy atmosphere and far too much Pacifico (con Clamato). We also did a day at Mantamar Beach Club, taking two pool cabanas. If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll see the pics I posted of a hot guy who was sitting across the pool from us: Making it clear that he wanted to do more than just hold hands, he kept looking at me while rubbing his increasingly-growing black speedo. He was maybe late 20s, swimmer build, closely shaved head and from the looks of things in the front, he was nicely hung- Even black swimwear couldn’t hide that.
After eye fucking each other for a good hour, I balled up and walked past him, heading to the locker room to take a leak. He followed behind a few seconds later, introducing himself in Spanish, while we both stood side-by-side pissing at the trough-style urinals. He got to check out my dick, I got to check out his. I immediately started to get hard, making the rest of my piss impossible. Since there was no one else in the room, I thought fuck it and I started to stroke my dick while locking eyes with him. He took the cue, pushed me against the wall and slammed my cock down his throat.
What turned me on more than him on his knees was that this whole time anyone could have walked in and watched this. There was no door on this locker room. Just an open breezeway.
You can tell a lot about a guy’s sexual preferences based on how he approaches oral sex. The best bottoms are usually the men who can put a dick down their throat with perfect, reckless, gagless abandon. These are guys who go totally without touching themselves, purposefully, all while only wanting to please the alpha standing above them. Even better is when the guy really works for his payoff: A multi-squirt pop shot, swallowed down.
So yeah, the dude was a pro at sucking cock. He stayed on his knees, kept my dick in his mouth and even though I tried to get at his tool, he kept pushing me back against the wall. Even though it was clear he wanted to just service me, his dominant bottom attitude was actually pretty hot. After watching myself get blown in the locker room mirror for awhile, I ended up mouth fucking him until I shot a load down his throat. I didn’t say anything before I started to cum, but I figured he was the kind of guy who liked a surprise.
He didn’t miss a beat… Or a drop.
And like turning off a light switch, he got up, washed his hands and went back to his cabana. I saw, I conquered, I came.
Later that night, the crew I was with decided to hit up one of PV’s strip bars, Wet Dreams. Small place, but nicely designed and with probably the best crop of guys in town. A nice selection- all Mexican- of muscle variance and age. Live shower show behind the bar. Four rooms in the back (expect a hard negotiation on private dances). The guys are open with public nudity and there’s more hard meat on display than in a butcher shop deep freeze.
While I bought lap-dances for nearly all of my friends, I ended up belly to the bar, enjoying several rounds of staggeringly overpriced drinks. As I was getting ready to pay the tab (cash only, btw), an incredibly sexy 20-something in perfectly-fitting white briefs comes over to say hola. He started things out in mangled english, so for ease and to his surprise, I immediately switched to Spanish. He complimented me on my accent. I complimented him on his ass.
It was lust at fifth cocktail… Just your normal gay romance.
It seemed one of our party thought I’d like this guy (check) and they bought me some private time with him in the back (double check). He was about 5’9”, 145, worked out nicely, big shoulders, v-shape torso with an ass so firm and high, I wanted to use it as a piece of occasional furniture. We got back to the bouncer playing gatekeeper and he told me that I had, more or less, 20 minutes.
… I mean, I can think of a lot to do in 20 minutes.
And before your twisted little minds go to the Southernmost regions of depravity, no- I didn’t fuck a stripper in the back of a Mexican gay bar. Not that I didn’t momentarily consider it, but in the end, I left that club with my charm and dignity intact… Well, one out of two, at least.
However, I will share that getting jerked off to an egg timer is sorta hot: I was never more thankful about someone being able to work up constant, usable spit, plus this guy’s hand technique was impressive enough to warrant its own late night infomercial. He earned his tip from me by quietly figuring out when I was going to cum and letting me blow my load in his mouth.
Granted, he may have been doing it to save someone from cleaning up: Either way, it was a win-win for us both.
In talking about PV, I’ve failed to mention an awesome week on St Kitts, hanging out at the new Park Hyatt property on the Southeast Peninsula. After a rough opening last hurricane season, this PH is now beautifully grown-in and ready for business.
Thanks to program status, the front desk bumped me into a Park Executive Suite which had the distinct pleasure of having it’s own private rooftop deck and infinity-edge pool. Beautiful modern design. Every room faced the blue waters of Banana Bay. Take a look:
I rented a jeep, as I’ve visited the island several times before and wanted the freedom to (drive on the left) get away from the resort bubble. I drove around all of the new development at St Christophe, designed to bring in the multimillion dollar yacht crowd. While it’s shiny and new, with some beautiful views, it’s also antiseptic and stripped of any local island flavor. It’s basically white folks building expensive shit for other wealthy white folks.
If you’re on that side of the island, stop into Salt Plage for a drink and watch the sunset. If you’re lucky, you’ll get what locals call the ‘Blue Flash’ as the sun is just about to disappear. It’s also a likely spot if you’ve ever wanted to pal around with wild monkeys. They’re everywhere on the island and The Plage seems to be one of their main meeting spots. Plage is also quietly considered a non-official gay bar by the locals, as it’s got a nightly live DJ that spins ’90s house music and disco hits: No self-respecting straight bar plays that much Crystal Waters.
I climbed a mountain (Mt Liamuiga). That was more difficult than I expected… And a little scary. While I’m not afraid of heights, at the peak of the climb, I did begin to wonder what the fuck I was doing at nearly 4,000 feet above sea level.
Most of my time away from the Park Hyatt was spent in Brasserie, the largest city in St Kitts and the hub for most island life. My basic goal was to hit every great local spot for Afro-Kittian and Southern Caribbean food (along with some interesting suggestions from locals thrown into the mix for good measure). I can say without hesitation that St Kitts does not let their people or their tourists go hungry. I had more variations of Caribbean curry, whole-fried fresh fish and ‘peas & rice’ than I can count, but they were all incredible, made with care and served with a smile. The locals of St Kitts are what would keep me coming back. They’re open, conversational, hardworking, warm people. Seemingly, they haven’t let homogenization from the cruise industry ruin their island and the people I talked with all seemed pretty at-ease with the balance between tourism income and keeping their St Kitts culture intact. It was refreshing, actually and it made me a little sad that Key West- a place I love with all of my heart- hasn’t been able to fare quite as well in their relationship with cruiselines and booming tourism.
While I was there, I also got my taste back for beer thanks to their local brand, Caribe. Absolutely delicious, but that might have had something to do with the overwhelmingly hot and humid weather- Cold beer in that environment has this uncanny way of whoring itself up. Whatever the case, everywhere I went it was offered, offered cheap and offered ice cold.
My time at the new Park Hyatt was enjoyable, but for the premium they’re charging, the property has a long way to go to deserve those rates. When you’re charging $50+ for breakfast, $20+ per drink, $400 for a simple spa massage and then compound it all with a $90 daily resort fee and mandatory 20% per reciept tax, it’s not a cheap date. I don’t mind that price point as long as the experience holds up. Aman Resorts charge more for their rooms, but a lot less for incidentals and they are what I would consider one of the best collection of properties in the whole world. Bottom line: Park Hyatt is no Aman.
It was a glaring truth about the experience, making it clear that the best of this particular Hyatt brand are the properties they have in Asia. Park Hyatt Tokyo (where I’m staying on an upcoming trip) is incredible thanks to the team they have and their attention to small details. Their St Kitts property is going to need another year and possibly some staff training/turnover before they can compete on that level.
This edition is getting a little long-in-the-tooth, so I’ll save the PV wrap-up for next time (where I’ll share about how much fun Grindr really is in Mexico), as well as get into my recent week in London (and who got into me). I mentioned Tokyo earlier, which is a replacement trip for what I thought originally was going to be Istanbul. I’m a little bummed, as I’ve never been to Turkey before, but Japan is definitely a worthy runner-up. I’m tinkering with taking the Shinkansen to Osaka for a day and checking out Universal Studios’s Halloween Horror Nights event. Anyone who knows me also knows that Halloween is my Christmas.
Also heading back to Houston in the very near-future and will likely make a late night pitstop at Club Houston to see how their renovations are coming… And coming… And coming.
As always, you can keep up with my ridiculous horse-and-pony show in realtime through TWITTER, the ASKfm page and my online PHOTO GALLERY. Until next time.
