From a speaker hidden in a wall, Penny and the Quarters’ “You and Me” played. I ignored him the way the clone ignored me, dried off, and then collapsed on a beach chair in the hallway. Washing the dirty water off me, I noticed an old dude checking out my ball sack. I left the pool and hid in the group shower next door. I followed him into the pool, but he shook his head beneath a waterfall flowing from a wall and ignored me as he watched a bear sit on another bear’s cock. I watched the hot clone walk past me and enter the water, which was no doubt at least 10 percent precum. Again, I removed my towel and headed toward the action, though I could barely see without my glasses and tripped over a stair.
#GAY SNAPCHAT GUYS TUMBLR WINDOWS#
Naked men leaned against blue Plexiglas that reminded me of stained-glass windows and Epcot’s the Living Seas exhibit.
#GAY SNAPCHAT GUYS TUMBLR FULL#
This hallway led to a hallway full of water: a giant bathtub. “I can’t see your face.” He moved his leg closer to my cock I ran out of the room and down another hallway, like a gay Alice exploring a Wonderland of cock. I had entered the Bear Zone advertised on the site.Īnother door led me into a completely dark sauna. I left the bar, hoping to find a lean twink, but instead entered a dark maze of long hallways leading to more doors-one of them was open, revealing a fat hairy dude lying on a bed jacking off to porn that sounded like Tim Allen screaming at his kids on Home Improvement. I passed a man who could have been his clone in the bar that was playing VH1 Classic on a plasma TV, but he looked past my male gaze to assign his male gaze to someone else’s bum.
I ran downstairs in nothing but a towel and flip-flops to search for his equivalent. A gorgeous jock putting on a wifebeater caught my attention-as did the drop of semen resting above his lip. I looked at the dozen naked men in front of orange lockers. I had entered a reality similar to the gay pornos I watched as a teen-men gathered here to have sex with other men they didn’t even know-and I felt my nervousness evaporate. Strangers looking for cocks to suck surrounded me. While the twink sang “How Deep is Your Love” and sprayed disinfectant over any surface he could find, I looked around the room at grown men removing their suits and young guys slipping out of their sweaty boxers. He presented me with flip-flops and led me into a locker room blasting the Bee Gees. Once I handed over the paperwork, an Asian twink in a tank top approached me from across the lobby. The club returns the card to the patron when he leaves. Each member receives a card and must turn in the card upon entrance.
The contract stipulated that to enter any Roman gay club, men must pay a membership fee and agree to keep the identities of the patrons a secret. The website said the club only cost 13 euros, but I handed him cash, anyway in return, he gave me a pile of paper thicker than the documents I had presented to enter Italy. He looked at Tarzan as if I had said I were Amanda Knox visiting Rome to murder a few sodomites. Inside, I joined the line behind businessmen in suits carrying backpacks-the postwork closet-case crowd was just arriving, I guess-and examined the portrait behind the receptionist of two gay men jerking each other off in an empty disco, until the receptionist shouted at me in Italian. A Tarzan look-alike wearing nothing but a white towel appeared and gave me a once-over-to see if I was hot enough, maybe?-then opened the front door. Luckily, the sex club, as well as the Vatican-owned apartments, were located in Salustiano, a nice (read: bourgie) area that didn’t seem like it would hold any insane gays.Īfter a few minutes of procrastination, I swallowed my fear and buzzed the Multiclub’s entrance. We ran out of the building after 20 minutes because a guy claiming to be Gloria Estefan’s “background dancer” shoved Diva D, naked, into a locker. The last time I had been in a bathhouse was my senior year of high school, when my friend Diva D and I went to one in Miami. Naturally, when I visited Rome recently, the Multiclub was on my sightseeing list, though I was a little nervous.