Alexx

That's a wise decision.

Not nearly sleazy enough for my taste, but each to their own.

steveboy, on this one I have to back you up, nothing wrong with posting that at all and some of the replies you received in that other thread were plain ridiculous.
 
Sad state of affairs when people cannot make a distinction between (1) young talents putting their talents on display and (2) abusing youngsters (sexually). It's all in their heads, IMHO.

I have been to Vietnam five times in the past two years. I met many willing and nice guys from the apps, mostly bottom twinks in Hanoi, Da Nang, Nha Trang, Dalat and Ho Chi Minh cities. Most were not money boys although there are plenty of mboys available on the apps. Sex was as good or better than the paid variety in Thailand. In my opinion there are generally more good looking guys in Vietnam that you see when you are out in the streets, shopping malls, bars, beaches etc than any other part of Asia that i have visited.
.

I'm in HCMC now. The apps (Grindr, Blued, Jack'd - I dont use Hornet) are very busy. Several guys will solicit massage + fun to you; come to your room for 500k VND and up. But if a guy is prepared to lower the rate to 500k VND you have to be a bit careful - or dont mind if he is short, a bit chubby, small cock or with a face that certainly not look like the (blured) pic he sent to you earlier! Premium guys (stunning/lean gym guys, tall and with big cock) charge 1,000k-1,500k VND/hour - asking price is higher but rates are certainly negotiable. Don't expect much for the massage part - that is not why they come to your room. It you msg a profile in Grindr with stunning lean or muscle body/torso and no face, and if you get a reply, it will most likely be a MB and soon the issue of money will turn up when you chat with him. Some will even clearly state in the profile that they offer massage; then you just ask for some pics and negotiate the price - works very easy. Craigslist is also easy way to find MB here.
 
Finding non-commercial gay lads for (free) sex is not that difficult when using the apps (I'm tall <45y with a decent body (but by no means slim anymore) and I get a lot of messages in the apps which lead to/could have lead to encounters if I had the time/interest, but again the guys can be short, <30y or on the chubby side or with a less attractive face; so you need to be selective. Most speaks limited English. I find it easier to hook up with guys here than in BKK.
 
1 USD= 22,700 VND as I write this.

If your into using the apps you will be ok. Many MB starting to show up. If you meet up with a local in Ho Chi Minh City, you will be able to find some of the gay or gay friendly bars. No gogo’ s but new bars showing up. Bars are very discrete. Quiet off Main Street locations.
Not so much in Hanoi. Lots of action on the apps. Several boys that work in the massage shops also work the apps. But the bar and club scene hasn’t made its way there yet.
Vietnam is definitely not Thailand, but it’s a lot better than it was a few years ago.
 
You can’t compare the Vietnamese boys you see in Twilight with what you will find in the big cities in Vietnam.
Don’t forget most Twilight boys are straight and all friends from small towns in Central Vietnam.
In the big cites of Vietnam there are many gay boys. A little patience and you can have a good time.

Part 4 of 4: The Boy in Ipanema
 
There is a little trepidation on my part when I invited the boy to dinner, for two reasons: a.) the first two posts here in the Latin America section, which outline the various precautions one must take when dealing with Brazilian sauna boys, and b.) the high crime and murder rate in Brazil in general, and Rio in particular, whether real or hyped in the news, is seared in my brain. I was bold enough to spend my first four days in Brazil alone (in Sao Paulo), but in those days, I had the fortune of meeting two Paulistas (a hairdresser and a teacher) on Grindr (the hairdresser was even set up on the 45 minutes Uber ride from Guarulhos airport to my AirBNB in Bela Vista), who gave me the 411 on the general dos and don’ts of the city. 
 
And even with all my experience boyhunting in Thailand, Mexico and Colombia, where various boys have stayed with me in my hotel or AirBNB without incident, and even one time I’ve even stayed in the apartment of two Chaturbate webcam boys in Colombia, and slept in their room, sandwiched in the middle between the two boys in their queen sized bed, I was still nervous about being with this Brazilian sauna boy, out and about in dangerous Rio, without the security of the sauna. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am usually a good judge of character, and not one instance in the countless encounters I’ve had, have I ever felt I was in danger.
 
Let’s call my Brazilian sauna boy Gabriel. To recap, Gabriel is a bleached blonde 22-year old Carioca who was tall (6’1), muscular (not steroided, huge pecs, large thighs) and versatile (enormous penis, giant bubble butt, needed lidocaine to bottom). He had the typical Brazilian looks and racial mix I was looking for. In time I’m sure I’ll explore all the colors and types that the saunas have to offer, but now, Gabriel has out-Brazilianed every Brazilian boy in the house. On a whim I invited him to have dinner with me, as my first baby step into expanding my sauna experience here in Brazil.
 
In the Uber, he immediately grabbed my hand and held it for most of the ride. This was a great sign, a sign that he was not afraid to be intimate with me even in the non-sexual parts of the our time together, and he was comfortable enough with me enough to do so. The few times he wasn’t holding my hand was when we were using google translate to speak to each other. My Portuguese was a little better than his English, which was to say it was still pretty bad, so if we were going to do a deep dive into each other’s lives, we had to do so with the help of the app.
 
He told me he lived in the edges of one of the favelas in Sao Goncalo, one of the districts of Rio northeast of Ipanema. He googles some images of the Rio-Niteroi bridge, and tells me that he crosses this bridge everyday on the way to the sauna. He is fairly athletic and is a skateboarder. He shows me some photos of him on the sakteboard, and tells me he would send over a video of him doing some amateur tricks. He asks me about my life. I give him a general version of my life. He asks me how often I go to Brazil. I type the words “This is my first trip to Brazil. And you are my first sauna boy.” I look at the translation first before giving it to him.  The word garoto pops up, so I was satisfied with the output and hand it to him.
 
He reads the translation and smiles. He looks up and says “Serio?” I nod “Sim!” He types a response back: I hope your trip is great. And I hope your first time in the sauna was a very good experience. I type something back in the affirmative. We get back to holding hands in the uber.  And then I realize: MISTAKE #1: I showed him all my cards too soon. I told him I was a newbie. Now I am thinking that he is going to take advantage of me, or worse. This brief but disturbing thought flashed through my head. I try to not think about it further, lest it ruin the rest of the night.
 
I had the Uber take us to the condo in Ipanema. We arrive and I tell Gabriel that we should go in first and get the umbrellas that the condo had, in case it rained while we were out, since it was cloudy. We get in and we hug right away. We kiss for a few minutes and then he says he was really hungry. He leaves his whore bag in the apartment (clear sign that we were going back here after dinner) and we head out.  Sure enough, it started to rain hard so we unfurl our gay rainbow umbrellas (which made Gabriel chuckle but didn’t mind it), and started to look for a restaurant that looked good. We see a nice restaurant called Armazem Devassa (image from Google):
 

 
Gabriel points to it and I nod. We walk to the maître d’ to get seated. I put up two fingers to the guy and he says “2 people?” in English. He gives us one of the outdoor tables that was protected from the rain by an awning. We get comfortable and this was out view of the wet streets of Ipanema:
 

 
We were given menus, both in English. Gabriel laughs and points to himself and says “Gringo.”  He asks for the Portugeuse language menu. We look at the menu:
 

 
Whenever I am overseas, I always prefer to try the local dishes. So I ask Gabriel what the most traditional Brazilian dish on the menu was. He looked at the menu and said that the Picadinho Carioca would be his choice for traditional meal. It was cubes of filet mignon with beans, fried bananas, farofa and a poached egg.  Sounds good. Gabriel orders the salmon, and he says this was the healthy choice because he needs to keep trim for work.  We put in our order and then we get into a conversation about his diet. He says he tries to avoid alcohol when he can. And because he has a fast metabolism, he eats a lot of eggs (around 12) in the morning to get in the protein right away. The results of his diet regime truly are remarkable. He gives me some diet tips. I’m sure I will never follow it.
 
Our food comes and it looks good (a little bit blurry sorry):
 

 

 
We eat in peace because it is hard to use google translate and have two hands free to use the fork and knife. He asks me if the food was good by pointing to my plate and then giving a thumbs up. I nod. We do a lot of grunt-talking for communication since we cannot use words. It was kind of interesting. We finish up and the waiter asks if we wanted dessert.  Both of us say “Nao” and we get the bill:
 

 
It was R$133, or $40. One of my knocks on Brazil, compared to other destinations like Thailand or Colombia, is that food is relatively expensive. Almost the same price as I would pay in the USA. My BF has warned me about this so I budgeted accordingly. This meal will hardly break the bank, and it was a fitting last dinner for what was an intense and fun Brazil trip for me. It is also fitting that I share my last dinner in Brazil with a sauna boy. I pay with my credit card (haven’t had problems using it, or my ATM, in the country).
 
Before we leave, Gabriel shows me his phone. It was Google Translate, asking me if I wanted to go anywhere else. I shake my head and say “apartamento” as we open our umbrellas to shield us from the light rain. Even with the skies opening up, there were still a lot of people in the various bars that we walked past on the way home. I was slightly disappointed by the weather here in Rio in my last three days. But with such excellent company presently, I hardly had any cause for complaint.
 
As we get to the apartment gate, we get buzzed in by the doorman, so I did not need to use my key. No issues getting Gabriel in, as we exchange “Boa noites” with the doorman on our way to the elevator. We get to the unit and and as I fiddle with the keys to unlock the door, Gabriel puts his hands on my shoulders, gentling massaging them. He was ready to head in as well to continue our night. I finally unlock the door. Gabriel immediately takes off his shirt. He is getting comfortable. He sits on the couch and checks his phone.
 
I sit beside him and he leans over to kiss. We make out for a bit and then he starts taking off my shirt. I toss it over to the side and go over and sit on his lap and keep on kissing. His hands explore my back for a bit as put my hands on face. I whisper “Quarto?” to his ear. He answers me by picking me up! That was unexpected. He maneuvers both of us to the bedroom and he lays me down on the bed. He takes off my shorts, and then he starts taking off his. I can already see my prize: that big bulge that is barely contained in his speedos.
 
My eyes drift for a bit to the wall behind Gabriel and see the clock. It was 10:45 PM.  Almost time for Gabriel to leave. As he lies down beside me, I look at the window and see outside that the rain still pouring down on Ipanema. Then a crazy idea popped in my head. I retrieve my shorts from the floor and find my phone. I type something in Google Translate that was MISTAKE #2: “Do you want to stay here tonight? It is still raining and the bed is comfortable.” He looks at me and says “Yes!” in English.
 
I was not thinking clearly. I was not expecting company tonight, especially a garoto, so all my stuff was just strewn everywhere in the house. I was not thinking about the dangers of having a working boy in my room, especially in Brazil. All the warnings in this forum, all the precautions given by my friends, and all the research I’ve made about crime here, all that went out the window, into the soaked streets of Rio, draining onto the south Atlantic. And how could any mortal think clearly, under these heavenly circumstances, in the presence of angels.
 
So, a bonus post, more sex, and more mistakes, next…

Part 3 of 4: Climbing Corcovado
 
After he takes the room key from the counter, he asks me if I needed condoms and lube.  I nod and he gets handed some by the employees.  He takes my hand again and leads me downstairs. I thought the rooms were upstairs? Anyways we weave through the throng of guys and customers and he leads me to the rooms in the back. He uses the key and opens the door to one of the rooms. What I saw inside reminded me of the massage parlor rooms in Bangkok. It was a minimalist room with a big bed in the middle and an en-suite bathroom. I try not to think about the hundreds and thousands of customer/client pairs that have used the bed for passion, and just focused on the task at hand, which was standing in front of me, waiting for me to get settled.
 
I followed his lead. He leans over to kiss me. Because of the height disparity (he is 6’1, I am 5’7, I am used to this as the BF is 6’2), I had to get on my tippy toes to kiss. Very deep, very wet, very hot. But this position was awkward. I grab his broad shoulders and spin him towards the bed and sit him down on it. I sit on his lap and we continue kissing. He puts a hand on my back and gently strokes it. He stops and grabs me to lay me down the bed, and then stands up to take off his speedo. I take off my towel too. He joins me on the bed and starts kissing and grabs my cock and strokes it. I guess we are not showering before the deed. I showered before coming here, and I am assuming he is immaculately clean.
 
He proceeds to suck me off.  Pretty good, not the best I’ve had, but the accompanying visuals were awesome. He looks good in any angle, as any handsome 22 year old with zero body fat and genetics predisposed to muscle, would be. I grab his cock, now semi-hard, and growing fast.  Pretty soon I had a monster in my hands. I was glad he was versatile, because taking that cock was just impossible for me. He was still sucking when I take my hands to his ass.  Nice and round, and very muscular, I find his hole and start massaging. I take a finger and wet it in my mouth. I slide a finger in. Man, that hole was warm. I position myself to get a better look of his ass. I start rimming. The ass and all its glorious wonder alone was worth the price of admission.
 
After a while I stop rimming and just initiate body contact. He was pretty receptive to my licks and touches and pretty much was ok with me having my way with him. He strokes my cock again and points to the condoms and lube.  I guess it was time to fuck. He gets off the bed to get the little packets and then hands me the condom to put on my cock. He then takes this little tube he had hiding in his speedo, squeezes it and puts what came out it in his ass.  I ask what the little tube was and he hands it to me:
 

 
It was a tube of Lidocaine. I guess he wanted to numb the pain of anal sex. BUT, I am not that big so I don’t know what he was worried about.  He opens the lube packet and puts it in his butt with the lidocaine already in there. He then puts out his lubed hand and greases up my condom-sheathed cock, which was standing in attention. He then gets down on all fours next to me and gives me a thumbs up.  I guess he was ready for the Numazu ride. I get up and turn him over so he was lying on his back. This is my favorite position, because I want to see the guy’s face when I fuck him. I position myself, take his legs on my shoulders, and start putting it in.  I go in slowly, and he starts squinting, as if wincing in pain.
 
I pull out. I gotta warm up this baby. I took the lube packet and put more lube on my cock and my fingers.  I slide in one finger and get him comfortable with it.  I put in two, and after some resistance, I was all in. More lube on my cock, and I tried again. Slowly, he was still wincing, but I was slowly able to get it all in without him wincing in agony. Some slow thrusts, and then faster ones, and we were on our way. While I was pounding him I looked at the majesty of what 150 R got me. His face, still handsome even if he was slightly uncomfortable, was able to crack a smile when he realized I was staring at him. He had a killer smile. I leaned over to kiss him as I continued my exertions.
 
Upright once again, I admire the rest of him. His olive skin tone was exquisite, something that can only exist in the delicious genetic soup that is Brazil. No doubt with regular visits to the beach, the skin tone made every ripple of muscle stand out. The physical exertion of getting fucked made his vein vascularity pop out. His chest just had the perfect amount of flesh and muscle that they bounced with every thrust I take.  And his abs, contracting and expanding with the labored breathing he took while taking me, were amazing. I put a hand on his 8-pack, enjoying the feel of genetic perfection.
 
All this visual stimulation, coupled of course with the fact that he was tight as fuck, got me to cum fairly quickly. I stayed in him for a while, catching my breathe, as he stroked my arm. I pull out, slowly (he winced again), and pull out the condom and quickly dispatch of it in the bathroom. I get back and lay beside him, asking “Gozar?” Of course I wanted him to cum. And I knew what he was going to say next: “50 reais?” I say “Sim!” without even thinking about it.  $15 to witness an orgasm may be unnecessary for some, but I wanted to see it. 
 
While laying down I motion to him using my arms, that I wanted him to sit on my tummy, and to cum on my chest. I wanted to see up close every muscle twitch, every vein contraction, every penis pump.  An intimate audience only appropriately appreciates such perfection. He plops his still warm and raw ass on my tummy, and starts the show. He jerks off with his right hand, and he puts his left hand behind his head, revealing his gorgeous pit.  Oh yeah he has done this before and knows what sells. He then alternates with his left and right hand, and sometimes uses both hands, to do the deed.  And then it comes: he leans forward, balances himself by setting his left hand next to my head, and cums on my neck and face.
 
When he gets his bearings back he looks at his handiwork, and smears some of the cum off my face.  I didn’t care.  It can stay there all day. He points to the shower and I reluctantly get up and followed his cute butt to the bathroom. And then the fantasy disappears. Yikes, I’m in a sauna, where hundreds to thousands of men have had sex on the bed, have walked these floors, have used the showers. I put on my Havaiianas and pray that I don’t get anything from being barefoot. We shower together, and take turns soaping each other’s backs. I take one more feel of his hole before we turn the water off and dry ourselves.
 
He puts his speedos back on and sits on the bed. I join him and he starts typing on his phone.  He shows it to me and it was google translate, asking how long I was going to be here. I take the phone from him and tell him that it was my last night.  And tomorrow I was going back to the US. He thinks about this for a minute and then motions to the door.  I guess we have come to the end of our programa. I wrap the towel around my waist and we leave the room. We head back to the lockers and I unlock mine to get my wallet. I take 4 fifty real notes from it and hand it to him. He takes it and puts it in his speedos and thanks me. He then just stood there, waiting for me to say something.
 
Throwing caution to the wind, I came up with a wild idea. I take my phone and saw that it was almost 8 PM (and some messages from the BF, I guess he was needing some attention). I look for Google Translate and start typing. I show it to him and he says: “Sim!” with no hesitation. I asked him if he wanted to join me for dinner tonight. I followed it up with: but don’t you need more customers tonight? He answers that he was done for the day. He asks me what part of Rio I was staying at.  I tell him I was staying in a condo in Ipanema.  He then tells me that he needed to leave at around 11:30 PM to catch the subway and bus back to his house.  I told him no problem; he will be home before then.
 
He motions that he had to go to put on some clothes and will be right back.  I say yes and I put on my own clothes and make sure all of my stuff was still there (it was). I toss the wet towel in one of the bins and sit myself down to answer messaged from the BF. I look up and see that there were still some new customers coming in and getting into towels.  It was going to be a busy night for the boys. I felt that my boy could at least get a few more hundred reais. Oh well. I am sure he very popular and recoup it in other nights.
 
After a few more minutes of waiting he emerges in a very nice white tank top, purple shorts, skater sneakers and checkered socks that went up to mid-calf. On any other guys this would be a crazy outfit combination.  But on him, with his skin tone, musculature, legs and face, it all worked. He has his little whore tote bag on his shoulder (I’m guessing it has a toothbrush, deodorant, condom and lube packets, and his tube of lidocaine, and enough cash to get home).
 
We get on the main floor and I see all the boys I am leaving behind. This was a good-looking lot. One boy after another: handsome, muscular, dashing, hung.  Having seen it with my own eyes, I can surely say that the hype is fully justified. The legend of Brazilian Sauna boys that has been in my head all this years is as accurate and real as what I thought it would be, and what the pages of the BoyToy forum has cracked it up to be.  Yes guys, it is worth it to fly all this way to get this quality of dick. Because it is cheap, there was a lot of it, and it’s really really good.
 
We head over to the counter and I settle my bill. Things were hazy at this point, having just come off a high from the sex, but I think I was charged 90-something reais ($28) for the use of the room, as well as the condoms and lube, and maybe an entrance fee too, I am not sure. Overall, I spent more or less $100 for a couple of hours of watching, cruising, and sexing, some Brazilian boys. Not bad. While waiting for my change I call an Uber. We wait in the empty hallway outside the main door till I see on my phone that the Uber is closeby.  We head out, see the car waiting for us, and duck in the back seat.
 
The driver repeats the address on his phone. I confirm the destination and we were on our way. I look at my boy and he smiles at me. And like clockwork, he sits closer, takes my hand in his and we spend the whole ride this way.  This was gonna be good.
 
The night is not done, as I made some mistakes… next.

Part 2 of 4: Feeling My Way Around
 
I want to start with this caveat: I am not a sauna/bathhouse person.  I am not a massage parlor person. I like having private sex, in a house or hotel, preferably on a bed, mine or his. When in Bangkok I rarely go to the "Mega Bathhouse" Babylon, and also rarely do I go get those happy ending massages, unless brought or forced by a friend.  And I am not alone.  This post by Eriksmythee1 in the thread "Sao Paulo Advice sums up more or less my issues with it:
 
 
That is why the Thailand boy bar model appeals to me.  You can be sitting inconspicuously among the audience of a boy show bar, look at the display of boys onstage, tell the waiters which boy you wanted, the boy can then sit with you and you can do your due diligence to see if you are a match, and BOOM, a few hundred baht later, you are the temporary boss of a hot young virile thing to take home and have consensual monkey sex with.  BUT, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and the promise of going to a place that had super hot Brasilerios for a small fee was enticing enough to venture out of my comfort, so off to the sauna for me:
 

 
As I cross the street, I notice, to the left of me, two guys (presumably clients) making their way to the sauna as well. They open the door and I slip in behind them. They get to the end of this short hallway and, after waiting for a few seconds, get buzzed in to the inner door. We all go in and get greeted by the employees behind the counter.  The two guys get checked in first and they get their keys. When it was my turn, one of the staff asks me if I preferred English or Portuguese. I say English. I was asked what my name was, so I give them an alias. They put my “nome de puta” on the computer and I was given a key with a number on it, presumably a locker key.
 
I was not sure what to do next. I was so nervous that at this point I forgot everything that I read in the forums. I looked around and saw a staircase leading to an upper floor, and another to a lower floor. So far, the sauna’s configuration reminded me of my grandmother’s house in the East Coast USA, EXCEPT this house had really hot guys in towels to my right. Some of them noticed that I was there staring and with drool forming in the sides of my mouth.  Two smiled in my general direction, others just stared at me, probably trying to surmise what I was about. They were of varying shapes, sizes and ages. Mostly young, mostly muscular, mostly handsome. I immediately tried to play it aloof and non-chalant. I go towards the guys and just try to coolly walk past them, at a pace fast enough to appear casual, but slow enough to be able to assess if anyone of them clicked with me or not.
 
Walking down the hallway made me realize that there were some customers interspersed among the working men there. I guess one way to observe the trade is to be side-by-side with the boys. Upon walking at the end of the hallway, I see a door to a large room that had a bar and some chairs and a stage. Some boys and customers were socializing and drinking and having fun.  That looked nice, but I wasn’t ready to go in just yet. I instead go back the other way and go up the stairs to the upper floor. No one was there, save for one lonely woman janitor looking at me with a blank stare. Why wasn’t anyone here? I just see rooms with their doors closed. I guess this was where some of the private rooms were.
 
I go back down and then down further to the lower level. I see more boys just walking, standing, talking. Some were trying to entice customers, others just sitting there resting, a number of them staring at the well, presumably wondering about their existence in life. And then I notice the locker rooms. I see my locker but I don’t change into a towel yet. I still wanted to look around and explore. There was a series of showers to my right, and the lockers to my left. Lots of models just looking around and trying to entice customers. A lot of them were really hot, and most of them were sporting fairly big packages and huge asses.  And then I remember one of the great advices in the boytoy.com website: don’t fall in love with the first model you talk to.
 
This was particularly useful for the first guy that talked to me. He was standing to my right, leaning against the wall, when he extended an arm to stop me as I was about to walk past him.  I stop to look at his handsome face, which was really striking.  Classic Italian looks, with just a perfect splash of genes from other races that made his face and skin tone very distinctive and alluring.  He was only wearing a towel, and he was this big mountain of a man.  He had giant pecs and abs that are just perfect. He grunts out a question to me but I barely make it out with the showers running closeby. He leans in to whisper it in my ear. What is your name is what he asked. I told him my Nome de Puta and he tells me his. He immediately asks what I wanted, so I tell him “Sexo”, like an idiot (duh, of course). He laughs and then asks what I wanted to do in sex.  Almost on cue he strokes his flaccid, but already huge cock, through his towel. He then touches my butt and strokes it. It was clear he was a top. I then ask, pointing to him, “Ativo?” “Yes,” he answers in English. “Nao passivo?” He nods, “Nao passivo!” almost indignantly.
 
I then point to myself “Tambem. Nao passivo!” smiling. He smiles as well, and then draws me closer. He lightly licks my ear (very forward already) and then looks at me and then tries to haggle: “Nao passivo. Muito beijando (pointing to his lips and mine). Contato” and other words I don’t recognize. He tries to act it out with his giant muscular arms. I guess he was trying to say that no anal is required to have fun with him. While he was this towering muscular handsome guy with what I can see (and feel) is an enormous cock, I had to pass. He was not a bottom, so it won’t work out. I didn’t want my first paid Brazilian experience to be a vanilla sex thing. Also I had to apply the rule of not hiring the first guy I talk to.  So I put a hand to his face and squeeze it, and say my thanks and walk on by.
 
I decide to really dive into this now so I go to my locker to get out of my clothes and just be in a towel. The locker did not have a towel but an employee quickly handed me one from the back. I undress, and then briefly say goodbye to my cellphone as I put it relunctantly in the locker, and lock the locker door. I turn around and get accosted by a second guy. He was my height (about 5’7-5'9), very pretty face, and looked fairly young. He had a muscular, but not too muscular frame.  His penis made a clear outline in the front, and it looked like he had a big butt. He had fairly white skin: if we were in the USA, I would think he would just pass for any other white-italian kid.
 
He speaks to me in near-perfect English. He asks the usual questions and then proceeds to do the hard sell. He asks me what I wanted and I told him I was looking to top a guy. He said he was the best bottom in the building. I laughed and then told him I didn’t believe him. He was indignant, telling me to ask any of the customers here. That particularly wasn’t a selling point for me (and I won’t be going around asking the customers how his ass was), so I asked him what else he did. He said he kisses really well, and proceeds to give me a very deep wet one. Wow, that was impressive. He looks into my eyes and then kisses my nose. He kept insisting and asking and pulling my arm to get me to take him.  It was turning into a less sexy interaction, and to one that was more desperate. I pull away and tell him that I will see him for round 2. He asks me why he was not good enough for round 1. I just smile, thanked him for his time and attention, and started walking away.
 
This was kind of fun. I think I am getting the hang of it. My nerves were gone. I could do this now with a clear head, and ready to look for the perfect Brazilian guy for me. This approach to getting guys is so much more in-your-face than the way it is done in Thailand. Out there, the boys are usually on a stage, separate from the customers, sometimes out of reach, and you call on the boy you want to sit with you for further inspection.  In here, the men and customers mingle with each other for a relatively more personal interaction. There are pros and cons for each way. I imagine if I was more shy I’d prefer to be in the background just picking my boys and avoiding their gaze, instead of having sex served directly to my face, but there is something about Brazil, both in the confines of the four walls of a sauna in particular, and the being out there in the kinetic city with the locals in general, that takes you out of your comfort zone. Which to me is the whole point in exploring this country anyway.
 
I go back upstairs and do a victory lap around the premises. Lots of guys to choose from, but I didn’t try to talk to one just yet. I went back downstairs and immediately see this olive-skinned tall hunky, bleached blonde guy in a speedo, not a towel. That look was definitely distinctive. He caught me staring and smiled, and started walking towards me. He sticks out a hand and shakes my hand. He kept drawing me close till I was close enough to get a whiff of the scent off of his body. It was pleasant, and sexy and it worked for me. We exchange names and then he asks me where I was from. I tell him and I ask him the same question. He points to the ground “Rio. Carioca,” saying he was a native to the city.  I say “Carioca” back at him, saying the word for the very first time in my life, which made me smile widely. He warmly smiles back, nodding “Sim!”
 
He was obviously young (I ask him and he said he is 22), and his body was very muscular, but looked naturally built and ripped. He wasn’t anything like some of the steroided guys I saw upstairs. His English was not so good, but he knew enough phrases to ask me the right kind of questions. He said he was versatile, he said he kissed very well (and proved it with a quick but deep kiss), and he said he was very friendly and easy-going. He whipped out his phone to get to google translate. He showed me what he wanted to say: if I wanted to take him to a room for some fun.
 
I looked at him up and down. For me he stood out from all the other guys here. He was this delicious multi-racial guy with olive skin, a prominent Italian nose, and bleached blond hair that made his look unique. To me his looks out- Brazilian-ed every other Brazilian out there in the sauna. His thighs were huge and inviting. His ass and bulge were both large (the great set of genetics present in the building was very impressive), and his abs and pecs were on point and not too over-developed and over worked-out. But more than that, he had this effortless masculinity that could not be faked. I was sold. I wanted to get to know him more.
 
But I had to ask the most important question ever : “Quanto?” How much for his services? He tries to answer in English. I did not understand as his accent was bad. I say “Quanto?” again, this time he tells me his price in Portuguese.  He wanted 150 R, about $50.  From the board,  I vaguely recall that this was in the middle to high range of what was average pay for the guys were. I was in no mood to haggle. He had what I wanted and I wanted to have it. “Sim!” I say with a smile. He smiles back and immediately takes my hand and leads me up the stairs.
 
What happened? That’s next…

CROSS POSTED at: https://www.boytoy.com/forums/topic/28759-a-newbies-first-time-in-brazil/
 
Note: This is not about Thailand, I know. But people have been wondering what I've been doing these past few months, so here it is:
 
Brazil Post Part 1: Marking My Territory
 
As a newbie, I wanted to share my experience in visiting Brazil for the first time, specifically my first paid encounter in Brazil. It is fairly wordy and heavy on details, so this post is not for everyone.  But I do hope this post is useful for anyone wanting to visit Brazil for the first time.  Just a background, I’ve been a regular contributor to the GayThailand.com, having been a regular visitor to Bangkok up until recently. This was the post of my last trip in September:
 
http://www.gaythailand.com/forums/topic/11100-bangkok-trip-report-to-butterfly-or-not-to-butterfly-part-2-–-the-devil-and-the-angel/
 
Brazil has always been a dream vacation location of mine. Apart from the obvious draws of the country (great beaches, delicious food, and exotic places), the fact that I’ve always thought Brasileiros are the most beautiful men on earth has always been in my head. They seem to be this Master Race of people (in that they are a delicious mix of the best of two or three or even four races) who are both beautiful inside and out. My main stumbling block in not taking the plunge all these years is the prevailing opinion that Brazil is a very dangerous to visit by yourself. Bangkok, and Thailand in general, has always been relatively safe, and the language barrier, which can be an issue, is not as intimidating of a prospect as I think Portuguese is with Brazil.
 
But I have been easing into visiting Central and South America these past few years. I popped my South America cherry for the first time last year, with an exploratory trip to Medellin, Colombia in August. This deserves a post in and of itself, but sufficed to say after 4 trips to Colombia in the past 6 months, I feel that I am totally comfortable with the country and boys. I had the incredible fortune of getting to know the owner of a Chaturbate studio in one of the bigger Colombian cities, and from there the availability of cam boys as my companions just took off from there.
 
So after all this Colombia experience, I am thinking that it has prepared me for my first trip to Brazil. Also, I have been casually dating a Portuguese/Brazilian guy for the past 7 months, and when he told me that he was visiting his Brazilian mother over Christmas and New Year, and he asked me if I wanted to go with him, I thought that this would be a great way for me to finally break my Brazilian virginity, through the BF. The only problem with this plan was manufacturing some alone time in the country, without the BF. So I tried to book this alone time at the beginning and at the end of our trip, so I can enjoy the sauna scene, theoretically, in Sao Paulo (early December) and Rio (Early January).  Things, however, don’t turn out as planned, as my vacation became:
 
Sao Paulo (3 nights alone) – spent some time on Grindr and immediately found 2 guys (2 handsome twenty-something Paulistas, one hairdresser who spoke little English, the other an English teacher who was a little bit too hipster for comfort), so could not carve out any time for the saunas, sadly.
 
Rio (first 4 nights) – flew to the city and met the BF and we pretty much just hung out together, watching Cariocas make fun of his European Portuguese accent, no sauna time for me sadly
 
Natal (3 nights) – nice beachfront hotels, accents way more nasal, are there even saunas here? Grindr yielded a healthy mix of free boys and paid ones
 
Salvador (3 nights) – met some of BF’s friends; Grindr was bursting with locals just wanting to get laid, probably won’t need a sauna with all the hot black Brazilian cock just available for free
 
Back to Rio (2 nights with BF, 1 night alone) – Back here to catch my flight back to the USA. It was super cloudy so beach was not an option for most of the two days with the BF.  On third day, BF took an Uber to GIG to catch a flight to Florianopolis to visit his family. When he left the AirBNB, I text him on his way to GIG, just to make sure he made it (and to make sure the coast was clear). I then whip up Grindr to check on the current lay of the land so to speak.
 
We chose an AirBNB in Ipanema according to this post:
 
https://www.boytoy.com/forums/topic/28263-rio-and-sao-paulo-common-hotel-guest-policy/?do=findComment&comment=176437
 
We did notice that Ipanema was super-duper gay, just by walking around. And Grindr was predictably dense with so many gays as well. Very hot guys. So there was less chance for me to score something really nice since the competition was fierce. Sure enough, I didn’t get as many bites in Rio as I did in Natal and Salvador Grindr. Maybe because there are more Asians here in Rio, so I was less of a novelty. Which was fine. I did not want to get anyone online anyway, because today was the day I was going to go to Club 117. Before the trip, I asked floridarob and planetime, two Boytoy members I have met in Bangkok, what sauna I should try, and they both recommended Club 117 as a good starter sauna.
 
It was 2 PM at this point so it was too early to go to the saunas (I think). I got into some conversations with some guys on Grindr, and was even got close to meeting a handsome Carioca who lived in Sao Paulo (accountant), who was visiting family for the holidays. We exchanged WhatsApp contacts and added each other on Instragram, and continued our conversation from there. Made a mental note to meet him in Sao Paulo on a future trip in April.  I did some laundry and pre-packed for tomorrow’s 11:30 AM flight back to the USA via Panama on Copa Air. Set the alarm for 4:30 PM and took a nap.
 
Woke up, put some bottled water in a mug and microwaved it to make some 3-in-1 brazilian coffee to wake me up. While drinking my coffee, I checked BoyToy’s Latin section intensely; making mental notes on where the saunas was, how to get there, how much money to bring, how to approach and negotiate with boys etc. The combination of caffeine and adrenaline suddenly rushed to my head when I realized that, this was it, I was finally going to a Brazilian sauna to get a guy. I got nervous all of a sudden. I read the Boytoy posts again and again. I was psyching myself out. I finally snap out of it and turn on the shower and wait for the hot water to kick in. Over analyzed things again in the shower.
 
At 5:30 PM I was finally able to put on shorts, a t-shirt, and a pair of Havaianas I bought at JK Igautemi shopping mall in Sao Paulo. I fired up Uber on my phone to get my ride to Club 117.  I’ve used Uber since the first day I arrived in Brazil, going from Guarulhos airport to my AirBNB in Sao Paulo, and it was also my first taste of the lack of English usage in Brazil from my Uber driver. The Uber driver was a woman named Daniela, and she was eager to talk to me for the whole ride, language barrier notwithstanding. My Portuguese was as good as her English, which is to say not very good. 
 
Preparing for this trip included me being overly paranoid about the language barrier, so 4 weeks before the trip start, I paid $450 for 10 skype Portuguese lessons with Streetsmart Brazil, a San Francisco based company that offered personalized lessons online.  It was for me to get the travel language basics for the trip, but also to be able to communicate with my BF’s Brazilian friends, so as not to rely on him as the translator the whole time. 10 hours was not enough, of course, but surprisingly Daniela, the Uber driver, and I were able to carry a very rough conversation with only individual words, and no sentence construction, and with lots of hand gestures. I knew right then that I was going to be alright, coz the interaction between Daniela and I was hella funny.
 
In the Uber app, I see that my Uber was about 4 minutes from my condo building so I panic a little bit. I take my wallet and look inside. I take out all the credit and ATM cards except for my driver’s license and one ATM. I also take 500 reals with me. The prevailing opinion on this board is to only take what you need, but I was not really sure how much dick and ass I’m going to get tonight (and I have a vague idea of how much a room in the sauna is), so I thought of taking the ATM for emergencies. I leave the condo, lock the door, race out to the hallway, take the stairs, wave goodbye to the doorman (Boa Tarde!) and see that my Uber is waiting for me in front of the building.
 
I get in the back of this Chevrolet Cobalt. The usual greetings were made. The driver asked me if I was the person who hailed him, saying my name. I say an assertive “Sim!”, and then he repeats the address of Club 117 that was on his phone. I again say “Sim, sim!” and we were off.  After 2 minutes the driver looks at me through the rear view mirror and then turns on some trendy reggaeton music on the radio.  I guess he thought I wouldn’t mind the music. He then asks me the usual stock questions, in Portuguese, asking where I was from, what was I doing here, and what my impression of Rio was. I got used to this line of questioning throughout the trip, so I recognized the PT words and answered appropriately, in PT, to the best of my ability. When I told him I was from United States, I got the usual reaction of shock or disbelief.  The word “Chines” always is uttered, presumably because I look somewhat Chinese, even if my heritage is not Chinese.
 
There was always a ton traffic on this way to the airport (or to the sauna), so I exclaimed my disgust to the driver with a hearty “Transito!” to at least show commiseration with the driver. He was impressed that I was able to say this word so he started talking to me in rapid fire Portuguese. He caught himself mid-sentence and repeated his sentence again, this time in slower, bite-sized words. And with some hand gestures and saying the words for “five” and “two,” I was able to infer that he was telling me that the traffic in this part of Rio was due to the number of lanes in the highway going from 5 to 2, and therefore the congestion is pretty bad. I made a remark on the rainy weather as well (muito chovendo) also contributing to the traffic, in my horrible attempt to have a conversation with the driver.
 
The traffic eased up and we were well on our way. After 30 minutes in the Uber I grew concerned.  This was kind of out of the way from Ipanema. Where is he taking me? Is it safe there? Am I going to get kidnapped? These thoughts were in my head. But the driver kept to the prescribed route with Uber, so I guess it was going to be OK. Pretty soon we made a right to a smaller street where the sauna was. The drive points to the sauna façade and said that we were here. I thanked him for the ride and got out. My ride was R$29.79, or about $9:
 

 
I took a deep breath, looked both ways, and crossed the street to get in the sauna.
 
Next, my sauna experience…

Rainwalker was a former moderator of this board.  A friend posted on Facebook that Rainwalker passed away last night.  This is very sad news as he was a great guy and known to many in Thailand.  He lived in both Chiang Mai and in Pattaya and drove his motorbike around the globe.  He was someone who was always a wonderful dinner conversation companion.  He will be missed by many.
 
RIP Rainwalker
 

The next several days fall into a pleasant repeating rhythm as I decide to stay with Bangkok guy and not butterfly. We sleep until around 12.30-1pm and then make love as his mind moves into daylight time. We leave the hotel room in the early to mid afternoon, him to run errands, see friends and go to the gym; me for occasional light shopping but mainly to swim and read by the pool. In the evening we meet for dinner, Thai and his choice with one exception, and then go on to a bar or club or jazz, returning to the hotel in the early hours of the morning. Partly in response to the language gap (imperfect English and no Thai) we develop an eye-contact-and-hand-signal code to rate things and our inclination to stay or go. Use eye contact to indicate the subject in question - the band, the show, a cocktail, food, the place we are in - and touch the head if it is good, the chest if ok, the abdomen if bad and lower anatomy if it really sucks. Partly it works and partly it's just silly fun. 
 
Vertigo, our one exception to Thai dining, scores heads for the view and the ambience and a chest to an abdomen for the food. The food score reflects our preference for Thai food, particularly on his part. When I ask why he is playing with his soup he says it is baby food - it is typical European pureed soup compared to clear Thai soup with recognizable ingredients. Score one to Thai cuisine. 360 at the Millennium scores heads all round - the band, the evening view of duckling-chains of barges following their tugs up the river in front of the illuminated hotels on the opposite bank and the friendly staff who are happy to help him find the best mocktail. Like every guy I have been with on this trip and most previous ones, he really does not like alcohol. Despite the aversion to alcohol, Vespers bar in Soi Convent scores a full set of heads - ambience, great mixology and presentation of cocktails and truly friendly and helpful staff. Well, except for one cocktail. We both really like the place and the staff are very engaged helping him find a cocktail that a non-drinker will like. They come up with a blend of a Thai coconut liquor and pineapple juice which even I think tastes good without being too sweet and which Bangkok guy additionally likes because you cannot detect the alcohol and also, I suspect, because it has Thai content. The trouble comes on our next visit when, lulled into a false sense of security, we order from the very well presented cocktail list without much consultation. His cocktail arrives in a china teacup inside a small wicker basket with fresh strawberries. He is enchanted and carefully photographs it to post on social media. He takes a sip, looks at me, then at the drink and puts his free hand firmly on his crotch. For me, it is a great cocktail, with a normal amount of raw alcohol coming through, but that burn of alcohol is way too much for him. 
 
We go to Jupiter 2018 to see the show and to allow me to satisfy my curiosity as to whether or not the guys 'left on the rank' last week really were the tail end of an amazingly hot group. The dancers are all very gym-toned but seeing the whole group creates no additional excitement for me as the guy who is most to my liking turns out to be one of the guys left on the rank last week, #23. The show is very well staged but we do not stay for the entire performance as I had been expecting an actual show and this is more a series of well staged numbers to present the guys to best advantage, in which it succeeds. If I was considering an off it would engage me as a hot display, but as an actual show it does not stand up to Castro. I brought the wrong expectations.
 
The last day Bangkok guy spends the afternoon with me at the pool, looking very fetching in speedos. He selects the most shaded spot under a big awning and when he is not swimming covers himself in both a robe and a towel to maintain his pale complexion. He is also grateful for my SPF 50 sun screen. 
 
And now we part and I know I will miss him. All relationships are transactional, it is the contours of the transaction which differ. With butterflying the short-term and financial nature of the transaction is most clear. With my preference for staying with someone if they are a good fit, things get blurrier on both sides, with the ever-present risk of crossing over into unrealistic expectations of both support and of feeling. When I butterfly, the agreement is the agreement. After spending several days with someone, getting to know them, their aspirations, enjoying their company, liking them, I feeling treating the agreement as the agreement is a bit impersonal and like to do something a bit more for them, within the bounds of friendship, without over-stepping the bounds of the realistic. I give Bangkok guy an envelope marked 'for your studies' which contains an amount that, when added to the regular off fees, will cover a little over half of his course costs. I hope he is serious about this. I think he is and, if he is, he will not be the first guy I have known to complete his studies and move on to a professional career. 

From NY Times

 
 
MARANA, Ariz. — There may be no airliner as recognizable as the Boeing 747, the world’s first jumbo jet, with its iconic hump of an upper deck. For aviation fans, the introduction of the “Queen of the Skies” was a triumph of engineering and grace: unprecedented size and speed with spiral-staircase international glamour.
 
But the airline business has changed, and the giant plane has become more expensive to operate. A couple of weeks ago, the final 747 flight by any commercial United States airline took to the sky.
 
Like so many others before it, the plane was heading to the Southwest to retire.
 
Continues with pics
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/19/business/747-airlines-final-flight.html

The morning starts with the swimmer, back from a shower, rolling his toned body into mine with a dazzling smile. He has little 'moustache ends' at the corner of his mouth which accentuate his smile. However the best laid plans do not always play out. In this case delayed gratification lead to a pleasant time but no more than average despite goodwill on both sides. Sometimes things just do not click. He is happy with the tip, which I guess to be about average Pattaya long time and this tells me that humorous guy has not told his bar friends how much I gave him. 
 
After a morning by the pool thelimopattaya arrive on time for the trip back to Bangkok. I am very sorry to be leaving with so much left to do, but that means there is a future trip to look forward to. In Bangkok I do some light gift shopping and spend a few hours at the hotel pool. Bangkok guy and I had agreed to meet at 9pm, but that was almost a week ago and who knows what has happened in his world in that time that might distract him from an appointment with someone whose contact details he does not have. 
 
At around 8.40pm I take a seat in Maxis to sip a lime juice and watch the passing throng. From there I think I will probably see him arriving. By 9.45pm I have not seen him, so I go to the bar and ask mamasan if he has arrived. He checks, cannot find him, but no worry, he will call him, have a drink and look at other boys while you wait. Five minutes later a big smile, boy was at gym, he on way now, maybe you want a second boy? Ever the pitchman. 
 
Bangkok boy arrives a few minutes later with a smile a mile wide and no indication that he should have been any earlier, but with that smile who cares about pernickety details of time. He choses a place for dinner (The Papaya) and also the food, which is very good. After eating I am a little tired and so we shelve plans to visit a jazz bar and go to the hotel. He is again a real pleasure in bed and we sleep soundly, entwined. 
 
The morning is the surprise. He told me the first time we met that he usually slept until afternoon. This morning, as I have no plans except the pool and he has no plans except to be with me and later the gym, he proceeds to sleep until around 1pm. Initially I am nonplussed with the sweet immovable lump next to me. I am usually awake with the dawn and if I am in bed beyond 9am something is wrong. But today all I would be doing is lying by the pool, so why not go with the flow and lye with him. He is very cuddly and we drift through the morning on a soft wave of semi-sleep, his unflagging morning wood a tantalizing promise of what might come once his mind catches up with his body. Around one in the afternoon he stretches, begins to massage my scalp and this promise is more than fulfilled.   

Three Hornets
 
So after all that buzzing around, three Bang Saen hornets have landed.
 
 
Easy Come, Easy Go
 
This one approached me, which, at my advanced age, almost never happens unless they want piles of money. Y is 32. He approached me in Thai telling me he has a small body. Points for reading my profile before saying hello. We chatted for awhile while I was on the bus back to Bangkok from the first trip. Quite a long chat in Thai with the usual ten sentences covering most of it. He saw my private photos and decided he wanted to taste the real thing.
 
So he rode up on his motorcycle, looking all of 22, slim and dressed nicely in black. (How is that they all look so much better in real life than in their photos, while we all look so much worse?) No he was not hungry or thirsty, so I hopped on the back of his mocy and we went the 100 yards to my building. Straight to my room and straight to passionate kissing and loads of oral. He came to a nice climax. For some reason, I didn't, although I was loving the sex. We promised to meet again, that old sweet lie.
 
I meant it, he didn't. No more responses on Hornet to my little overtures. So, a nice memory.
 
The Manipulator Turns Out to Be Shy
 
In previous post, I described this boy who wasted time wanting me to go buy a fan with him, etc. Well, I was still horny after Y left, and since Y had done the deed for free, I felt ahead of the game, so I told the Manipulator, B, that sure he could come over for 1000 baht. He turned out to be nothing like I expected--shy, and rather inexperienced in the game. The usual story, told quietly and simply, about his poor family, Mom, etc. Smoker's breath, which was disappointing, but good kissing, which was not, and energetic sucking, which was hot. An all too short twenty minutes later, we both climaxed at the same time. The best thing about him was his hair. He had just washed it, and it was fluffy, silky, smooth, thick and of course deepest black. Very erotic. I couldn't keep my fingers from drifting through it, and since I was the customer, I didn't have to.
 
Overall I felt 1000 was a little pricey for a very short time with an inexperienced boy, and when he contacted me the next night for a follow up, I told him so. He agreed to another session at 500, but said he couldn't do oral because his mouth hurt from the last time! I said I was going back to Bangkok the next day. His response was not quite clear, but seemed to say that if I could afford to go to Bangkok why couldn't I afford to give him 1000. The concept of Value seems a bit over his head.
 
So we were back to manipulation. Overall, I'm glad I had the session with B, but probably won't do it again. After all, I injured his mouth the first time.
 
 
Slim, Shy, Reserved
 
So today Dear Husband jumped out of the Bang Saen bed at 6am and announced he had to go back to Bangkok right that very moment, something about jewelry, meeting a friend, all in that foggy cultural territory I still can't navigate after knowing him for 24 years. So I'm staying on another night, and decided to grab the first boy who came along at a reasonable price.
 
So I met Ball. We did the 1000/500/800 bargain. He needed time to bathe, which I do approve of, and then came over.
 
He arrived, taller than me and weighing about half as much, his hair slicked back with a rock-like gel. Clearly he didn't want me to mess with it. Well, that was OK with me; he had the smoothest skin I've ever touched. And touched, and touched. He kissed and performed OK, but very demurely. I would have wished for a tad more enthusiasm. But there was one part of him that showed great enthusiasm, a nice sized part I might add, and he had to back away quickly to avoid coming too soon. His oral skills were excellent, and even though I told him fucking was not necessary, he tried to get me inside him. I was, ahem, too big. He was relieved when I told him for the fourth time that it wasn't necessary. Overall I was quite satisfied, but I doubt I'll meet him again. I want a little more connection, heart or mind or humor or spirit or...something, and it wasn't quite there with Ball.
 
So, those are the three hornets that landed. Maybe there will be more.

I just returned from 4 weeks in Pattaya . After reading the reports here of an increase to 500B I was slightly apprehensive when I went back to Good Boys. I am pleased to report that the boys accepted my 300B tip just as the had in the past. I went several nights and they always lined up for me, as in the past. So I guess 300B is still ok. I didn't ask any questions, just handed them the 300B each time. There was no pushback.

After swimming I pour a glass of wine and sit on the balcony to watch the sun set.
 
This is my last evening and I have the luxury of too many possible ways to fill it. I would like to finally meet guys at the Complex; having a drink with humorous guy and seeing what he can 'arrange' with the swimmer-build guys is intriguing; my coyote dancer fixation still needs to be worked out; and another evening with stunning guy would be fun. Logistics, logistics!
 
I decide to prioritize the Complex and humorous guy's 'arrangements', with stunning guy as the back up plan. 
 
The coyote dancer is I think a very long shot, now that I have thought over the Castro's likely business model. My guess is that the coyotes are available for take-out, but not in the same way as go-go dancers. They are incentivized to stay to 2am closing by the significant tips they can make. My guess is that their first dance set is to get them noticed by the pre-show crowd. During the show they are asked to join tables and get tipped and also, I suspect, get paid by the club for the alcohol they encourage their tables to order and offer as toasts to the performers. Some of the groups order multiple bottles of spirits. During their second performance after the show the remaining crowd is well-liquored and very free with tips and invitations to join tables. By 2am they are well-tipped, tired and possibly a little tipsy from offered drinks, so the prospect of an off at that point may not be attractive. However, I have seen customers handing their iphones to the coyotes to enter contact details, so I suspect the idea is to arrange a rendezvous during the day. If I am right about this, I have understood the model a day too late to be of use to me!   
 
I go to Poseidon for dinner - squid ink spaghetti and seafood sauce (excellent) and a carafe of Nero d'Avola. I am very happy to find this Sicilian favorite on the list.  A little before 10pm I walk slowly through the Complex. It is less crowed than the previous night and it is easier to watch the guys. When I get to @Home I am mobbed by five guys, one of whom is the very cute guy I had smiled away last night. We sit together. He is small town Cambodian, here two months, very little English and has clear boundaries: 'chuck wow'. He is also a little nervous and I think I will need to relax him if this is going to be fun. Back at the apartment we sit on the balcony with the silence of the language barrier and his nerves between us. He goes inside to his backpack and comes back with a laser pencil and now the ice is broken as he fires the beam at distant buildings and lights up the balcony ceiling with disco patterns. He pulls off his t-shirt and declares 'shower'. 
 
In the shower I massage him and admire his naturally muscular compact torso. In bed he is initially shy but I find ways to make him laugh - his smile radiates joy - and as a further ice breaker ask him if he knows massage? 'A little'. His 'little' is quite a lot I think. Its a great massage and as he gets into it he relaxes and his smile becomes permanent. We spend a slow, relaxing and sensual time together, respecting his boundaries. Why am I only spending time with him now, on my last night! He smiles at the larger-than-expected tip and as we leave the apartment together, he to the Complex and me to Boystown, I realize in his arms I have lost all track of time. It is after 12.30am.
 
Arriving at Boystown around 1am I decide that there is little chance that humorous guy or the pair of swimmers will still be at Cupidol and head to BBB. But as I pass Castro the coyotes are in full dance and like a moth to the flame I take a seat in the bar. It is clear the coyotes have been talking. As I sit they nudge 'my' coyote and begin to gesture that I should ask him to join me, which I do. Face-to-face he has magnificent bedroom eyes. He has been dancing for two months. Before that he worked in a hotel. He would be happy to join me at the apartment - 5000Bt. Ok. But now with a screech the needle skids across the LP of life 
and the music stops to heavy silence "but tonight I can only do one hour". He is not surprised that I do not think this is a good option. If I give him my contact details he can Line me and we can arrange something at a better time. With great regret I tell him this is my last night and give him a generous table tip for the pleasure he has given my eyes over several nights. He escorts me to the door with a deep wai - he is completely confident he has a fish on the line who will return at some point to be reeled in. He might not be wrong.
 
Flipping a mental coin I go to Cupidol. Humerous guy is long gone, but one of the swimmers is still there and is all smiles. (to be a touch cynical at 1.50am I think he would be all smiles to a three headed loch monster). Back at the apartment I decide to go for quality in the morning rather than tired second-shot-of-the-night fumbling and after a little light mutual exploration we fall asleep.

Must have been magic, married to you. You do, after all, frequently remind us that you were once married--to a woman.

reminds me answer given by my uncle who fell while strolling and got some scratches and bruises,
 
When asked ' what happened , did you tip over or step on something:" answer was ,' no, that's penalty for living too long" 

The world economy is a Ponzi / snowball scheme that relies on growth. The resources to nourish and care for the old should have generated and saved by them, but they didn't, so now their children have to generate an excess to care for the old.
 
One day, natural resources or environment will not support this any more and there will be global crisis that throws large numbers of people into poverty or death. I can clearly see it, but I don't know if it will be a "Mad Max" or a "Soylent Green" dystopia that awaits those unlucky to live long enough and not to belong to the very small number of wealthy.

GoldMember, that was a great series of reports again and I've enjoyed reading them very much. All the best to you living your regular life back at home, and I'm already looking forward to your next trip report, in 500 days or whenever it will happen...

It's getting better and better! Keep it coming!
 
"The hornets buzzed but did not land. Maybe it's me. Did I say the wrong thing?"
It's not you, it's them. You didn't say anything wrong.
 
Mirrors my experiences elsewhere; I have been through too much of this crap and would have labelled them differently: the time waster, the scammer, the retard, and the idiot.

Bang Saen Boys--The Hornets Buzz but Do Not Land
 
So here in lovely low class Bang Saen where the factory workers from Bangkok buzz down for a quick weekend of drinking Thai whiskey on the beach, there are others buzzing around as well. Here are a few from Hornet:
 
The Manipulator
 
This boy looks about 17 but swears he is of age. Cute face, big sprawling tattoo of his name across his chest, and one of those cute little fuzzy moustaches. He asks 1000. But first... He says he has to go buy a fan for his room the next day--do I want to join him in this exciting project? Not so much. He lives with his parents. Do I want to go there while they are away and drink beer? No, that wasn't quite the point. He says he is very poor and needs money. Now it's 10:30pm, do I want to meet? No, dear husband is sleeping in the room, let's just postpone, or... Whatever.
 
The Naive
 
19 years old with a huge smile, round face, broad features, dancing eyes. Wants 1000, bargains to 800. But... He wants a 500 "deposit." He helpfully sends me a scan of his bank information so I can make the deposit, of course before ever meeting him. (Do people actually do this?) So, a bit of an explanation from me on how life works, or at least how I think it works. You provide the service, and THEN you get paid.
 
The Postponed
 
Sweet guy, looks a bit homely but in an attractive and friendly way. Approaches me first, massage 500. Sex massage? Yes, with detailed negotiation. DH has kindly volunteered to be away from our room, and the young man works 300m from where we are staying, so it would be most convenient for him to come to our room after work. But he knows I am with DH and seems uncomfortable about it, so suggests we go across town to some short time rooms he know of for 300. OK, sure. Wait until he finishes work at 5pm. Then at 4:55 he lets me know he has to get a haircut, including a fresh photo of himself, definitely needing a haircut. So...maybe tomorrow.
 
The Impatient/Angry
 
Nearby, advertising massage. He looks good in his little gym shorts. A bit of chat, where you from, how much, etc. His photo looks nice but he hasn't listed height and weight, so I'm curious and ask. Reasonable question, I thought, just a bit of foreplay conversation. Suddenly, in Thai: "I'm not interested, you ask too many questions, Bye!" Well. Did we fail our Business Management Course at Burapha? Did our last customer hurt our delicate ass? Hmmm.
 
So that was Day 1-2. The hornets buzzed but did not land. Maybe it's me. Did I say the wrong thing? Wouldn't be the first time...

In the morning, after a lazy start and laps in the pool, I head into Pattaya to give it a second chance. After walking the full length of the beach, pausing for a bite for lunch, it is definite: Pattaya is not my kind of place. Too crowded. Deciding against taking refuge on the Hilton roof top I return to Jomtien and spend the afternoon in a deck chair on the gay beach people watching and reading a book. Late in the afternoon I swim more laps and then sit on the balcony with a glass of wine, watch the sun set and consider the options for the evenings entertainment.
 
The cougar dancer from Castro is top of the list of possibilities. I also do not like my failure to connect at the Complex and want to try again, being more observant where I sit this time. Stunning guy is also a draw, but I want to keep things light and butterfly which, for me, requires focus as being as selective as I am I typically end up going down one of three roads: (a) I do not see anyone who really draws my attention and go to bed by myself, which is fine with me as I rate quality way way above quantity; (b) I see someone interesting, sleep with them, and it is ok but nothing more than ok, so no repeat; © Things click and then I tend to stick with them and explore no further. Stunning guy is definitely in group © but on this trip for various reasons I want to stay out of the mold and keep exploring.
 
Walking slowing through the Complex a little before 10pm I get to the bar opposite @Home and the guy I missed last night is not to be seen. Then someone is pulling at my right arm and I turn to see that it is the other guy who I liked the look of last night but who had disappeared by the time I realized my mistake at the first bar. He really is gorgeous. Sweet face, naturally muscled compact torso and bubble butt and darker complexion. In the moment I decide that my mission tonight is the cougar dancer and smile him away and all the way to Boystown I am thinking 'that may have been a massive mistake'.
 
I sip a coffee on the terrace at Casto and watch the performers arrive. The cougars start dancing at 11pm and the show starts at 11.30pm. I get a smile of recognition from 'my' cougar as he arrives and the waiter repositions my chair so I can watch them dance from the terrace. I want to be out there when they finish so I can catch him after the show starts. 'My' cougar is really working it and keeping an eye on me. A party of young Chinese arrive just before the show and sit in reserved seats in the front row, very similar to last night. The show starts. 'My' cougar maintains flirtatious contact but does not get close and I realize that the arrival of the Chinese group has altered the dynamic. He is keeping me warm while waiting to see if this group turns into a party-time like last night. He can make a lot in tips from a party group. Fair enough, the party may or may not happen, but I do not need to sit and wait through it. I signal to him that I will be back and leave to explore other bars for the next hour.
 
Earlier from the terrace I had seen a fresh group of guys coming out of BBB, so I go to investigate. Yes, they have new dancers and they are more to my taste! This gives me an incentive to visit the other bars and see if they too have improved. As I step out of BBB I pause to decide which way to go and the door guy from Cupidol calls me across. I don't want to waste time, so I ask how many boys tonight. He pauses and thinks, moving his fingers, 'fifteen'. Ok, I need to check his maths and when I enter the bar I see he did indeed major in mathematics. An attractive group too. Humerous guy is there and waves to me. He is a little outside my taste range, very striking looking but a little fem. However he has a sense of humor and that goes a long way, so I ask him over for a drink thinking I might enjoy the conversation until I return to Castro. 
 
He is very amusing. I begin to think that the fem thing is an overlay that he has adopted as clients think it goes with his looks and over time it has become a type of second nature. Beneath this is a serious poultry breeder (his current objective is another house for chickens) who is versatile (I believe him) and very much all about business (am I here alone? do I have a boyfriend? etc) in such a charming way that I can't take offense. He sees me looking at the other boys, particularly a couple of more swimmers-build guys, and reading the situation quickly tells me that if I like them I should call them over, he will be happy with a drink, no problem, but if I like him then it is only him. No groups. 
 
Breaking the mold, I ask humorous guy to come with me. This guy is entertaining, cougars can wait. As we leave I find the image of him with his manicured nails and very sharp dress-sense down in the chicken house breeding poultry quite surreal. However, an image of him organizing his mother and siblings in the work I can believe. 
 
Back in Jomtien he surveys the apartment (I took a lot of trouble to find a well designed apartment) and the view from the balcony and tells me, very much in the way of David Attenborough appraising a tribal society, that I am wealthy. I tell him I wish that was so, but I am not at all. No, with great authority, he begs to differ. Why,I ask? Europeans do not have this type of apartment. What type do they have? He gives me a very detailed answer - if his market knowledge of poultry is anything like his knowledge of Boystown clients I am in the presence of the future head of the Thai version of Tyson Foods.
 
Now I am intrigued to know what type of accommodation different nationalities have, but a warm, sensuous and enthusiastic mouth covers mine and stops further conversation. He has bagged and tagged his catch and now intends to enjoy it. 
 
Again I must ask you to create your own visions of whatever makes you happy, albeit this time at a rather fast tempo which should lead to exhausted sleep. 
 
However, much later in the morning, I am tossing and turning and feeling strangely apprehensive as though I have had unrecalled bad dreams which have left an emotional residue. I find one indicator of compatibility is how well you sleep with someone. Bangkok guy and I slept deeply and entwined in each other, stunning guy and I slept lightly always in body contact and aware of each other. Humorous guy and I are quite apart from each other and tossing and turning. 
 
In the hazy dawn light he wakes me as he goes out on the balcony. He is beautiful. The dull pain at the back of my eyes indicates I am very short of sleep and I still have the strange apprehensive feeling. I join him on the balcony. Ever a quick read, he sees plans made last night for morning 'boom boom' will not happen. He is concerned. I tell him I am just very tired. He slept well, it was me who did not. Ever the professional, he tells me to come to the bar tonight, no need to pick him, he will be happy to talk and if I want other boys he will help organize whatever I want. We say a fond farewell and I give him a very generous tip (we had not discussed up front) and suddenly David Attenborough is back: You are wealthy he declares, his pleasure in having his analysis 'vindicated' lighting up his face. And I think, 'well, the price of tonight's entertainment just went up'.
 
I dozed fitfully until mid morning, skipped laps in the pool and had a light meal at the Sketchbook which perked me up a little but still not back to normal, so back to bed and slept until late afternoon. I finally got up and went out to the balcony, only to make a sudden dash to the bathroom. Something from lunch yesterday was bad and had been slowly passing through my gut, probably explaining the poor sleep and bad dreams. With it expelled, all my energy returned and I went to the pool to swim many laps.

The next morning after a pleasant farewell to stunning guy I did a few laps in the pool and then set off down the beach for the day's Big Expedition. The plan was to walk down the beach to Glass House restaurant for lunch, about a two hour walk according to Google Maps. Perfect day to stroll along and enjoy the changing beachfront landscape. Some areas are definitely better than others and at some point the beach disappears - at a final and very optimistic deck chair concession with waves lapping around the umbrellas - and residents gain Ocean Access rather than Beach Access. Fancy new condos along the Ocean Access strip made me wonder to whom they are selling - Chinese who buy off a brochure and are rather surprised on their first visit? Fishermen?
 
The beachfront road finally ran out at a restaurant. I had not checked the details of the route carefully enough and had just assumed the road went all the way. Out with the iPhone and I see the important detail I had missed. While I was very close to the Glass House as the crow flies, without wings the route required a 40 minute walk inland around new developments with direct ocean access, part of which required walking along the highway and, without footpaths, this had no appeal. Hoping to find a local walking track I opted to cut through the developments to a village by a small fishing harbor where the locals told me sorry, no track, the only way is back to the highway. I went to the local restaurant to regroup over a beer and the owner said he would call me a cab to complete the trip when I was ready. It was a very restful place to sit with a slight breeze, the fishing boats gently rocking and a view to the ocean beyond. Absolutely quiet. Some locals came in for lunch and when the smell of cooking reached me I wrote off the Glass House and asked for a menu. Really great fresh seafood - whole fish baked in salt and 'seafood seafood' soup which turned out to be small octopus, calamari and shrimp in a delicate clear vegetable broth.  If you have transport to get there and want a quiet restful break I can recommend it. It shows up on Google Maps with a Thai label only, at the end of Na Jomtien 6, a rating of 4/5 mostly by Thais.
 
Back to Jomtien by local taxi and a long nap so I can explore the Jomtien Complex refreshed.
 
I walked to the Complex a little before 10pm. The place was lively but, with no experience of host bars, I found walking past trying to identify interesting boys a little awkward. How do you stare into a bar full of both boys and patrons without appearing gauche? After a couple of laps there were two guys who I thought I would like to talk to. Backtracking to the first bar I was greeted by the boy who interested me and his colleague seated me. The boy I liked then ignored me and his colleague, not my type, tried to make conversation. More awkwardness as the colleague was very slow to take the hint that it was not him with whom I wanted to speak. 'My boy' and I exchanged glances, but he did not come over. Bait and switch? Other boy's turn? It can't have been the latter as the first colleague got the hint finally, only to be replaced by another boy who was very much not my type. Another patron walked in and 'my boy' greeted him, took his order and sat with him! 
 
The penny finally dropped. The 'colleague' who had seated me was not a colleague at all but a wily opportunist from the neighboring bar with almost identical furniture who had intervened to misdirect me to the wrong side of the aisle. Lesson learned. I paid the tab, exchanged mutually regretful glances with 'my guy' who clearly understood what had happened and departed for the more familiar territory of GoGo bars in the hope that the first night's experience in Boystown had been an aberration.
 
Start with Cupidol again. I met the guy with the sense of humor outside on his way out. With a cheeky grin he told me too late tonight, come back for me tomorrow. Inside it was the same story as the previous night but now down to four boys. The mamasan told me 'many boys off already'. It was about 10.40pm, so combining her stories from both evenings Cupidol has a tight window of 10pm to 10.35pm between the arrival of the boys and their being offed. Special boys in high demand. 
 
Over to BBB and the same group as the previous night. Stunning guy was there but I felt like a change of pace from two tops. After two repeats of the previous night's disappointment I did not feel like visiting every bar and experiencing mass deja vu. Taking a seat on a terrace with a coffee I decided to watch the World go by and see what came along. What came along after about 30 minutes was an apparition in gold sequined shorts, soon followed by two further such apparitions out of the bar behind me. I had taken a seat on Castro's terrace and the cougar dancers were taking a break after warming up the crowd for the show. I had missed this the first night.
 
I asked the waiter to move me inside. The place was packed and I had a stroke of luck when a cute young guy who was part of a larger group called to the waiter and gave me their spare chair to save me sitting at the back.
 
Lip-synching shows are not usually my thing. They have to be really good to hold my attention for more than a minute. This one was really really good. Excellent costumes and choreography, a mix of humor and truly professional performers who understood how to work the crowd. The crowd that night helped. Front row were two young Chinese guys and their female friends who were totally and hilariously into the whole thing and their antics energized the audience so soon everyone was into it, giving the performers a lot to work with. 
 
During a bathroom break I came across the initial sequined apparition at the bar and exchanged smiles on the way back to the table, thinking I would catch up with him after the show. Experienced readers will spot the error here. At some point during the show he delivered a bottle of spirits to the Chinese group and they asked him to join them. 
 
At the end of the show the cougars started dancing again and it was clear that while the Chinese had not offed him, and I suspected probably would not, there was a party in progress that seemed a bit mean to break up given how much amusement their antics had provided. 
 
So happily back to Jomtien for sleep in my own company.