Just got back from holiday to lovely hot, horny Spain, where the men are ‘muy atractivo’, even the English ones!
I’m already missing it, particularly the sexy naked torsos everywhere, and I discovered that Spanish guys are very keen on parading in tight speedos, not leaving too much to the imagination, which is fine by me!

Another thing I learnt is that wherever you go in the world you can always count on there being a local cruising spot in every out-of-town secluded park, much like a Macdonalds on every global street corner – a ‘mcFuck’ being another product of globalistion – in the same way you can get an identical burger and fries 24/7, you can also get sucked off in any language.

So, what happened, you may be asking; well, it all began innocent enough: on a particularly hot and sunny day, Rich and me headed for a recommended beach just on the edge of town, as we didn’t want to go too far, just enough away from the overcrowded centre. We came to a nice, tucked away little beach, which was actually full of families, and decided to have a walk along the rocky area to the side. We hadn’t been walking long, when a guy was hot on our heels and nearly brushed me as he overtook. I put this down to rudeness and we carried on, but when he looked back a couple of times and then diverted off to the side into an area of bushes we’d come to, I wasn’t so sure. We just carried on, though, uphill until we reached a rocky peak, forming a modest cliff face above the sea below. There were a couple of sunbathers, and we headed back down, this time on the other side of the bushes. My heart froze when the same guy emerged from them, just as we came level, and I glimpsed his hands – in one was a pair of secateurs and on the other was a surgical glove! It was honestly the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I wanted to get the fuck out of there as quick as I could. He watched us as we walked, and because we couldn’t help but look back to double-take what we’d seen, he probably got the wrong idea, and followed us a little way before disappearing into the bushes again.

Safely back to the main pathway I suddenly thought about the lone, sunbathing girl we’d passed at the top of the cliff and, wary of running into the scissor-wielding maniac again, we went back to check she was okay, not really sure what to say, but the girl was already walking back in the other direction, away from the bushes. We were less fortunate, and the guy suddenly lunged out of the bushes in front of us before we’d made it back to the path, still with a gloved hand, but this time with the other one deep in his pocket, and he watched us with a faint, creepy smile as we made a quick retreat.

So what did we do next? We bought a couple of ice creams and sat down with them where we had a good view of the bushes, of course, and when one guy after another came into view on the rock and then disappeared into the undergrowth, we realised we weren’t watching the scene of some horrific, finger-cutting serial killer, but the local cruising ground – although that still doesn’t explain the secateurs and glove, although I don’t want to think about that too much. With the mystery solved, we settled down with our ice creams to watch the floating heads disappearing into the denser middle section of bush and the first guy, who had by now clocked us, making regular reappearances. The more we watched him, the more comical and less sinister he became. He didn’t have much luck though – a younger guy he took a particular interest in and started to coyly follow seemed to be up for some action and gave the green light by stripping off his shirt, before climbing down the rocks to a secluded spot, looking back as if giving an invitation to follow. However, our guy being much older, couldn’t find an easy way down and eventually gave up after a few attempts, settling instead for a birds eye view of the probably now naked guy below and from the arm motion and hand down pants we could just make out from that distance, enjoying a wank as he watched.
What made us feel a bit dirty was the fact that he had so clocked us and every now and then looked in our direction, probably even more turned on by our watching eyes. It was certainly amusing when a straight couple, completely oblivious – as they always are – to what was going on, walked into this scene and the guy whipped his hand out and tried to act casual as though he were just enjoying the view out to sea.

So we travelled over a thousand miles to a foreign country and still managed to inadvertently wander into the local gay cruising ground – as gay men do we have some sort of homing beacon? Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so connected to that side of gay life – it’s like being able to glimpse a secret, twilight world that to most people is invisible – but it takes one to spot one, and it can have it’s benefits…