Saturday fun with a Ukrainian guy

It’s just before 9am on the Saturday before the Whitsun bank holiday weekend, and I'm logged into gay.com while eating my breakfast. I’ve got an appointment in town for a haircut at 11:15am, and I’m just wondering how to spend my time beforehand when a guy starts chatting to me:

guy: hi
GB: hi
guy: how are you
GB: fine

His profile suggests that he lives in the USA, but since I can see that he’s in the London Citywide chatroom, perhaps he’s visiting at the moment?

GB: u in london m8?
guy: yep, I'm in London
GB: for a long time, or just a short visit?
guy: Well, I was here for 2 weeks, but leaving on Monday

Hmmm, two weeks in the British metropolis, I wonder if he’s had much fun?

GB: So have you met any nice British guys since you've been here?
guy: well, only one, had a nice night together
GB: :-)
guy: but he was an australian diplomat
GB: so he wasn't British then LOL
guy: nope, he was not

He seems like a nice friendly guy. But given what London has to offer, in terms of his activities on this trip I’d only score him at D-! Still, he’s got a couple of days left, maybe he can redeem himself?

guy: nice pic of you
GB: ta

Good start! The guy’s actually got his face pics on his profile, so I tell him where to find mine.

guy: so what you up to?
GB: Oh, u know, just cruisin' around LOL, u?
guy: looking to get a guy to xxxxxxxx my yyyyyyyy, is that so bad?

Quite explicit! Suddenly I can’t understand why he hasn’t scored better!! We start chatting about who wants to do what to whom and the negotiations proceed quite quickly. Just as well, because when I find out his location in London, it’s probably a 25 minute taxi journey away. But as long as we don’t hang around I should have time to get over to his hotel and then get into town for my haircut.

GB: So I've just about got time to visit you because I’m busy later this morning, r u interested?
guy: i am very interested

Within five minutes it’s all been agreed. We’ve exchanged mobile phone numbers, even though his is a US mobile phone number of course. I think on my income I can afford to call internationally and speak to him if there are any problems!

Out on the street, I manage to find a cab without too much difficulty. The driver is a chatty soul, and tells me about the time he had the Brazilian footballer Pelé in his cab twenty years ago. Although it’s not a particularly interesting story I forgive him, the whole world seems to be going football crazy at the moment in the run up to the 2006 world cup!

As expected it takes almost 25 minutes to reach the hotel. Once I’m inside, there’s no problem walking past the reception to get to the rooms, but the lifts don’t seem to be working. So I climb the stairs to the fourth floor where his room should be. But the room numbers aren’t right. Eventually I decide to phone him.

“Hi this is GB”, I say, “did you say that you’re in room 473?”

“Errr, yes, that’s right”, he confirms.

“But I’m on the fourth floor and I can’t find any rooms above 449!”

“Really? Well perhaps you could ask someone, my room number is definitely 473”.

But there’s no one around to ask. There’s only one explanation of course, the hotel must have another wing with the higher room numbers! So back I go down the stairs on foot and sure enough, once I’m in the reception area I can see where I should have gone.

Soon I’m in the right part of the hotel and I can’t believe it, the lifts aren’t working in this wing either. Perhaps they’ve got the engineers in to give them all a service at the same time? Never mind, a few stairs aren’t going to get in the way of a bit of fun. Within a couple of minutes I’m knocking at his door.

“Sorry for the delay”, I say as he opens the door, “this hotel is a maze. The lower room numbers are in another wing!”

“No problem”, he says with a big grin on his face, “come in :-)”. The photos he’s got on his profile must be very recent because he looks exactly like his pics.

He’s bare-chested, just wearing some shorts, so I sit on the side of his bed and start stripping. Although it’s a very small room, at least it’s got a double bed.

“You look very English”, he says to me while I’m taking my shoes off.

“Good, because I am!” I say, “And even though you live in the US, you must be from Eastern Europe? Russia perhaps?”.

“Close! Actually I’m from Ukraine.”

“Wow, I’ve never been with a guy from there before.”

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll be familiar with the layout”, he says laughing, “all the important bits are in the middle!”

While I’m getting my trousers off, he walks round me and gets onto the bed from the other side. Once I’m down to my undershorts, I join him. Putting my arm underneath him to hold his shoulder on the far side of me, I lean over and start kissing him, while rubbing one of his nipples with my other hand.

“Hmmm”, he murmurs appreciatively, before rolling on top of me to pin me down. Gradually we get more involved with each other.

"You're a good kisser" he says, after a few minutes. You're not mate, it feels like you keep trying to bite my tongue off!

But we don’t rush, and when we’re both spent we lie there quietly for a few minutes, slightly exhausted.

"So how old are you really?” he asks. “Be honest”.

Shall I tell him the truth? I decide to split the difference between my internet age and my offline age. “And you?” I ask, “How old are you really?”

“My gay.com profile is accurate!”, he laughs. “Well, as accurate as yours is anyway!”

Sitting up on the bed we chat, we start chatting. He’s a fascinating guy. He tells me that he works as the personal translator for an Italian millionaire and his family.

“On Monday I’m off to look after his teenage son and a couple of his cousins who are staying at the family’s villa near Cannes.”

“You’ve got a very glamourous job”, I say, “how on earth did you manage to find it?”

We’re still both naked, and I can’t help looking at his now flaccid cock. Or is it? I start rubbing his hairy legs affectionately with the back of my hand. He doesn’t stop me.

“Well, I speak seven languages”, he says evasively, “and my boss has business interests in my home country.”

Hmmm, Italian millionaire? I start wondering, and he spots the discomfort on my face.

“Don’t worry”, he says, “they’re definitely not Mafia! And anyway, it’s not as glamourous as you think. My base is in their boring head office in the states”.

But I can’t help thinking there’s something he’s not telling me.

I’m still gently rubbing his leg and just to see what his reaction will be, I pick up his cock, as though measuring it’s weight. It’s not at all erect, but it’s also definitely not flaccid either!

“WELL”, he says suddenly, pinning me down again, “what am I going to do with you then?” And indeed, it turns into double-cum session!

“I’m really going to have to leave now”, I say afterwards, “I’ve got an appointment for a haircut in twenty minutes!”

"OK sure. See you online”, he says as I’m leaving. “But if you ever visit my city in the states let me know, I’ll give you my phone number. Then you can visit me in my home :-)”

Out on the street, I hail the first taxi I see, but when I get in it’s actually a cabbie I know.

“Hi, how are you?” I ask.

Even though there are 20,000++ taxis in London, these days I find that maybe once a month I’ll get into a cab and recognise the driver. Perhaps I take too many cabs!

“Hmmm, what are you doing on this side of town?” asks the cabbie.

“Oh, just visiting a friend”, I say dismissively. But he looks at me closely. Although I don’t say anything else, he doesn’t need to ask anything else. As Legal-ize-IT commented recently, I can work out things about guys, and so can experienced London cabbies.

On the journey we have a good chat as usual. This guy must be in his sixties, and over the years he’s done quite well out of the UK stock market. “I’ve had a lot of well known bankers in my cab over the years”, he always says, “and chatting to them has helped me work out what shares to buy. And thank goodness otherwise me and the missus wouldn’t have much of a retirement to look forward to!”

“Presumably you won’t work long today”, I ask as we get nearer to my destination, “given that it’s Saturday?”

“Hmmm”, he says, “actually now you’ve brought me over here, I think I’ll take a break and pop into the blue movie place round the corner”.

I almost blush, “Errr what do you mean?”

“Oh you know! The dirty video place near here”.

Well indeed, I do know exactly what he’s talking about. There’s an infamous porn cinema very near here, and although it shows exclusively straight porn, a lot of gay guys meet there to get off with each other. And I would be lying if I said I’d never visited!

But it’s also clear that he knows that I know what he’s talking about. And the fact that he’s being open about his behaviour clearly signals that he knows the kind of thing I’ve been up to this morning too. These days, I’ll often feel more comfortable chatting with guys like this, rather than with younger guys who can have very idealistic attitudes. After all, everyone’s up to something that they don’t want to be open about!