Vicarious sin

Originally published on March 03, 2004.

Most of my rent-boy pleasure the past week or so have been enjoyed vicariously with Americans Paul and Marty — the guest house I’m staying in at the moment doesn’t allow rent boys at all, not even during the day for an hour or so. The proprietor, Ron, though gay, is somewhat judgmental concerning the rent-boy scene; but, to be fair, it’s also based on his experiences with some very stupid “sex tourists” he’s had in the past, who basically used the guest house as a revolving door bordello, getting Ron in trouble with his neighbors in the building. Czechs don’t care much what you do until 10 or so boys start ringing every door bell in their building at 4 in the morning. And, there has been at least one tourist murdered by a drug-addled rent boy last year, a murder that has gone unsolved and is driving the police crazy; and theft is always a problem.

Anyway, on Thursday I met up with Paul and Marty and Bob and Jonathan at Pinocchio’s and immediately got taken with a tall, lean, cute boy with baggy pants and a shaved head who kept smiling and nodding at me every time he walked by. Finally, I invited him to sit down next to Paul and me. I could tell Marty was interested but he seemed a little reticent.

Drinks flowed and I told the boy (Radovan, I think) that Paul and Marty were boyfriends. Radovan, of course, shrugged and said: “No problem, but why is he sitting over there?” (He spoke near-perfect, colloquial English.) I told him that Marty was new at this and probably a bit scared. At some point, Radovan got up, moved a chair and made Marty sit there.

Meanwhile, I was encouraging Paul, who seemed a bit cool to the rent-boy thing at first, to take Radovan home with them. I think when Radovan dropped his drawers and showed some pubes Paul warmed up considerably. Showing his hairless chest didn’t hurt either. Hairy legs and crotch but completely smooth torso. Pretty common here.

The night wore on and the trio starting getting on pretty well. I kept popping in to see how things were going and to get a little smooch in as well, wrestling around with Rodovan and ending up with a broken watch strap. At one point, the boy asked if there were going to be four of us after all. Alas, no. But I wouldn’t want to share him anyway. The boys who are really good at this stuff… well, they’re really good at this stuff, seducing you with their youth. I was cursing Ron all night that night. I can’t wait to sign my lease so I can have him all to myself next week.

Last night Paul and Marty and I did the circuit of tree gay bars in what will be my new neighborhood. Only Stella’s, which is set up basically like someone’s basement, seemed comfortable to hang out in; however, it was much cruisier and less friendly than previous nights we had been there. Plenty of hot Czech flesh though.

The other bars were typical gay cheese and though we met some nice Czech boys who sat with us and tried to speak English, the gay cruise scene just doesn’t interest me. I’ve no patience for hanging out alone in some gay bar for hours trying to get laid when perfectly cute boys are just waiting for the taking on the other side of town. But, wow, I’d like to take some of these boys’ pictures. Need to get a business card printed in up in Czech for that purpose.

Around 3am we got in a cab and headed for Pinocchio’s once again. There was no one there except this tall, lanky, kinda goofy Czech boy who cruised us and eventually came over to chat. His English was pretty good and I thought he was adorable. Marty did too I could see, so I went to work on Paul to convince him to take the boy home. The boy’s clothes were a bit threadbare, and his trousers were a tad soiled. A thousand crowns could buy him a new outfit.

The boy had some scabs on his knuckles and I asked him what they were from. He said: “Let me show you.” He led me back into the concrete labyrinth behind the bar and showed me some wooden beams he had punched his hand into repeatedly. I asked him why he did that. He said because: “No business for five days and I was angry.” After that we played some foosball and I watched him play some sort of “all-action” fighting video game.

I don’t remember much after that except that I had a plate full of French fries which I had been craving all day and Marty made me drink two more beers before the bar closed. Yes, we closed Pinocchio’s on Friday night! We all four stumbled home to Bob’s flat where Paul and Marty were staying, and I kept stealing smooches from the boy, who said he was gay, by the way. Not common. I kissed all three of them good night at the door and went off to find a tram. By this time, it was 5 am and the trams had already started up again. Sheesh, I can’t keep this pace up for much longer.

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