Looking to meet a woman or couple who live their daily lifes like the rest of us, but have the courage in private to show their sensual side and indulge in the pleasures that none of their friends and workmates would ever suspect they enjoy ! Non smoker but you do'nt have to be. Discreet , safe and able to hold a conversation. Genuine enquiries returned with photo and phone number.[SIZE 2][/SIZE][SIZE 4][/SIZE][COLOR blue][/COLOR][SIZE 4][/SIZE]

My Ideal Person I'd love to meet a woman or couple who are comfotable with themself/s and like exploring their sexual desires. In a relaxed enviroment who knows what could happen..............

Tell one of your favorite sexual fantasies. Don't hold back!:
Heat, water and minimal clothing are a good srarting point
in any fantasy so i am bound to tell you of the true experience
that is the starting point for more extensive imaginings
that grew from this sexual encounter. <br><br>
On a visit to Turkey i went to a the hamam, a traditional Tukish
bath. Id' never been to the real thing before, just
the usual UK sports centre/hotel sauna and was keen to have
the authentic experience. <br><br>
The temperature outside was 90c and by the time i found my
way through the narrow winding streets of the old quarter
and stood outside the the blinding white building i was
wondering if it really was wise to enter such a place while
the sun seemed to be doing its best to melt stone. <br><br>
However a wisened old man ushered me in, and with arms full
of fluffy white towells i stepped into a small changing
booth.My dilema now was do i wear my swimming shorts? I keeked
my head out the curtain and gestured at the shorts to the
old man. His look of disdain convinced me, after all, when
in Rome.... and i wrapped the muslin sarong, folded among
the towells, around my waist. <br><br>
With a towel around my waist i stepped into the main room
where a large dome rose high above the marble tables in the
centre surrounded by marble benches and shafts of light
cut into the gloom from windows hidden above.There were
no other customers, save for the two fat Turkish masseurs
who were sloshing pails of water around.Compared to outside
the temperature here was neutral and airy but i was directed
into a baking hot room, again covered in marble. I took a
seat and leaned back as little bubles of fresh sweat burst
out my skin and rolled down my body, slicking the hairs on
my chest and arms.The heat was fierce and my eyes nipped
as i rubbed the sweat from them and breaths of searing heat
felt as if my throat was baking. Leaning forward with my
arms on my knees i wondered how long i could last an indeed
just how much time had passed, ten minutes, half an hour,
an hour? <br><br>
I stood up and with a ringing noise in my ears and white spots
floating accross my vission i stepped accross the thresh'old
and into the cool releif of the next room. The sound of running
water filled the room from a waist high fountain in the centre
where wooden buckets bobbed around thunking into the marble
sides as the water swirled them about. Holding the edge
of the fountain my senses returned and i gratefully scooped
up a bucket of cool clear water and upturned it over my head.The
fresh sensation shocked my skin and left me gasping and
the pores felt like they were snapping shut. With the bucket
refilledand a wooden ladel clutched in my hand i made my
way to one of the small cubicles and sat dowm gratefully.
The cubicles were in effect small pens, partitioned to
chest height with a brass faucet on the wall, seating two
or three. <br><br>
Feeling more relaxed i grasped the tap and with a squeek
turned on the water, a scooped hand helping to soothe my
partched throat. As i sat taking in the surroundings the
atmosphere felt almost magical, rays of sun dappled the
walls from vents above and the gurgling water sang a little
tune from the fountain. I wondered just how old the baths
were and pictured the times of the Ottomans and Sultans
with fez wearing merchants chattering about the girls
in a nerby bordello, their slaves outside ready to transport
them there in waiting seddan chairs. <br><br>
My reverie was broken by the sound of laughter. Female laughter,
and chattering mixed with squeals in an eastern european
accent as well as the odd gutteral male exclamation. I was
now accutely aware of my body and just how much the, by now
see through, muslin sarrong was clinging to it! I had'nt
just been feeling relaxed, this had translated a message
to my libido and more pertinately my prick, i was becoming
aroused. <br><br>
Now as many men will know, it's times like this that
the law of inverse thought comes onto play. In other words
the more you try to ignore a hard on then the more it grows.I
could feel the wet material carressing me and looked into
my lap to see my twitching cock pushing upwards encased
in the clinging material. <br><br>
Evidently i was'nt the only one to struggle with the
heat of the first room as a cloud of steam and squeals announced
it's evacuation, and many bodies seemed to slither
simultaneously through the door like a catch of fish spilling
onto the deck of a trawler. As the steam cleared i counted
five women and three men regaining their senses and gratefully
sloshing water over themselfs from around the trough.
Judging from the heavy gold jewelry i guessed they were
Russian nouveu riche.There obvious wealth more of a penalty
in here though as they yelped as the hot metal almost branded
them as they raced to cool these minor instruments of torture.
I got a better look as they made their way to the booths around
me and their ages appeared to range from late twenties to
early forties. Maybe it was just my state of arousal but
the women all looked luscious. Some curvacious with full
breasts and good slapable arses', others slender
with slavic cheeck bones and dark hair in shorter styles
and small pert tits shown off by skimpy bikinis....Now
there was a point, they were all, including the men wearing
costumes under their sarongs.Now as i sat there on the hard
marble bench i didnt feel quite such a man of the world but
more of a blundering foreigner. Luckily with the partitions
and a bit of shuffling to angle my body, my turgid cock was
not in dirct view. I let my gaze wander around the room and
was taken by the easy grace of a lithe flaxen haired female
who must have been in her mid thirties. A multitude of fine
gold necklaces in various sizes hung around her neck with
a couple of charms that slithered around her cleavage as
she moved. The aureole of her tanned breasts were clearly
visible through her sheer white bikini top, dark and gently
dimpled with stubby nipples. She sat in a booth with a swarthy
bear of a man on her right her hand resting on his thigh, fingers
gently twisting the dark hairs there as she leaned forward
talking animatedly to a girl on his right. As i ladeled some
water over my head the water ran dowm my body in refreshing
little rivulets. I half expected steam and a hissing noise
as it reached my crotch.As my eyes wandered they would occasionally
meet one of the russians and a friendly nod was exchanged
until i sensed a gaze upon me and turned my head to find the
many necklaced woman had changed seat and was now reclined
in a booth on her own directly accross from me.I held her
gaze, as with a neutral expression, her head tilted forward
slightly. I swear i could feel the path of her eyes caress
my skin as her vision moved down my chest and stopped at my
groin. Automatically, i too looked at the stiff cloth covered
flag that jiggled in my lap and when i looked up again she
looked like a cat, as her eyelids had dropped slightly,
and the merest hint of a knowing smile tilted the sides of
her mouth.The babble of conversation and the splash of
water echo'd off the walls around us and the waftingclouds
of steam gave the whole thing an other wordly feel . Sensing
her implied acceptance of the game, i leant to one side and
let my left shoulder rest against the marble partition
where only my head was visible to those around and let my
right hand slip under the cloth and grasp my throbbing penis.
In full view of all, her response could not be similar, but
using a pretended roll of her head to stretch her neck she
used the opportunity to scan around the room quickly and
ascertaining that no one had noticed our suripticious
comunication, she let her hands cup her breasts, running
some fingers under the thin material of her top and quickly
carressing her nipples, all under the pretence of adjusting
her bikini. Now it was game on, my peripheral vision ready
to alert me, i let mf fingers slip around my full, hairy balls
and letting them slip through my fingers and cupped them,
testing the feeling of fullness that a couple of days of
not unloading them gives you. Last nights excess of alcohol
began with cocktails in the hotel lounge and finished with
ouzo slugged back in shot glasses, to the encouraging yelps
of toothless old men in a local cafe bar. The night preceeding
that was spent in the air as i transited the skies, west to
east, arriving red eyed at my hotel at some ungodly hour.
Now though, this mornings hangover was a relic of the past,
as the bath house had sweated body and soul clean and releasing
hormones to charge careening around my system in raging
floods.Her gaze flicked back to me as she sensuously slicked
the sweat from her thighs.Wrapping my finger round my cock
again i guided it from under the muslin, drawing breath
as it slid over the taut skin of my glands. The foreskin had
rolled back of its own accord as the bell end swelled and
now gistened as iinto view. Looking on again her expression
would seem to others to be staring into the middle distance
but we both knew by the hint of her smile, exactly what she
was seeing. With a quick turn of my head, to check nobody
was about to leap up, i let my fingers tighten to a fist and
began to slickly moved my hand up and down in the manner men
have ptacticed down through the centuries. The glands
were so turgid i almost expected to hear a snapping sound
each time my foreskin retracted and slipped off the jutting
back of my helmet. In that practiced surripticious way
of someone who has had to disguse the releif of a wank under
the covers in a crowded barracks i swiftly but expertly
moved my hand from the wrist only, and so avoided the giveaway
arm movement. Stuck in our reverie i almost missed the rising
figure to my right, but quickly grabbed the wooden bucket
and some how managed to wrestle it into my lap, pushing my
prick painfully flat against my stomach, as one of the woman
passed me without a glance, her pendulous tits bouncing
under the freed confines of her bikini top which had been
untied at the back, made her way over to join the couple my
slavic voyeur had been chatting with earlier.Neither
the close escape from embarrassing discovery or the pain
of the bucket had dampened my lust and i once again began
to masturbate my cock to her appreciating gaze. In the back
of my mind i had wondered just how long release would take
me, as i normally dont operate on a hair trigger, but the
enviroment and her langerously rubbing the sweat around
her body were propelling me to ejaculation.There was a
faint slapping noise now as i pushed my foreskin around
in the most pleasurable way but it wasnt enogh noise to be
heard abouve the babble.I was concentrating on the tautness
of her bikini pants, moulded to her vulva. A sprig of jet
black pubic hair poked out under the edge as she crooked
one leg up, and wound the stray hair around a finger. That
spreading warm feeling began in my groin and my balls tightened
in readyness.I shot a look between her face and my glistening
dick, and took satisfaction at her mouth now slightly open
as if hoping i'd be able to shoot that far, pearly dropps
into her ready mouth. That thought provided the final release
and i shuddered involuntarily as white darts of thick globulous
cum spattered against the black marble next to my shoulder
and meandered down to the seat where it began to gather in
a substantial pool.As she watched this she brought herself
into a sitting position and pivotting her legs on the balls
of her feet she flapped her knees together in an agitated
motion, as if longing to get involved but recognizing how
impossible that was. As the feelings of exstacy faded and
my cock began its transition to flacidness, i covered myself
again and used the remaining water in my bucket to sluice
away the evidence of my pleasure.All heads turned to a vice
calling and reverberating from the main, domed room. Had
i been discovered, watched all along by some hidden cctv
camera ? I pictured every fevered thrust of my hand played
back in a a Turkish courtroom as a judge barks out the turkish
for GUILTY, and gap toothed, grinning police officers
drag me down to the cells and a new millenium version of Midnight
Express. My thudding heart steadies though as the fat Turk
appears at the door and gestures that its time to complete
my bath house experience. The women nudge each other and
make appraising sounds as i leave but this is because it
is obviousi'm naked under the sarong as it clings to
every contour, moulding nicely to my bum, which has been
described to me as pert, and i'm happy as my penis has'nt
shrunk to oblivion under their gaze, and shows it's
contours in flashes through the wet material as i walk.
Moments later and i'm lying face down on the raised
marble area in the centre of the domed room, being lather
in a luxurious deluge of soap foam with the worlds biggest
sponge. The masseur is thorough as he spins me about expertly,
like a game of spin the bottle, the scrubs me roughly with
a loofah. He moves quickly as he pulls and streches limbs,
extracting strange but satisfying cracks and clicks from
various joints, then pulls skin and manipulates muscle
with deft fingers before pummelling the length of my body
in sharp karate chops with the edge of his hands. As he pulls
an arm to deftly flip me onto my back i'm aware that my
sarong has slipped off into a pile of soapy suds at some time
during the proceedings. I also notice that the Russians
are now sitting around the edge of the room enjoying the
spectacle of my spreadeagled body being pummelled.The
men look releived they have shorts on and the women make
no pretence of avoiding to look at my tackle, whilst gigling
and whispering amongst one another in equal measure.My
recent partner, just gives the occasional nod and maintains
a sphinx like, silent expression. Buckets of ice cold water jolt me from my reverie and i scramble
on the slippery stone like a cartoon character, almost
slipping and falling, before picking up my sarong and making
a poor pretence of covering myself with it as i make my way
to the changing cubicle.The rough cotton towells chafe
at my skin as i rub them over my body but i feel invigorated
and there is a zing in my body and soul as i emerge into the
early evening sunshine. The firey orb has lost it's
fierceness now as it slopes toward the horizon and i sit
at an outside table of a bustling cafe around the corner.
The cooler temperature brings people out onto the streets
and wailing minarets call the faithfull to worship. Allready
the memories stir my groin and i start to think of an alternate
reality where events in the baths descend into a Byzantine
orgie, with the fat masseurs using their skills in other
departments on a couple of the women, and the Russian men
and i sharing the wet and willing orifices of the others.Perhaps
if i've related this well enough i'll have stirred
some of you to reply with your ideas ? I'd love to know
what you think. How about it ?

What location do you fantasize about for a sexual encounter?:
A remote woodland glade in the scottish borders

Ever fantasized about having sex with a celebrity? Who? What turns you on about them?:
Real women like someone you notice on the underground or
bus are far more alluring..........

Have you ever had cybersex?:
I've tried it, but it's just not the same.

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