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Gay Stories
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Gay Male / 59
It Was Such An Experience Growing Up In Istanbul
It seems that as we grow older we are far more willing to admit to things that as young guys we never did. I fully admit that I was never turned off by gay men. Or dicks, or for that matter a big harry man with a beer belly at the public showers at the beach. Men touching me never caused a problem, a hug from a man, or even a kiss. But I grew up in a world which was much different than most Americans, I grew up in Istanbul. Back in the seventies and eighties. It was a very different culture.
Being the son of an American family, expats, provided me with a better social standing, where we lived, the school I attended, that we had help in the house, and a man servant for the house. I never asked him how old he was, as a kid that was none of my business. He was responsible for taking me out, to school and back, and whenever I had go to the dentist or the doctor. I never left the house alone. I do know that he liked me, I could feel it. He was always nice and he spoiled me. How was I supposed to know that holding his hand to cross the street wasn't manly, or that his arm on my shoulder, or his kiss. His lips were always so warm, and moist and smooth. I really liked being kissed.
From time to time he bathed me, I was what, eleven, twelve. Before I had pubes. He stood beside me in the tub and bathed me, using an open pan to pan the water over my head. He used this large sponge and soap, and washed me. Washed my penis. That felt good. Once I developed pubes, it was different. Then I was a man.
At a teen I was rebellious and went out with friends. I had this one friend, he was French and he had found this bath house and we would go and watch the men go in, and the men come out. There were a lot of older men, and some very young men. Why we liked going there? We just liked the idea of all those men, we talked about them being naked in the bathhouse. One day we would be old enough, but we were too young to be allowed inside.
We were ready to go off to college and this one place let us in. It was dark and smelled of tobacco smoke, and the men in there liked to have us sit beside them, and put their arms around us. We liked going there. When a man would stand and reach out to us and we would hold his hand and we went with him to a small room with a bed and he made love to us, we weren't virgins by the time we went there. There were other young men like us, young men who liked older men to make love to us. Mostly young Turkish men, but some foreigners too. It was for me a great time to grow up.
College in Connecticut, and by then my father had asked for a transfer home. It was different, very different being gay in the US.
Being the son of an American family, expats, provided me with a better social standing, where we lived, the school I attended, that we had help in the house, and a man servant for the house. I never asked him how old he was, as a kid that was none of my business. He was responsible for taking me out, to school and back, and whenever I had go to the dentist or the doctor. I never left the house alone. I do know that he liked me, I could feel it. He was always nice and he spoiled me. How was I supposed to know that holding his hand to cross the street wasn't manly, or that his arm on my shoulder, or his kiss. His lips were always so warm, and moist and smooth. I really liked being kissed.
From time to time he bathed me, I was what, eleven, twelve. Before I had pubes. He stood beside me in the tub and bathed me, using an open pan to pan the water over my head. He used this large sponge and soap, and washed me. Washed my penis. That felt good. Once I developed pubes, it was different. Then I was a man.
At a teen I was rebellious and went out with friends. I had this one friend, he was French and he had found this bath house and we would go and watch the men go in, and the men come out. There were a lot of older men, and some very young men. Why we liked going there? We just liked the idea of all those men, we talked about them being naked in the bathhouse. One day we would be old enough, but we were too young to be allowed inside.
We were ready to go off to college and this one place let us in. It was dark and smelled of tobacco smoke, and the men in there liked to have us sit beside them, and put their arms around us. We liked going there. When a man would stand and reach out to us and we would hold his hand and we went with him to a small room with a bed and he made love to us, we weren't virgins by the time we went there. There were other young men like us, young men who liked older men to make love to us. Mostly young Turkish men, but some foreigners too. It was for me a great time to grow up.
College in Connecticut, and by then my father had asked for a transfer home. It was different, very different being gay in the US.
