Getting to Sitges was simplicity itself. Flew into Barcelona Airport and had to board a connecting train, followed by a local train that would travel down the coast, with Sitges being one of the stops.
As I sat on the local train, admiring some of the breathtaking scenery that was whizzing past, I felt the anticipation and excitement starting to rise. Back home I live a fairly vanilla existence, at least to casual observers. I dress in a suit during the week and dress down to jeans and t-shirt on weekends. I live in an executive apartment in a small development where the residents really do represent a cross-section of Middle England. There's the retired banker, the entrepreneur, the surgeon and his constantly frazzled wife who is trying to juggle the needs of their three children. So, about to disembark at a town with a significant gay (albeit seasonal) population, staying at a gay hotel in the heart of wall-to-wall gay bar's and clubs is a luxury I simply don't have back home and the thought was making my heart race. Whilst I am here I can ditch all the usual conservatism and professional image and I can let loose, wear skimpy beachwear and openly eye guys on the street without fear of being beaten up! Ok, so residents of gay-centric zones in places like Brighton may be saying 'big deal', but it really was to me.
I managed not to miss my stop, and walking out of the station onto the winding road leading to Sitges centre, it became obvious that whilst there were females around, the men outweighed them in numbers by some distance. I should say now for those not familiar with Sitges, that whilst it has one of the most vibrant gay centres in a holiday destination, the entire town is NOT exclusively gay. Only part of it. And that was a part I was dying to get to.
Walking through more narrow streets, I lost my bearings and considered re-tracing my steps, when I noticed a sign further down the street which indicated the location of my hotel. By this time the excitement on the train had been replaced by a desire to get settled, get into sunshine clothes and get out for an explore.
I had decided when booking to pay extra so I could be in the heart of the action, so picked one of the main gay hotspot hotels available. Some years ago I had taken the same approach in Amsterdam, and had a torrid time with a hotel that was clearly only 'premium' due to location but had rude staff and poky, seedy rooms. This wasn't the case here. I strode out on the balcony and surveyed the scene... to my right was a main 'square' with bars, cafes and outside seated areas, to my left were a string of smaller bars lining the street and immediately opposite was a whitewashed building which I assumed was a leather or fetish bar, called 'Bukkake'. I didn't want to waste time, so undressed, took a quick shower and threw on some denim shorts, a tank-top and a hat, grabbed my small ruck-sack and went out for a walk.
Venturing out of the hotel, it was clear that most of the bars were either shut or very quiet at this time of day, so I walked down through a couple of short streets until I reached the sea-front. Sitges has a wide promenade stretching along the main beaches, and these were absolutely rammed with sun worshippers. Everywhere I looked there were gay guys, couples holding hands as they walked down the promenade, couples laughing and chinking glasses outside the bars. It was a world away from what I am used to, and it felt very liberating. Standing at the entrance to the main 'gay' beach (there is a mixed beach further along) I suddenly felt very fat and pale as bronzed bodies paraded around and sexy young guys were laid out on thousands of beach-towels. Now, one of my worries about coming would be if the general population were too young, fit and athletic as I am quite the opposite, and am attracted mostly to men who look like men, flaws and all. Seeing the scene in front of me brought that worry back I must admit.
Sitges beachfront is book-ended at either end by two nude beaches. One I had read about and really fancied trying, as it is very secluded and has a lot of action in an adjacent wood however it is quite some distance on foot, and difficult to navigate to once there according to the web. Now, the remoteness is clearly what makes it such a hot proposition, but I simply don't have time today to sample it. What I can do is go to the 'other' nude beach at a place called 'Balmins', which is mixed but with a gay area on one side. It was a bit of a walk, but nothing too arduous so I made my way up past the pretty church and back down the other side, until I could spot a beach which wasn't hard to identify from a distance as a nudist one.
I walked down the path towards the beach, turned right at the entrance and walked across the hot sand for a few minutes until I was clearly in the gay 'zone'. Laying my towel from my rucksack out on the ground, I started removing my clothes. I've been naked around multiple men many times, but this felt rather awkward, as I felt many sets of eyes boring into the bumbling, pale-as-a-ghost middle-aged guy trying, and failing, to gracefully get undressed. Laying down on the towel I once again surveyed the scene. Things were clearly quieting down by now, but there was still a lot of eye candy on show, and thankfully not all gym-addicts and twinks!
Far from being aroused in the cock department, I managed to stay flaccid - out of nerves more than anything, which was a relief as no-one else seemed to be getting up to anything overtly sexual. I laid there for a while, enjoying the sensation of the warm late afternoon sun on my skin, vowed to myself I would return when it is busier, and decided to head back to the hotel.
I'm not here for a traditional holiday, so my intention all along has been to focus on the sex hence I had no intention of wandering around during the early evening when the bars and restaurants are heaving full of loving couples and families. My plan was to get some rest at the hotel room, freshen up and then head out at about 10pm, have a couple of glasses of dutch courage in the square and then see what fun is to be had...
I'm a stickler for preparation, probably more so than many, and I spent some time doing this prior to venturing out. I showered, shaved my chest and balls, douched my arse until the water ran clear, lubed myself generously and then used a small butt-plug I had brought with me to ensure I was 'stretched' enough to avoid injury should the opportunity to be fucked arise. I pulled on a jock-strap and some board shorts and selected a very summery button-up shirt and I was good to go.
10 o'clock came and I sauntered down to the pavement cafe in the square, sat on a spare seat in amongst the sea of men dotted around the tables lining the street and ordered a beer, followed by second one. I'd also vowed not to eat after mid-afternoon to avoid the need for a toilet break late on, and this had the side effect of allowing the cold lager to go straight to my head. Feeling nicely buzzed, I stood up and headed straight for a bar I had spotted on arrival - the 'Bears Bar'.
Climbing the steps to the bar, I walked through the door and was immediately aghast as the place was completely empty aside from a barman polishing glasses. I beat a hasty retreat and came to the conclusion that even 10pm was a little too early for action in these parts!
After another beer at the pavement cafe, it was now 11.30 so headed back to the 'Bear Bar' which thankfully this time was much busier. I ordered a bottled beer and quickly found my way to the area at the back of the premises partitioned from the main bar by some camouflage netting. My first surprise was that it was a lot lighter in there than expected as I had envisaged an almost pitch-black area. That said, the seedy-atmosphere was perfect - there was a short corridor running through the main play area, with a communal area, a sling and several small dark 'cubby holes' also hidden behind more camouflage netting.
