I was chatting to someone the other day sharing experiences of losing our virginities. It was obvious, after a little while though, that we were talking about two different things. He was describing the first time he fucked someone whereas I, as a gay bottom, was describing the first time I had anal sex!
In describing my experiences, I skipped the very first time it happened to me. Yes, I was curious and allowed it to happen, but it was not with someone I wanted it to happen with. It was more an experiment than any act of lovemaking.
My second experience came a few years later in life and was much more enjoyable and sensual. When someone asks me when I lost my virginity, it is always this one that I relate.
It happened in Hanoi in Vietnam while I was there on business. I had some time off one afternoon and had gone for a sightseeing wander around the old French Quarter. I got hopelessly lost and spent way more time walking than I had planned. I then came across a spa offering massages – there are dozens in the centre of Hanoi but this sone took my fancy as it seemed to offer massages by male masseurs.
I did not have a lot of cash on me, but I walked in and asked to see a menu of what was on offer. I reckoned that I could just about afford something and still have enough for a small tip. I was sat down in front of a small reception desk in what was a tiny room and offered a glass of water. The room was air-conditioned which was welcome given the heat outside and the fact that I had been walking for some time.
I chose my massage – a one-hour Asian massage to cost one million dong! It was to include a shower both before and after the massage. I was told not to pay the masseur but to pay at reception on the way out. I was told to leave my shoes in reception and then taken, by the male receptionist, up a set of spiral stairs that were hidden behind a curtain that I hadn’t seen before. About halfway up there was a landing with what seemed like a large mirror in front of me.
I was instructed to choose my masseur. I looked confusingly as a light switch was flicked, and there in front of me were around a dozen fit male youths - some sitting around on benches playing cards with others standing and chatting. I guessed they couldn’t see me. They were all dressed in the same tiny shorts and white t-shirts all holding a sign with their names. I was again pushed to choose my masseur.
Never having experienced something like this, I wasn’t in a great hurry to make my choice much to the frustration of the receptionist. Again, he pushed me in poor English to make my choice. I do recall executing some rationale for my eventual choice rather than just randomly. I was keen for a good strong massage and many of the guys looked quite small, so I ended up choosing the tallest and most masculine looking guy – Binh.
Binh was then ushered out of the goldfish bowl and I was introduced to him. At that point, the receptionist gave me a bit of paper that had the massage and cost on it and Binh escorted me up the next set of stairs to a lovely room kitted out with what was very like a four-poster bed but with the mattress on the ground. The room smelt nice with incense burning and had nice soft lighting and background music – although you could still hear the street noise and honking horns from outside.
Binh’s English was not great, but he managed to explain that I should undress, placing my clothes in a chest of drawers at the back of the room. I was able to lock the drawer and keep the key on a loop around my wrist. He pointed to a towel that I should use and then he said we would go for a shower. He said that he would go off and get the shower ready while I undressed.
I stripped off – not that I was wearing too much in that heat anyway and then tried to wrap the tiny towel around my waist. It fitted, but only if I held the two ends together myself!
After what seemed like an age but was probably only a couple of minutes, Binh returned and asked me to follow him to the shower. It turned out to be just a loose shower head with a hose in a what I would have called a toiler! There was a WC and a tiny wash hand basin and then just enough room for the two of us to stand. It turned out that Binh washing me was all part of the service.
Initially, he kept his t-shirt and shorts and on and proceeded to wash me all over with the lukewarm water and soap. I absolutely loved this experience and still have many happy memories of that shower. He started with my head, washing my hair and worked his way very thoroughly down my whole body. I remember trying desperately not to get a hard-on and initially whilst my cock did thicken, it never became fully erect.
Throughout this, Binh did try some conversation, asking where I came from, what did I do why was I in Hanoi, etcetera, but he had difficulty understanding me and gave up after a just a few questions. When he had worked his way down my chest and back, he spent ages washing my cock, being very thorough behind the foreskin and underneath the head and with my frenulum. I wasn’t sure if this was because circumcision was popular in Vietnam or not – I never really found out.
Of course, at this point, it was difficult for me not to get erect and he commented on my size – as they usually do in Asia. He wasn’t masturbating my cock, but he did spend a long time washing and re-washing it before moving on to my backside. It was at this point I should have perhaps realized what might come later as he thoroughly washed my ass slipping a finger up my anus a couple of times on the way past.
Heaven.
He then carried on washing the rest of my legs, taking great care and long time over my feet and toes. The water was switched off and I thought that was the shower over but then Binh told me to wait there as he left and came back with a jug of milk. At this time he took off his t-shirt and hung it up on the back of the door. I would have loved to have touched his smooth muscular body at this point but wasn’t sure of the protocols, so didn’t.
