Exploring the Galaxy in Hong Kong

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My all-time favourite sauna in Hong Kong has got to be Galaxy which is on Kowloon Road just across from the Sheraton Hotel. The exterior is not prepossessing and then there is the extremely ancient elevator that must have been installed in the early days of the twentieth century. As it grinds and shudders I often wonder what would happen if it broke down altogether?

I made my first visit to Galaxy on a Saturday afternoon. After putting my clothes in my locker and collecting my towel I went for a wander. Soon I found myself in a large room where many older guys were singing along to Chinese opera. A couple of them laughed and pointed me in the opposite direction. Obviously they had sussed I wasn’t there for the opera!

I wandered through an archway into a large darkened area which seemed to be chock-a-block with boys and young men. I wondered if I’d come to the right place. Very probably no one would be interested in me. However I was soon proved wrong by hands touching and groping me all over. Soon I was embraced by a short boy who reached for my balls beneath my towel. Then taking me by the cock he led me into a small room. He switched on a light and I was surprised to see that it was already occupied. A very large Chinese chub was lying seemingly unconscious on a bench. The boy sat on the edge of the bench and indicated to me that he wanted me to sit on his prodding cock which I was pleased to do. As I was bouncing up and down the chub woke up and became an interested audience.  After the boy came I went prowling in the dark again. Soon I collided with a Chinese boy who was in his late teens or early twenties. I later discovered his name was Eric. He whisked me into a room and soon we were cock sucking in the sixty-nine position. Eric was slim and quite tall. This is the case with many Hong Kong boys. I put it down to superior nutrition which would have been inherited from the British era.

Eric then invited me to fuck him. I didn’t hesitate because I had regained a raging hard on. I got him to lie on his back and I raised his legs so I could inspect his hole. Like just about every other Chinese boy I’ve even been with it seemed clinically clean. I was also sure it would have a delicate oriental taste. Was I being racist? No, just a mad Chinese enthusiast. Anyway, I took his tight balls in one hand and with the index finger of the other I started to explore the hairless magic cave. I pushed my finger up to the first knuckle and Eric gave a soft groan of pleasure. I usually find that Chinese boys only want you to give them one finger. They are usually pretty tight. On this occasion I decided to try two fingers. He was a big boy after all. After I’d finger-fucked Eric for a while I started to introduce the other finger. The boy looked at me in surprise and then gave me a big smile and a bit of a friendly squeeze with his arse muscles. I then took the boy’s balls in my mouth and swirled my tongue around them. After a while I was ready for the probe. I pulled his legs further over my shoulders and touched the opening with the tip of my tongue. There it was! The delicate taste redolent of fragrances borne by the wind over South China Seas. I tried to fill the delicious cavity with my tongue and the boy squirmed with pleasure

I retracted my foreskin and inserted the head of my cock in the boy’s arse hole. He groaned again and pushed himself against me and I went gliding deep inside his body. We set up a compatible rhythm, pretty soon I felt the insane, indescribable pressure building in my tubes

“Eric, I’m gonna cum! You want it in your face?”

“No Mr Kevin, inside. I want your seed inside me.”

That was sufficient to push me over the edge and I blew myself into the boy’s arse.

I took the boy in my arms and we lay together with my now limp cock still inside him. I learned that Eric was a student still living with his family.

“When are you coming back to Hong Kong Mr Kevin? I want to be with you. I love your touch. I want to be your friend. Perhaps one day we can go to Australia together.”

I was somewhat taken aback. It was all a bit sudden. But getting into the spirit of the conversation and perhaps being drawn in to an image of some kind of a rosy future with a handsome Hong Kong boy, I started to reciprocate.

“I’d like nothing better Eric. Maybe I can be back here in a few weeks. You could come and stay with me at my hotel…”

“Oh, I would love that Mr Kevin… however I must go, my mother will be expecting me.”

Later when I was in the rooftop bar of the Sheraton Kowloon Hotel just across the road looking across the harbour I pondered my conversation with Eric. I’d only just met the boy for a quick bout of sex at the Galaxy. What was all this talk of an ongoing romance? Was it a kind of fantasy? I didn’t even have Eric’s phone number – he’d hurried off before I could ask. I put it down to an unusual experience.

The following day was Sunday and I headed off to Galaxy again. As I walked along Kowloon Road I pondered – surely my encounter with Eric was a “one off?” I’d had a lucky encounter, that’s all. Today I’d probably be ignored by the young guys and spend all my time singing Chinese Opera!

This time, going up in the ancient elevator, I found myself alone with a very cute Chinese young guy. He had the most luscious lips and I wasn’t so worried about the jolting of the elevator. If it jammed and ground to halt I knew how I would be spending my time until rescued! As the door opened the young guy turned and cheekily gave my package a squeeze. A good start.

Again in the dark I felt probing hands. Very soon I was in a small room (no chub audience this time) in the arms of a beautiful young Chinese guy called Paul. Again he was fine-boned and tall and brimming over with good health. Bless that British heritage. As he cuddled me and wanked my cock Paul suggested that we could meet up later. Perhaps he could come back to my hotel tonight? Where was I saying? We could have dinner and we could spend the whole night fucking. Paul would be my friend for ever, he would be my Hong Kong boy and maybe one day…? He said he would leave his phone number at my locker. This was all sounding rather familiar.

Paul was such a glorious fuck that I really wasn’t interested in anyone else so I went through and listened to the Chinese opera before having a shower. Then I went to my locker, looking forward to getting Paul’s phone number. When I arrived I looked at the rows and rows of lockers. How was the boy supposed to leave a number outside my locker? I turned around and saw Paul standing at the bar. He looked right through me as if we’d never met let alone fucked. I started to consider that with both Eric and Paul I’d been taking part in some sort of Hong Kong gay fantasy. It is their way of conjuring up a kind of relationship while in fact they are having sex with a complete stranger.

 

 

 

 

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Free Book: GAY MOMENTS The Beach of Dreams

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The latest story in my GAY MOMENTS series ‘The Beach of Dreams will be available for free downloading from Amazon Kindle from Thursday the 7th of May until Monday the 11th of May inclusive. Here is a brief extract –

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As we travelled down through the Cape the Viennese boy and I seemed to be drawing closer to each other. What had started as a holiday romance at the Happy Surfies’ Haven in Margaret River was developing into something much deeper and more complex. The boy no longer talked very much about the American boyfriend he’d left in Vienna.

At last, deep in the South West, we came across the Boranup Forest. We had been warned about this place in Margaret River. The forest was said to be enchanted. Cursed would probably be a better term. It is the only place in Western Australia (and therefore in the world) where gigantic karri trees grow next to the sea. The local Aboriginal people of the Noongar tribe believe this is a sign that the forest is haunted and they won’t go anywhere near it. It is said that if a pregnant woman goes into the place then she will definitely have a miscarriage.

Sebastian and I decided to brave the Boranup and after driving for miles along a dirt track we eventually came across a vision splendid: a brilliant, seemingly endless beach where scores of naked boys were surfing. They were also (mostly) some of the most beautiful boys I’d ever seen.

“The Beach of Dreams” breathed Sebastian. “I knew we’d find it.”

“The Boys of Summer” I murmured. I suddenly became somewhat nervous. Did the Boys of Summer belong to a secret society? Would they welcome visitors? Would they attack us? Could you actually join the Boys of Summer? If so, did they have certain standards as far as looks were concerned? Well if that was the case I felt that Sebastian would have no problem at all. I quickly noticed that many of the boys on the beach or out in the surf were intact so the Viennese boy with his luxuriant foreskin would certainly fit in. No, I was more worried about whether I would be accepted by the Boys of Summer. Whereas Sebastian was definitely beautiful some of my friends (in their kinder moments) had told me I fitted into the ‘kinda cute’ category. Well I wondered, would kinda cute get me into the Boys of Summer?

Shortly after we arrived at the beach I parked our hired Toyota in an unobtrusive spot beneath a clump of karri trees. We unpacked our gear including two surf boards on the roof rack that I’d bought in Margaret River. Of course we took off our clothes as quickly as possible. We didn’t want to stand out like sore pricks.

As we strolled down towards the water’s edge I felt relaxed and completely at home. From his happy, glowing expression I guessed that Sebastian was feeling the same way. Several of the boys out on the swell waved to us and one young guy came running across the sand towards us. His name was Steve and when he discovered we were both surfing novices he offered to give us lessons. Sebastian accepted enthusiastically but I said that, for the moment, I’d be happy enough just to watch. Steve had moderately long blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. His chest was hairless and his torso tapered down to a thin waist. His uncut cock was, I figured, a bit longer than average – about seven inches fully erect I guessed – and his cute balls were in tight mode.

Well, after the initial training on the beach during which Sebastian learned how to change the direction of a surf boat by shifting his weight, both boys took to the water. Sebastian proved to be a natural and he was soon surfing the waves as if he’d been doing it all his life. Of course, now that he was naked, with his slender body, ivory-coloured and touched here and there with suggestions of gold, he presented a breathtakingly graceful sight. Some boys out on the water whistled and I noticed that Sebastian’s beauty had stopped many of the lads on the beach in their tracks. Was it my imagination or were there plenty of healthy-looking cocks on the Beach of Dreams throbbing and pulsing and lifting at the sight of my Viennese boy?

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I hope you enjoy reading it,

Kevin

Editing Gay Erotica

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Hi,

I’m in the final stages of publishing a new GAY MOMENTS story – ‘The Beach of Dreams.’ Whilst I’ve been working on this I’ve been reflecting on the challenges of editing one’s own writing. Of course I think we all realize that the advent of e-books has wrought the greatest revolution in publishing since the invention of the Guttenberg printing press. Now anyone anywhere in the world can publish their own stories on the net. The gatekeepers have been banished. However if there is a downside to all this it may be in the editing and formatting of e-books. There is a lot of junk out there in the ether! Sometimes I wonder if many of the books have been proof-read at all. This seems to be especially prevalent in the genre of gay erotica. Recently I was reading a story where the writer often confused tenses and genders – quite often a ‘he’ would become a ‘she’ – without becoming a drag queen! The hapless author also got the names of his characters mixed up so that in the story a boy would suddenly be fucking his brother instead of his boyfriend.

It has often been stated by writers and publishers on forums that writers should not attempt to edit their own books. This appears to be the received wisdom. Of course many authors don’t possess the skill or the experience to edit their own work. Another problem is caused by over-familiarity with the text. What I mean is that as we read through various drafts over time whilst working on a new opus we simply stop seeing mistakes on the page before us. Our brain becomes blind to typos, spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. Sometimes the best solution is to seek out a friend or a family member who can help – very often an extra pair of eyes is invaluable. Another option is to seek the services of a professional editor.

I carry out my own editing. I’ve had years of experience in editing and publishing the work of other writers, mainly in the drama field. This doesn’t mean I don’t make mistakes when editing my own work – far from it!

Anyway, this is my method – when I am working on a new story quite often I will stop writing and as a kind of a break I will go back to the beginning and scroll through the text looking for potential errors. I always find some! I do this many times during the writing. Then when I reach ‘The End’ I go through the text several times with a fine tooth comb. Cliché alert! Well you know what I mean. I do this until I can find no more mistakes. I then leave the text alone for a few days. One of the classical poets from Roman times told his students that after they completed a poem they should put it away in the dark for five years before going back to it. (I think that’s being a little excessive). Finally, with a fresh pair of eyes, I go back to my book and scroll through the text again. If I find no more errors I then start the publishing process.

Good luck!

Kevin