Turkish Delight Times Six

Then it was out to the nude tourist beach. Both Greek and Turkish societies are puritanical, but both are also highly entrepreneurial. There were nude beaches in both sectors of the island, but, by law, they were restricted to the foreign tourists, and the locals supposedly were limited to watching from the far-off fringes with binoculars. This being the Mediterranean, however, a local could get onto the beach just by paying off the police who were there to keep them away and also to see that there was no actual, graphic sex acts being performed on the beach. Heavy petting didn’t seem to violate this law, but maybe the police guards on duty just considered permitting that to be a fringe benefit for themselves. In another anomaly of the Greek and Turkish systems on this, woman nude tourists were just to be ogled, on pain of serious punishment, but nude men tourists were accepted as advertising their availability.

Thus it was that when I arrived at the beach and set out my towel and then stripped off my skimpy Speedo—the same size Speedo I had used for months to build up a very nice tan—what was left untanned became pretty much a billboard, and a nice enough advertisement that I was surrounded by men of several different nationalities in no time flat. This was to be a Turk weekend, though, so I waved off the Scandinavians and Israelis and concentrated on the Turkish possibilities. Several of these men looked like they would do, and I tried a few out with some hands work—theirs on me and mine on them—an activity they didn’t seem to mind sharing—and the local police didn’t mind watching. Four young men seemed to arouse me sufficiently, and when I’d brought up the condom requirement and asked if they had come prepared, I was down to two.