Tracey Parker is an urban explorer, based in Mexico City, who discovers and presents unique gay cultures around the world. If he isn’t showing us hot gay cruising parks in Latin America, he’s showing us the hot, horny underbelly or saunas and cruising hookup spots in other gay hookup spots across the globe. This time, Tracey takes us to a gay sauna where hookups and sultry sex feel guaranteed.

I saw him enter the bar area of Dark Barranquilla in his small red towel, which wrapped so nicely around his waist. 

His body was like a statue of soft, supple, perfectly shaped muscles stacked on top of each other. There wasn’t a hair on his body, but plenty sprouted from under his towel. When I saw that burst of curly black hair down there, it made me want to search his perfect body for the dirty parts.

He had eyes and a smile that seemed to be screaming, “Come and get me.”

To my surprise, he came up to me and asked what I was drinking. I told him a rum and coke. He asked if I wanted to buy one for him, and I quickly said yes. He told me his name was Sebastián and asked if he could sit down next to me; again, I quickly said yes.

When he sat down, the skin on his lean stomach crunched together in a way I’d never seen my own body move. I looked over him with fascination, as if I had never seen a man like him before. He was otherworldly and beautiful. He looked local to the area of Colombia, but he also didn’t have the typical Latino look I had filed away in my mind.

As he sat, I caught a whiff of his manly scent, which contrasted with his hairless body and angelic looks. Occasionally, when he reached for his drink, I would catch a glimpse of his armpit hair and get another whiff of that masculine essence.

When he wasn’t smiling from ear to ear, his expression took on a devious look—as if he had things going on in his imagination similar to what I had in mine. We chatted as we finished our drinks, giggling with one another.

“Do you like pollo?” he asked me.

I asked him what that meant. He told me it was Colombian slang for fresh young men. Then there was a pause and he added, “Like me,” to illustrate his point.

“Yes,” I told him. “I like pollo a lot.”

“I think you’re really handsome,” he said without any shyness or hesitation. He then asked if I had been back to the dark room.

I told him I’d just arrived and hadn’t looked around yet. He offered to give me a tour in a little while. I asked if he wanted another drink; he paused, thought for a moment, and told me it was happy hour and they were offering specials on bottles.

I’d noticed that in Colombia, people liked to drink liquor straight. This was different from Mexico City, where I rarely saw anyone drinking anything other than beer. It seemed like overkill for the two of us to order an entire bottle.

I shared my doubts, but he told me he had a few friends in the sauna area who would help us with it. He mentioned the price, and it really didn’t seem like much, so I agreed. The bartender came over and explained how it worked—providing cups, ice, and lemons—and it sounded nice. To be honest, I was nervous; Sebastián seemed way out of my league and I was in an unfamiliar town. However, the price matched the happy hour signs posted around the bar that I hadn’t noticed before. Other people were ordering bottles too, so I realized this was just how it worked in Colombia.

He left to find his friends, and they all arrived just as the bottle did. We moved to a nearby table where Sebastián introduced me to three other handsome guys around his age. They were shy; it was obvious Sebastián was the leader. His friends looked more masculine than he did, though Sebastián—despite his fit body—had the demeanor of a strong woman who knew what she wanted without being overbearing. I could tell he was used to having them at his side to do whatever he required.

Everyone got really giggly once we finished the first round. We were sitting around a small table and Sebastián had his hands all over me. He even began unbuckling my belt, reaching into my pants and feeling around.

He told his friends to pour a second round and freshen the ice. When the friend reached for my glass, Sebastián stopped him, putting his hand over the top. He looked into my eyes and asked if I was ready for my tour of the dark room. I looked back, said nothing, and simply smiled and nodded.

He held my hand and led me into the dark room, which was more of a maze than a single room. We found a corner and began devouring each other, our hands finding the parts of our bodies we had only teased out at the bar. He was particularly focused on my hairy chest.

“I love this,” he told me. I had doubted his sincere interest in me; when he asked me to buy the bottle, it confirmed my suspicion that he was using me to get his friends a buzz. But then again, the bottle was very cheap, and the four of them surely could have afforded it themselves.

“I want you to fuck me,” he whispered in my ear.

“Right here?” I asked.

Without answering, he turned and headed elsewhere, dragging me behind him by the hand. We reached a hallway of private rooms. You could hear others through the doors. He entered the first vacant room and shut the door behind us.

We both removed our towels. He was hung like a horse, but he acted as if his monster cock wasn’t even in the room. He got down on his knees and began sucking me off. I took a seat on the only bench in the room, feeling like a king—rum-buzzed with a beautiful young man feasting on me.

He got up and straddled me, reaching behind to guide me in. His entire petite body was right in front of my eyes. I gazed at him, sticking my tongue out to taste his sweaty, salty skin as it mixed with the lingering taste of Coca-Cola.

We both felt it when I entered his tight hole, letting out a shared sigh of relief. In that moment, I knew the attraction was mutual. Something changed inside of me; I felt free to do whatever I wanted with him. I grabbed his torso with both hands and squeezed. I smacked his pillowy ass cheeks over and over, listening to the sounds it pulled out of him.

I looked down at his cock, which pointed straight up past his belly button, bouncing clumsily like a third person invited to a party that only had place settings for two.

I came inside him, and he finished himself off while still sitting on my lap, my cock still hard enough for him to feel. We caught our breath, came back to earth, and began to get ready to head back to the bar.

“Hey,” he asked me. “Do you think you could give me some money? I am a little short right now.”

“How much would it help you?” I asked. He named a small amount, roughly the same price as the bottle of rum.

“Sure,” I said.

“Thanks, my king. That was really hot,” he responded in Spanish.

“Yes, it sure was.”

I took out my wallet, counted the money, and placed it into his palm. He elegantly closed his fingers around the bills one at a time and gave me one final kiss.