Tracey Parker is an urban explorer, based in Mexico City, who discovers and presents unique gay cultures around the world. After sharing with Squirt members the steamy hookups that take place at Plaza San Martín, in Lima, Peru, Tracey takes us to another place, this time in Cambodia, at a gay male sex resort and bathhouse.
Siem Reap was the last stop on my six-week backpacking trip through Southeast Asia.
I hadn’t originally planned to end up here (Vietnam was supposed to be the whole trip), but everywhere I went, I kept hearing the same thing: you have to see Angkor Wat. And I’m so glad I listened. The temples there were stunning, yes, but what got me was MEN’s Spa and Resort, an all-male hotel, gay bathhouse and playground tucked away at the end of a secret dirt road. Discreet, luxurious, and dripping with potential.
Once I found it, I went on every single one of my 5 nights in Siem Reap. Same routine, every day: explore temples in the morning, nap, dinner at my favourite restaurant, and then let the night begin at MEN’s. After weeks of constantly being on the move, it felt so good to surrender to a rhythm, especially one that ended in steam, sweat, and cum.
The place is beautiful. Open-air pool under a starry sky, surrounded by landscaped gardens and handsome men from all over the world. Paradise. Inside, a cruisy, dimly lit maze of jacuzzis, a steam room, and private rooms designed for pleasure. You could lose your inhibitions (and your clothes) within minutes.
The guys there were a mix of adventurous tourists and curious locals: guys from Europe, other parts of Asia, and everywhere in between. The vibe never felt overwhelming or dead. The tourists were from all over. Europe, other SE Asian countries, China, and everywhere in between. Never did it feel crowded, nor empty. Just the right amount of energy for making eye contact across the water or grinding naked against someone you just met.
On my last night there, I was lounging by the pool when I saw him. Tall, pale, lean but strong, and looking right at me. We both got into the pool and met in the middle, bodies floating closer as we talked. He was from some megacity in China I’d never heard of, and he told me to call him Ian.
There was something magnetic about him. Sweet smile. Tight muscles. A cocky kind of calm that made me ache to be touched. We started with light flirtation, fingers grazing thighs under the water. I held his gaze, then slipped my hand into his trunks and wrapped it around his thick, growing cock. It was big and took up all the space inside his trunks. I held it, gently massaging it in my palm, still looking at him, not saying a word.
“I’m vers,” I told him when he asked.
Ian smirked. “Let’s go inside so I can fuck you”.
With his hands cupping my ass and eyes locked on mine, we kissed. Then we climbed out of the pool and headed toward the maze.
The walk felt electric, like our bodies were already fucking even though we hadn’t touched again. I almost felt like I was vibrating.
As soon as we entered the cruising area, under the low light and lingering heat, he turned around to face me. His cock was fully hard now, and I felt it brush against my stomach.
I turned around, dropped my towel, spread my legs slightly, and braced my hands against a ledge in the room, which was empty except for us.
I felt the tip of his finger massaging the rim of my hole. There wasn’t much talking, and the language barrier didn’t matter anymore. All I could do was look back at him. Spit dripped from his finger as he prepped me, his eyes never leaving mine.
The way he eased in was slow, teasing. Inch by inch until I was gasping, whimpering with every breath, my hole stretching open and wrapping around his cock.
He tapped in little by little, opening me up more every time he pushed forward, until he was balls deep. We held still like that for a moment, until I felt him kissing my neck as his arms wrapped around my torso.
“Can I fuck you now?” he asked, still buried deep inside me.
What followed was more like a ritual than anything else. Ian fucked me with purpose. Hard, fast, deep. Over and over, slamming into me like he was trying to fuck the memory of the entire trip into my body. I moaned. I cursed. I felt like I was unraveling.
From his moaning, I thought he was close to finishing, but he continued pounding me over and over. Then he grunted, gripped my hips like he owned them, and came so deep inside me that it made my toes curl.
We were drenched in sweat, skin burning hot, and breathing like we’d just run a marathon. As Ian pulled out, I felt his load dripping out of me. I turned to face him. His cock was glistening. His muscles were tense. I felt spent and used and so fucking satisfied.
We walked to the showers, still synced in the rhythm of what we’d just done. We didn’t say much. We didn’t need to. I asked for Ian’s Facebook. He laughed. “We don’t use that in China.” So we exchanged emails.
I haven’t seen him since. But I still think about Ian — and those wild, soaking, unforgettable nights in Siem Reap.
