Tracey Parker is a gay cruising fanatic who travels around the world, always sharing stories of hot hookups and anonymous sex. Tracey takes us to another gay cruising sex hotspot in Costa Rica where guys get buck wild, let loose and have some fun.

On the way to Pucho’s in San José, Costa Rica, my friend noticed a large number of Chinese restaurants in the neighborhood. The area felt dated and chaotic. Most of the gay spots others had recommended were nearby, but there weren’t enough of them for us to consider it a true “gayborhood.” 

Still, I liked the vibe; it felt like an anything-goes red-light district catering to all tastes. There was a seedy energy to it, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

When we walked inside, the atmosphere changed instantly. The music was loud and the place was packed. The crowd was handsome, and the drag performers really had the room jumping. 

But what stood out most were the male go-go dancers. They were strong and muscled, moving with a powerful, raw sexuality.

Seeing them up there, fully naked, put me in a trance. I wanted to get closer. As I approached, I saw a gaggle of admirers at the base of the stage, hands reaching up to grab a piece of one young man. He was bursting with energy, his long, heavy equipment alternating between pointing straight out into the crowd and dangling over those closest to the stage.

I stood back to take it all in. The dancers rotated frequently—one would disappear and another would emerge. Some were bearded with a “mean daddy” look; the ones I preferred had adorable baby faces paired with dangerous-looking appendages.

Over time, I noticed the crowd around me was shifting just as frequently. One guy beside me had caught my eye while we were both transfixed by a dancer, but the next thing I knew, he had vanished. Getting bored with the current performer, I decided to wander and see where everyone else was disappearing to.

I was specifically looking for the dark room, which I’d heard the place was famous for. It wasn’t hard to find. Outside by the bar, men hung out in large groups of friends—mostly locals laughing and sipping strong drinks—but men entered the dark room alone.

Inside, the light vanished quickly. It was truly pitch black. The space seemed to be a maze, with an immediate bottleneck at the entrance where a crowd of men waited, feeling and frisking everyone who entered to see what was coming in.

I felt hands all over my dick. Since I wasn’t hard yet, most of the hands moved on quickly to find someone else. I began putting my own hands on the bodies passing by. Most were slim, like many of the Costa Rican men I had seen on the street.

Suddenly, a hand grazed my face and stopped. Two strong hands grabbed my beard. I squared my body to face whoever had me in his grip and put my hands on his waist. He was thin as a rail, wearing a smooth, silky black button-down shirt tucked loosely into pants that hung off his narrow hips. He was only slightly shorter than me. He reached up and began kissing me, our tongues tasting of rum, coke, and the warm, sour heat of a man’s mouth. He kept his hands on my beard, fondling it like a pet cat.

We continued kissing until he stopped, grabbed my hand, and pulled me deeper into the maze. He seemed to know his way around. We found a dark corner to ourselves and began devouring each other again. My hands gravitated to his small, firm buttocks. His pants were loose enough that I could slide my hands inside. He undid his belt to help me.

I gripped him tightly, pulling his cheeks apart. He let me do whatever I wanted. Taking his hands off my beard, he lifted them into the air and swiftly spun around, his back to me, his weight leaning away.

I dropped to my knees. His pants had already fallen halfway down his hips. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw his smooth brown skin and the delicate curves of his frame. I touched the heavy belt and watched the fabric pool on the floor.

I spread his cheeks and watched his pink hole reveal itself. A soft, spicy, musty scent hit me, and I buried my face in him. I licked him deeply, my beard tickling his skin. Every time I did, he moaned with pleasure.

He spread his legs and I explored them with my hands. They were skinny but sturdy. His body was proportioned unlike anything I had seen before—lean, but with muscular meat on his bones. I gripped his legs over and over, trying to memorize the feel of an exotic body that kept defying my expectations.

I moved slowly, licking him until I felt I could go on forever. My hands wandered from his legs to cup his low-hanging balls, eventually findind his long, hard cock. I flicked it, watching it bounce against the wall he was using to brace himself.

Eventually, I began to run out of breath. It was hard to breathe with my tongue inside him and my nose buried between his cheeks. I backed off for a moment, gazing at him, wet with my saliva, as I caught my wind.

I stood up, unbuttoned my belt, and freed my cock. It was throbbing. I began poking him with it, knowing he was well-lubricated. I teased his entrance from different angles, gauging his reactions based on the animated moans he’d given me earlier. The chemistry was intimate and building by the second.

As I inched inside his slippery heat, I began to explore deeper. I didn’t even need to thrust at first; instead, I positioned my body in different stances behind him, letting gravity pull his smaller frame down onto my sword. It felt like gymnastics. I had never done this with anyone before, and while the ideas felt like mine, I began to wonder if he was the one subtly controlling my movements to his liking.

Eventually, I put the experimentation to rest and began to pound him. I grabbed his waist—the part of him I had first become obsessed with—and pulled him back and forth against me.

“Are you about to come?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he responded.

I told him to go for it. He came against the wall just as I was busting inside of him.

He took a pack of Kleenex from his pocket. He wiped himself off in a way that looked incredibly sexy; even after finishing, I still desired him. He offered me a tissue, and I cleaned myself up.

“I like your beard,” he said.

I smiled, and seeing that he loved the expression, I smiled even wider. Even in the darkness, he was absolutely beautiful. I asked if he wanted to go back into the light for a drink, and he agreed.

We climbed back through the mass of men stalking the entrance. The club was even more crowded now. I wondered how much time we had lost in the dark. I was still in a trance. We didn’t talk much, but we nursed our drinks together, took in the scene, and exchanged numbers before kissing goodbye. As he walked away, I wondered if he could taste his own scent on my mouth.