I wish I had le temps et le loisir to elaborate (or should I have written "le temps et le loisir d'elaborate"? instead... whatever), but I just felt I need to dump this fresh batch of crap after such a long time without posting anything of true relevance over here.
Well, last Friday (I think Friday it was) I decided to revisit this place after like seven years of wandering abroad. The place was pretty much the same, and kept that dignified cleanliness along with that original stucco of incised graffitti reading "fucking fags" (I'm just translating, and not very freely) and the like around the door of the elevator and inside the cabine.
So... the apartment had two entries, one for fagwhores and the other for hermawhores, and although I had called to the fag place, I was received from the hermann side: to (finally) make all this short, there were no gentlewhores available, only ladiewhores (as you can see, there is a substantial difference in the offer on the site) and although I was not interested on either of those two (one of them I knew is not even in BCN anymore), and although gayromeo/planetromeo is the way to go whore-hunting right now, I still felt some longing for the old times in that place, when I was so pathetically (yes, even more) lost and lonely, that I visited the place between the courses at the uni in search for the warmth of a manhole and, if possible, a whole guy, and still nurtured the hope that I might find something of interest as in the old times...
Well, things are changed, definitely, and after a gentle verbal skirmish, the guy in charge sent me to their -autrefois- competitors... a place I most certainly do not feel like visiting after that other skirmish seven years ago
Whatever I had of decadent and romantic feelings in general went away with my teens and my early years at the uni, as well as the idiotic, surreal idea that wealthy people DO get a better education and live in an aesthetically more satisfying (materially) environment, not to mention that the British empire era is ass pathetic as their fashions and that chav (before it was oficially so and now that the fad is officially over) remnant called Burberry but, for some reason, I have always enjoyed, very phlegmatically, watching that TV series.
I knew I recognised Castle Howard in you vid, I've been there and looked round it, the chapel was nice, I also liked the paintings of classical-age figures in robes by ancient ruins which was very evocative, and there were also some rather homo-erotic sculptures about.
I never watched the original series but I saw the recent spin-off film they made.
Regarding these professional escorts, are (completely off the top my head) muscular, heavily built, stocky, butch, smooth, shaved guys in their late 20s or 30s very popular in your culture?
Isn't that the lesson we all should have learned by now?
I dread to think waht all your whores would look like all these years after.
Oh I always saw that the very moment I looked at them for the very first time... like with my past crushes or, rather, infatuations: I could see their blond hair problems peeking out already in their twentieth year, or their overall look in forty years time... provided they ever reached that age. Oh, wait, in fact, I did "go back" for some of them, and the most notorious case was precisely at that Neron place: it was that Canarian guy, I think, about 22, stunning, maybe, for the average latino-starved American man (just like my reds and gingers are pretty plain and, I confess, even fugly in most cases, no matter how much I lust for them) but generally speaking not that much appealing... except for those big eyes with long eyelashes... I hired him. He seemed either professional (most likely) or pleased, and did some sexy lap dance to me... I finally started fucking him in my fav position (I can -could- last as much as I want/ed ), to wit, (yeah, I know that looks like a tranny, but you get the idea of the position, if you ignore the vulvish little detail)... but, as I commented above, he was not that appealing to me, and although he seemed surprised that I was fucking him like that, and so deep, and with a face, I guess, as if the escort was me, I stopped and... oh, I forgot the point of this post... well, a couple of years later, maybe not that long, he was quite wasted after his touring through the German-speaking wealthy fags and Londonpoofters which, at least in the past, was the common route for all manwhores... that included Paris and all that and, now, oh surprise, now Barcelona is also in the receiving end of that route ... for how long ..?
... I finally started fucking him in my fav position (I can -could- last as much as I want/ed ), ...
he seemed surprised that I was fucking him like that, and so deep, and with a face, I guess, as if the escort was me, I stopped and
Ignoring the stupid question answered already before the question... what do I know about what expression I had on? I was just pounding and getting bored.
Maybe he was surprised that the proper Charlie that I had first taken me for had actually something surprisingly gutsy *pun* and charged under the still water to give to him. That's still me, and I do not mean the sex.