My Naked Body Caressed by Many Hands
My Naked Body Caressed by Many Hands … this was my earliest sexual fantasy. I was becoming sexually aware, so I must have been fifteen or sixteen years old. In spite of playing “truth or dare” with other kids – which always involved nudity, and learning how to masturbate, I had never had any mutual sexual contact with anyone else.
Not only that, but I found it impossible to even conceive of how to go about initiating any kind of sex with another person. Did you go up to them and say, “Um, excuse me, but would you like to play naked with me?” I realize now that I would have had many takers! However, because I could not imagine how this would work, I began to fantasize about it. I lay awake at night in a state of high arousal and horniness, trying to picture how it could be done.
The scenario had to involve two main things – first, other people must be anonymous, and second, I must be invisible. I could not imagine the shame of being wantonly sexual and naked amongst people I knew, or who knew who I was. Oh the shame!
So I imagined a bizarre dark room, with curtains on both sides forming a narrow kind of corridor. The curtains had holes big enough for people to poke their arms through. (Imagine my surprise when, forty years later I discovered glory holes!) So I would walk through this passage while dozens, hundreds, of anonymous hands came through the holes on either side to touch me, fondle me, caress my naked body, my buttocks, my tummy, down further, down to – there – and play with my stiff penis, pull on my testicles, run fingers through my bum crack and tickle around my perineum.
I would get so horny and turned on by this, I always ended up masturbating in bed, mopping up with my pajama bottoms – which I was not wearing! I played with this fantasy for years, and even into adulthood, and although I didn’t dwell on it a lot as I got older, I never quite forgot it. Much later in life, it became reality, though without the ridiculous curtains!
When I came out to myself as gay in my early 50’s, I began to search the local event papers to find what was on, especially in the bi-weekly gay newspaper, Xtra. The first thing that caught my eye, was the Naked Passion Dance – which I mentioned in an earlier blog entry. I also found a mysterious place that didn’t exactly say what it was. It was called the Kurbash. There was a “Leather or Denim” dress code, and I guessed it was a bar.
In an out-of the way little street, was a small, almost hidden entrance with a guard just inside. I walked hesitantly inside. The bouncer nodded. I returned his nod. Down a long dark stone corridor was a dimly lit bar, with candles in sconces on the walls. Stone devil-heads leered from the shadows at the half-dozen customers. I got a beer from the bartender who wore minimal cut-off jeans, but nothing else. He was top-naked.
I wandered around sipping my beer. There were lots of very dark corners that were difficult to see. But one area really intrigued me. Leading off the main bar area, was a brick lined passage that led to a washroom. It actually wasn’t so much a room, as it was part of the the same passageway, with a long trough along the bottom of one wall, for you to piss into. It stank!
Further along was a single glass fronted shower stall. Hmmm. Then another passageway wove around and eventually back to the bar by a different route. Some places were almost too dark to see anything, and you had to follow the dimmest of lights coming from around the next corner, or walk slowly with your hands out in front.
I began to realize that there were people in some of the dark places. Just a few, in twos and threes maybe. Some were on their knees, and some had their pants around their feet. One or two were bending over and I could hear slapping noises.
I wasn’t completely sure if I was horrified or excited. Here was my fantasy dark room. I watched for a little, but was too afraid to join in. It was my old fear of putting myself forward and initiating. Even now I couldn’t figure out how to start. I wandered back to the bar and got another beer. As I drank it, I castigated myself for my cowardice. When I finished the beer I went back to the dark rooms. I found a spot that was far from anyone else, and tentatively undid my jeans and let them fall down just a little. My dick was hard as rock already, and getting wet. I began to work it up and down. It felt strange and exhilarating to be masturbating almost in public – no one was around to actually see me of course, and it was almost pitch dark – but the “danger” factor of being observed for the first time in my life, took me very quickly towards a climax.
I suddenly noticed a dark figure coming towards me, watching what I was doing. Oh God! NO! I don’t know if it was the excitement or the fear that drove me, but within a second of seeing him, I came all over the place. He instantly turned around and left. Poor fellow, I can’t say I blame him, no point in playing with me now, I was ready to go home!
I finished my beer and went home. To think. And think I did!
The next time I went there, I was more prepared. I made a pair of shorts from my old jeans. I cut them really short, and jagged. I cut off that piece of material that covers the button fly, so the buttons were visible. I cut off the waist band so there were no belt loops and only friction held them up. I cut a few strategic holes in them. I didn’t wear underwear. I cut the arms off an old tee-shirt, and I cut the bottom off, so it revealed my midriff. I wore black leather boots with work socks.
I was ready for the Kurbash.
That first visit was mid-week. The second visit was the weekend. It was packed, and got more packed as we got closer to midnight. I went late, after ten. I grabbed a beer to give me courage. I wandered the dark maze to watch what was going on. It was starting to get busy, but not too crowded yet. I was able to move around easily and watch the action. Lots of action! Eventually, after figuring out how it worked, I just stood with my back to a wall and waited. It didn’t take long.
Someone would come up to me – most of them never spoke, except maybe, “Hi.” I “Hi’d” back. Then hands around my waist, pushing up my shirt. I allowed it to come off over my head. Now I had only my disreputable shorts and boots. I picked up my shirt and tossed it onto a high shelf above my head. Mostly we didn’t kiss, just nuzzled and ran hands over each other. Most guys kept their clothes on. People like me who seemed to favour nudity were not too common, I discovered. Then someone would flick the buttons open on my shorts. They were exposed, as I’d cut the front flap off, and with no waist band, no belt, they would fall to the ground, whereupon I stepped out of them, picked them up with a foot and threw them onto the shelf. I had to take it on faith that they’d be there when it was time to leave!
Then we’d play a bit. Some guys were into oral sex, some just hands. I steered clear of the the guys who wanted to fuck, especially at the beginning. Since I was so new to all this, I felt I needed to understand the culture a bit first. What amazed me was that all the things I’d fantasized about were going on all around me. Except for one thing – no-one other than me would walk around completely naked! All my life I’d thought I was the only one who did what I did, and here, where surely I should have found like souls, I found it was true – I was the only one! Later I found that I wasn’t quite the only one, but I am a rare breed.
In time at the Kurbash through that summer of 1995, I gradually learned the ropes. Then one day when it was not so busy, an enormously large man with a huge almost majestic belly, pulled me towards him. We spoke, but not much. He hugged me round my waist and chest, as I leaned with my back to him against his giant stomach. My clothes came off and up to the shelf. I was dressed only in boots again. Other people would always gather round when I was naked, some to watch, some to join in. Hands began to caress me all over, I lost track of how many. As I leaned my head back onto the shoulder and neck of my large companion, I allowed the others to raise my legs up until I was lying horizontal with several pairs of arms holding and playing with me. I suddenly realized that my old fantasy was actually being played out for real!
My big companion had my head and chest, so he mostly played with my nipples. Other guys had my legs and all the other “interesting bits” so my ass and my balls and my cock got played with. I was in heaven. I found I had to do nothing but submit to their attention. I’m sure they all played with each other too, but I couldn’t see what they were doing there in the darkness. I could only feel their hands exploring every inch of my naked body.
I cannot now remember whether they brought me to climax … over the next few months, I know I did climax at these sorts of interactions … but really it wasn’t the point for me. I was turned on by long erotic touching with multiple simultaneous partners. It was not exactly sex. I did not really want penetration – in either direction. The touching was enough for me. Of course, I could not always rely on others to be satisfied with me doing nothing, so I would reciprocate. However, once in a while I’d meet someone who wanted to “do it all” and let me just be the passive object of affection.
Maybe it seems odd to some that I talk of affection in this environment. But that was the surprising discovery I made. In a dark, disreputable location, with furtive, mute men searching for the most selfish sexual satisfaction, I felt affection as we shared these intimate activities. I realized this increasingly over time, but in those first few weeks at the Kurbash, I discovered my Nirvana – my childhood fantasy. My Naked Body, Caressed by Many Hands.