Tunisian Sex - My experiences
I first visited Tunisia, specifically Hammamet around 25-30 years ago, and went back frequently for some years, having found the town utterly enchanting, very friendly and with non-stop available sex.
I have just come back from a week's trip, hoping to recapture the magic of those times, and to see again somewhere that held a special place in my heart.
But I was very disappointed. Hammamet has grown like a monster, too many new buildings, many many thousands more people, and its friendly nature has disappeared and been replaced with a selfish, grasping, greedy side.
Back then, one could be sitting at a peaceful cafe, or on the beach, or even in one's hotel complex, and sex would be offered. A smile from a handsome lad could lead to sex, a waiter with a tray could squeeze his cock bulge and signify he was up for a quick blow-job, a beach boy with a tray of cheap souvenirs could squat by your beach bed and start fondling himself as you chatted. It was idyllic for the gay male tourist.
But this trip was so very different. As a fifty year old, and much fatter and greyer than I used to be, I wandered around and was constantly assailed by shouts from men... 'Hello!! English?' Or more frequently 'Hello, you remember me? I am chef in your hotel.' This last one a blatant lie to try and engage me in conversation, and thus to try and get money out of me one way or another.
As I tried to walk around the medina and quietly browse the shops I was CONSTANTLY greeted with an outstretched hand, and asked if I was German. If I took the hand of a handsome lad then I was physically pulled into the shop and my way was barred if I tried to leave. The greed was so ugly, and their desire to not let a 'rich' tourist out of their sight before they had fleeced them out of as much cash as possible was overwhelming. I ended up walking with my head down, as quickly as possible, to avoid the intense barrage of calls. This is a very unpleasant side of Hammamet life, something I never experienced in the mid-eighties. You should be aware and prepared for this.
There were one or two good times had though. One of my shopping trips was late in the evening, around 9pm as the shops were closing, and at a small shop, with a very cute lad serving, the younger of two brothers, I went in for a look around. It was a shop on three floors, and this lad seemed keen to sell me something, so tried his best to get me to stay. He said he could show me something special and lead me up to the top floor, where he unbolted a big door, and lead me out onto a roof balcony, which looked out over the medina and across to the mosque. It was lovely, and we had a cigarette and a chat, inevitably leading to his questions about buying a gift for my wife. I let him know that I had no wife and liked boys. After a bit more chat, we went back inside, where I bought a few mosaic plates that I wanted, haggled successfully over them, whilst noticing his frequent cock bulge squeezing. I took the initiative and stroked his bulge, and as there was no adverse reaction I knelt and blew him off.
Downstairs, I met his brother who wanted to take me to another shop, so warm with the glow of the younger one's spunk I let him. A similar situation arose, and on the second floor, he let me suck his cock. Two brothers, two cocks, two loads. Fabulous. This was only on my second evening and made me think that I was going to have a great holiday.
Sadly this was about the best get together I was to have. I wandered the streets, sat on the front by the beach, sat at cafes, tried everywhere to try and get some attention. But zilch.
According to a random post on the internet I tried a bar in the far corner of the main square, called the Brauhaus, where hustlers tended to congregate. On the first evening I sat outside, with a beer, watching the world, and got nothing. The second evening, as I sat outside again, a young, chunky guy said hello, and that he'd be inside having a drink. I went in a few minutes later and was invited to join him and his two muscular, handsome mates. We chatted for a while, over ciggies and beer, and I made it clear that I'd always wanted a session with three cocks on offer. After one of the three vanished to arrange a room rental, and we'd settled on a figure that I'd pay for sex (20Dinars each or about £8.00), we went to the flat that had been arranged. With the prospect of three big Tunisian cocks on offer, I paid for the room rental which was about £40.00, and we went in. The third guy had mysteriously vanished so, it was down to two. The sex was great, and I had both their loads, then as we were chatting and dressing they said they'd be expecting 120 Dinars each. This pair of fucking lying cheats were going to fleece me for as much as they could get. I got angry, and when dressed tried to leave, but the door had been locked, and the key had been hidden. I began to shout, and bang on the door, but the older of the two, who had seemed more into the sex and possibly secretly gay, calmed me down. I gave them 30 Dinars each and left.
So beware guys. If you are going to Tunisia for sex you will probably find it there relatively easily, but you should know that the guys who will do it with you will be after as much of your hard-earned cash as they can get.
It left me saddened, and upset that this beautiful, peaceful town had become a haven for ugliness and greed. The memory of the boy called Kamal that I met and slept with 25 years ago will stay with me, and the intense joy of the regular sex we had, him willingly, and for no money, under the blossoms in an orange grove will never leave me. But I think that I have visited Hammamet for the last time.