Night at the Baths: Masking

Brief intro: I was on vacation in Puerto Vallarta for Beef Dip, a week dedicated to the thick boys and their admirers, and was staying a couple blocks away from the local bathhouse.  One of those nights, I snuck out at 3am (the bars don't really close over there) and had a few experiences I wanted to share.  Little vignettes.  Fleeting flirtatious kisses in the dark.  Snapshots, but in a lot less than a thousand words.

Years ago, I worked closely with a graphic designer and he was a master at masking.  He had a great eye for compelling images and would take a really busy photograph with tons of elements vying for your eye and attention, plop another canvas on top of it to cover it up entirely, and punch holes to give you little glimpses of the image underneath.  You'd marvel at the simplicity of the canvas on top, supple geometric color blocked stencils only to get drawn further into the depths as your eyes tuned into the peekaboo image underneath.  It made me think how folks are that way sometimes: a beautifully crafted facade but with windows showing a hint of the complexity underneath.  Sometimes, though, it shows a little too much clutter of what's inside.

I'm at Spartacus, the popular bathhouse in Puerto Vallarta and I'm resting my head against some beautifully fuzzy pecs.  The sweat on my body starting to cool off on one side while the rest of me starts to stick to him.  The heat from our bodies and our previous exertions vaguely secreting glue that seals us together.  I'm idly tracing patterns on his furry coat as my fingers dance over the hills and valleys of his abs.  The dude is built like an ox.  Shaved head, muscular.  He's the one you cast in the porn scene of the daddy ranch hand throwing a twink stable boy over his shoulder to go fuck on a bale of hay.

The attraction was mutual and immediate.  We have rooms right across from each other and we had just left our rooms at the same time, locked up, turned around and locked eyes.  That's all it took.  I pushed him against the wall next to his door and were fervently making out in seconds.  My hands roamed around I couldn't grip a thing due to muscle under my fingers.  Fumbled into the room and from the aggressive tussling from both sides, it became apparent that we both preferred the top bunk.  I gave bottoming a go, though, even after my jaw dropped when I saw his thick nine inches.  I wanted him bad, but after a few minutes being distracted by the noisy bed, the tightness of my hole, and the sweat from our fumbling, we decided to call it quits.  Make no mistake, we fucked.  He went deep and I'm sure my ass was a ruined, puffy mess, but you know when you're not going to cum and it's just not working out.

So I'm resting up, waiting for my breathing to even out.  My ear is sealed on his chest, idly playing with the fuzz that covers his body, and I can hear his heart thumping as I ask, "So Canada, eh?"  I tried to make the question as Canadian as possible but my hearing is all warped from the position I'm in that I can't tell if I was successful.

"Yes.  From Montreal.  I just got here today," he says, with an additional French accent twist.

"There's so many Canadians here this week!"

"Yes, we are all escaping the winter.  I always come this time of year, but not for Beef Dip.  It's usually just a coincidence."

I picked up on his intent.  He's generally not into bigger, thicker guys.  I've always found the body-positive nature of bear events and how they're kinda having a bit of an en vogue moment attracts a really diverse crowd, though.

He felt the need to emphasize his meaning.

"I've gone to the events and parties before," he continues. "But the guys are just so..." And here he scrunches up his face and belts out the next word with such vehemence I'm knocked off his chest. "... ugly!"

His body is absolute beauty.  The smile?  Adorable.  The French-Canadian accent?  Sexy as fuck.  The chemistry? Amazing!  But when I dug further and he dropped that statement, I started analyzing the details under the masking.  I immediately reflected on little things I chose to ignore: how he blamed me for having to stop because I was too tight, how controlling he was in a rather privileged way as a top.  And this.  And that.  I had to get off the bed and back up.  I just needed to shake off that word because my thoughts started to turn a bit ugly itself.  I was starting to spiral down into judgements that may or may not be accurate.  Peeked a little too closely into the fine lines and I needed to step back and admire the overlay.  Sometimes it's better to just adjust to the wide angle lens and just soak in the beauty of the totality... or at least just admire from afar.