A nice first day in Nice

By the time this gets posted I’ll have landed in New York most likely, although I am typing it on the plane. I found out Saturday morning after an extremely hot night at the clubs in Nice. It was fucking amazing.

We arrived in Nice to the shock of a lifetime. The Radisson SAS, though convenient to the airport, was convenient to nothing else. It was literally one of the furthest “luxury” hotels from the downtown district that was possible. It was a nice hotel, modernly redone and quaint (small) but charming (homey) yet the service was leisurely (slow). Thus, after spending a week at the George V in Paris, it was certainly a wake up call that our accommodations on the ship would only go down hill.

What was also particularly disturbing about this hotel were the taxis it employed. The first took us to “Safari,” a restaurant in the flower market Cores de Sulaya at the far end of downtown during rush hour. This cost 14 €. The drive BACK from this place after walking in the general direction of the hotel in a non rush hour period (that took half as long) cost 18 €. Finally, my trip to downtown in the early evening to start my “outing” in Nice from the hotel to the exact same drop off point cost 24 €. For future reference, in Nice always demand to see the meter or negotiate the price in advance, apparently they have little taxes for everything from “left turns” to “zone changes” to even “per bag” the car (not the driver) has to transport. Needless to say I planned on walking back despite being told earlier that evening by “fellow” future cruisers that it took them a half hour each way at a leisurely pace.

I started by going to the trendy bar next to Safari that was hopping when we were there for a late lunch. Not sure of the spelling but I believe it was Cores de Coisseurs. That could be completely off but I know it was right next to Safari in the flower market. The scene was amazing but it was killing me that like most of Europe, playing European or Gay is a VERY difficult game. Between the outfits these boys wear and the kissing cheeks upon meeting I can’t even start to differentiate so I began to give up and just assume everyone was “sexual,” hated categories, and hoped anyone I asked would be up for grabs.

A little eye flirting explained this was not the case. Occasionally I would assume and they would put an arm around a girl near by or nibble an earlobe. Eh, better than getting the crap beaten out of me which would probably be the likely result in America. A quick coffee led me to meet Mattieu the waiter … gorgeous in a cute young boy sort of way who was apparently 18. He had a very tight toned body with bulges in the right places, tan alabaster skin and dirty blonde hair with the cutest smile. Most importantly, very very gay with a mastery of English.

He was getting off work at eleven and suggested we go to Le Klub. Le Klub is Nice’s hot spot but apparently is at it’s gayest on Friday nights. We went there and it was quite the experience. Loud circuit music, hot half naked bodies, and a lot of sweat. I like to think of myself at Ling from Ally McBeal. Unfortunately I sweat a lot when I’m hot. One would think after 40 years in the desert the Jews would have built up a tolerance to all forms of heat and thus wouldn’t sweat as much as other cultures. A sort of natural selection adaptation as you will. Not the case. But as a Ling incarnation I have to say that,

“Richard, you know how I don’t like sweat ever? How it bugs me? Well there’s one time when it doesn’t. When I have sex I love sweat, when I have sex … I drip. Can you handle that.”

So I figured if there was going to be all this sweating there needed to be sex as well. He informed me that around the corner was Le Block. It was after midnight by this point and they were having their weekly event that night. I believe the event was called “Naked Party.” Now apparently after chatting with Matieu about Le Block, it’s always a naked party so perhaps Friday is just their busy night so they raise the price from 8 to 10 € and get away with it because it’s a “special event.” Wow culture shock.

Walked in and was handed a Velcro bracelet with a pouch filled with condoms and a number on it and a sac. The numbers on the bracelet and sac corresponded. Matieu immediately stripped naked … dear lord I was in heaven … and put all his clothing in the bag and stood there naked as the day he was born with the exception of the Velcro wrist strap. I looked around and there were no towels in site … just naked people with bracelets or “anklets” for those who were creative. When in Rome … er Nice. I stripped and gave the doorman my bag and we were off.

Next thing I knew Matieu was leading me all over the place up and down stairs to a very humid (and chocolate smelling) upstairs and then to the middle level through their labyrinth with naked men jerking their dicks and staring people up and down at every turn. He considered this the tour and then took me to the dungeon and we stood in a very short line. This puzzled me. For what could I have possibly needed to stand in line for at a bathhouse sex/club. We entered a small room and I saw it. St. Andrews Cross. Oh my. Matieu looked at me and pointed to the cuffs …. You have GOT to be kidding me. He wasn’t. We walked in and he locked the door behind us as there were about 20 men that (so as not to insult or alienate let’s say “weren’t our type”) were following us around as soon as e walked in and tried to follow us into the room to watch.

I got strapped into this wooden contraption with only the trust that this kid was normal and not going to screw me (a mistake of trust I had made in Dublin) hoping that I was about to have the time of my life. At first he started lightly stroking my body while I convulsed because I am so damned ticklish. I think he was enjoying that but when I put my serious stop face on he knew it wasn’t something I enjoyed. Before I realized what was happening he was on his knees (on a vinyl pad we used one of their many sanitary wipes on) sucking my cock for all he was worth. In my mind I was thinking, “Is his name Mattieu or Vaccuum?” They sound relatively similar ;)

Then I was blown away because he stood up and before I could realize what was happening, I was upside-down with his big, thick, soft, smooth uncut dick at eye level and we was sucking me off. He learned quickly that this angle was perfect to shove his cock in and out of my throat. Very nice. Wow. I think he was used to this and realized the blood was starting to rush to my head and turned me back over, reached into his bracelet and slipped a rubber on me, squirted some lube off the wall dispenser and backed up on it. I think I was just in so much a state of shock being completely used by this boy that I had one of the most amazing orgasms ever, definitely an experience for life.

After this encounter we went to the bar inside the sex club where they have coffee and water. I opted for water and we chatted a bit until Antoin walked in. A gorgeous Italian who I later found out owned a Spa in Rome. I’ve written enough pornography for this entry but can definitely say that anyone who complains about being trapped between France and Italy is probably in an I Love Lucy border situation because that night I was stuck dead center between the two countries and had the time of my life.

It was getting late and I knew that I didn’t want to sleep through my day in Nice so I got everyone’s contact info (particularly Antoin’s for the spa in Rome) and started the “walk” home. I had resigned myself to walking home because of the cost of that obscene cab ride and it was a delightful walk. Never before had I seen so many trannie street walkers. Let me clarify, so many of them in couture! These elaborate cocktail dresses sporting overpriced labels. I guess I’ll slide off my LV sandals before I cast stones. It is all the same afterall isn’t it Rico ;) But not quite. I tossed a few of them my coin change (€ coins are usually 1 or 2) since I didn’t want to bother with coins and I can appreciate a working gir….guy…er…whatever.

About half way to the hotel though the walk got boring and turned mostly to condos and hotels so I decided to find the closest cab and told them to turn the meter on. To my surprise the trip home was only 7 € … imagine that.

I got home to missed calls on my Euro Phone and the message light blinking in my hotel. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that my night was not ending soon and waking up to tan on the Cote d’Azur may not have been in my future. I sat down and braced myself for what I expected to be a very long night.