GAYstion OF TEST...





Physically speaking, I have always preferred the Turks of the south to those from the North. 

One could compare them to the Iranians who, skinny or slightly chubby, their saffron yellow skin, their matte tans, their deep black eyes cry out to your most basic instincts. With the exception of
the legs, most of their bodies glisten without hair. I love their nipples always proud and erect from their chests. 

In December 2014, despite the chilly morning, I decided to head out to search for something to eat at a grocery store that was beside another military base where, just at the entry, I notice a beautiful stallion of a man somewhere between 25 and 30. I decide to head in his direction, towards the base, which sat just beside some ruins that were located at the extremity of a park. 


This soldier was absolutely divine in his little uniform. He noticed me from afar and gently nodded hello. Sadly I noticed that he was not alone, there were 8 other soldiers just to his other side and I feared that they would have a bad influence in his natural curiosity in me. 
Even if I don't seem like a tourist, these guys could quickly detect that I was not a local,...which can also be an advantage because a local may be willing to say something to a complete stranger that he would never say to another local. 




I divert my eyes and pretend to be interested in a small corridor, the entrance to a cave tin fact that happens to be closed off by an iron gate and locked. I divert my eyes none the less giving the air of being a fascinated, "historian".  This same handsome soldier boy signals to me that the entry is in fact closed to the public because it was a historic monument dating back to the antiquity. Inside were the remains of a Roman bathhouse with a cistern and carved columns of stone. How unfortunate! I would've loved to descend into this cave alone with this dark and mysterious man and discover if the darkness would reveal to me a nice surprise. 





Suddenly I see him coming towards me, with his machine gun strapped to his back and he asks me who I am and where I am from. I respond, "I am French, I am a masseur in France and I love Roman artifacts..." With one quick glance, with stealth and intensity I look at the zipper going up his crotch and than look him right in the eyes and ask him if it is at all possible to pay for a visit to this site. In a quick deep voice he says, " Listen, I can take you down there this evening for money". He made me understand that we had to be discrete and that we could meet at the entryway to the passage at 4:00 p.m and that he could enter with the keys,....and perhaps It be I who would be allowed "entry" into his pants.













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