Like most of my European sexual adventures this one began in the Ferroviaria Gabinetto, the train station men's room of Florence. Florence back then was a fairly closeted city with a very active cruising population of men, some Gay some not Gay at least to themselves but all interested in getting off with other guys. So one Saturday afternoon in February 1982 I found myself with my hard dick in hand standing with quite a few other men of all ages shapes and sizes working our cocks trying to be seen by their equally horny neighbors all the time keeping one eye cocked for the unexpected but highly anticipated arrival of two train station cops whose sudden arrival would trigger a lot of zippering and hurried flushing of urinals followed by hasty departures. But not on this Saturday. All jacking was going well; some were very close to shooting. It was HOTT for an otherwise frigid Saturday afternoon. The guy on my right seemed particularly interested in me and he was a little more distinguished than most of the other jackers. He was elegantly dressed, beautifully coiffed, had a fey little male purse and he signaled to me that he was interested in something more than beating off in a train station john with the embarrassing possibility of being interrupted by the police, detained for questioning and finally arrested and at the very least cited. So when he indicated that he wanted to meet outside I was pleasantly surprised. Most single men in Italy in those days lived with at least one elderly relative so the possibility of bringing anyone home was virtually nil. It happened to me a few delicious times but it was generally not the rule.
When we got outside he told me that he was a clothing designer from Zurich and that he had a hotel room in one of the fashionable four-star establishments on Piazza della Republica. Being as aroused as I was after all the train station jacking with the rest of the boys, my dick was ready for some serious action and this guy more than fit the bill. We made the short walk to his hotel nonchalantly walking through the lobby, me in my clearly American Levis and ski jacket, him in his fashionable elegance. If I didn't look like a trick to the knowing I don't know what I would have had to do prove it. My jeans with the outline of my hard dick were clear to anyone who even casually glanced at my crotch. So up the elevator we went, into his warm room, immediately disrobing and as we hit the bed we both engorged ourselves on the other's cock and had a terrific cockfest. We both enjoyed the sixty-nine coming simultaneously in copious loads of cum. But this delightful experience left us feeling hungry for more so we exchanged numbers and he invited me to visit him in Zurich since I would be taking the train thru Zurich to meet my Frankfurt Lufthansa plane to fly home.
A month later I fully intended to go to Zurich to resume my sexual experience with the clothing designer with whom I had played in the train station restroom, ending up naked in his elegant hotel room. But I had made the decision to make a little side trip which involved getting off in Bologna to change trains. Since there were at least two hours between trains, and being an inveterate train station toilet cruiser I immediately found the active toilet and noticed a couple of midday workweek fellow toilet cruisers. Well I joined them getting my dick hard but my heart really wasn't into it. They just weren't the guys I wanted to play with. And then a really hot young guy came in, pulled up to the urinal next to me and started to play with his cock. This was exactly what I was looking for and I seemed to be exactly what he was looking for. We ignored the other guys at the other urinals and suddenly he zipped up and slipped into a nearby toilet booth. With a nod he indicated that he wanted me to join him, and I immediately did. Undoing our pants we started playing with each other's cock and French kissing passionately. This was hot and way too hot and too dangerous for a train station toilet. We both agreed it would be much more enjoyable to go somewhere more comfortable and really get it on, but since neither of us was from Bologna we started roaming the streets looking for a quiet spot where we could really get it on. Finally in desperation we went into a seedy theater known for men who liked to have stand-up sex behind the last row, but this was a disaster. Shortly, we exited and continued looking for a place where we could have the sex we now craved, but at least for this day and evening it was not be. Then it got to be time for me to catch my train from Bologna to the Adriatic coast so with only a fervent hope that something good might happen eventually, we made arrangements to meet in Parma, the next town on my path to Zurich, Frankfurt and home.
After my full day on the Adriatic coast I journeyed to Parma hoping to see the boy who told me his name was Luigi, but all the time I kept thinking he would just shine me on, be a no-show and leave me alone in Parma with balls that were getting bluer and bluer. But the twenty year old beauty appeared to be just as interested in getting me into bed as I was in getting him in bed. He was in Parma at the time we had agreed on. I was in ecstasy, this guy was hot and he was hot for me. Now we decided that we had to get a room even though we were both poor and not able to spend lavishly on a hotel. We found a place we could afford which ended up being a large dormitory room with quite a few beds, We only needed one.
As soon as we got into the room we stripped down to our bare skin, savored each other's body with our eyes for a minute. It was the first time we had actually seen each other naked and we were both very pleased and very hard. We literally jumped into the double bed in the room and started sixty-nining devouring each other's cock and balls and I began to play with his beautiful ass. He became more and more passionate and I knew he wanted me to fuck him and quite honestly that was what I had had in mind from the moment I had meet him in the train station toilet. Putting my hard dick into his fine succulent and primed asshole was absolute bliss. I began fucking him slowly passionately and trying to postpone the inevitable orgasm. I kept edging and going faster and harder then slowing down to prevent the orgasm that was so close. Finally neither of us could hold back, kissing, squeezing, pumping me with my pistoning getting ready to fill his ass with the load I had waited three days to give him as he pumped his copious load on my stomach. We were covered in sweat and cum. Finally the exhilaration of our first union was over. It was one of the most exciting sexual experiences I had ever had and in the limerance that followed this long postponed orgasm the path to which had begun in that train station men's room I lost all sense of proportion and reason. I was falling in love as I was getting ready to leave Italy. It made no sense. I was on my way to see a trick in Zurich but in a trice I had lost all interest in him. I wanted, at least for now, only the beautiful Luigi.
When we got up the next morning we were suddenly faced with several dilemmas. Was I going to continue with my visit to Zurich or could I just blow it off? Did Luigi want to continue our fantasy idyll or had he gotten what he wanted from me? Did he want more? Did I want more? What could we do? After three months in Italy I was practically down to my last dime. Luigi was beautiful, young and poor. What would we do? Well the first thing was to go to Milan and try to contact the Zurich trick. It turned out he was out of town so that problem was solved. Now for a way to spend more time together. Luigi decided to track down his older sister and beg for a loan. I guess whatever he told her convinced her because he came back to me with a big wad of lire. Thus we decided to fill the balance of my time as they say in Italy in giro. We would make a circle from Milan to Genoa and back trying to find as many places to fuck as possible. We tried to fuck on the train but that was too awkward. We stayed in a cute little B&B in Genoa and had some wonderful loving sex. Luigi not only started to love me he loved my dick. He would grab it in various train stations simultaneously thrilling me and scaring the daylights out of me. I had never had someone so besotted with me and impractically I was over the moon over him. Then back in Milan we got another hotel and had one last afternoon of bliss before my night train to Frankfurt and now reality set in. Our idyll was over. We talked about the various ways we could try to see each other again, all totally unrealistic. We planned to write each other regularly and to set appointments to jack-off at the same time, we even promised to be faithful to each other. Yeah two guys who meet cruising in a train station toilet. Anyway the moment of departure finally came. We embraced in my train compartment with our eyes filled with tears then when the train whistle blew Luigi got off the train and sobbing we waved our Goodbyes until he had faded from view. And my faithfulness? It lasted until I got to a bathhouse in Frankfurt the next night and fucked my whole last night in Europe.
Once I was stateside a whole packet of letters and postcards awaited me. We did set our mutual jack-off appointments but it wasn't long before they faded like the view from the train it left the station.
Four years later I wrote to Luigi telling him I was coming back to Europe. I asked if we could meet somewhere and he suggested Florence. We did not meet in the train station john this time, but tried to have outdoor sex in the Cascine, a big hunting park originally used by the Medici, but this was way too dangerous. We ended up going to a hotel that catered to men who wanted a room for a short time in the afternoon. Luigi was still beautiful but too much time had passed. I remembered our first night of fucking, unfortunately the passion of four years earlier was gone, it was mechanical and so phony. I had wanted to recapture that week that now seemed so long ago. After our lackluster sex we said polite Goodbyes and never saw or heard each other again. Our story was over but the precious memory of the beautiful Adonis, my godlike Luigi, who filled my last week in Italy in 1982, is still with me.