Tuesday, 25 August 2015


This is the coolest video! The Warwick Rowers are back again sexier than ever for their 2016 calendars. I am sure all of you who watch this video are going to want to get their gadgets and calendar. Do it! It is for a good cause, moreover they are extremely hot!!!

VIDEO found on Youtube HERE\

In the meanwhile, Mattia's story goes on...

It was a warm spring day of May when I met Sven. He was a 28-year-old good looking blond German guy, who was spending his study semester abroad in London. Unfortunately Sven was bound to move back to Bremen, his hometown, at the beginning of June, so that we did not have so much time to get to strengthen our relationship.

Towards the end of June I decided to visit Sven. After my nightshift I went to Heathrow airport by bus and from there I took a coach to Stansted. My flight reached Luebeck in the afternoon. I took a bus to Hamburg and from there a train to Bremen. After almost 12 hours of travelling I reached my friend. Sven had to work that night, but I decided to join him to make the most of our limited time. Around 9pm we reached the clinic where Sven was employed in Lower Saxony. It was a private hospital specialized on patients with sleeping disorders. Every patient had their own room and each one of them was monitored during their sleep. Sven showed me how the machines worked and how people sleep could be monitored and displayed on the screens in the lab. One could see lines describing brain activity during the sleep especially during the REM phase. Depending on those lines, one could know if the patient was even dreaming.

When the German patients heard me speaking English they thought I was a specialist from England and they felt somehow important knowing that there was an international doctor there. Unfortunately I had to disappoint them as I was neither a doctor, nor I was I going to monitor their sleep.


The morning after Sven drove us home on his motorbike and because of his tiredness we almost had an accident. Sven and I spent a wonderful week in Bremen, I met his friends and family and he proudly showed me his hometown, which I considered one of the most beautiful cities in Germany. Nevertheless I had to go back to London and a long distance relationship did not work after all.


Thursday, 20 August 2015


If you have not watch  The Last Match yet, I recommend you to do it.
Not only because of the hot male actors with their sexy Spanish accent in English, but also because of the story. The movie is a great success. 



And our story goes on...

London, April 2003 – April 2004

Once back from Tunisia Jørn and I saw each other only a couple of times per week and our relationship started falling apart. Towards the end of the month I opened a file on Jørn’s PC and I found pictures and notes that proved that my boyfriend had been cheating on me for weeks with another Italian guy. I was disgusted and angry, I had trusted Jørn too soon, in fact reading through the notes I realized that he had planned it all in detail. I found that some of his sneaky tricks, like when he made me believe he was visiting a sick friend, whilst in reality he was having sex with the other guy, who apparently was not informed of my existence either. That evening I invited Jørn at my place with the excuse to watch a film together and when he was sitting comfortably on my sofa, I inserted the DVD of the movie: “Cruel Intensions”. After 40 minutes playing, I pressed pause on the remote control and I asked Jørn to leave. I did not give him a real explanation, as I wanted him to believe, that I had just been using him and his time was over. I literally kicked him out and once I was alone I started crying. Just before midnight I called Ricky, who was also upset for the problems he had with his boyfriend, so we agreed we had to react. One hour later we were at G-A-Y where we got drunk, we danced without stop until the morning and I kissed the “Triangle”, the guy with the triangular face I had met ages before. 

Tuesday, 18 August 2015


Hi guys, today is about gay stories in the Mediterranean and a great VIDEO of the hottest gay male celebrities - unmissable!

Zurich, Milan, Portofino, Venice, May 2007

On the first weekend of May, Sjors and I took an ICE train from Berlin Central Station to Zurich, where we visited my ex boyfriend Olaf. We decided to stay over for a couple of days, in occasion of Olaf’s birthday and his housewarming party.

Sjors and Olaf seemed to get along quite well and it was funny to hear them speaking Dutch, their native language. My ex boyfriend’s new home was modern and bright, with some exquisite piece of furniture designed in Milan. Olaf had spent a fortune on every single detail to spoil all the 40 guests of his party. Guys from all over Germany, England and Switzerland could enjoy liters of Champagne, beers, various cocktails and delicious food. On the Sunday afternoon Sjors and I took a Cisalpino train to Milan Stazione Centrale and four hours later we were in the city of fashion on the other side of the Alps.

During our stay in the Italian Peninsula, we decided to spend every second day in Milan and the rest of the week to travel to Portofino, Como and Venice. Sjors and my parents could not really talk one another as they did not speak each other language, however, with the use of hands, they somehow managed to communicate and most of the times I translated from German into Italian and vice versa. Translating for my parents and my boyfriend had its pro and its contra. Spending the whole evening thinking how to express something properly gave me headaches, but on the good side, I could value each sentence and censure what could have shown my weak points. On Monday Sjors and I visited Milan city centre. From the roof of the Duomo, the cathedral, seat of the archbishop of Milan build between the 14th and the 19th century, we could see the Alps and the city skyline. In the afternoon, after a sightseeing of the Sforza Castle and its surroundings, we went shopping in Via Montenapoleone, the famous designer store street in Milan’s “Fashion Quadrangle”. The exclusive district, which might be considered the equivalent of Monopoly’s Boardwalk or Mayfair, can offer Prada, Armani, Versace, D&G, Valentino and many others and one can admire Ferrari, Maserati and Lamborghini parked one after the other, showing off their perfect shapes. In the evening Sjors and I went eating at the Trattoria Toscana and we had a few beers on a boat with a romantic atmosphere on the Naviglio Grande, one of Milan’s canals.

On Tuesday I took my boyfriend to Santa Margherita Ligure, where we walked to the harbour and we informed ourselves about the ferries schedule. At 10am we took a ferry to Portofino, the small fishing village with its red, cream and yellow coloured houses and its yachts moored in the harbour.  After an hour break, we followed the tourist path through the mountains to San Fruttuoso, where we ate at a tiny trattoria on a little pebble beach. We were picking up some little green glass stones, probably former beer bottles reshaped by the sea, when Sjors showed me a natural pier and insisted to go there. I found it an exciting idea and we climbed up together to our secret place, where there was no one but us. Before that romantic view we started kissing and taking our clothes off. Everything was perfect, just the two of us in a paradise, at least until a ferry full of people, coming from the gulf next to ours, appeared. Sjors managed to put his clothes back on and I hid behind him, to avoid being seen naked by the old lady with the red paper straw hat, who was exploring the coast with her binoculars. At 5pm we were at the moor, where our ferry was supposed to leave, but no one was there. We asked a fisherman what was going on and he informed us that we had missed the last ferry at 4pm and we had got wrong information from the harbour in Santa Margherita. The fisherman offered to bring us with his boat to Portofino for 150 Euro, but we opted for a cost free walk back in the mountains. It was a two-hour promenade and I kept on telling Sjors, to be careful and to keep the left, as the slope was pretty steep, but he did not pay attention. I was heading the way, when suddenly I heard a tremendous noise, I turned behind and Sjors was not there. I looked below terrified and I saw him some three meters further down covered in sand. “Nicht bewegen!” – “Don’t move!” I kept on telling him and while I was trying to find a way to lift him up, Sjors managed to climb back up safe and sound.

After another relaxing day in Milan, where we visited some other must-see and we met my friends for an aperitif, we decided to spend Wednesday in Como, by the homonymous lake.

We took a regional train early in the morning and we had cappuccino e brioche in a café by the lake.

After breakfast we took a ferry to Cernobbio and from there we walked the whole way back, admiring some of the most beautiful houses, nevertheless it was the location, where some Hollywood Stars like Clooney had chosen to buy their villas. In the early afternoon we went to lay down next to Villa Geno fountain, with its 40-meter shot. The grass next to it was humid, but we decided to lay down our towels anyway. We were about to sit down on the fresh grass, when the wind changed and liters of water poured on our heads and clothes. We laughed, we hanged our soaking wet towels on a fence and we sat on the grass, to dry ourselves up. In the late afternoon, we took time kissing and looking at the enchanting sunset over the Alps.


I had already been to Venice, but every time I visited the city in the lagoon it was a sensational experience. As soon as we got off the train in the Stazione Santa Lucia, we stood a few seconds looking through the glassy façade of the station: Venezia was before my eyes again. The Gondolas were navigating slowly in the canal surrounded by the majestic buildings of a city with a glorious history. We walked through the tiny “Calle”, the Venetian streets and we crossed a few romantic bridges until we reached Piazza San Marco. In the square I asked an Asian tourist if he could take a picture of us in front of the Basilica. “Cheeeeeeeese” – CLICK どもありがとございます - domo arigato gozaimasu”. I thanked thinking that the man was Japanese. “I don’t speak Japanese, I am Korean!” Answered the man disappointed. I took Sjors to see the famous “Ponte dei Sospiri”, where the prisoners had walked to face their cruel destiny and after a coffee in the Piazza, we decided to go to Murano. “Are you having your honey moon in Venice too?” Asked us a British couple on the overcrowded ferry. As we reached the island, famous for its glass artisans, we had lunch and we visited some of the shops. In the afternoon I took Sjors to the Lido, so that we could enjoy the beach before going back to Milan. After our Italian “honey moon”, as Sjors and I were back in Berlin, I thought it was the time for my boyfriend to know about my past relationships.

Wednesday, 12 August 2015


Hi guys, today is about a new Chapter called DURMIENDO CON LAS IGUANAS Y LOS MARCIANOS and how I met the men of my life. Below the video of the day with sexy hot Spanish Rugby guys playing rugby in Spain with no clothes on... 

Berlin, April 2007

As planned, that Thursday Sjors and I met again. I had spent the previous two days reflecting and I came to the conclusion that I would have told Sjors that he should fix the issues he had with his partner and I would keep distance from him. From the Rote Rathaus we walked to the Oxymoron bar in Rosenthaler Strasse, it was another cold night in Berlin, but I was happy to see Sjors again and we were so busy talking that I forgot about the freezing Siberian wind. In the bar I noticed that his right hand was injured and when he told me he had a fight with his partner, I felt I needed to protect him from that monster. “If you feel in danger, please go to stay at my place, I am traveling to Milan for some business, but I am sure that my flat-mate Adriana wouldn’t mind.” On Saturday morning Sjors took me to Hauptbahnof, Berlin Central Station and he gave me a lot to think about during my week in the northern Italian city. In fact on Monday, while I was at Valeria’s place for a coffee, Sjors called me to let me know that his partner was drunk again, he did not feel safe and he wanted to accept my offer. I called Adriana from my mobile phone to let her know that Sjors was coming, but she did not seem too keen in accepting a total stranger in our flat and in a way, I could not blame her.  After all, when she had told me that it would have not been a problem if Sjors had slept at ours, she had not imagined he would have really accepted my offer. In fact, I had not expected that either. My mobile phone battery died on me, right before I could call Sjors again and I had to leave Valeria and go back to my parents flat to retrieve all my numbers. Once home I called Sjors, who in the meanwhile had already got to know Adriana and one of her dates and was sitting on my bed wearing a pyjama. “I am sorry Sjors, my flat-mate does not feel safe having you there. However I am ready to pay for a room in a hotel for you if you’d let me.” Eventually Sjors went to sleep to the place of his friend Wolfram, Adriana was satisfied and I was happy having found a guy, who was definitely spontaneous in his choices.

My train arrived in Berlin in the morning of the 2nd of April, where Sjors was waiting for me at the platform 18 of the central station, with a bottle of sparkling wine to welcome my return. That day we became a couple and he moved in to my place, as we both did not want him to live with his alcoholic ex. Towards the end of April Sjors and I went to eat at the turning restaurant on the top of the television tower, where we had a magic view over the city. “I had been waiting since my move to Berlin for the right guy to come here with him!” I told him looking into his sweet deep blue eyes. Sjors had never been to Italy, so I promised him to take him to my country in May and he managed to get ten days off work from the Charité Hospital, where he used to work.

The video of the sexy guys here

Sunday, 9 August 2015



London, March 2008

In London I finally had the time to go out with Jørn more often. As an apology for my long absence, I managed to get another week off to spend with him in Tunisia. My employer took the chance to assign me a work appointment in Tunis and in exchange I got to save some lieu days, which considering my many travels in the initial part of the year, would have come handy. Jørn and I flew to Monastir on the 31st of March 2003: exactly 11 days after the Iraq invasion had started.

Monastir, Tunis, El Jem, March, April 2003

The bus took us from مطار الحبيب بورقيبة الدولي Monastir’s Habib Bourguiba International Airport to the hotel in مرسى القنطاوي,  Port El Kantaoui under a hot sun. We did not have any water with us, so we left the luggage in the room and we walked to a café not far from the hotel, where we ordered two one-liter bottles of water and two cokes without ice. We were told not to drink tap water and not to use unpacked ice to avoid diarrhea and stomachaches. Port El Kantaoui was a tourist complex about ten kilometers north of the historical city of سوسة Sousse. Jørn and I did not intend to spend the whole week in a trap for tourists and that soulless marina, built in the late 70s, lacked of the Tunisian real flair and the historical background we were looking for. After a day by the pool, as the Mediterranean sea was still too cold for us to bathe, we decided that we should spend the week traveling around the country and we gathered so much information we could get, at the local tourist information centre.

On the 1st of April, Jørn and I decided to go to المهدية, Mahdia for a day trip. Unfortunately when we arrived to the station in Sousse, we found out that we had just missed the only daily SNCFT train to our destination and our plan had to be revised. A Tunisian man, who had heard our discussion, gave us the tip to skip the main trains of the SNCFT, the Tunisian Railway Company, take the more frequent metro-type trains to Monastir instead and change there to Mahdia. We paid two Tunisian Dinars and got our tickets to Monastir. About five minutes after the train had left, three Tunisian girls sat next to us and offered us some chewing gum. We refused their kind offer and we asked them if they knew about a train connection from Monastir to Madhia. The girls told us not to worry and insisted that we should get off the train with them in a place, where there should have been a direct bus to Madhia. About half an hour later, before we reached the city of Monastir, we all got off the train as agreed. Once outside the station, one of the girls spoke to a local man and eventually she informed us that they had mistaken and there was no bus to Madhia. With or without guilty feelings the Tunisian girls left us there and Jørn and I found ourselves in an unknown village somewhere between Sousse and Monastir with no idea about what to do. Eventually we noticed a taxi and we called quickly the attention of the driver. We got in the car and asked him to take us to Madhia. “Five Dinars, and I’ll take you not far from Madhia, where you can find another taxi. I am not allowed to drive the whole way to Madhia” Apparently taxi drivers in Tunisia had some restricted area where they can drive. I looked into my wallet and I realized I only had eight Dinars left. Jørn had about four and with a total of twelve Dinars we should have been able to pay our way down to Madhia and get some cash from a bank once there. During our journey the taxi driver stopped the car several times and without asking us, he picked up and drove a couple of other people to their destinations. After 20 minutes we had the feeling that we were driving the same way over and over again and we started feeling a little bit nervous. “Voulez Vous du chocolat?” Asked us one of the passengers, showing us a bar of chocolate. Once again we refused the offer and we tried to keep us from laughing about the weird situation into which we had ended up. “Please, get off here! Seven Dinars please, another taxi is behind that dune!” indicated the taxi driver. We left the car and found ourselves in the middle of the desert and with six Dinars in the pocket. We walked towards the dune, hoping to see a taxi waiting on the other side and we started thinking that the day trip to Madhia had not been a good idea after all.

Once on the other side of the dune, we saw a car waiting and we were pleasantly relieved. This time the driver took us to our final destination, where we spent about two hours to find a functioning cash machine and get some money. Once we found one, we had to rush and get the only daily train back to Sousse.  “So much for a day trip!” Said Jørn.

On the 2nd of April, we opted to stay in the surroundings and we chose to visit Sousse. The third largest city of Tunisia had lots to offer, its medieval narrow twisted streets in the Medina took us from the Ribat fortress with its dominating tower to the Kasbah museum and its archeological collection. There was tension in the street. We stopped at a local bar, where some men watching the CNN were expressing their opinion in French against the American invasion of Iraq.  

In the evening once we were back in Port El Kantaoui a Tunisian man approached us and asked us, if we wanted to buy Hashish. I asked the man to leave, but Jørn, who enjoyed smoking joints, followed him and came back a few minutes later smiling like a child. I was furious, how could he even think to put our safety at risk for his stupid transgression. We went home without talking one another and when Jørn started burning his drug, he realized that he had been tricked and he had just bought a sort of perfumed leaf. I laughed at him and I told him that, that was what he had deserved.

The day after the conversation between us was still difficult, but we decided to go to El Djem, just as planned. The city had a spectacular amphitheatre, built by the Romans and most likely used for gladiator shows and chariot races. After visiting the ruins, Jørn decided to buy himself some kind of souvenir and we went into the local market. It was getting late, so I asked my partner to hurry up, as we had a bus to catch, but he ignored me and when we were back to the main square, we saw our bus leaving. We were totally upset, I told him that he was a stupid and I smashed a diet coke bottle at his feet, then I throw the broken glasses in a rubbish bin and I sat on the white stone in the middle of the square. There was no free shadow available and our next bus was due in 4 hours. We spent at least one hour arguing until we saw a Tunisian old man, half hidden behind a palm, who was looking at us, masturbating with his hand in his dress and showing his penis from time to time.

On the 3rd of April while the Americans reached Saddam International Airport, I was in the Tunisian branch of my company in Tunis and my colleagues made it clear. “You are lucky not to be American, it might have been a problem at this time!” They showed me the routers and the machines and I took note of everything I needed to know for my presentation in London. In a matter of 4 hours I was ready and I met Jørn in front of the main gate of the سوق the Souk Market.

On Friday, we spent the day by the pool at the hotel and we flew back to London on Saturday 5th of April.