If the notion ever strikes you to step out of what we know as
reality, I suggest a Turkish bath. One of the most surreal
experiences Ive ever had. Situated just past Istanbul’s historical
Grand Bazaar (world famous for its hundreds of store fronts,
although all you could really buy there were rugs and leather
products) sat the four hundred year old bath house. I walk in,
pay, then a man yells at me in turkish and ushers me to some booth
and hands me a thin towel. I think I'M suppose to get naked, but I'm
not sure. I roll the dice and walk out into the lobby with nothing
but a thin piece of linen keeping the world from seeing me in all
my glory. I'm not sure what to do next so I just pick a door and
walk through it. Part of me is worried that I'm going to walk into
some holy Muslim room, and everyone is going to turn around
and see that the sacred towel they gave me to wash my
face, is being worn by me as underpants.

  Inside the room I saw my buddies
all laying down on a hot concrete
slab in the middle of a steam filled
circular room. A tall dome ceiling
sits two stories above us. Tiny
moons and stars cut into the high
ceiling are the only windows. Aside
from the Muslim chants sneaking in
through the moon star windows
from outside, there is rarely any
other sound. When there is the
occasional door slam or Turkish
yell, it echoes through the bath
house for a good thirty seconds. I
lay on the hot slab, basically naked,
in this scene for thirty minutes.
Eventually this Turkish man came in,
and straight up gave me a bath. His
job in life, is to wash men. At first
he set a little pouch with strings on
it on my chest and walked away. I
wasn't sure if I was suppose to do something with it. I had been
thinking that it was kind of unsanitary to have my bare junk just
sitting on this slab where everyone lays down. So I decided in my
mind that he had handed me some sort of jock strap. I was
seconds away from putting it on when the man came back,
grabbed the pouch, stretched it out, tied it around his wrist and
wore it as some sort of scrubbing glove to exfoliate my skin. I
began to imagine what would have happened if he had taken a few
more seconds getting there, and came back to see me sticking my
‘bizness’ in his good washing glove.

  After exfoliating, he would scream at me in turkish to turn
myself different ways on the hot slab while he poured bubbles
all over me and washed me down. Whenever I was to sit up, or flip
over, he would just slap me on the shoulder as hard as he could
to let me know I was to change positions. This guy washed me
hard. I’ve never been washed so hard. I looked around me and saw
my other buddies laying on the hot slab, covered in bubbles,
being washed, slapped and yelled at by these other turkish dudes.
And it took all my incredibly relaxed muscles to keep from
busting out laughing at the whole thing.
  Once the bath was over, he took me into another room, sat me
on the floor, and then poured about ten buckets of water on my
head, one right after each other. There is a fine line between
turkish relaxation and Chinese water torture. After that I went
into yet another room where I got an oil massage. He went to
town, massaging, back cracking, karate chopping me. It was pretty
fucking great, although I will say that the part where he
massaged my bare oil soaked butt cheeks for three straight
minutes might be the new chart topper for gayest thing I’ve ever
done. (Beating the old chart topper of owning a sleeveless pink
‘Golden Girls’ t-shirt with the nipples cut out)
  The final leg of my pampering gauntlet consisted of being taken
to the last room where there was a shower were I was to rinse
all the massage oil off my exfoliated, cleaned, beaten body. When
I turned the shower on, water came out the top of the shower
head like normal, but then another, tiny stream of water shot out
of second smaller nozzle located on the wall, waist high, which
shot right into my groin. I'M not sure what that it
was for. So far up to this point I had one man wash down my inner
thighs, with his scrub glove smacking up against my balls, and
another man rub my ass, so I said, 'fuck it', turned around, and
decided the water stream was for cleaning out my butt hole. I
dont really know
what else it could
have been there for,
and I had done the
whole experience up
to that point, I didn’t
want to skimp. I don’t
know what other
context I would have
been comfortable
with water shooting
in my butthole, and
maybe it’s not what it
was for. But what’s
done is done.