This is an extended version of an old post which seemed to go down well. Bit more detail in this version.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter know I love to walk over Hampstead Heath. It’s such a beautiful place, an oasis of green in the middle of a massive city. But as well as its wholesome side – the dog-walkers, joggers and families having fun – the Heath also has a more seedy reputation.

Tucked away behind Jack Straws Castle – once a pub, now luxury apartments – is the gay cruising area. I’ve only ever been once, many years ago when I was in my mid-twenties. I went on impulse with a guy I knew from a bar in Camden Town. 

The guy was the chef at the bar, which I frequented regularly. I was single at the time and living in a bedsit some twenty-minute walk away. The bar and its assortment of eccentric staff and punters offered more of a draw than my dingy room with its leaking shower.

I’d heard about The Heath, and I was curious. As he drove me there, my companion for the trip suggested that we get each other warned up once we arrived. He was talking about performing oral sex on each other to get us both in the mood. I wasn’t attracted to him really, but I was excited by the whole seamy situation.

It was around midnight when we arrived and the trees and bushes were alive with men having sex. I sucked off my companion as promised, kneeling on the moist, leaf-strewn ground. My heart was banging in my ears, as if to alert the lurking strangers to my presence. My new friend returned the favour, my legs trembling a little as he gorged. And then we split up to see what delights The Heath had to offer.

I’d love to tell you I had an incredible experience, getting sucked off by a gorgeous stranger, or fucked from behind while I hugged a tree, but I actually found the experience disconcerting. 

I didn’t know the etiquette – how you said yes or no to someone. I think if a guy approached that you are not interested in, it’s quite acceptable to just give a vigorous shake of the head or a brusk ‘no’. But I was too polite to reject anyone so rudely. How much easier is it in this age of social media to simply block, or swipe right or left? When the expectant person is standing inches away, it’s harder to be harsh.

My politeness meant that I ended up surrounded by men of all shapes sizes and ages, all groping me and placing my hands on their cocks. I remember one large hairy man grabbing me from behind — my trousers and underpants were round my ancles by this point. I felt the metal loops of a harness dig into my back and smelt his stale sweat. Still I let him play with my dick for a few seconds before pulling away. A stranger kindly warned me about the dangers of pickpockets stealing my wallet, as he pushed my head down towards his crotch.

There was a brief, fairly pleasant interlude of kissing a guy who, in the dark at least, appeared around my age and cute. I remember his penis being disappointingly small, though. And there was a constant crowd around us, making it hard to lose myself in the moment.

Eventually I walked away and called out for the guy that had brought me. Luckily, he was happy to leave with me and drive me home.

For me, my trip to the cruising area of The Heath was a good example of reality not living up to fantasy. I’ve never been tempted to return. But you have to give these things a go, right?

If you enjoy reading sexy stuff, please check out my male/male erotic romance novellas The Black Mask, Hard Lessons and Mirror Man. And my full-length novel Darkwater House, which features a very steamy scene set on Hampstead Heath. They are available direct from the publisher’s website or from Amazon UK and Amazon USA, and other online sellers.