Ski Bums

I’m lugging a suitcase and pair of skis through the center aisle of a train car when a very helpful stranger says to me, “You know the snow is in the north, right?”

I am aware.

This man feels compelled to advise me, though, because I am indeed heading south, on a train from Milan to Bologna. The reason for this is that, in Bologna, I’ll meet up with a group of Italian gay men, board a coach bus, and head back north to the Dolomites for a weekend of skiing that, translated into English, is titled “Gay Snow Flakes” (Or, as I prefer to translate it, “Snow Faggots.”)

This could not possibly be more up my alley. The irreverently gay vibe of this trip hooked me the moment I saw it. I signed up in the fall, having skied one whole time in my life, and committed to making this the winter I finally learned how to ski.

I bought some gear in November and managed to get three days of skiing under my belt before this momentous January weekend arrived.

After a few hours on the bus, we pulled in just before midnight to a small mountain town, where our merry group of 65 queers fills an entire hotel (with overflow into a second).

The first full day of the trip, I opt out of skiing and instead join the contingent that’s heading to the spa complex. This is mostly because this day’s ski destination seems out of my league, full of only more difficult terrain I can’t yet manage. And also because, well, I can’t resist the opportunity to be semi-nude with a large group of beautiful men.

In the spa’s locker room, as about 30 of us are removing layers and donning swimsuits, I immediately clock a few cuties. One guy in particular has a gorgeous butt and chiseled torso (and, I learned earlier that morning, happens to be from my grandparents’ very rural and remote region of Italy, lol). When we migrate to the outdoor pool, I let my hand caress his inner thigh under the bubbly water.

Eventually a bunch of us migrate the second outdoor pool, which sits on the other side of the building and offers a stunning panorama of the Dolomites. Here, too, some hands wander under the surface. The whole day proceeds like this, as I hop from pool to jacuzzi to sauna, keeping my eye on a handful of hotties, and sneaking some furtive touches.

😈 This is your content warning! 🌶️ If your sensibilities aren’t offended already, this post is only getting spicier from here.

Toward the end of our time at the spa, I find myself in a somewhat hidden hot tub occupied entirely by guys from our group. All of my honeys are there, but they all seem preoccupied in other pairings. Fine.

But then, unexpectedly, someone new comes over to me and basically sits in my lap, by way of introduction. I’m not mad about it. He’s super cute, and I’d been admiring him from across the jacuzzi.