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Wednesday 08 April 2009

Ten New Zealand gay sex scenes

Posted in: NZ Writing
By David Herkt - 28th August 2007

Author, JACK editor and social comentator David Herkt lines up ten classic locations for gay encounters in Aotearoa to get you started on your own erotic writing...

The Matamata Rugby Club's changing room in the early winter evening was cold. The showers ran, steaming the air. The bare concrete floor was cold underfoot. A slatted wooden bench ran around three of the walls and there were two piles of clothes upon it.

His bedroom in Takapuna was messy. The duvet was thrown back from the bed exactly as he had left it that morning. The carpet was covered with pairs of his jeans, his boxers, two or three balled-up T-shirts, several pairs of sneakers and a number of magazines including Remix, M2 and an old copy of Jack.

On the low cliffs north of Te Kaha, pohutakawas grew thick and intertwined. Their roots came out of the earth and were strung out over dun-cloured rocks. Between the patches of flax there were clear areas of dry and dusty ground, softened with fallen pouhutakawa leaves and fading red flower stamens.

The house in Roseneath was centrally-heated and the windows were double-glazed. Outside the wind tugged at the corners and with each stronger gust the house seemed to shudder slightly. The lounge was sparsely furnished with a long white leather couch and a large wide-screen TV tuned presently to a blank channel. Wolfgang Voigt's Zauberberg was playing softly on the sound-system.

The thick lanolin smell of the farm woolshed in the Waeranga hills enveloped everything. The bright summer light came in through the open doors and was cut into bars by the wooden races inside. The woolbales occupied the far end, piled three high in neatly sewn sacking.

The boardroom table in the Albert Street offices of the 'big five' law firm presented an invitingly-polished surface.

Lit only by the lights on the CD player and radio-tuner, the front seats of his BMW were a space that somehow merged fuzzily with the New Brighton beach night. Between the two seats was the automatic shift and there was a packet of Benson and Hedges, several lighters, a copy of a traffic infringement notice and some small change in the shallow tray provided for the driver's convenience.

On the Taupo foreshore, the sound of the constantly-flushing urinal filled the air inside the toilet cubicle with white noise.

The double-bed in the Lambton Quay hotel was covered with a gold-coloured duvet which was lit by a single ceiling pin-spot light. On one of the bedside tables was a reading lamp, three sachets of Wet Stuff and two Durex condoms. A white towel had been dropped conveniently on the buff-coloured carpet.

Their shared bedroom in Te Atatu was open to the deck and the afternoon of the summer day. A slight breeze moved the curtains on either side of the French doors. From the bed it was possible to see the still surface of the chlorinated pool and a terracotta pot of red geraniums.
David Herkt - 28th August 2007