The Church of the Bator Bros

How I discovered the brotherhood of bating

One of the things you learn as you get older is that time is running out. Also, that self-censoring, stopping yourself from exploring and experiencing your sexuality, is not a good thing. That’s why this last weekend I ventured to the Bunker, a gay club on City Road in London, for a Bator Bro event (@batorbrobmc).

Like many others, (there was a queue several shops down the road), I’d tuned into the weekly twitter X spaces hosted by Ben (@mantools1) and Nick Woof (@nickwoofbmc), the facilitator and founder of Bator Bro. These weekly open discussions focus on the brotherhood of masculine, man-on-man, sexuality, and the sharing of that most intimate of personal pleasures – masturbation.

The event, held on the 4^th Sunday each month, is promoted as a place for men to come together, to touch, masturbate, kiss and hold, but absolutely not to suck or fuck.

It all began with a ballet of undressing in a small changing room, with bear bums and coyness, as men quickly got into jockstraps, skimpy shorts, designer pants or just a cock-ring. Handing my bag of clothes and mobile in – definitely no mobiles allowed beyond this point – I was given a band and number and a ticket for a complimentary drink at the bar.

Big bros are on hand, wearing orange sweat bands, to help guide newbies like me around the set of rooms that lead off from the bar area down narrow corridors. There is a large empty room with nothing but a padded bench all the way around; another with a pair of mattresses on a dais surrounded by stools pushed back against the wall. A further room was fitted out with wrist cuffs set into the wall and porn streaming on a screen. There are smaller, more intimate areas set aside along the corridor behind curtains, but most guys navigate towards the larger spaces.

This is not like cruising in a sauna, looking to hook-up with a guy for sex, whatever form that might take. Here, it is all about being in the crowd of men, naked, stroking, caressing or just watching.

The main rooms are busy. A crowd gathers around to watch two hot guys, their balls roped, being teased and edged by self-proclaimed, Dr Gay Porn, suitably dressed in a medical coat. This is the best live porn show in town. Guys dip into the tubs of Albolene and masturbate, either solo or with one or two others.

I have no illusions. I am the oldest one there and the adage that you simply disappear from view as you get older certainly rings true in this sea of gorgeous young hot flesh, of predominantly twenty-to-thirty-year-olds. There are a few older guys, and I connect with one for a deep and intense session. But I quickly realise that a very important element of this experience is watching the display of 3-D naked beauty all around and in front of you, rock hard, solid and proud. Cocks everywhere. It is a scene of primal, ritualistic phallus worship the likes of which I have not witnessed anywhere else. In saunas and sex clubs the cock is hidden, either by a mouth or in the dark of a darkroom. Here it is fully on display, throbbing, dripping, exuding the essence of what it is to be a sexually charged male in the company of other sexually charged, sweaty men.

It feels like a tribe, or could it be a bunch of rugby players in the locker room together? Whatever it is, it is pure masculinity, and I feel I’ve been well and truly initiated into its deep archaic ritual, and am now a fully-fledged disciple of the Bator Bro community.