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You might remember Ken’s from the news a few years back. I narrowed in on Bodyline Spa and Sauna for one reason only: It is the closest to the Sneaky office. Shit, if there was a place like this for straight people and I was feeling tipsy and horny, this is about the time I’d be heading there. After nervously waiting for the crowd to thin out, I got undressed.

Today Tonight, the disgraceful cunts that they are, had found out NSW Transport Minister David Campbell had been a regular at Ken’s and decided, all for the sake of a few headlines, to out him. I walked into the almost anonymous door and paid my twenty bucks. About seven men, all in various states of undress, were attending to their belongings, some taking their clothes off, others looking freshly fucked and ready to leave. It’s not my business who does what with whom, but as a straight guy you’re naturally going to be a little weirded out by the scene. Slowly, with the shakes, I took off my shirt, then jeans, then underpants.

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I tried not to flinch – that seemed rude, but all I could muster was a polite “no thankyou”, as if he’d asked me if I needed some dressing for my salad. On the other side was an aggressively masculine looking “top”, fingering and licking Doggy Man’s anus.

I stayed in the steam room but moved to a far, unoccupied corner, hoping to observe and report. Aggressive Top had a young guy, looking fresh out of school, licking his six pack and, as far as I could see, tweaking his nipples.

Sneaky sent me on a mission to explore the gay bath houses of Sydney, and as much as I’m used to putting myself into all types of weird sexual scenarios for the magazine, this one is the most difficult so far. Seeing a dominatrix (issue one) wasn’t, but it was insightful, even if the dominatrix was slapping me around and calling me names.

Last month (issue three) was a travel guide through Sydney’s BDSM scene. The main risk is it will read as being homophobic; I’m straight, so I’m naturally intimidated by a bunch of guys congregating in an establishment with only one aim in mind: getting dirty.

I declined the advances politely again, and moved out of the steam room. The level had a maze like quality, with corridors leading through various private rooms, each with a vinyl bed, more than enough condoms and a lube dispenser.

Some men (and boys) were waiting outside rooms, others were roaming around.

A muscular, Statue Of David young fellow was licking and sucking amid growls and groans of approval.

The man on the table was also surrounded a group of three – all taking turns at receiving blowjobs from him, like a really weird variation on musical chairs.

There are five other guys adorned only in towels sitting with us and I could swear that each one of them is looking at me and playing with their junk.

We’re in a dark room, maybe five metres squared, with a big cinema screen in the middle playing the most hard core porn I’ve ever seen at loud volumes.

For some strange reason I was became paranoid about my size. After what seemed an eternity of showering, I dried off and took a look around.