Maspalomas Pride was my first time in Gran Canaria—all heat and hedonism, I had heard about it a lot but this was my first time experiencing it. Men of all kinds, beautiful men, coming together in sweaty cruise bars, sunny beaches and cruisy dunes. Something about the air there got everyone loose in the way poppers would a tense bottom hah. Everyone was sexually liberated and everything was possible.
I spotted him early: an incredibly handsome italian hunk that make you forget the Spanish sun exists. When I asked to photograph him, he didn’t think I was serious. He didnt believe he was worthy at first, but his humility just made me more attractive. Plus one glimpse at his grindr album had me lustfully wanting more of. An hour later, we were together in the dunes- It didn’t take long to hunt down a quiet stretch of endless golden waves leading up to the buzzing beaches of Maspalomas.
We started slow. Portraits first, then less. Then nothing. I immediately wanted to oil up that body (A body like that needs to glisten in high noon). What followed was half photoshoot, half wrestling match with the wind. Sand in my lens. Sand in places sand shouldn’t be. His body sweating and shining in the sun, though? Perfect.
The shots came out raw and sun-drunk, like we’d bottled the light itself. Now I’m ruined—how do I top dunes, a sexy stranger, and that kind of reckless daylight?
(Full set out soon for members in a separate post. The outtakes are… educational.)
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