I stretch out in the sauna's smallish whirlpool bath, just one among ten or so other guys, all trying to avoid eye contact, the feet and hands of my fellow bathers seeking each other out, rubbing themselves against the pricks and balls of their companions, There's furious covert activity taking place across from where I'm sitting, just below the surface of the bubbling, churning water.
Neither man looks at the other, but their hands are pumping each other's cocks, while the younger, more attractive of the two has the sole of his foot pressed firmly against my hard-on, and in their frantic desire to keep their mutual masturbation to themselves alone, the older man looks around the sauna; ceiling, showers, cabin, anywhere but where his meat is being whacked by his buddy; the younger guy looks similarly embarrassed, but seems to have shed his inhibitions by giving me the glad eye, almost as if he's saying to himself
`You know what I'm doing, and I know you know.'
The older man isn't helping himself by his visual wandering though: he really has to concentrate, and he has to concentrate because of his embarrassment, otherwise he won't come -- and he's desperate to come, otherwise it won't have been worth while being here - so his gaze drifts, casually, back to the pool, to the surface of the water, as though there's something exquisitely fascinating about it, and as though their desperate fists can't be seen pounding beneath the surface.
His eyes even lock onto me, and his face reddens.
Everyone knows what everyone is doing in the pool.
They always do.
That's what they're here for -- illicit gay sex, even if it's only a hand job in a whirlpool bath. The guys on either side of me have their hands on my cock, gently stroking me; I look to the one on my left. He doesn't return my look because he wouldn't; this isn't happening. He looks seemingly disinterested, and in return I'm stroking his firm flesh, my fingers wandering over the tip, feeling what could be drool; I've been masturbating him for a while now, and we sit there, with no more sexual chemistry between us than two men on a train home who don't speak because they haven't been introduced.
Across from me, the older guy starts to jerk, his face going very red and trying hard not to display that he's cumming in the water. It's almost funny, watching someone having a massive climax and trying not to let anyone know.
It's cardiac arrest stuff.
He gradually calms down and reaches behind him to lever himself out of the pool, leaving the young guy who masturbated him disappointed that there isn't going to be a reciprocal orgasm, but the man who's just dropped his load in the pool is out of here.
He's had enough.
He's mortified that everyone knows what he's been doing and what he's had done to him, so he leaves the younger guy, and he'll probably not be back for a long time, at least not until he feels that his day-to-day life is boring, and he needs something a little more `exciting'. He probably thinks being gay is disgusting, and would never consider fucking a man, or being fucked.
This is just 'different', a sort of relief after a hard day at work.
He clambers out of the pool, jizz clinging to the underside of his penis like spit, and he hurries to the shower. His temporary partner catches my eye, and wriggles his foot gently against my cock, disturbing the hands that are stroking me and I look away. It's almost like he's been unfaithful; I would have gladly succumbed to his caresses if he'd approached me first, but he decided to give that uptight asshole his jollies instead.
It's as stupid as that.
Above us, leaning on the balcony rail that surrounds the pool area, stands the attendant, wearing his regulation white t-shirt and white pants -- looking for all the world like an athlete. He has a good body though; he's watching for `bad behaviour' in the sauna. He never really finds any -- I've even sucked him off in the locker room before now, and we've exchanged phone numbers, but we've never met outside of the sauna.
The illusion would be shattered.
Sometimes the police raid the joint, and they haul away a few poor bastards who are giving blowjobs in the bunkroom, but it's only a token. I heard a rumour that some of the vice police come in here on their days off and get their rocks off with the regulars.
The guy on my right seems pleasant. His cock is really hard now, and he's leaning against me, very tense, waiting for me to bring him off, so I concentrate on stroking him, uncaring as to who might see, his tense body is coiled, ready for the drop. I feel a light shudder against me, and another longer one, his legs thrash beside mine and then it's over.
This pool must be thick with cum every day. Who'd be the one to volunteer to clean it out?
I love cum, but in my mouth or in my butt, not sliming up the bath.
I decide to make a move before my skin gets wrinkled, so I get up, clamber out of the pool, my ten inch boner swaying and bobbing before me, grab my towel and wrap it round my shoulders, then stroll off, glancing behind me, knowing that I'm getting some greedy looks.
Yeah, call me conceited.
I've got the body, right?
Stopping briefly in front of the mirror, I check myself out: 35 years-old, muscular torso, hairy chest, and I look like I work out, though the only working-out I do, apart from occasional mornings at the gym is horizontal jogging.
A bit of a bear if you like, but only in looks -- I don't dig all that leather and chain stuff.
The mirror also shows me who's followed me out of the pool.
Ah, there's one guy. Not bad looking -- about my age, clean-shaven and a little shy, I'd say. he was watching me in the pool.
I head for the steam room for a while.
Pulling open the door, a gust of steam blows out, and momentarily I can see that there's about a dozen guys in there; the thing about the steam room is that you can't see anything once you're inside, but there are hands everywhere. Mouths seek mine, and I brush up against long cocks, fat ones, muscular ones -- all hard - and you can't see any further than the end of your nose.
It's silent.
You notice that about gay saunas -- unless you're involved in a one-to-one conversation, usually with someone you'll take home later, there's complete human silence. In here, all I can hear is some breathing. A couple of months back I was in here getting a little cream on my face, when there was a sudden `crack!' as someone had his face slapped. All activity stopped briefly, while the guy left.
Fuck knows who slapped him or why.
What can he possibly have done in a gay steam-room that would deserve a slap?
I move to the far end. No one who wants anything serious stands by the door. Apart from the cold as the door opens, there's never any action. That all takes place deep in at the other end.
Away from prying eyes.
Just prying hands inhabit this end of the room; I bump into a naked guy, and there's a pathetic attempt at an apology, meantime he's fumbling for my prick, and that's how most of us guys meet -- by bumping into each other in an ill-lit steam room.
I'm surrounded by naked flesh, and reach out with both hands, which are immediately filled with man-meat, then my prick is held by gentle hands, and stroked. I decide to blow the guy on my right. He has a hard, strong cock, and chances are it'll taste great, so I sink to my knees on the stone floor, and take his swollen penis deep into my mouth. The others can sense that sex is happening, because suddenly I have pricks poking my ear, forehead, shoulders, but I keep blowing him, running my tongue along the underside of his flesh, tracing his tube all the way to the engorged tip, then running my tongue round his piss slit, tasting his pre-cum drool, before taking him deep again. This isn't love and it's not a date, so there's no time for the finer points of `How to Give Good Head'. He wants me to bring him off as fast as possible, so I hold his cock gently with one hand, stroking it while I suck, and I can hear the hiss of his breath above me. The other cocks are still there and hands are working on them -- it's getting a little like The Group Cum Shot in a porno movie. Something wet and long splashes down past my gaze, and then a slicky cock is wiped across the bridge of my nose.
One has just come on my shoulder.
Thanks pal!
I feel his thighs quiver lightly, and he begins to shift his feet, as he fucks my mouth. Another prick has just cum on my back, but I try not to lose concentration, then I hear a deep sigh, and my mouth is filled with jizz. It's sweet tasting, and chewy and I swallow most of, letting the rest drip down onto my chin and onto the floor.
Getting to my feet again, I push through the cluster of nakedness that has formed around me, figuring now might be a good time to leave, and I have to adjust my eyes as I open the door into the rest of the sauna.
Wiping my face and shoulder with my towel, I get most of the cum off me, and head for the sauna cabin, hoping it isn't going to be full; when it's full, it's like being on some nudist bus. People standing all around you, not saying a word, but sizing you up, and there's usually someone down on the lower bench who's got his cock in someone's mouth, which turns on most of the inhabitants and in the end you're fighting off hands from all over.
All is well.
There's just another couple who spring apart as I enter, making out that they're not with each other, while I sit on an upper bench on my towel, lightly fingering my cock. They look at me as though I've farted at the dinner table.
"Look", I say, trying to cause the least embarrassment. "I'm not a cop, so please, if you want to fuck each other go right ahead." One smiles and turns to the other one, hands ready, but his pal obviously believes they've reserved the Honeymoon Suite and I'm gatecrashing.
They get up and leave.
Fuck `em.
I soak up the totally unnatural heat, my back against the cabin's hot wooden wall. The door opens, and in comes my shy guy. He doesn't look at me, but turns to spread his towel on the upper bench opposite me, giving me a privileged view of his tight little butt, then, having decided that I've seen enough, he finally sits down. He has a beautifully tasty-looking cock, uncut, and long, and as he watches me looking at it, he starts to play with, and naturally I get a hard-on in return.
It's like a yawn.
Once you see someone else with a real good hard-on, you gotta have one yourself.
I stroke mine as he strokes his, and I turn so that my legs are hanging down onto the bench below, giving him a prime view of my meat. He shifts on the bench and spreads his thighs as wide as he can, showing me his gorgeous boner, and he's beating on it quite fast.
Just then the door opens, and we both cover ourselves.
Such is life. A thuggish-looking guy stands there for a moment, looking us over -- he's well-built, but I've seen him on previous visits, and I seem to recall that fisting is his main social skill. He moves slowly towards me, placing his hand on my erection, but good-looking though he is, there's something uncomfortably creepy about him, and I get up to go, but he holds on to my dick as I stand there, so I give him a hard look.
"Fuck off, or die" I hiss, in my best menacing voice.
It seems to work, because he suddenly looks startled and drops his hand.
Thus I exit, leaving my potential chum behind me.
It's every man for himself in here.
Upstairs, at the back of the sauna, past the lockers, is the bunkroom. Here's where most of the action takes place. The lights are low, and each bunk has a little reading light' (for those who really can't get a date). There's an unwritten sauna bath rule that you only have the light on if you're free'; as soon as you get some action, you turn it off, but since some of the more flamboyant guests like to have an audience, the lights stay on most of the time.
I pass by various bunks, some with single occupancy, but most with two -- the occasional loner lying on his back masturbating - I once saw a very athletic guy who was auto-fellating. He was skilful, if inaccurate, since most of his cum hit the pillow beside him and not his mouth. I always wanted to be able to auto-fellate -- I've only tasted my cum when kissing the guy who's given me a blowjob - but I got as far as raising my legs up against a wall, then swung over, my cock swaying about a foot from my mouth. By then, I was so out of breath I couldn't concentrate on masturbating.
Being able to suck your own cock!
Wow!
In the bunkroom, there are the usual double-headers and languid lovers, side by side, stroking each other for what seems like forever, and then I find an empty one that suits me.
A few guys go past, but I ignore them, and become reflective. Somehow, whenever I get into the sauna, and find myself with idle moments, I tend to look back: I guess I must have been 16 when I had my first gay experience. I was always tall for my age, and blessed with a good physique, but like all kids of that age, I lived with a permanent erection, and my nights were spent in a blur of erotic fantasies and spurting copious amounts of cum into Kleenex.
It was the movies that opened a whole new world to me. I started visiting the local bugpit, a known hangout for gays, and spent most of my school vacation there; my folks thought I was taking a mighty keen interest in contemporary films, in fact I was being initiated into the joys of gay sex.
The first time was one hot Friday afternoon in summer -- I'd got my popcorn and was sitting in the middle of the row of seats, when a guy came and sat right next to me. I thought it was kind of funny, with all those empty seats around, but he seemed friendly; even offered me a cigarette. I took it, gave him a light, and we just sat there smoking, watching the movie and not saying a word.
Then I felt his hand rest lightly on my thigh.
I wasn't shocked or even embarrassed; I was only aware of the heat coming from his hand, and a churning feeling in my loins. His hand moved further up, and when I didn't stop him, it crept softly into my crotch.
"Fool around?"
His voice was soft. I looked at his face, barely lit by the glow of the screen, and guessed he was a tad older than me, say 19-20.
"How do you mean?"
My voice shook slightly - I didn't want to appear too stupid.
"You know." he nudged me.
I said nothing but just stared at the screen.
"Let me play with your cock."
I shrugged my shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant, but my heart was hammering in my chest, as he brought his other hand round to fumble at my zipper. Then my apprehension melted into a delirious longing as his warm hand slipped under my shorts, and grasped my semi-hard penis. Even at that age I was well-hung, and I heard him gasp as he curled his fingers round the thickening stem. He nervously looked around the theatre, then rested his other arm on the back of the seat while he stroked me.
It was a strange, exciting sensation, due mainly of course to it being so illicit and `bad', but I didn't want to let on to him that I was really enjoying it; somehow I wanted him to think this wasn't my first time. I longed to do the same to him, but didn't dare in case a torchlight beam came flashing down on us, resulting in my poor folks finding out their son was a movie-house faggot.
I lost all interest in the film, my mind drifting away to sandy beaches and muscular beach boys -- one of my nocturnal fantasies that had produced so many Kleenex soaked in cum -- and I tried to keep my moans as low as possible. The trouble was that at that age, I was on a hair trigger; each time I felt he was going to make me cum, I'd tried to steer my thoughts away from what was happening, but I knew it couldn't last; he was so gentle, and so persistent, and I just couldn't put off the moment any longer - as soon as I felt that sudden delicious tickle in my loins, I gave a little muffled cry and erupted all over his hand. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over me as I spewed out my cum, clutching at his coat, trying to keep from squirming too much in my seat, and feeling my shorts soaking up the jizz, while he continued to stroke me with his messy, sticky hand.
He patted me on the shoulder, got up and left, leaving me to do the best I could with some paper tissues I found lying on the floor by my feet, realising, as I used them, that as they were quite hard, they'd probably had cum on them already,
I looked furtively around to see if anyone had noticed me having a climax, then realised that at the end of my row was a man on his knees, with a length of cock right down his throat. There was no way they'd have heard me, judging by the look on the face of the guy he was blowing.
I got home, and somehow managed to get upstairs without my Ma realising I'd cum on my pants, so I put them straight in the laundry basket, just hoping she wouldn't notice among all the other washing.
After that I made regular trips to the movies, and learned that the place to be was the men's room; being a very old building, the partition walls of the cubicles were all made of cheap wood, so I'd find an empty one, pull down my pants, and sit on the toilet seat, listening for any activity around me. There were small glory holes on each side of my cubicle, and I'd lean sideways on the seat peering into next door. Mostly it was some guy pissing, so I'd kill time by giving the various cocks marks out of ten, but sometimes I'd hit pay dirt, and a couple would furtively creep in; one would drop his slacks and bend over, while his pal would spit on his cock, and work it into the flesh, before sliding it neatly into the guy's butt. There'd just be the sound of gasps and low moans, and a sort of squishing sound, which I guess was the sound of a prick fucking an ass.
I used to whack off when this happened, trying to keep going until we all came together -- usually I lasted that long, which encouraged me, as I really didn't want to spend the rest of my life cumming as soon as I got into sex play; I'd hear a ragged sigh from the guys next door, a moment or two of silence, then a release of breath -- this was usually the moment when my cum would shoot out onto the tiled floor - followed by toilet paper being torn off the spool, wiping sounds, and general clearing up noises, after which there'd be zippers being pulled up, and muffled arrangements made for some future date.
Threesomes got real noisy and the partition wall would shake as they all tried to find room to fuck in such a small area, and the air would be filled with hissed words and commands, and slurping, wet sounds.
Sometimes a long cock would poke through, sometimes a fat one, sometimes a real long one, and sometimes an uncut one -- those became my favorite, there's so much more to lick - at first I didn't dare do anything, and froze, wondering if it might be a trap (gay paranoia, so young!) but gradually I got accustomed to licking the tip, and putting my lips over the end, or even taking a few inches into my mouth. It was only after I'd got my first real big mouthful of jizz, gagged and almost choked, that I decided to take it easy and learn stuff first.
I decided to start using the glory hole myself -- it's real weird, sticking your erection through a hole in a wood wall - it took a while to banish the thought that some nutcase might just chop off your dick - and it was only after I'd had my first blowjob through the glory hole that I understood how to do it. I can still remember pressing myself up to the smelly wall of that john, while my prick was sucked by a willing mouth; there'd be some serious whacking, as he held my piss-slip over his the open mouth -- I could feel his warm, urgent breath on me - then shooting my wad into his mouth, listening to his breathing change as he swallowed my cum.
That was my initiation, and I still go to the movies whenever I can. The old place is gone now -- too many gay raids when the guys got careless -- I think it was when some straight guy went to use the john some time back in 82, and found fifteen naked guys, including the manager, energetically butt-fucking each other.
My musings are interrupted when I notice the shy guy stroll by, and I'm about to call out softly, when he sees me, and comes over to me, unwrapping his towel. I sit up on the bunk as he stands there, his beautiful, erect, uncut cock level with my head, and I lean forward to kiss the tip, darting my tongue into his piss-slit, tasting the drool, taking his stiff stem gently in one hand, before pulling the foreskin back from the shiny, engorged head.
I take him into my mouth, my eyes closed, savouring that musky man-smell emanating from his bush and balls. His undulating stomach muscles flex -- he has a nice six-pack -- as I take him all the way in, my nose coming to rest against his slim belly, and feeling his prick stretch and swell in my throat. I suck hard on him for a while, and then ease him out of my mouth, licking my lips, before taking him in again. His hands come to rest on my head, pushing himself against my face and fucking my mouth, then I run my hands under his balls and on to his butt, splaying my hand on his butt-crack, before dipping a finger into his honey pot.
There's no resistance, so I dip in another one, almost up to my knuckle joint, and I finger fuck him for a while, as we begin to build up a rhythm, meeting his thrusts with my mouth, occasionally just resting his cock in my lips while I whack him off, before swallowing him whole again.
My head is giddy with the sexual aroma that is rising from his meat.
This time, as he fucks my mouth, his thighs start to jerk, the rhythm becoming uneven, and his hands are deep in my hair, gripping my head, as I hear him sigh above me. His body jerks, his hands pull my head tight against him, sending his prick down my throat as he cums. I have to back off slightly or choke, as his juice gushes into my mouth, and I swallow what I can, but have to pull him out, still stroking the pulsing cock, and run it down the side of my face, letting him pulse out his load against my cheeks, before licking it, and mouthing him once more, taking everything he's got, while he shudders and writhes against me.
I let him go, drool still oozing out of the slit, and he sits down on the bed next to me. He gives me a loving look, and our lips meet, as I pass some of his cum back to him. Our tongues thrash against each other, while his hand reaches down to my cock, curling his fingers round the girth.
I reach up and turn off the light.
I've got a lot of cum to drop, and I think my shy pal will be here with me for some time.
Cal Ritchie