Up next: more reality, or fantasy? From my early life...
That Summer, I was looking at colleges. Just where does the hot, toned, buff, young jock go to stretch his mind, body, abilities, and to pursue an even greater love life? My parents allotted me some funds, and I had spent many hours working at the local Y to save up for some trips to look at colleges. The Bay Area was a strong possibility. I had heard that California at Berkeley was prime location for the stud ent who wanted to discover himself and check out other hot jock students. I had seen it rated online as the top spot for fashionable studly guys. So I had to visit. Stanford was also a possibility. With all that eucalyptis in the air, it was like a balmy castle in the air. I have to admit, there was no chance of scholarship for either school for me for water polo. National champs seem to burst out of both school's pools year after year, even tho the water polo studs at USC and UCLA made occasional forays to the top of the speedo heap.
Water Polo challenges you in many ways, and builds up your muscles. From your bulky chest and thighs, to your glutes, which have to compress together for just the right burst of speed in kicking, all of the muscles get toned up! I didn't have the tuition money for Stanford, but was keeping Cal in mind.
A friend suggested the New York area, and I had just got a slick mailing from West Point. Free Tuition, it said, "serve your country and challenge yourself!" "Be an Army of one." My uncle was career military and had been a great influence on my life. So, when I went to New York to visit West Point, and of course NYU, and to see the City. NYU was like a fashion catwalk, gorgeous babes and dressed out studs in the middle of a weekday afternoon. The programs were OK too, but expensive and not really what I was looking for. West Point had it all for me. Tradition, history, fraternity, great location, all the great cadets in uniform, and although I could never make it in Water Polo for the California schools, the Point was offering me a place on the team.
Anyway, this is not about that, it's about what happened when I was staying in the City. A friend had suggested a cheap place on the east side, cheap, but functional, and best of all it was connected to a Y with all the athletic & swimming facilities anyone could ever want. Six floors of athletes, from the speedo clad dudes on the lowest levels, the hung dudes in the locker room, the body builders and runners on the upper levels, to the speedo clad dudes laying out on a sun deck all the way up! Who would have thought of this, right in the heart of the lower east side!
I did my usual workout, and the laps in the pool, and after decided to look for some fun in the lockerroom. This locker room had it all, with lockers all over the place, corridors separating different sections of the locker room, two shower rooms, one more remote, a steam room, a dry sauna, everything athletic boyz of my age fantasize about. My locker had a strategic location, I found out, from there I could look into the major size mirrors over the sinks and see down two other rows of lockers, of thoroughly hot jocks, and some old guys we have to admit, getting natural and cleaning up. The first time I walked in it was teaming with guys, like that locker room in John Tucker Must Die, or like on a Joe Boxer ad, four or five dudes in each bay of lockers, some in speedos, some with dicks hanging, some getting ready to work out. It looked like they were about ready to break into a chorus of YMCA. I guess I picked the right time of day for my first visit.
Anyway, after finishing my own workout the crowd had thinned, but still had enough hot jocks to make it worthwhile. Stripping off everything but my speedo, I headed for the steamroom. I wanted to sweat out some water and look really buff. Not too many guys were there, a couple came in and left, some eyeing each other, but there was not anything going on. I stayed for just a couple of minutes before I headed for the showers. I chose the showers nearest the steamroom so that I could check out the action. There sure was action. As I was washing the chlorine out of my hair, two studs were preparing to make their own soap, or so it looked. One was a shorter, darker, Italian looking jock with great pecs, covered with enough, but not too much, hair. The other was a blond dude, also respectably built, not a nordic god, but mebbe the great grandson of one... Both were getting hard as they rinsed off under the warm water, and were stroking themselves on the sly. I rubbed my own dick a few times, and then they openly started to rub their soapy hands all over their bodies, and up and down their dicks. As I watched, they went into the empty steamroom.
This steamroom has got to be the primo location of the steamrooms I have seen. Just outside the wide entrance to the showers is the changing room, and along one wall is the steam room. From the steam room you can see into the showers and into the changing room. The steam fills the room with a warm haze. The front of the room is all glass, but you cannot really see into it from outside. It gives such a good view from inside out, tho, that it is great for those inside, to check out those in the showers, and other jocks walking through that part of the locker room. There are two tiled benches, an upper one and a lower one, which run in an U shape along the walls. Just enough room for jocks to sit on the upper benches, and for others to sit on the lower benches.
From my shower I could see into the steamroom. The two dudes in the showers headed in there, into one corner, and the steam cleared enough so I could see one, the nordic dude, sitting on the upper bench in the corner, and the other, the Italian dude, on the lower bench, facing at an angle. The one dude had his feet under the other's leg, they were so close. Suddenly through the haze, I could make out that the one guy on the lower bench was getting himself off while he sucked the other guy's dick. I couldn't see the nordic dude at all, but could tell that some oral action was going on. I could hear muffled moans coming from the steamroom. The glass did not block the noise completely. I started to stroke myself, as the hot water cascaded down over my head and down my back. I grabbed some more soap and stroked and stroked. I adjusted myself under the shower so that a stream fell over my pecs and onto my dick. It felt so good I was getting harder and harder. I could tell the action in the steam room was picking up, as I could make out that that head was bobbing faster, and the groans were more intense.
I had wanted to save myself for the steam room, but I could hold back no longer. My nips were tingling from the water and soap, the rest of my body seemed to be on the edge, even the soles of my feet were seeking release. I felt my body releasing as I arched my neck and back. A fantastic feeling surged through my whole body, as I shot loads of cum onto the shower wall. I groaned quietly as over and over my cock shot like a hose and the stream of water washed the cum into the pipelines of the City of New York. I was warm all over. Although I had finished, I could see that the dudes in the steamroom were still going at it.
Just then a big black dude with majorly size pecs and washboard abs came into the changing area, his manhood wrapped in a bright white towel. He gave absolutely no indication that he was on the down low. Through the haze I saw the one dude, the dark Italian dude, on the lower bench of the steamroom, stand up quickly, wrap his towel around himself and move toward the window. Since he was right next to the window I could see him clearly. He looked all charged up. His dick pressed hardly, and very much in the upward direction, on the towel. Obviously he had been caught half cocked. The black dude went in the steamroom, and the Italian dude quickly went out, escaping detection, at least for now.
Since I had wanted to take a steam anyway, I left the shower, wrapped my towel around myself, and went into the steam room. The nordic dude had his obviously engorged cock covered by his towel. The black dude sat on the other end of the bench, looking studly but not looking around at all. I let the steam wash over me, cleansing my pores of the left over chlorine, the nordic dude quickly left, and headed to another part of the locker room, the black dude and I stayed in the quiet warmth of the steam.
More later...
Don't worry dudes, I saw the nordic dude and the Italian jock come out of the dry sauna a little later, looking very satisfied...