The Downtown Association Gym 2. By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have comments send them to winarch47@yahoo.com
I had been going to the gym for several months when I ran into Roosevelt again professionally. Roosevelt was the organizer of a summer music festival, and my boss volunteered my services for the advertising. The festival was to focus on local talent. It was to include Classical music, traditional Black music, Jazz, Pop music and Broadway show tunes. One event was to feature Garage Bands.
Roosevelt wanted to encourage the fans of each type of music to be exposed to the variety of musical expression. From my point of view, it was hard to find common visual connections between the varied events. We discussed this at committee meetings and didn't resolve it.
Life can be stranger than fantasy. I went to the gym on Saturday evening and ran into Roosevelt in the steam room. He was with some pals, George was the leader of his church choir, Cody and Rory were in garage bands and Frank was in a jazz quartet. The men were quite different and individual musical preferences. We all shared common sexual interests but different musical interests.
While I am not a slut, I have been known to bottom. As it turned out, I am more accommodating and my ass sluttier than I thought it was. Each man got to enjoy my anal hospitality as we worked out the theme, "The Music of Love."
We started in the steam room. It was too hot for a long session, so we showered. It was getting late, and we went to a lounge in a quiet corner of the locker room. Several men came in and Roosevelt told them they were welcome to join us or watch.
I had never been fucked and seeded by five men. It was unexpectedly relaxing. Each man took his time and fully explored my ass before he shot off. Cocks are mostly the same. They are longer than they are wide and are soft when used for pissing and hard when sexually engaged. I enjoyed the variety of cocks and each man's fucking technique. They were individual and enthusiastic.
While this was a gang bang, it was more like individual men exploring and the filling my ass. Some of them men were more laid back than others, but my tight, cum filled ass had a magical impact on each man's cock. The time gap between each erect cock was short, a second or two. Roosevelt was nice enough to give me a quick poke between each man to push their load of sperm deeper into me. Rory mentioned that my ass was tender, and the sperm lubricant was quite lovely. George talked to me about his hopes for the festival and then told me my ass was too beautiful to hold back just before he shot a pint or two of his love juice into me.
Roosevelt tended to be the leader of the pack. He was a natural leader, and his cock was the perfect fuck tool if you were into big cocks. I don't think of myself as a size queen, but I admit they are attractive. Someone said the first step of knowledge is to know yourself. I had a vague sense that I failed that rule again.
Frank mentioned this was his first gang bang. He hadn't thought it would be as good as it was. He told the men that my asshole almost kissed his knob as he pushed into me, adding "It was lovely."
"Did you like the sperm stew you encountered in his ass?" Cody asked.
"Now that you mention it, I think I did," Frank said. "It was so warm and smooth. It was the best lubricant I have ever experienced." Frank lost control as he talked, and he added his contribution to the sperm stew in my ass. Frank was the last man to fuck me before Roosevelt provided the grand finale. My rectum molded itself to his cock, and his orgasm was beautiful.
After Roosevelt left, one of the observers, Gramps, came over to me. Gramps was the night clean-up guy. He was a retired alcoholic-substance abuser who was one of Marty, the manager's successful reform efforts. Gramps' substance abuse problem left some permanent damage, but what ever had once made him a nice guys survived.
"Are you worn out?" Gramps asked.
"Well, I'm not fresh as a daisy," I said.
"I haven't been able to get it up in years," Gramps said. "I got excited watching those guys work you over. They seemed nice. Guys used to gang bang me. They weren't nice at all. I'm not sure I can get hard enough to fuck anymore."
"Do you want to try out my ass?" I asked.
"Will you laugh at me if I can't get it up?" he asked. Gramps looked like a mistreated dog.
I said no and told him to try to give me a poke. Gramps was uncut and only his enshrouded knob poked out his pubic forest. His balls almost hung to his knees. He got hard, poked past my sphincter, and his knob rammed my prostate. He fucked for ten minutes or so and shot off.
Gramps was crying as he ejaculated. He drained his balls in me and then gently pulled out of my ass.
"Do you want to do me?" he asked.
"Not tonight," I said. "I would like to fuck you sometime and see if I can make you shoot off hands free."
Gramps smiled. He lifted my legs and licked the sperm drooling from my ass.
"When I was younger it thought this was the food of the gods. I never thought I would ever taste it again," he said. He went to finish cleaning the locker room and showers. I went to my apartment' I was tired.
When I woke the next morning and felt fine. The doorbell rang; it was Frank.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Frank said. "That was quite a workout last night. I thought it might be too rough or crude. It was quite lovely. Is that the way it felt to you?"
"It was good, surprisingly individual and intimate," I said.
"I thought it would be impersonal, mechanical and predictable," Frank said. "I've fucked a few guys, but it was nothing like you. It was intimate and loving."
"It seemed that way to me," I said. There was a long gap in the conversation.
"Is there any chance you would fuck me. I'm not much of a bottom, but I have a feeling you would be different," Frank said. There was another pause. "I really liked fucking you. It felt different. It was you that made it special"
Logically I had enough sex for a week or two the night before. Cocks are not much into logic. I don't know if balls are into logic either. Five minutes later my cockhead was testing Frank's sphincter. "You are tight. Can you open up for my cock?"
"I want it! Push harder," he said. I pushed harder and went deep. As soon as all of my cock was in him, he tightened his sphincter to firmly grasp my cock.
"Fuck me, pound me hard," he moaned. I pounded him for ten minutes.
"Do you want my cream?" I asked.
"I want all of it! Drain your balls!" Frank cried. By then, I was pumping my sperm into him. From his reaction I knew he could feel my sperm squirting into his ass.
When I stopped spurting, he asked me to leave my cock in him. He wanted to use his ass muscles to milk the last drops of sperm from my cock. After he had it all, He pulled out and we took a shower. I went to work, and he went home.
The Love of Music is the Music of Love was the theme of the concert series. For the poster, the words formed a frame around a sunburst of stylized musical instruments. Violins, saxophones, guitars, synthesizers, fiddles, drums, bugles, and assorted instruments filled the sunburst. Our best graphics man gave the instruments personalities. It was beautiful and clever.
We had incredible luck when a bible-thumping preacher attacked the poster as showing a sexual act between the saxophone and the guitar. That made a huge splash on the television and got nationwide distribution for "Strange but True" segments on local television stations. I was interviewed and said I was surprised at the reaction. "I had no idea saxophones and guitars could have sex." That remark was used on most of the late-night talk shows.
The concerts were immediately sold out and the posters sold out and had to be reprinted many times. The poster got national distribution. Our clever and cheerful poster was in high school students' bedrooms and college students' dorm rooms all across the country. The R & R agency was flooded with work.
I became the Creative Director for the firm. I worked with teams of staff on multiple projects. I had worked on group projects in school, but noticed most groups had members who were listed as team members but coasted through while contributing little. I made sure that every member of our group participated and contributed. That made for happy teams.
I continued to go to the Downtown Association Gym. While the main attraction was the prospect of sex, I did a lot of swimming too. The men in the pool were in good shape and were comfortable with nudity. The Gym's pool was mostly nude, but some wore minimal swimming trunks. Swimming was not as hard on the muscles as other sports. You can't fall down or run into other men easily swimming laps. I noticed that firemen liked it. They tend to be into water big time.
The men at the Gym had varied objectives. Some were looking for Mr. Right. A few were looking for a daddy or a job as a house boy or gardener. Many of them claimed to be trying to find themselves. I try not to be cynical, but for many of those, there was nothing but disappointment waiting for them if they found themselves. Some men were looking for a little fun.
At one time I was looking for Mr. Right. I stopped looking when I realized my love for Mr. Right lasted only as long as I was erect. I thought of my sexual partners as a mutual aid association. Sometimes we pooled our resources only between the time we got hard and the time our cocks stopped dripping cum. That would be bad on a desert island but was good in a gym with several hundred members.
I ran in to Frank at the Gym regularly. He was a nice guy. His day job was as a successful stockbroker. Jazz was his hobby. He played 1930-1940 era jazz. The quartet had been together a long time. It was improvised, but each member of the quartet knew what worked, so their music was mellow and rhythmic.
I ran into Frank in the steam room with a guest he called Uncle Billy. Uncle Billy had been in a dance band that made it into the eighties catering to anniversaries and nostalgia themed events. After they petered out, jazz dance bands vanished. He had worked at a music store for a while after the bands vanished. He was nearing eighty, but he was in good shape. He said he didn't look a day older than seventy-seven.
Uncle Billy had been to the music festival and bought a copy of the poster. He was pleased that Jazz had been included in the festival. He performed a Benny Goodman song on the clarinet in the post-performance jam. I didn't see it, but it was a hit.
Billy was fun to talk to, but he was more fun to watch. I happened to notice his cock had survived the years well. In the showers, Billy tended to stroke it as he talked. It looked stubby and thick, but it never got more than semi hard. It was never soft either. Frank never touched his cock, but it responded to Billy's dick. My cock responded too.
Uncle Billy didn't act like a virgin, afraid of loosing his virginity. Frank was unconcerned. One of Frank's friends came by, and they went off. Uncle Billy got up and sat next to me.
"Frank told me you were a lot of fun. Did he ever mention me?" Billy asked.
"We never talked about family," I said.
"Frank and I share a lot of common interests. Music mostly, but it's possible that the three of us have another interest," he said as he stroked his cock. I thought I would ignore that. That would have been more convincing if I hadn't been working my cock.
"Frank likes playing with some of my sex pals," he said. "Not half as much as my pals like him. Most guys think I am an old fart. That is true in some ways, but I'm a horny old fart. My ass is still tight, but I can relax if you like to fuck a soft pillow."
His cock was fully erect now. "Some men think it's too big; others think Christmas came early," he said.
I asked if finding us having sex would bother Frank.
"He was a teenager when he saw me fucking a friend. My wife had just divorced me. She took everything I had, so I was living above the garage in the back yard of my brother's house. He was Frank' father. His mom and dad both worked as teachers, so no one but Frank and I were home in the afternoon," Billy explained. "He saw me with a friend. We were experienced and he saw it all.
Frank came to me and told me he saw us and asked if we could play together," Billy said. "Of course, I said no. I like men, not kids. He then asked if he could watch. I didn't exactly say yes, but when I was with a guy, he was watching." Billy said. "Frank wanted more but I told him I wouldn't do that until he was twenty-one."
Billy laid down on the central bench in the steam room. He was fully erect, and I sat on his cock. I was just being polite to and older guy. It turned out to be more than that. Frank returned to the steam room with Roosevelt, Marty, and a man I didn't know.
"Damn, this is a friendly group," the man said.
"Male bonding is one of the objectives of the Downtown Association Gym," Roosevelt said.
"Is that guy massaging the other guy's friendship pole?" the stranger asked.
Frank laughed, "I like the phase "friendship pole," he said. "We can always use a new euphemism for a cock. Sinclair and Billy, let me introduce you to Wadsworth Smith-Wilson. We went to college together and he is now an English professor at the university. He is intelligent, clever and a good guy in spite of being incredibly pretentious."
Wadsworth laughed. "Frank has always been the master of the complimentary-insult," he said. "It was much admired when we were younger and grotesquely immature."
Just then Billy had a massive orgasm in my ass. He was vocal and everyone knew the exact number of times he ejaculated. As I eased off of Billy cock. Wadsworth's tongue was licking Billy's sperm as it drooled from my ass. Wadsworth may have been pretentious, but he knew how to make friends.
Marty, the manager had been in a corner watching us. "Men, it's getting crowded here," Marty said. "I have a little apartment up stairs that is a bit cozier. It is just a room, a shower area and a supply of poppers and lube. Would you like to adjourn to it?"
To no one's surprise, we relocated to Marty's apartment. It was a nice room furnished with a big bed, a desk, one chair and pillows. Marty wore a tee shirt and gym shorts. He stripped halfway through the door.
"I hope no one here is shy?" he asked. I had never been to Marty's private quarters. It turned out that Marty was into older, well-hung daddies. Uncle Billy was the poster child for Daddies.
I was with Roosevelt, Frank, and Wadsworth. Luckily, Wadsworth turned off his peculiar personality when he slipped his cock into my ass.
"I've been fucking older guys for a while," Wadsworth said to me. "Yours is nice and tight." I squeezed my sphincter and he moaned.
"If I fuck you like a mad man, will you shoot off?" he asked.
"Why don't we relax and see who squirts what," I suggested.
He laughed. "It's been so long since I last fucked a new ass, I got carried away," he said. "Relaxing is a good idea. I assume you don't mind if my cock remains excited?" I smiled and said it was fine with me.
Marty was fucking Uncle Billy on one side of us, and Roosevelt was fucking Frank on the other. All was well.
"I remember the first time a man fucked me," Billy remarked. "I couldn't believe anything could feel that good. It was beautiful. Some guys get scared the first time a man shoots off in them. I loved feeling of a guy draining his balls into my ass. As I have aged my ass has stayed young by regular use combined with regular sperm baths."
"Ah, the poetry of anal sex!" Wadsworth said as he slid his cock deeper into my ass. "My virgin days are past, but I have discovered that every time a new man shoot-off in my ass, I feel virginal again."
"Is it the new cock or the fresh sperm that excites you?" Marty asked. "By the way, Uncle Bill's ass doesn't give butterfly kisses, but it's damn good!" Marty said. "I get excited when I meet a perfect stranger and a little later my cock is exploring his most private place."
"Do you always shoot off?" Wadsworth asked.
"Not always," he replied. "I can tell when a man is receptive. Sperm is the gift of the gods. I want it to be appreciated. It's a gift, not a punishment."
"Is Sinclair appreciative?" Wadsworth asked.
"This may sound strange, but I knew he would like it the first time I met him," Frank said. "You feel it, don't you?"
"Now that you mention it, I do," Wadsworth said as he shot off. Marty moaned as he unloaded in Uncle Bill's ass.
Our group broke up, everyone felt good.