Stranger Night at the Tip Top Health Spa By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that, DON'T read it! You have been warned! It is intended for adults to read, and is not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual. I have made no effort to portray safe sex practices. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
The Tip Top Club is a top-of-the-line, exclusive and expensive spa and health club for men. It caters to an elite clientele. The membership fees are high, but all services, including food, are free.
We have a well-trained professional staff. We pay our affable and pleasant staff well. The staff is also all gay and sexually driven. One of the reasons for the high pay is to avoid the potential for prostitution. While no one on the staff would provide sex for money, they are not shy about sexual activity at all. To say the staff is tolerant of sexual activity is perhaps an understatement. Our club members are open minded, and they can entertain themselves with other members or the staff. Of course, the club is very strict about health and tests both the staff and membership regularly. Since the men can easily get their needs met at the club, after our first year of operation testing was hardly necessary.
I am the manager, Donny. One of the older members, Wiltshire, came to me with a mild complaint. "This is an excellent facility and the staff is superb," he said. "We do tend to be homogenized. I have no problem with that in general, but it can be boring. I was thinking it would be nice to introduce some variety. I personally find working men exciting. Perhaps we could invite some for a day of relaxation here. They would be guests, not members, but would receive all the benefits of membership while they were here."
Wiltshire picked his words carefully. The benefits of membership were sexual. I found out that Wiltshire was representing several men in the club. He mentioned that a number of men shared his interests in men who were construction workers, truck drivers, firefighters and cops.
"Are you interested in rougher activities?" I asked.
"Not at all," he replied. "I just would like some activity that is a bit less genteel and more basic than we are use too. I am not looking for Attila the Hun, but perhaps some men who have callused hands and don't spent $150.00 on a haircut would be interesting."
Wiltshire said he was not interested in a change of policy. He thought that a trial run might be good, just to see if scheme worked. I told him I would look into it. Wiltshire was not just a member of the club. He was a founding member and one of the primary financial backers of the organization.
I talked to the chair of the Board of Directors, Newman Friend. He thought it might be possible, but he said he would check with his friends in the club to see if it was of general interest or just Wiltshire's hobbyhorse. He called back a week later and told me there was some genuine interest.
"I have to admit, I have no idea how to find these working men," he added. "Until you mentioned it I hadn't realized how isolated I am. I know the man who owns the lawn and garden service that takes care of my yard, but I know nothing of the men who work for them. My wife has seen them, but I am normally at my office."
I told him that I would make discrete inquiries. I called Wiltshire I told him that Newman had given me a tentative approval. I asked if he had any specific ideas. Wiltshire and his friends had been doing quite a bit of thinking on the subject. They were interested in physical contact more than social contact. They wanted it to be more of a group activity than one on one. At the club there was considerable activity in the showers and pool, but there were also were small, therapy room where you could be more private. Some of the members were open about their interests, but others were shy, uneasy or closeted.
I had a suspicion he thought it would be safer if sexual activity took place in a group. I realized then how detached Wiltshire and his friends were. They lived in gated communities in elite suburbs. Many had little contact with working people, other than waiters or servants.
As manager, I came into regular contact with tradesmen, contractors, plumbers, electricians and others who repaired or renovated the club. We tended to use people who were gay friendly. We never asked if the workers were gay, but we did not need to ask. We paid well and quickly.
I knew many of these men, and I have to confess that my relationships were not always platonic with some of them. You can get the impression that the world divides into gay, straight and bi people. I think there are many more variations. There are sexual omnivores, people who like sex and do not care if it was with a man, a woman or a vegetable. There are straight men who will have sex with whomever is available. Some think that other men are better cocksuckers than women are and some who think a man's ass is tighter than a vagina. Their connections are purely recreational, not emotional.
I talked with Bubba Thomas, my usual go to man for repairs. He ran a small operation that specialized in quality repairs and small projects. Most of his staff was open minded, as was he. I told him about Wiltshire's proposal and asked if he thought anyone would be interested.
"Wiltshire wants to have sex with men he never met. He wants some men who are a little roughhewn. He also likes construction workers and firemen-cop types," I explained. "He's not into romance or getting to know each other. He wants it to be a no strings attached sex. Do you know anyone who would be interested?"
Bubba laughed. "Other than me you mean?" he replied. "I suspect everyone I know would enjoy it. Is it to be all oral, like a circle jerk?"
"No, Wiltshire wants it to be full service, oral and anal," I said. "The club is mostly bareback. We have a doctor who tests to make sure bodily fluids are up to snuff."
"You mean all the cream is edible?" Bubba asked. "We can both plow and seed?" I nodded. Bubba is a country boy who tended to play his cards close to his chest. I detected a tinge of excitement in the voice when he mentioned plow and seed. "You would test my boys?"
"We would have to do that," I said. "Would that be a problem?"
"Not at all," he replied. "How many men would you need? That would be in addition to me, I hope?"
"I was thinking perhaps ten men," I said. "Would they all come from your operation?"
"Most would, but I know other guys who would love it. Some guys are a bit squeamish about group play, especially if other guys are watching," he said. "Most of my pals aren't much into the lovey-dovey stuff. That does happen of course, but most are into the sex. Some of my men are good until they shoot off and then the lose interest. I assume you want men with long fuses and a short recharge time. Do you want young men or some variety? I have an older friend who sports an impressive firehose."
"I know the men who have expressed interest in this. They are not into watching. They want action," I said. I also told him some variety would be fine and oversized equipment is always fine.
Over the next two weeks, Bubba sent a dozen men to see me. I talked with each and told them the plan. If they were interested, I sent them to be tested. All were interested and several got hard just talking about it. I interpreted that as a good sign. I asked Wiltshire to join me in the interviews, but he said he wanted to be surprised.
The men were a good cross section of gay men, a few bear types, a couple of musclemen, and a number of plain old guys. They were tall and thin, short, beefy and average. There were no problems with the testing and our doctor said they were all clean. Some came from work and were covered in dirt and grime. Doc Billy said it was just the day's accumulation, not a week or months collection of grime.[BW1]
Doc also told me all their equipment was in tiptop working order. Doc Billy sometimes liked to take samples. He said that sweet sperm was a warning sign of diabetes. The men knew that was not part of the standard exams, but they did not mind. Doc was skilled a coaxing sperm out of a man's balls.
The men were all masculine, and there were no twinks or queen types. I assumed those men were not attracted to the building trades. I met the man with the fire hose, Gino DeMarco. He was a retired firefighter from the Bronx. He had a friend, Dunbar, who was an investigator for the Fire Marshall. Dunbar was a short, slim, bearded man.
We scheduled the event for Sunday morning. That was a slow time for the club and a time that most were available. We had nametags on chains for all the men. It was to be a free for all, but I did add a red dot for men who did not bottom. Some men were more comfortable wearing the dot. At the end of the party, I noticed that most of the men had peeled off the red dots. I think the men were more comfortable with each other by then. At least they were comfortable enough to open their ass for another man's pleasure.
The men were straightforward. I would not call them rednecks, but I assumed none had season tickets to the ballet. There was on black man, Tyrone, a muscular brick mason, and one Latino in the group, Hector. He was a cop. I was a little worried that we would have a line of whites fucking Tyrone. That did not happen. Tyrone was an affable and cheerful top, and some of our members found that very exciting. In fact, there was a line of white men waiting to take his cock in the ass.
This was the first sex party for Hector and he loved it. When I met him with the doctor, Hector said he liked to bottom. That turned out to be an understatement. Hector made friends quickly. His ass was a sexual playground, and his sphincter opened easily and clamped tight once you were in him.
I had a vision that it might be like a dance in Junior High, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. I hoped lust would triumph over shyness. Wiltshire and his close friend Goodhue Miller were socially skilled. Goodhue had been the executive director of the chamber of commerce. His specialty was getting people to meet and mix.
Wiltshire was outgoing, but several of the guests were with the program too. A construction bear named Billy went for one of the club members, Tom. Tom was an Italian restaurant owner and was a hairy gorilla of a man. Billy was a Scottish Ginger. Billy was completely graceless, but cheerful. That went well.
Dunbar, the fire investigator, seemed to be attracted to one of the older members, Richard. Richard was Polar bear. He was half-hard as soon as Dunbar approached him. They said hello, and Richard dropped to his knees and swallowed Dunbar's tool. I have never seen Richard that forward before. Dunbar must have excited him.
The event was in the atrium. The room focused on a small, shallow pool that was big enough for ten or twelve men to sit in and chat. There were pillows on the edge. It just happened that if you were in the pool standing, someone sitting on the pillows could lie back and their ass would be at a good level for fucking. There were several small rooms off to the side. These were suited for shy men.
Wiltshire was the first to connect with Tyrone. Tyrone was a tall, muscular bricklayer. He was as black as a man could be. Wiltshire was about a white as a man could be. The big black man took his time. His member was long and somewhat thick. Once he was in, Tyrone had a knack of making hid partner squirm and moan. That was a first for Wiltshire, who like to be in control. I thought this might be embarrassing for Wiltshire, but the pleasure was intense enough to overcome the embarrassment.
Tyrone said he liked to breed and seed, but he always asked before the seeding. He could plant it deep in the ass or squirt on the hole and shove it in. Some men wanted the cream but did not want anyone to know it and deep planting solved that problem. Others wanted to show it off. Tyrone was accommodating either way. I had never seen Wiltshire take a cock in the ass not to mention take a load before.
Goodhue connected with Bubba. Bubba was a cheerful, aggressive man with a beer can style cock and a tight ass. He was not much into small talk. "Let's do it!" and "Git it done!" were his mottos. He liked it all and was entirely versatile. Bubba liked to please.
Goodhue tended to prefer handsome young men straight for the pages of GQ. Most of them knew they were handsome and knew what they wanted. Goodhue was a good-looking man, but he had passed his sell by date. He was wealthy, generous and well connected but I had a suspicion many of his playmates thought they were slumming.
Goodhue looked a bit taken aback when Bubba came over to him, but he was a really happy man ten minutes later when his cock was deep in Bubba's ass. The next time I saw them they had reversed positions and Goodhue was having no problems at all with Bubba's beer can.
Bubba brought his best friend Wilmot, and Wilmot's cousin, Big Wilmot with him. Wilmot ran a good auto repair shop, and was a good mechanic. Big Wilmot was not that good, but he did not mind the dirty jobs. Both men were hairy, scrawny men. Wilmot was six feet tall and Big Wilmot was five-six. The Big referred to his age, not his size.
Both men cleaned up for the party, but they were still ugly men. They liked to double team and that had an attraction. I think of myself as a good judge of character, but I had not guessed Randall Lewis-Montfort would go to them. Randall was a successful interior decorator and social butterfly. I would not say he was swishy, but compared to him, Shirley Temple was a hardened street thug. If you looked beyond the hairy, scrawny body, Wilmot had a long, white snake dangling from his groin. Big Wilmot had huge balls, but his cock appeared to be a cockhead wrapped in thick foreskin.
Randall soon discovered that Wilmot's rock hard cock went deeper in his body than anyone had been before, and that Big Wilmot was a bottom. I think Randall was slumming and he discovered his ass could not tell the difference between upper class cock and a working man's member. He certainly enjoyed Wilmot.
Bubba was not a member of the social elite, but he knew men. While the club members were all from upper class backgrounds, that was no guarantee of sexual satisfaction. Bubba's friends were both sexually skilled and nice men. The party wound down after several hours and all of the men left. I went home and awaited the reviews. The members of the club had no problem expressing their opinions.
Everyone seem to have enjoyed the event, but I knew many of the clubs members were moody. I also noted that the sex seemed to have been both intense and remarkably in view of all. There had been multiple orgasms and penetrations, all in the open. Sex at the club was typically almost demure and private. Once and a while one heard a moan from a private room, but it was nothing like the free for all.
Randall was the first to visit me. He said he felt like a teenager again. While he had enjoyed Wilmot's ramming, he had loved unloading in Big Wilmot's ass. "When I was younger I dreamed of being a slut, of taking anyone who wanted me, or was willing. I was shy, inexperienced and living in a small town in the country," he explained. "I never did anything."
"When I came to the city I found a job with Tommy, a decorator who took me under his wing and showed me the ropes of both the decorating business and sex. He was sexually aggressive and demanding, but modestly endowed," he continued. "He loved oral and had a fixation with sperm. I shoot big loads and had no problem with multiple orgasms. He had several friends who share similar interests so I began a sperm fueled climb to the top. With the exception of Tommy himself, the rest were genteel old Queens who loved a mouthful of my semen. The Wilmot boys gave me my first real experience as a slut."
"You enjoyed it?"
"Enjoyment is too mild a word," he said. "Wilmot went deep into places untouched by a cock before. Big Wilmot is strange but was willing to do anything. He told me that Wilmot was his son; he had fucked his brother's wife. Wilmot would not fuck him. Big Wilmot rimmed me afterwards and ate some of his sons' sperm."
That had been good for him. Randall went off to the exercise room. I called Bubba and asked how the men had liked it.
"What's not to like?" he replied. "It was great. Everyone was so open and willing. I've been to some bars but that seems to be mostly hours of talk and chitchat and you were still not sure you would score. Last not was like being at a target range when the targets were only three feet away and you hit the bulls-eye every time!"
"It seemed to go well," I said.
"It was a lot more than well," Bubba said. "I could just look at a guy. He would wink and then bend over and we would go at it. I think all my pals felt the same way. Tyrone told me he got a year's supply of ass in one night!"
Goodhue and Wiltshire dropped by a half hour later.
"I think it went well," Wiltshire said. "It was much more than I expected; it was almost overwhelming. I mean that in a good way."
"Your friend Bubba picked the guest list?" Goodhue asked.
"Yes, I've known him for years," I said. "He's a good man, and he associates with good men."
"Several men called me and said they were embarrassed at the openness of the activity," Goodhue remarked. "The want to keep the event secret."
"It was a one-time only event, so they do not need to worry," I said. "Bubba friends are not that open about their sexual preferences."
Goodhue smiled. "My friends want to keep it secret, but they very much want to do it again!" he said. "They loved every minute."