WHAT I BECAME, PART 2
From Part 1:
"Swallow," he said in a low voice.
The commanding presence in his voice had me doing so before I realized I had done it.
This produced a huge grin on his handsome face, making him all the more attractive. "Woulda been rude to make a mess on the floor in here," he said.
I reached out for his cock, but he gently pushed my had aside. He turned and then walked out of the steam room leaving me with a painfully erect cock and the taste of his married-man semen still on my tongue.
PART 2
Now I was alone in the steam room, my hard-on practically spitting precum -- so much for keeping the steam room tiles clean, huh? -- from what had just happened.
Sucking dick was never really my forte, but then again I hadn't really sucked my married man's cock, had I? No, he just co-opted me and my mouth for expediency. My mouth had contained his fat cock while he relieved himself of a (very large) load of semen.
He was right. It would have made a mess on the floor.
What in god's green hell was I thinking? Sure I loved sex and of course the dude was hot, but that wasn't sex and he gave no indication that the attraction was mutual: at best I played the role of service animal. At worst? I was a human fleshlight.
These were not pleasant thoughts: I'm not into such one-sided stuff, but my cock hadn't gone down at all.
Putting aside any implications one way or another, I closed my eyes, leaned back, and wrapped a hand around my meat and reached underneath my balls with the other. My strokes were slow and methodical, but when my other hand found its way to the fur around my butthole I grunted. Some people have wired nips; I have a wired hole.
Pushing the finger into my butt just an inch or so, the feeling nonetheless occupied most of my attention. My cock was a distant second to how my own fingertip felt playing with my hole.
Hell, everything took a back seat (pardon the pun) to anything/everything going on around me: the room was filling up with a lot of new steam, replacing what was lost when my married dude made his hasty exit. But it was starting to get ridiculous. Too warm, too steamed up. I would have felt claustrophobic if I hadn't still had my eyes closed while diddling my own butthole.
I heard a noise then. A pipe? Did the door just open? I opened my eyes to see a man standing right in front of me. No more than half a meter away.
Naked. Dark fur on his legs and a huge bush. His cock was big enough to escape all that unruly hair and thicker than even my cock. And it wasn't even hard yet.
My eyes made their way up his body, noting lots more black hair across his chest and even his arms and up to the shoulders. I could make out generally handsome facial features, but the details were lost to the steam.
"Thought I was alone," I said in that low voice you're trying to keep just between yourself and the listener, even though there's no such voice. Had anyone else been in the steam room, they'd have heard me.
"Yup." That's all I got back from him. Yup' he acknowledged what I'd just said? Or Yup,' just for what he was looking at?
Whatever it meant, his cock started filling out, even before he wrapped his hand around it and aimed the head right at my face. I kept stroking my own cock at the same slow, steady speed, but my finger found its way deeper into my hole by at least a couple knuckles.
Another groan escaped me, and the man turned away from me. Just as I thought I'd overplayed it (even though my groans were completely involuntary), the guy sat down exactly where my married man had just vacated. His foot rubbed up and down my calf, and by then his cock was completely vertical, a long, thick, very straight missile of a cock.
His left hand wrapped around the base of it -- he was holding it like he was ready to wield a sword (and I suppose in a way he was) -- and I smiled: a plain gold band on his left ring finger.
He moved his foot off the side of my leg and onto the floor, making a sweeping motion with it. "Clean floor," he said. "Either they just mopped the place down or it's been a slow afternoon."
"Neither," I replied. "Door number three." When he clearly didn't understand what I meant, I scooted over closer to him and slid my finger back out of my too-tight hole as I did. I bent forward and took the head of his cock in my mouth. It was risking a lot, but that cock NEEDED attention.
"Suck it." It wasn't a request. But I didn't move any more. I didn't want to be someone else's cocksucker, I just needed to have his meat in my mouth: what I was doing was for ME.
"Fucker," he said, and tried to push my head down on it. But I still didn't budge.
I felt a hand slide down my slick-wet back and continue all the way down to my ass. Because I was leaned over to the side just a bit, he had no trouble getting his hand between my ass and the tile bench we were both sitting on. He immediately started rubbing his finger across my hole: another involuntary groan from me.
"Yeah, you're a slutty fella," he said. He even laughed a little. I felt humiliated, but there was too much good stuff going on with my butthole to take any of it personally.
"C'mon slut, suck my dick," he tried again, this time a request. So I gave in and slid my lips further down his shaft, and his finger in one motion slid up into my ass.
"Attaboy," he said. I don't know if he meant my cocksucking abilities, or if he was responding to the tightness of my hole around his finger.
I came up off his cock entirely, and turned my head to look at him. Much hotter than I originally thought: olive skin, blue eyes, conservative businessman's short hair cut. And I didn't need reminding that his finger was still stuffed all the way up inside my ass.
I squirmed involuntarily on his finger, and his cock jumped. I made a quick lap at it expecting there'd be more precum on it. I was right.
"Stand up," he ordered. And I did. I could hear him furiously beating his cock as he inspected my ass, now right in front of him.
"Fuckin' sweet hairy pussy," I heard him say, and I tensed up. I stood up and froze: men are men...with men parts. Assholes, buttholes, cocks. Anything but pussy or cunt. I didn't like that stuff one bit.
He chuckled as I felt his wedding-ringed hand press on my back to bend me over again. He pulled his finger out of me and replaced it with two fingers.
A grunt issued from deep in me, but I didn't move. "Slut hole," he said. And that was all he said as he started to fingerbang me.
It was a little nerve-wracking because in that position, that far gone into the feeling of those fingers fucking me, I knew if someone else had walked in right then I'd never recover fast enough. I could even get kicked out of the gym. We all knew that rule. We even mostly respected it.
Still beating his meat, his fingers came out of me, replaced immediately by his tongue driving into me.
"FUCK!" I said, loudly...too loudly probably.
"No way that can happen in here," he said. I knew he was right, of course -- full-on fucking couldn't happen. But honestly? As long as he kept working on my hole I wasn't going anywhere and I wasn't disappointed.
"Getting close," he said as he stood up. His voice was ragged and uneven.
"Be a good little slut for dad," he said and I felt the head of his cock push into my hole. You could almost hear a "pop!" when the head found its way entirely inside me.
"Fuckin' tight pussy," he said, but this time I found nothing at all wrong with those words.
"I'm gonna cum" followed quickly, and I assumed he had been stroking his dick all along.
"NOW," he said in a grumbling, almost basso voice. And I felt it. The flood of his cum gushing into my ass. I could imagine the thick ropes of cum flying out of his dick and hitting the walls of my hole. I swear I could even FEEL it all splattering my insides.
And just like that he withdrew from my rectum and stepped aside and towards the door: "See? No jizz on the floor. And you're welcome."
Unfortunately, the load that spontaneously shot out of my own cock -- which I hadn't been touching since I started paying attention to his -- was larger than a normal load, and it went everyone: one spurt hit my own pecs while I was still bent over, and the rest of it all over that no-longer-clean floor.
"Thanks, daddy," I said to an empty room.