Ali Baba Baths 9 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 any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com
Omar had theories about the health benefits of orgasms. While these ran counter to the prevailing medical thoughts, I tended to think Omar was much more experienced in sexual matters than most doctors were and his own robust good health was testament to the soundness of his theories.
Omar thought regular orgasms cleansed the system and that the physical and emotional intensity of the orgasm itself tended to flush the impurities from your system. He thought sperm could get stale and that your balls benefited when they needed to replenish the supply.
I know the common feeling was that orgasms left you weak, but I seemed to have the opposite reaction. There was a sleepy period after the actual ejaculation but that lasted only ten or fifteen minutes in my case. One did feel relaxed after the orgasm and it certainly reduced nervous tension.
While Omar may very well have been right, it was difficult for conventional men to accept and adjust their thinking. After a lifetime of being told sex is evil, dirty and bad for you, it is hard to accept it as a part of day-to-day life. In many ways, this is odd. Sex is so overwhelmingly pleasurable; one would think everyone would easily accept it.
The weight of conventions and centuries of old wives tales is hard to overcome. Indeed, there are many who never manage to accept it as a part of their life. I suspect it is more difficult for women, especially upper class women. Many are sold to a man for the financial gain of their fathers. The phrase, "It’s a good match," doesn’t explain for whom the match is good. The woman’s role in this modern age is often minimal. Her wishes are barely considered.
At the Baths, sex was for pleasure alone. Nothing else counted for much. Perhaps there were young men hoping to find advantage with an older man, but I didn’t know the financial status of many of the members. I suspect that a young man scheming to get ahead might well meet his match with a ruthless tycoon.
Aldred was not that type. While he found me attractive, he also liked George, the fireman. I briefly experienced what might have been a twinge of jealousy, but it passed quickly. I liked George too, and it was easy to see why Aldred liked him. George was handsome, unassuming and brave. Aldred saw the same traits in George as I did.
The firemen were a good addition to the men at the Ali Baba Baths. The mixture of types there was remarkable for New York at that time. Society gentlemen and construction workers patronized the place, as did tycoons and craftsmen. It all worked out well. Some of this harmony, perhaps a major part of this, was due to Omar. He liked people in general and men in particular.
He had a knack for finding men who shared his tastes and approach to life. He liked men who enjoyed sex and were willing to share. While he recognized every man had different strengths and weaknesses, a willingness to contribute to the group was essential.
When a man began to frequent the Baths, he eventually came to broaden his sexual repertoire. When I first went there, I had no repertoire at all, so that wasn’t a problem for me. Some men liked to get blowjobs exclusively. Some wanted quick sex and a quick exit. They soon learned to take their time and Omar claimed almost everyone eventually open their hole for the general pleasure.
"Most sexual contact in life is one on one. Here at the baths there are twenty or thirty men who might meet your needs," Omar explained. "At least one of the men will excite you and several will be a good fit. Some men think their ass is too tight, but I truly can say some one here at the baths has a cock that will fit perfectly."
"That sounds more like a shoe store that has the right size for your foot!" I exclaimed.
Omar laughed. "I’m not sure there is a relationship between foot size and asshole diameter, but there may be. I am sure that if there is a cock type you like, it will be somewhere here in the baths.
My School was closed for two weeks at Christmas and I returned home to see my father. My father I was in regular correspondence. He wrote me a long letter each week and I sent him a rather briefer missal in return. My father’s letters were more like extended essays than letters. While they included normal pleasantries, they usually dealt with areas of intellectual interest.
He did note my actions during the fire and said he was pleased I had acted so aggressively. I told him of some of my fellow teachers’ unwillingness to get into the nitty-gritty of the clean up process. My father responded that while he was a man more prone to think than act, there were times when physical action is needed. To fail to act reflected a weakness in character.
I took the train to Vermont and found a carriage at the station to take me to my home. As I drove up, the house was fully illuminated. My father was a frugal man and rarely used more than one lamp. It also looked as if he had company.
My Aunt Elizabeth greeted me at the door. "Your father took a turn for the worse," she said.
"He’s sick?"
"He told me he sent you letters!" she exclaimed. "I should have known better. Yes, he is very sick. It’s a tumor. Dr. Winters feels the case is hopeless. He collapsed at school yesterday. They took him to the doctor’s and he is little more than skin and bones. He was hiding it from everyone!"
We went to his room. I peeked in the door. He looked almost skeletonized. He was emaciated and pale. I took a deep breath and went in.
"It is so good to see you," he said with feeling. "It’s good of you to come."
"It is the Christmas break," I replied. "I had no idea you were feeling poorly."
"I didn’t want to bother you. It is your first position," he replied. That was typical of my father. Teaching was his life and the thought of missing a class was anathema. We talked briefly and he nodded off. I returned to my Aunt in the hall.
"Dr. Winters is here. He wanted to talk with you," she said. We talked in the kitchen.
"It is hard to believe your father could have hidden his disease so completely," he explained. "There might have been a slight chance an operation could have saved him had we known earlier, but it is well past that now. There is nothing to do but wait."
There was a knock on the door. It was Mme. Desjardin, the washerwoman with a load of clean laundry. "Your father can’t keep anything down," Aunt Elizabeth said. She went to get the soiled sheets, but Mme. Desjardins returned with it.
"Mme Desjardins wouldn’t let me carry the sheets!" my aunt said. "Apparently I am too fine a lady," she said. Madame has been a great help to your father."
I returned to my father’s bedroom. He woke when I entered. "I have letters and instructions in the side table," he said. "I have taken care of everything. All is in order." He had a book on his bed. It was a scrapbook with all of the articles about the fire and my role in the rescue in it. "You have been a good son, Walter. I could not be m ore proud and have hoped for a better son," he said. He closed his eyes and stopped breathing. It was over.
I just stood there for a minute or two then called for Aunt Elizabeth and Dr. Winters. He was indeed dead. My Aunt wasn’t surprised. "He was waiting for you to come home," she said. "He needed to say goodbye. He was so proud of you. He told me he could die in peace since you were now a teacher too. He had me read the newspaper articles about you to him."
I asked whom we should tell he was dead. Dr. Winters smiled. "This is a small town everyone will know in an hour!"
I laughed, "I should have remembered that. As I recall, food comes next?" The doctor nodded. My father had indeed planned everything. There was to be a small service at the church and burial in the churchyard. He had arranged for his pupils to go to the Academy. He had a list of students who had been promised admittance at the academy. I thought this was odd.
The doctor explained the Academy was Protestant and my father’s school included several Catholics and Isaac Rothenburg’s children. He insisted that they be admitted. I looked at the list again. Two of the O’Brian’s children, a Connors and the O’Malley’s were on the list as were three of Mme. Desjardins’s children.
"How did he convince them to do that?" I asked.
"Your father was a convincing man. He also helped the Academy many times when a teacher was sick. He also was good with difficult children," the doctor explained. "Frankly they could use some additional students. They had a new headmaster and it would look good for him to add so many to the rolls."
The funeral was simple, but dignified. He didn’t want a eulogy and only wanted scriptural readings. I was shocked at the number of persons who attended and said good words to me about my father. My father had been generous with his time and helpful to many. The Rothenburgs and Cohens attended also. I noticed Father Sullivan from St. Mary’s came, as did all of Mme. Dejardin’s children. She paid traded for educating her children with her laundry services.
I had a quiet Christmas with my Aunt and returned to the house to deal with things. My father had everything in order, but there was still much to do. My old friend Bobby came home for Christmas and he came over to see me. Bobby had been at Harvard and was now beginning his studies of medicine. I hadn’t seen him in several years and he had matured and filled out.
Bobby was at least six-feet tall now with dark hair and a mustache. He could easily have been one of the dashing young men about town Mr. Gibson illustrated escorting the beautiful Gibson girls. Bobby, however, had become deeply interested in medicine after the death of his Grandfather.
"Do you remember the good times we had at the old swimming hole?" I asked.
"I certainly do," Bobby replied. He leaned closer to me. "I think they were the most fun I ever had here."
"You must have had some great times at your school? You were hob-nobbing with the sons of the high and mighty."
"Many of them were too important to associate with a boy from a small town in Vermont," he replied. "I never had the kind of fun we had. I loved that. I think about it often. I guess we are too old for that now."
I looked him in the eye. "I don’t know about you, but I’m not too old for it," I said. Bobby looked relieved. "Have you found any playmates?"
"I have a good friend in Boston. He is an older man. Gerald is rather experienced and has been great fun," Bobby said. "Quite unexpectedly I found a new friend here, the Academy’s new Headmaster, Robert Hill. He is a bit shy, but fun once he got the hang of it. Do you have some friends?"
"Yes I do, Bobby," I replied. "I have several, but I have discovered my interest in our boyish games is not casual at all. I love it. I find having a sexual connection with other men more than just enjoyable. I hope that doesn’t shock you."
Bobby looked at me. "I am afraid I am not that honest even with myself," he said. "I love it too. I can’t imagine my life without the stimulus of cocks and exciting men."
"Is Mr. Hill exciting?"
"He is, but I must admit, it doesn’t seem to as exciting as it was with you years ago. I don’t know if that is true, or just the rosy haze of memory."
"I have the fire warming my bedroom, perhaps we might adjourn to me chamber and rekindle those memories?" I suggested. Bobby was more than willing. Bobby was older and bigger everywhere. That was good. He also still had a hair trigger. He shot off in my mouth and that was a treat. I had never taken his load before and he enjoyed that greatly.
Unlike when we were younger, we talked and then had a second session. Bobby told me he had never drunk from the spigot and wanted to know if it was good.
"You’ve tasted it, haven’t you?"
"I’ve collected some on my finger and tasted it," he said. "I didn’t like too much. It seems you like it?"
"I liked the excitement of your orgasms. I could taste the tension build and you approach the climax. You hit that spot and then I taste you release you man seed. I do like it."
He leaned over and whispered in my ear. "I think the Headmaster would love to do that. He is curious, but not daring. You seem so relaxed about this. I have a hard time relaxing and enjoying it," Bobby confessed. "I think Robert would be willing to do much more if he were less tense." We resumed our sexual play I took his second load and sucked him until I got the last drip and dribble. He was more relaxed.
I told him I would like to meet Robert. "Alone or with me?" Bobby asked.
"I would never do anything behind your back," I said. "Let’s get together and see what happens."
Bobby’s cock twitched when I said that. I took that as a yes. We agreed to meet the next day afternoon. Robert was on his Christmas break so he had the day free. I wanted to meet him anyway since he was taking my father’s students. My father was a proper gentleman and assumed anything agreed between gentlemen was set in stone. I wanted to make sure Mr. Hill understood that.
The next day was snowy and windy. We were in for a major storm. Bobby and Robert arrived promptly at one and we chatted. Robert was a small, well-dressed man. He was dapper and every hair was in place. Balding, he had a well-groomed beard and looked very proper. My father and I tended to look more like the absent mannered professor, and while I am not disheveled, no one would mistake me for a fop.
After our initial conversations, we talked about my father’s students. "To be direct with you, your fathers’ pupils are a great addition to the academy," Robert said. "They will make the difference between a school that is doing well and one that is thriving. There were some that wanted the Academy to be strictly Episcopalian or at least protestant. Fortunately, the general respect for your father swept away those objections. We are now free to admit any qualified students."
My father felt education was essential for all in our democracy," I said. "He never noticed that virtue existed only in a single faith."
"I hate to say it as a devoted Episcopalian, but I have to agree with you," Robert observed. "Sometimes Christian faith is but a disguise." I felt comfortable with Robert. We talked pleasantly about general subject for a while, and then Bobby eased the conversation into talking about our youth and skinny-dipping in a local pond.
"I was brought up in Albany and had no experiences of rural pleasures. My father was the Rector of a large church and I never appeared without being fully dressed," Robert said. "People talked about any irregularity, no matter how small. My father complained that his parishioners thought their priest should have children, but they didn’t want him to have sex. It worked for Jesus, why not for him!" We laughed.
"I was the school master’s son, but the countryside is only a few minutes’ walk from anywhere in town," I said. "I was fun to get away and get naked."
"I think I would have enjoyed it, but I was very shy then. I’m not sure I would have had the nerve," Robert said.
"I like being naked among friends," Bobby said. "We are all men and know how men are equipped. It’s odd we are so uncomfortable with the thought of being naked."
"I think of nudity as a prelude to sexual activity," Robert said. "That complicates the emotions."
"I hope nudity is the prelude to sexual activity!" I said. Robert looked shocked and then he laughed. "At one time I would have thought that was bad, but that’s not the way I see it now." I added.
"It is the way I see it, but I wish it wasn’t," Robert said. "Maybe it’s because I was the preacher’s son. How did you overcome the feelings of unease?"
"Well, Walter and I played some and enjoyed it," Bobby said. "It was good."
"I have some friends in New York who have a more open approach to sexual activity," I explained. "They see it as normal and indeed healthy." I paused. "And a lot of fun too!"
"I would sure like to do something normal and healthy!" Bobby exclaimed. "Robert, do you think you might like to join us?" Robert looked over at me. He looked uneasy. I smiled. He relaxed.
"We had a blizzard outside. Why don’t we go upstairs to my bedroom? I can get the fire going and it will be nice and cozy," I said. Robert looked around as if he thought someone might be watching. There was no sign of anyone on the street.
"With the wind blowing as it is, I’ll lock the doors. Sometimes a door can blow open," I said. "After living in New York one gets use to locked doors." Robert looked relieved. We went upstairs to my room. I had the largest bedroom on the second floor. My father slept in the room that once was the study on the first floor after my mother died. I think the books were company for him.
My room had a small, pot-bellied stove. I added wood to the coals and in minutes, the room was warm. I had already pulled the heavy drapes to keep out the cold drafts.
"What a luxury to have heat in the bedroom," Robert said.
"Let me show you the real wonder of the room," I said as I opened a door. The room had a complete modern bathroom. Several years earlier, the town installed a water system. The wood stoves flues went through the bathroom to heat it, and there was a water tank above the stove to provide hot water. My father liked to keep the house cool, but the bathroom was the exception. If there was any fire in the house, we had heat and hot water. Robert was dazzled. Hot water was a rare luxury.
"Perhaps we might be able to share a nice warm bath?" Bobby suggested. I think Robert was uneasy stripping, but a bath gave him a good excuse. It took only a few minutes for the bedroom and bath to get warm.
By this time, I had been a daily visitor to the Ali Baba Baths for months, so I had extensive knowledge of naked men. I saw men enter the baths fully clothed and later saw them naked. There were few surprises. Robert was a surprise. He was so dapper and so carefully groomed, I didn’t expect that hair covered his body from just below the line of his collar to his toes. It was silky and swirled over his well-muscled body. It turned out he was a "sound body and sound mind" man. I wondered if he trimmed his body hair regularly to make sure none appeared above the collar.
Somehow, this small, almost prim man had the genitals of a stallion. I always think of the total man, and try not to focus on his equipment. With Robert, this was nearly impossible. His cock was magnificent.
The tub was a big modern claw footed porcelain fixture. It wasn’t big enough for three so there was no way to avoid physical contact. None of us had any desire to avoid physical contact anyway. The situation excited me and my cock responded, as one would expect.
Robert noticed this and smiled. His cock firmed up. Bobby was fully erect. It was lovely too. Robert got into the tub and sat in the warm water. Bobby climbed in. his cock was briefly at Robert’s mouth’s level and Robert took advantage of the opportunity. Robert seemed so shy, but apparently once he was naked, he was eager. I climbed in and Robert took both of our cocks into his mouth.
I had been reluctant to deal with an uneasy playmate. Robert now was anything but uneasy. He was excited and willing. He got up to kiss Bobby and I got in the water to suck him. By now, he was rock hard. His foreskin was pulled back exposing his large knob and wide slit. A bead of precum already adorned his member.
I had guessed Robert excited Bobby. I hadn’t guessed that I would so stimulated. Dressed he looked like a dandy and a fop; naked he was a caveman, or perhaps a Darwinian missing link. While short in stature, his monster organ was big enough for two men. It was all exciting.
I had played with Bobby the day before, but he and Robert had pent up needs. Robert wanted affection and sexual release. I thought of myself as a comparative innocent. They saw me as the equivalent of the Kama Sutra and a perfect guide to man sex.
You could say Robert had an adventurous mind and was interests in new experiences and new sensations. While there was an intellectual aspect to these interests, the genital aspects were in the forefront. He very much wanted to be physically close to another man.
His cock had a slight downward bend when erect. Remarkably, I was able to take the entire organ in my mouth. This was a first for him and a most successful first. Bobby was pleased too, he called me the "Sword Swallower."
Bobby apparently pulled off when Robert reached the beginning of an orgasm. When I continued to suck his tender cock head as he ejaculated, Robert had an early foretaste of heaven. During the lull after the orgasm Robert told him, his father had instilled in him a great fear of masturbation, so he rarely indulged in the vice. His orgasms were widely spaced and he was capable of multiple orgasms.
"The last time we got together he had four, as I recall," Bobby said. "It was like Old Faithful."
"Bobby is not easily drained," Robert observed. We got out of the tub, dried off and went to my bed. The stove warmed the room well, and we were comfortable naked. I looked out the drapes. The snow was exceptionally heavy. It was a true Vermont style blizzard.
Robert was soon sucking Bobby as I played with his cock. He was still drooling a little from his earlier orgasm, but he was getting hard again. Robert’s ministrations soon bore fruit. Bobby began to moan. Robert pulled back but kept his playmate’s cock in his mouth. Bobby bellowed as he ejaculated. Robert opened his mouth but supported Bobby’s cock with his tongue. I watched Robert spurts of man seed as the shot into his mouth.
As the ejaculations lessened, Robert licked the underside of Bobby’s cock head. This is a very tender part of my cock; it was tender for Bobby too. I thought he was finished, but the licks induced modest spurts. Bobby fell asleep, leaving me alone with Robert. His cock was fully erect again.