From Part III
In contrast to Level I, Level II was bright and light. In the centre of the room was a nice little swimming pool, surrounded by deck chairs. While the space was still indoors, the temperature was rather hot and steamy, so you really thought that you had entered a small hotel courtyard pool . . . a hotel where all of the guests were MEN!
. . . but my mind was wandering; I needed to focus on this, the best blow job I had ever received. This guy was amazing. And it wasn't a lifeless service, or one full of fake orgasm moans; Barry was fully enjoying himself, and in the process, I was in heaven. . . . he was amazing. He loved what he was doing, and he was an artist. Even while he was still licking my shaft clean, I found myself thinking, like a kid in a candy store, "YUM, what's next?"
. . . I laughed as I walked away, and noticed Barry already eyeing that young nervous twenty year old, who had not taken his eyes of us . . . As I made my way back towards the swimming pool, I hoped I might see Barry again, but was already excited that my luck had indeed begun to change for the better.
My knees were a bit wobbly after the blow job in the maze, but my hard dick was primed, and ready for more. While I was bit nervous at first, I was beginning to imagine that I could really learn to be a sauna slut around this place. So many sexy guys, so much raw testosterone! I was rock hard with anticipation.
Leaving the darkened maze and re-entering the pool area, I needed to take a few moments to let my eyes adjust to the light around the pool area. While I had been working the maze, it seemed the club had a few more customers. And, straight away, I noticed a few hot blokes who certainly had potential. Yep, this adventure was far from over.
Gracing one of the poolside chaise lounges was an amazing muscle stud. He was lying on his belly, and his arse POPPED in the air. I don't think I had ever seen such a perfectly defined butt. Heading to the water cooler I also noticed a few guys watching me walk across the room. And with my new found sauna confidence, I was eating up the attention. An older chubby, hairy businessman quickly jumped up and followed me to the water cooler. When I bent down to grab a paper cup, he took the opportunity to firmly grab a my arse. Clearly he was a bit nervous, and I think he even surprised himself with his aggressiveness. What happened next was a bit funny. The friendly grab was a bit harder than I expected, and flinching, I stood back up, and turned around quickly. And with that, my friend was holding my towel, and facing him, I was butt naked with a raging bone.
"Uh, sorry," he stammered. "I only meant to um, uh, tap you on the back and ask you for a cup."
"So manhandling my ass was a complete accident?," I asked coyly.
"Uh, uh, uhm . . . " he feebly replied.
"Buddy, lighten up. If you want a cup, take this one," I said handing him my cup, and bending over to grab another. "If on the other hand, you were trying to feel up my ass, perhaps I can give you a tip? Next time, unless the guy is hanging in the sling down on Level I, I'm guessing he'll find it a bit sexier, if you don't leave black and blue bruises, after pinching his butt. Just a tad gentler next time, if that's alright with you?," I laughed.
In the meantime, I had taken back his cup, and filled it with water, and filled my own. "Now drink your water, stop staring at my little stiffy, and get your tongue back in your mouth."
Finally, he seemed to have relaxed a bit, and laughed back, "I must admit my technique needs a bit of work. I'm fairly new to this, but that's a good lesson. Don't inflict pain, UNLESS the guy asks for it?"
"Ah, my friend, you are a fast learner," I laughed back. "Now if it wouldn't be too much trouble, might I have my towel back? I certainly don't want to offend anyone with my lack of attire."
"There is no way that ANYONE is going to be offended by the sight of your hot body mate. I think half of these guys are wondering why the fat bloke is lucky enough to be chatting up the sexiest stud in the house" my new friend flirted back. "And uhm, uh, if you need any help with that fellow, I'd be happy to suck him dry," he winked as he pointed towards my still hard dick.
"As tempting as the offer is," I smiled back, "I think I need to give little Johnny a rest. Maybe later?," I offered back in a friendly tone that implied, sorry you're really not my type . . . fuck, just listen to me. So I ALREADY had a "type?" A few hours ago, I still could have defined myself as a straight, but gay-curious fellow . . . and now, I was scanning guys with my fuckability detector to find my TYPE . . . How quickly temptation corrupts, I laughed to myself.
"Anytime, my friend," he replied. "And if it arse you want to fuck, I'm happy to offer up this fat specimen," as he slapped his arse.
"Choices. Choices. I'll keep that in mind," I smiled, already scanning the room for my next conquest. Finally taking my towel back, I laughed to myself at the sauna rat I had become in just a few short hours. Casually throwing the towel over my shoulder, woody standing proud, I headed around the bend to see what was beyond the pool area.
On one side of the pool, there were a couple of rooms for massage. A sign next to the door, offered the prices in increments of fifteen minutes. One door was closed, presumably because a client was inside, but in the adjacent doorway, a drop dead gorgeous stud smiled at passers-by. He was solidly built; he looked like he could have been a wrestler. He wore a pair of navy blue nylon sport shorts that were very tight, and very brief -- he also wore a very tight fitted tank top, that was cut just above his navel. A very queenie look, but with such a fucking hot body, you would never have called this bloke a queen. He also seemed to be sporting quite a hefty piece of equipment in those shorts. YUM!
When his eyes caught mine, he asked, "Care for a massage today sir? My clients tell me I have excellent hands, and it looks like you might to relax a muscle or two that needs a bit of relaxation." He joked while casting a wide-eyed look at my hard cock.
"Yeah, yeah," I flirted back. "It seems ever since I arrived at this place, my muscles have gone all tense . . . or at least one of my muscles in particular . . . but, I think I'll have to pass on the massage because I am way too ticklish. My wife can't even try to give me a massage without sending me into a giggle fit."
"Your wife?" he teased back mockingly. "I wouldn't have pegged you as a straight man . . . but listen, I'll give you half an hour for the price of fifteen minutes. There's a Special Offer today for American STRAIGHT men."
"Straight? Yeah, I guess that does seem a bit far fetched for a guy hanging out in this place, sporting a hard-on. It seems the only straight bone in my body since I arrived in this place is . . . " leaving my silly punch line left unspoken. "But thanks for the Special Offer, and for being such a fine Goodwill Ambassador for Jolly Old England. If that massage comes with added extras, I just MIGHT take you up on that a bit later." I brazenly flirted back.
"Well you'll just have to enter my lair to see what I can do for horny American men, but I can assure you that you'll be out of out of your head with joy if I massage you for half an hour, and you'll be digging deep for more energy after a full hour," he cryptically responded.
Smiling and moving on, I thought to myself -- hmm so I'm guessing he'll suck my cock for the price of a half hour massage, and I get to plough deep into that fine arse for the price of any hour-long massage (or maybe he ploughs mine with that fine hunk of meat?). Seemed like a great value considering that incredible body of his, but I still wasn't quite convinced that I wanted to pay for sex . . . after all, I do after all have my morals, I laughed.
Coming around the bend, I discovered a few shower cubicles, and a large group shower at my end. They joined a long corridor with five doors on the right side, and another Jacuzzi at the far end of the corridor. I had to laugh as I noticed that the median age of the gents in the Jacuzzi was no younger than the poolside Jacuzzi -- probably 55-65. But those spa boys sure looked like they knew how to have fun. One muscled tattooed bear was standing on the spa bench while two fellows were sitting on either side of him. One hungry gent was sucking the bear's big cock, while the other was massaging the bear's nipples. These spa boys were certainly not shy!
I decided to inspect what was behing the closed doors. The first door was glass, and I had no idea what it was. I opened it, only to be hit in the face with a blast of steam. The room was almost completely dark, and a bit nervous about who or what I might find there, I decided to try door number two. The second room was also a steam room, didn't seem quite so hot, and it was but better lit. The room was tiled floor to ceiling and there were bodies sitting shoulder to shoulder around the entire room. The room was packed with about twenty guys. A few guys were standing in the centre, presumably waiting on a seat to free up. As I had walked in the room, I noted that there had been a full towel rack, and now I noticed why. In this room, full nudity was a bit more common, than in the rest of the club. Still some guys were wrapped in towels, but a fair share of guys left their "clothing" at the door. The vibe in the room was interesting. A number of guys were beating their own meat, and still others were jerking off the guy next to them. It was an amazing sight, but the funniest thing was that almost NOBODY was interacting with anyone else. Whether a guy was getting his cock jerked, or he was jerking, it seemed all eyes were focused straight ahead in a spaced out look. So many hot sweaty men together in one room, yet everyone pretended as if they didn't see what was going on around them. Then there were a few guys who seemed to be having long distance sex across the room. Staring DEEPLY into the eyes of the guy across from them, they pounded their own meat, while pulling "I wish you were sucking/fucking this" faces. Why they didn't just cross the room, and actually interact with the bloke I had no clue. What a hoot!
Leaving the steam room, I opened the next door to find a small, rather ordinary sauna. There was one older guy on the back bottom bench, but the room was otherwise empty. Upon looking at me (I had unconsciously again wrapped myself in my towel), he gave me this urgent, almost panic-stricken look. He stuck a few fingers of one hand in his mouth, and started sucking on them, while moaning loudly. With the other hand he whipped off his towel and started playing with his soft dick . . . hmmm, I didn't want to be a sauna snob, but this guy seemed just a bit too pathetic to me. His not so subtle "I want to suck your (OR ANYBODY'S) dick" message was not lost on me, but I figured if he was having that much fun sucking his FINGERS, I would rather leave him to find his own fun.
Doors four and five were also saunas, both empty. After checking out all of the rooms, I figured out the lay of the land, while resting in the last, and coolest sauna. It seemed that from the Jacuzzi, the saunas were arranged from hot, to hotter, to hottest, and the steam rooms as well. In addition, to the last steam room being hotter, it was also dark like the maze.
As I contemplated where I wanted to go next, in walks my now "good friend," Barry, together with his twenty-something boy-toy. He comes straight over to me, and gives me a fatherly kiss on the forehead. "So DICK," he giggled. "Are we still having fun? Barry, sure is," he said as he squeezed the towelled cock of his young friend. "Just look at this darling boy, would you?"
"Having the time of my life, Barry. Thanks for asking. Hey by the way, I'm uh, Steve," I directed to his friend.
The young man looked mortified as I held out my hand, and I immediately realized that I had breached some sort of gay protocol. Perhaps names were not necessary around here, and clearly the young man had no intention of giving me HIS name, fake or otherwise. Pretending I hadn't even noticed, I turned to Barry, "Hey buddy, since you seem to be my unofficial host today, can I ask you a few questions?"
"Certainly, Dahling. Like what?" asked Barry.
"Well, a few things actually. Does it mean anything if a guy wears his towel on his shoulders or his hips? Does it matter whether he wears his locker key on his wrist or his ankle? Some guys fold their towels in half so it looks like they are wearing a mini-skirt, others just wrap it normally—any significance? Hell, I've even wondered whether it matters whether the towel is knotted on the left, or the right? I guess I'm just curious what signals I'm sending out, and don't want to send out the wrong ones."
"For starters sweet DICK," replied Barry, as he went into drama mode. "Most gentlemen who frequent male entertainment venues such as these," he paused for dramatic effect, "never, never, NEVER, make real contact with each other. Sure they suck each others dicks, take a dick or two up the arse, lick an arse or too, even get flogged (if said gentleman is into that sort of thing), but two minutes after you leave this place, you forget every face you've seen inside. Doesn't matter if you fucked your father-in-law, or your priest in here, the next night you share dinner together, and you talk about the cricket. No mention EVER about where you were the previous day, and whom you might believe you had diddled whilst there. What happens in here, stays in here. Names, as you figured out, are pretty irrelevant. If a guy gives you his name, it is probably the name of his dog, or his favourite actor, or the stud who works at the green grocer. And Sweet Dick," he added as he barely acknowledged the silent departure of his boy-toy, "most guys don't really want to have a nice chat. It's all about the DICKS."
"Sorry Barry," I responded after we were alone in the sauna. "That young guy looked fucking hot, and he seemed so horny for you. Did I spoil your fun?"
"Oh Dear Lord no," he laughed. "That little punk was so high he couldn't get his dick hard for a hot sex session with Laurence Olivier. His cock and huge balls (did you SEE THOSE BALLS?, he squealed?) was a beauty, as was he, but I think he had to use so many drugs to garner the courage to walk in the door, that he has guaranteed that his big and floppy, stays just that -- BIG AND FLOPPY! As far as I am concerned, I would rather be knitting." Once again, Barry giggled uncontrollably at his own joke.
"Don't get me wrong. OCCASIONALLY, you meat a nice fellow, and you have a great time. You my dear have absolutely made THIS old QUEENS day, but meeting a man like you is the exception. Normally, I have to kiss a LOT of frogs before, I find a prince."
"As far as your other questions are concerned, yes there is a dialect spoken at gay bathhouses, but in reality, it is very localized. The regular queens like me, send signals to each other, and we understand each other, but bring in a gentleman from the country, or from far off America, and we're never sure if what he is signalling means what we think he is signalling. The bottom line is, proceed to do what you want to do, until you or he doesn't want to play anymore. Then you excercise the universal, "No means no" rule, and you or he moves on. It is all just a game my friend, just a big FUCK GAME, with lots of HARD DICKS!"
"Now move on sweet thing, spending too much time with a hag like me will hugely reduce your chances of taking down the prime targets, I KNOW you have in your sights. Go enjoy yourself, but remember, save your last load of cum for me."
"Barry, if I weren't married, I think I would be proposing right now," I said as I opened the door, and headed back, smiling, to the steam room.
TO BE CONTINTUED . . .