After the steam room bear packed up his bag and got back on the freeway to Ohio, I decided to stick around the bathhouse a little longer. I didn’t have to be anywhere that afternoon, and I’d not fooled around with very many people. So after a quick pee break (during which some determined guy kept trying to rattle open the door to my stall) and a shower, I sauntered back to the steam room.
I didn’t have to wait long for the action to start. A very sexy older gentleman had followed me into the tiled room’s foggy depths. His extremely thick dick was rock hard when he pulled away his towel. His hand touched my meat at the same time I wrapped my long fingers around his. My fingertips barely touched the base of my palm, as they encircled the rock-hard flesh.
We kissed. He was even better at it than the bear had been—and the bear had been an ideal make-out partner. While we made out, surrounded by warm blankets of steam, the room’s door opened several times, admitting people that I didn’t bother to check out. I was too happy in the moment, being in a handsome stranger’s arms with his lips atop mine. He groaned when my fingers toyed with his nipples. His own hands began to play with my balls, and then stroked the area behind them over and over again.
When he stood up on the lower shelf so that his head nearly scraped the ceiling, I went down on his dick immediately. By this time there were five or six men watching us go at each other. Their hands were on their dicks, stroking them to hardness, but none of them yet moved to join the action. I engulfed the stranger’s thick meat with my lips, enjoying the almost-painful sensation of my jaw dropping wide to accommodate his girth. I could taste the pre-cum at his dick’s tip, when it slid down my throat. I gagged slightly when he pulled out the first time, aware of how very far he was stretching me, but didn’t protest when he slid back all the way in.
A young boy was among the men who’d invaded our tryst. He couldn’t have been any more than twenty or twenty-one; his pale skin glistened with steam and a red blush of excitement. When he sat down on the lower shelf so that his shoulder was next to my right leg, I reached out and ran my hand through his sloppy, curly dark hair. Still sucking, I brushed my thumb over his thick eyebrows, down his slightly snubbed nose. He looked a lot like Darren Criss, when the singer isn’t slicked back and brilliantined down for Glee.
I could tell he wanted my dick. I lifted my right leg, and on cue, he ducked beneath and took up a position between my thighs. His pretty eyes closed as he took my dick into his mouth and sucked. The sensations of one cock in my mouth and a mouth on my own meat was incredible. I felt not merely a tickle of pleasure at the base of my spine, but a buzzsaw of sensation.
The man I was sucking pulled out of my mouth. He obviously wanted the boy’s attention as well, but the curly-headed youngster was focused on me alone. I pulled my dick from between his slick lips and planted my mouth on him. He responded to the kiss with hunger. His back arched. His neck curved back, helpless with need. Our faces were upside down from each other as we made out, but he received my kisses sloppily and with a vigor that was matched when I let him return to sucking me once more.
The older gentleman knelt between the boy’s legs and spread them roughly, then took the kid’s dick in his mouth. Another man took his place next to me—a guy my age with a perfectly sculpted hairy chest and a smooth bald head that shone in the steamroom’s lights. His dick was curved like a bow, and shot to the back of my throat just as swiftly. I looked up at the man as I sucked—he had an incredibly handsome face as well. The four of us formed a daisy-chain of sex for a few moments. The older guy sucked on the Darren Criss look-alike, the boy sucked on me, and I slurped on the curved dick of the hairy-chested muscle man. Perfect.
Then all the focus shifted to me. After begging me to make out with him again, the boy responded by pushing me down onto the upper ledge, spreading my legs, and licking at first my balls, and then my butthole. I gasped, and attempted to help him out by sliding my hips down to the shelf’s edge. My muscle man responded by sitting directly behind me, and holding my head against his chest while his strong arms surrounded me. I looked up at him; he smiled, and stared into my eyes as the boy sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body as his mouth greedily connected with my hole. The muscle man reached for my dick and firmly, slowly stroked it, as he kissed me.
The older gentleman, in the meanwhile, stopped sucking the boy’s dick and joined the kid between my legs. While the boy ate my butt, the older man licked and nipped at my nuts. It felt as if there wasn’t a single square inch of my body that wasn’t tingling or throbbing with excitement, and I knew that although I’d already shot a couple of loads into the bear, I was going to produce another very soon.
All three men could tell by my muffled groans and by the reaction of my body that I was getting closer. The boy dug his face in as deep as he could, biting and licking the sensitive flesh in the most protected spot of my body. The muscle man’s hand grew tighter around my dick as he edged me closer and closer. When I came, it was convulsive. I remember crying out, though whether for mercy or from relief I could not have said. I remember the boy standing to catch the cum as it shot from my dick, and then to slap it on his own dick and bring himself to a very quick climax. And I remember the hairy-chested man holding me the entire time, his mouth firmly planted on mine with long, deep kisses, as the boy dropped what felt like a cup of sperm all over my body.
When at last the muscle man released me with a slap on my ass, I was quivering and shaken. The boy grinned guiltily and ran his hand down my chest. His fingers trailed away at my pubes. Then he disappeared. The group that had accumulated to watch the four-way action dissipated; I was the last to leave the steam room. My face, chest, and stomach were covered with juice, not all of it my own.
I headed back to my cubicle and decided to call it a day. There was no way that I could’ve topped that experience, that afternoon. I toweled off as best as I could and dressed, then surveyed the damage in the mirror in the shower room. My hair is pretty fine, and the steam and water had turned it into—well, let’s say that a dandelion after a windstorm looked more put-together. There wasn’t much I could do about it with my fingers, though, so I shrugged philosophically, collected my flip-flops, and returned my sheets to the front window.
The handsome goateed clerk growled at me when I handed over my key. “Well, well!” I knew he was looking at the bedraggled state of my hair. “Shame you have to go so soon.”
I’d been there about four and a half hours. “Yeah, well,” I said.
He growled, in a low and lustful tone, “I was hoping to find you after my shift ended, push you into a dark corner, and have my fucking way with you.”
I was glad that it was dark in the hallway outside the window, because his words made me blush furiously. I do that very easily, when flattered. “Anytime,” I laughed, as I signed my admission slip a second time. “Seriously, anytime.”
“You are a handsome fucker,” he said, pushing back my membership card. “A good looking man. Mmmm!” he grunted, gutturally.
Somehow he made me want to stay. But I thanked him and made promises to stay around longer the next time. Then I pushed open the door that would lead to the parking lot, and managed to get to my car on wobbly legs to deal with the hundred voicemails and texts that had accumulated during my time in the darkness.
But dang. Between being mistaken for a thirty-one year old, being called a handsome fucker, and getting four and a half hours of constant attention for my dick, Friday was really good for my ego.