Bathhouse Sounds And Smells Final

I started to circle my cockhead against his lips, the pleasure increasing as we discovered a rhythm focused just under my flared ridge.

Part 2


Arriving at the local baths just after 3pm on a Friday, the lack of visitors was surprising. Possibly due to the fact that the following Monday was a holiday, or possibly due to how summer had recently arrived.

Downstairs, one man was in the whirlpool, prompting me to shower before joining him. After sitting close, my foot promptly sliding over his under the pretense of settling in. Letting my sole rise, toes running over his inner thighs before reaching up against his still rod. I moved closer, his hand reaching between my thighs, making me sigh as he began to play with my balls.

Soon, we were intimately involved, touching each other’s cocks and nipples, rapidly falling into a rising spiral of horniness, as happens so easily at the baths. Experienced visitors have a breadth of knowledge about getting off with other men that no woman can easily match.

Becoming more entwined, he began to wrap me in his arms, then started kissing. Or trying to, as I had no interest in such a blunt approach. A lack that seemingly made no impression on him, as he used his arm to keep my face pressed against his. I resisted such a graceless approach, until he seemed to understand that his will was not dominant, causing him to leave. Such boorish attempts have been mercifully rare, seeing as how they don’t arouse me, but everyone has different tastes.

Going upstairs, I entered an open cabin at the end of a row of 3 booths, with a couple having sex in the middle one, knowing that just be able to hear men have sex would be erotic at a voyeuristic level which a bathhouse is perfectly suited in accommodating.

With the end of the corridor temporarily blocked for interior work, the booths were somewhat less trafficked than usual. Soon though, a man walked back and forth, and seeing my stroking, did not wander far before getting a better look, his hand rubbing over the front of his towel. After extended eye contact, he came in finally. It became mild fun, each of us playing with the other’s erection. We played with each other’s nipples, him standing at the end of the platform, door still open, neither of us apparently concerned about observers or additional participants.

At some point, he stepped completely into the room, closing the door behind him, perfectly positioned for me to begin to lick his nipple. His response was unsurprising, so I began to run my tongue down his front as I got condoms out of my bag, ready to go down on his hard cock.

His response to that action was very surprising, however – “Where did you get them?”

Replying “I brought them,” he turned to open the door and left, quite abruptly. I still have no absolutely no idea why he left, still hard – the condoms and lube packages available for free at the counter are definitely no better than what was at hand. Though a number of potential partners here have rejected using condoms categorically, this was something considerably stranger. Sex with or without a condom is an understandable choice – summarily rejecting getting a blow job with someone that brought their own condoms to use is simply incomprehensible.

For the next half hour, walking around, essentially nothing happening beyond the reality of a couple of closed doors where strangers were undoubtedly getting off. Only one person was downstairs, in the dry sauna. The bathhouse was truly empty in a way I’ve only rarely experienced over the years, on extremely hot and sunny days, or later on a week day evening.

Sometime after 4pm, having wandered through the various empty spaces, I went back for a second time to the video room. The porn appeared uninteresting, offering no reason to enter the space. Nonetheless, it made sense to at least check if anything was happening. Slowly reaching the end of the wall, eyes wandering after stopping and turning towards the broad rows.

It took a bit of time for my eyes to adapt, though the presence of at least one man was clear from the sandals in front of the draped towel at the bottom of the first row. Allowing my attention to focus upwards, a scene of group sex slowly resolved itself. The man on the lowest bench level was playing with the cock of the man at the middle, who was sucking the cock of the reclining man at the top level.

The combination provided enough free space for me to move to the far side of the middle row, in comfortable visual range of the action. Paying attention to the blow job, I noticed a familiar brown bottle being used by the cock sucker. He took several deep hits before his mouth covered a naked wetly glistening rod, handing the bottle to the man beneath him, whose own hand was between his thighs.

Quickly shifting up to the top row, spreading the towel, taking out my own little brown bottle, seeing how the man on the lowest level had started to blow the cock sucker’s hard dick. Settling next to the man who hadn’t done a hit, I opened the poppers under his nose, letting him do several hits before doing a deep one myself. Closing the bottle, beginning to jack off, I fondled his nipple, joining a group of poppered sluts in public sex.

The scene grew entrancing, particularly after breathing out. Catching the eye of the middle cock sucker, displaying my hard length, I made the decision to remain more or less a jerking off observer. One who planned to indulge in poppers the entire time, already finding watching such animal group sex growing increasingly addictive. Still a participant in gay group sex, but wanting to enjoy being a close up voyeur of several hard cocks, echoing the sort of games I used to play with a high school friend – and sometimes, with another friend of his.

Those masturbation sessions, sometimes inside, sometimes outdoors, were my very first introduction to having group sex. We would read and look at the late 70s Penthouses, Playboys, Clubs, Gallery until our cocks swelled, opening our pants, getting even hornier after touching ourselves, pulling down our pants, giving in to the seductive temptation of letting others see you turned on, knowing that the same was happening with them. Watching each other cum, looking at cocks and faces, unable to stop.

Much like what was happening here, in a much more adult fashion, without long ago restraints about no physical contact. Virgins tend to be shy, after all. Bathhouse sluts aren’t shy, one of the more appealing aspects of visiting a male only sauna. Especially sluts using poppers, something I never experimented with my friend, only reading about ‘locker room scent’ in a Playboy column at the back of one of those magazines, near the time of getting sexually involved with my first girlfriend, around high school graduation (yes, near enough cliche but true – my first blow job was at the end of my high school prom, at her parent’s house).

Watching naked men sucking each other was erotic in a way that I’ve grown to love. An eroticism that particularly grew after exchanging bottles, as he handed his bottle up to the man he was sucking, and I handed my bottle down to him. When the man next to me did a hit, I licked his nipple before starting to use my teeth, hearing the man below open my bottle and do his own hits. A bottle appeared under my nose, letting me inhale the magical scent a couple of times.

Inhibition disappeared as my left hand went down to the sucked man’s cock, feeling the wetness of soft lips surrounding a stiff shaft, covered in taut, soft skin. It returned when he bent down, bringing his face closer to my dick, causing me to shift its position a bit. A change rewarded by the middle man’s hand sliding over my inner thigh, as the lowest man moved himself in front of me.

He began to lick my foot, playing with himself, letting me indulge in male group sex without crossing any personally set boundaries. Looking at the other horny cocks, jacking off, my balls being played with, the liquid pleasure of my toes being sucked, a finger rubbing over a nipple, poppers flowing through all of our bodies, dominating willing minds through its extravagantly unleashed sexual energy.

I’ve been doing poppers with partners for more than three decades, starting with my first girlfriend. Who used to turn into a grinding fuck animal when we shared them face to face – and even more of an animal when being fucked on her hands and knees. I’ve done them in group settings at a couple of bathhouses over the last few years, but this was the first time being involved so straightforwardly with 3 other men, all of us openly using rush at the same time.

The bottles were passed around again, though I didn’t indulge, being far too horny to dare another hit, wanting to see just how slutty they became under that special aroma’s power. Creating an addictive transformation, a transformation that really turns me on to see occur. Intently observing just how completely a partner’s cock or pussy rides that wave of distilled lust, pushing them deeper into primal sensations, seeing the transformation in how their expressions fully reflect their beautifully mindless state.

The cock sucker pressed a bottle into my left hand, his own hand rising on my shaft, freeing me to share the rush. First, I gave the sucked man the chance to do another hit, then held the bottle under the nose of the man rubbing my foot, before doing one myself, fairly confident that orgasm was no longer imminent.

The lowest man moved away, starting to go down on the cock sucker again, who moaned around the dick filling his mouth. Moans echoed by the man being sucked, his hand roughly jerking my cock. I was playing with the nipples of the pair next to me, looking down at both blow jobs, so much hotter than porn, part of a turned on group of strangers having fantastic anonymous sex in a dim room with gay porn playing.

The sucked man’s hand became too rough, so I replaced it with my own, finally breathing out. A finger began sliding over my nipple, making me moan thankfully. One hit of rush can be overwhelming, but by the third or fourth time, the intensity becomes familiar. Utterly and delightfully sexual, with temptation shifting from a single peak to remaining within its continuing flow. Poppers do require some skill to use well, skill that everyone here apparently, and unsurprisingly, possessed.

After another round, the lowest man left the theater, prompting the cock sucker to go up to our level, bringing his sexy cock to the height of his partner’s face, standing in front of him. Unable to resist from doing a deep hit, beginning to luxuriously stroke myself watching one man suck another so intimately. Feeling a hand reach out to my nipple, with another hand grasping my balls, uncaring about who was doing it, though it was likely both of them. I also reached out, putting my hand between them, feeling another blow job while jacking off.

The cock sucker lay down, stretching himself out, perfectly positioned to let his partner go down on him at the same time as he took a now familiar cock into his mouth. Letting each of them do hits from my bottle, rising on my knees to also inhale, feeling a finger begin to tease my horny hole. Breathing out, words following – “fuck yeah .. cock suckers .. hot sluts .. love watching men .. touch my ass.”

The rush filled all of us with its reliably overwhelming sexual enhancement, floating along in the middle of a poppers orgy at the baths. Satisfied to just look and jack off, unconcerned at just how unrestrained poppers can make someone, turned on watching two men have oral sex in front of me. They continued to share a bottle, taking a number of hits while going down on each other.

Finally, they broke apart, neither having cum, and the man who owned the other bottle left – very unsteadily, his cock glistening. The sitting man was sprawled out, his cock still hard, so I reached over to play with it a bit. In return, he played with my nipple, but too clumsily for me to really enjoy. Leading me to gather up my things, and leave.

Sometime after 4:30pm, in the darkroom again, still wondering at the sheer lack of visitors. Hand on my cock, spread out on my back on the towel, near the wall. When someone came in, my foot stretched out to make contact, being rewarded with him stepping closer. A hand began running over my foot, promptly making its way upwards, spreading my legs and sighing as he reached my inner thigh. Significantly harder than just a short while ago, anticipating the sort of games played in the dark between naked strangers.

After his hand felt my cock and balls, he lay down, head at my hip. Jacking off as he again touched between my legs, letting him explore as he wished while getting myself hard again. Soon leading to him rising a bit, positioning his mouth over my cock. Causing me to move it away, saying, at least to myself, that a condom was needed first. While not getting one, as the sensations had reached a new level when his finger began to touch my ass hole, legs opening and hips moving in wanton invitation.

Just making him remove his finger, before putting it in his mouth, returning it to slide over my horny anal ring, pulsing in delight as I kept touching my hard cock, groaning in helpless bliss as he began to finger fuck me. During most of this time, he left my cock alone, but after needing to keep it out of reach again, my left hand reached down. And found nothing, causing no reaction on his part as it quested over his skin.

Since he continued to pleasure me, it was easier to just accept, as happens at times at the baths, that I would be the one receiving a stranger’s attentions, without any need to respond. During the next blissful period, he withdrew his finger to lick it several times, creating increasingly animalistic responses as he turned me on anally, lubricating my hole thoroughly with his spit.

He moved up a bit, taking my left hand, moving it towards his lips, soon starting to suck a finger. An intensely sensual distraction, making me moan in reaction to the motions of his lips and tongue over and around my extended finger, along with jacking off and being fingered.

His hand displaced mine, sliding over my cock’s length, a stranger’s sexy grasp replacing mine, finger no longer playing with my horny ass. My left hand stroked over his short haired head, over his ears, along his neck. When he turned his head up, my hand trailed over his face, before I gently fed him my middle finger.

His sucking felt even sexier now, playing with my cock in rhythm to his exquisite motions, but the idea of condoms remained a boundary from letting his mouth enclose my horny length. My finger was slippery as I took it out of his mouth, moving it between my legs to touch my own ass. I’ve gotten off for decades by stroking and fingering myself, but only very rarely with anyone else. Rubbing its wetness over my hole, then groaning as it slid deeper. Soon, my finger became less slick, so I returned it to his willing mouth, amazed at how sexy it felt to be so sleazy with another man.

Putting it against my horny ass, I felt him move my cock towards his mouth, taking thorough advantage of just how slutty I’d become. The sensation of his wetness enveloping my cockhead was only enhanced by how well positioned my finger was, slowing any reaction. Though I did react, realizing how he’d taken advantage of such a private turned on state. Taking my finger away, freeing my hand to move my cock away from his liquid mouth.

Starting to enthusiastically jack off even as his lips continued to seek a now unavailable cock. Finding out just how thoroughly turned on I became by how slippery he’d made my length, gasping on the edge of orgasm, the sounds loud in the dimness. Slowly realizing that a condom had technically become irrelevant at this point, yet not pleased at how my open desire had been used to overrule my private will.

Though as my cock slowly became less slick, it became impossible to resist pointing its length towards his apparently uninterested face. In compensation, the touch of his wettened finger on my ass remained thoroughly enticing. The need to keep control of my cock meant that poppers did not become a part of the mix this time, but the game between a darkroom cocksucker and myself was more than enough to create a wonderfully turned on state.

One where my cock sinking into his mouth soon led to the growing temptation to fill his mouth with pumping cum. A temptation only possible to withstand by regaining control, moving my cock to the side to keep from cumming. A sequence that occurred at least 3 times, including helplessly masturbating my slippery cock as he fingered me after he went down on me.

By the second time, I was the one feeding my cock to him, aware that this game could continue as long as I could last. Such extended pleasure, dancing on the edge, is its own desire. Apparently one he shared, at least to the extent of not breaking off.

Including another session where he sucked my finger, leading to me playing with my asshole, followed by his delightfully skilled mouth bringing me almost to the brink of orgasm. Forcing me to stop him, just like before. Enjoying the same sensations of a stranger’s wetness along the length of my horny shaft, moving my hips to help his slick finger find where I wanted it to be. Floating in pure pleasure, without need for it to end.

All my female lovers have understood that framework, elevating ongoing sexual sensation over orgasm, both hers and mine (though in a couple of women’s case, it was the difference between the skipping stones of multiple orgasm, and the deep submergence of having just one). The number of men able to understand this extension of sex over a longer time, even at a bathhouse where hours can be spent among a variety of partners, remains smaller than I would have expected.

There is also a certain element of selfishness to it, at least when not doing anything for the other in return. Admittedly, my years at the baths have led to the empirical observation that a certain group of men want nothing more than to be sucking a hard cock, preferably uncovered. This group is a major reason why gloryholes remain so popular, as the number of willing cocksuckers seems to be greater than the number of hard cocks that wanted to be sucked by another man.

Of course, by now, those cock hungry sluts have become hard for me to consistently resist, knowing how good it is to feel their mouth cover my naked cock. It is almost impossible to estimate – 50? 100? more? – how many strangers have gone down on me, with or without a condom. The man this afternoon just adding himself to that long list.

I started to circle my cockhead against his lips, the pleasure increasing as we discovered a rhythm focused just under my flared ridge. “Oh fuck .. so fucking good .. cock sucker .. mouth fucker .. cum so good .. cock cum” and similar phrases tumbled more or less incoherently past my lips, providing the sort of warning that is just part of good blow job manners. Not everyone who wants cock in their mouth wants cum, though this old observation seemingly only applies to a couple of women in my life, and not to a single man I’ve met at a gloryhole or the baths.

His finger at my lubricated hole added its own delight, merging with the flood that was filling his mouth with cum, spurting in pure release. Finally, as my cock subsided, his mouth left it behind, and he slid away in the dimness, leaving the dark room as I bean to gather both my wits and my things, such as the key bracelet and bag.

Walking unsteadily myself, another willing victim of a cock sucker, the time downstairs was 5:20pm, meaning that around a 3/4 of an hour had passed, showing again just how completely hot sex with men destroys my ability to keep track of time.

Eagerly looking forward to the next opportunity for that to happen at the baths.

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