The weather mid-fall crisp and clear, parking just three car lengths from the entrance to the bathhouse almost precisely at 3pm, a full hour after the Saturday opening time, all good omens. Now, anticipation started growing into horny desire, considering how a month had passed since my last bathhouse visit. And it had been a year since my first visit - well, one year and three days since being introduced to the pleasures of a truly male only sauna. Yes, the date is really that important to me - and it also corresponds to the last time I was rimmed, unable to stop letting a man lick my horny asshole.
The past year has been one of the most erotically varied times experienced in decades, in large part because visiting the bathhouse still feels so forbidden, while also becoming so natural. Not every visit has been worth remembering, much less describing, but the various experiences have combined into an irresistible part of what turns me on, offering a level of purely male ecstasy that is beyond even what my youthful fantasies had imagined, cumming to the group sex scenes in the gay porn mags I had bought just an hour or two before, after drinking a beer or two (or enjoying a hit or two) before purchasing them, hoping that 'just curious' was adequate cover for my interest in hard cocks getting off.
Not having a helmet, jacket, or boots to deal with made undressing quicker, especially since upon entering, finished paying at the open counter that forms the rear of the bar area, I had observed several people already comfortable in their towels in the humid warmth of the common space of the first (or also ground) floor. Inside, I finished my beer quickly, the normal case, though sometimes, the porn playing on the small monitor at left corner of the bar can hold my attention, or even tempt me into ordering a second beer while watching.
Today, unlike most visits, I went downstairs first, encountering a number of towels along the wall of the steambath. A couple of men were in the glass cubed, three benched level, dry sauna when I walked by it to look at the whirlpool, at least one hard, which was already a jolt, as such games are not common there at all. At the whirlpool, 2 men were sitting in the still water, making my heart begin to pound almost as quickly as the steps moving me to the shower area. Per the prominently displayed request, I quickly soaped and rinsed, then walked back to the stone/concrete/tile steps leading into the water, placing my towel over, and my small black bag at, the base of another of the bath house's oversized cast metal male torso sculptures.
My hastily aroused suspicions concerning what had been going on were confirmed stepping into the truly invitingly warm water, small ripples barely disturbing the sight of a sexy hard cock being stroked. The man being stroked had his head back, eyes closed, clearly enjoying the sensations the other man was creating. He was maybe 30, with short dark hair, and settling myself down as soundlessly as possible in the water, my gaze centered on his crotch, my right hand reaching for my swelling cock. The man who was doing the stroking just glanced over, then returned his complete attention to the man next to him. Attention not being distracted by his own erection, obviously.
The whirlpool is a tiled octagon, steps on one side, one direction outside and then leading down into it, creating a sort of temple effect with an inverted L of equal length, one leg leading into the water. An effect that the large aquarium with 3 large, grouper like, fish swimming lazily behind the broad glass - easily 3 yards on a side - adds to. Within the whirlpool, there are tiers, one to sit on, a lower and smaller one for feet to rest on, with the upper one covered with a thin sheet of water draining. The bottom area is quite small compared to the upper one, most of the lowest space taken up by the round metal of the central fountain and four smaller metal covers. Each section of the octagon, apart from the entry area, is easily large enough for two men to sit, without necessarily being in physical contact, though their feet would likely need careful positioning to avoid any contact. Or not, as the case may be.
In the past, at least 3/4 of a year ago, I've seen two men play with the other's cock in the whirlpool, drifting in the still water, heads at each end of the whirlpool's length, feet and hands sliding along each other in almost trance like slowness, an occasional sigh matching the quivering reaction of an erect tip being touched, the 'eye' being lightly rubbed, or a foot being stroked. Of course, their fun pretty much ended when the powerful central water column became active. In subsequent visits, with one exception, the whirlpool has been devoid of activity, with the water's general coolness simply adding to my own cool reaction to its supposed attractions.
Today, sitting comfortably in the wetness, warm water covering my nipples, my horniness floating in the buoyant sensation. Following many months of visiting a male only sauna, my hesitation to watch other men has changed. Of course, 'public' is a flexible concept, though by now, my reaction to what goes on has itself become enjoyably more public. The quickly finished beer of just a couple of minutes ago, along with a couple of tokes beforehand, were certainly helping me slide into a much more physical mood, helped along by the obvious pleasure of the man being jacked off in front of me. The underwater motions were gliding, almost ethereal, and I couldn't stop from sliding my own hand along my now hot length, no longer able to resist the attraction of jacking off.
The man doing the stroking reached his other hand up to start playing with his partner's nipple, whose head sank back completely as he surrendered to the completely male bliss, one I am intimately addicted to. Considering that watching two men get off playing with each other's cocks and nipples is what had led me to first stroke myself in public at a porn theater, in quick turn leading to my first public blowjob - being from a man just adding to the already erotic thrill of enjoying something forbidden, this also being the first time ever stroking myself in public. And so obviously turned on by watching hot gay sex. The kinky feeling of experiencing my dirtiest and most secret fantasies about male sex made me initially helpless in the pleasure of my erect cock feeling a man's mouth slide down it, just like the man on the screen getting sucked while having his nipple stroked - one of the most memorable steps of the progression that had led me here, sitting naked in the still water, my cock leading me on in the warm wetness, enjoying the scene of two men playing with each other. A scene where getting involved was an inviting reality, even if my own stroking made such coherent thoughts difficult.
Making me feel completely aroused at just thinking about it, I considered sliding my foot out. Just the idea made me harder, sliding circled fingers and thumb reaching the magic zone just under my cock head. Feeling a very gentle contact, an essentially floating, sliding touching of skin, a foot just beside, and then lightly on top, of mine. Shifting my attention to the faces above the water, noticing that the man whose warm skin was creating a reaction of pure sensual delight was looking at my crotch, making me stroke harder, knowing he could see. He looked up, smiling faintly. After that first touch, he turned his attention back to the man to his right, starting to slide his tongue along the other man's ear and neck. Then his tongue traced the slightly opened lips, quickly turning into a deeply passionate kiss.
