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.
