In the cold grayness of winter, a bathhouse's lures are irresistible. The sliding hands and legs in the whirlpool, the warmth and full contact of the dark room, hits of rush in a porn cabin, the shared sweatiness of the steambath, soaping my hard cock at the public shower while looking at other men, wondering about who will be playing with who, so many potential partners so close to hand.
I find myself entering an increasingly intense haze of sexual bliss, where an hour goes by unnoticed in the company of other men, enjoying each other in ways that go far beyond any of my initial fantasies about bathhouses 3 decades ago. Its admittance policy plays a role in this, placing the focus clearly on male only delights, ensuring that complications do not arise between strangers. After all, any repeat bathhouse visitor knows what pleasures are offered, and a first time visitor likely grows too horny too quickly to be concerned about playing with other aroused partners in an adult playground.
Ensuring a second visit, then a third ... all too easily falling under the seductive spell of the baths, all of us fully understanding why it was impossible to stop. Something shared in a purely male sense - the attraction of new partners, in unending abundance, satisfying all desires among men who understood just how good public group sex could be, all of us indulging in its various possibilities, from the voyeuristic to the fully submerged, servicing pure cock lusts and surrendering to others perfectly serving one's own lusts, often only discovered as they arise through the skills of a man that loves cock.
I consider myself bisexual in a simple way. Women are incredibly sexy - but so is a hard cock. My major interest in a man to man sex remains cock, most likely resulting from some of my first orgasms with another person, looking at later-70s Penthouses and other mags when jacking off with my best friend. Both of us naturally focusing on each other's cocks and faces, cumming together. Never touching, but it was still my first experience getting off with another naked person, as we almost always undressed during those hot summer days.
We would share the porn in a bedroom or bathroom or outdoors in the woods, the prized magazines before us, often four or five times a week in our horniness. Talking about what was most sexy in the spreads, looking at the other's cock to see its reaction to the words and images.
My bi interests are focused at a simple level, compared to my female bi friend, now living with a younger woman for more than a year and a half. Her interests are truly bi, unlike my own, very male dominated sexual tastes. She can fall in love with anyone without caring about their sex, unlike myself.
Indulging my desire for anonymous male group sex is made easier by a lack of concern about personal or legal repercussions. A condition that undoubtedly makes my visits a lot less stressful than otherwise. My wife knows about my tastes, if not the precise details about my growing desires, the ones that a visit to the baths satisfy so well.
A purely male visit. Though my bi friend enjoys my stories, she has a difficult time imagining them, as such pure sluttiness seems more a male than female trait, especially when rush is involved. This fact is probably part of the reason why bathhouses are male only. Recently, on the local bathhouse's guest book, a woman wrote that the sauna sounded very enticing - she was politely told that it is off-limits to women. Understandable, if only to protect the privacy of men that get off with other men.
I've never taken off my gold marriage ring when in the baths. Certainly, a number of the men in the sauna are married or in a relationship, likely quite uninterested in having their wives or girlfriends finding out about their sauna activities. After all, an attached men can get as horny as any other type of man. Especially the type of man that enjoys being nude with other nude men in an invitingly intimate setting.
Like the whirlpool, a place which has grown in its attractive force over the last few visits. Last Friday, it was difficult to leave after the fountaining had started. This is the least enjoyable part of the tub's three phases, the enthusiastic bubbling and splashing simply too much for me to deal with. Even when wearing my titanium wire framed glasses to protect my eyes.
The maybe quarter of hour of bubbling along the bench ring and still water had been perfect, as the number of men in the water went from a pair to five, my hand or foot having felt all of them, getting them hard or experiencing their hardness. And they returning the attention in turn, singly and together. A shared hot tub can be quite enticing with like minded visitors, nudity making our desires obvious, watching and being watched.
