A recent Wednesday exemplified the undeniable simplicity of a bathhouse as a place for sex. I arrived a few minutes after its opening, undressed, drank a beer, went upstairs to do a hit of rush, then went down to enjoy the steambath. Men already arrived before me, a few towels already stowed in the cubbyholes along the steamroom's outer wall.
Wandering in slowly, taking time to adapt my vision, wanting to reach the bench in the back, to become available for any number of games possible to play with other men in the damp dimness of this Turkish sauna. Games that were the main reason we were here, already undressed. Male group sex is wonderfully addictive, especially when indulged among a group of men that are equally interested and experienced. Hard cocks displaying our shared desire, our bodies merging in pure sexual pleasure as opportunity arose or was created.
Sitting down on the bench, the walk back had taken a while, adjusting to conditions, letting my growing excitement lead me. Including listening for the sounds of sex, resolving from surmise and hope to hot reality, becoming a dimly visible scene as I neared, a man on his knees sucking off a standing man, his arms hanging limply, clearly enthralled by the mouth servicing him, hands guiding his swaying hips.
Sliding by slowly, not wanting to disturb anyone at this point, my cock was stirring but not erect yet. Of course, approaching the bench, my hand had already started fondling myself, the beginning of a process which has so very often led to fantastic orgasms here, ones I am not really able to resist. This has become a variety of craving, a need that grows each time it is so well satisfied by other men.
Stroking, the steam bath had continually attracted men as the door opened and closed, lighting the space then slowly dimming while it closed. A couple of new arrivals appeared in the back area, cocks already growing. Fully turned-on by now, having a couple of potentially available men around added to my desires to get off, desires extremely likely shared by the other hard man in the warmth. Looking at male organs really turns me on - something easy to do when jacking off, the pleasure overwhelming any inhibitions at looking at sexy cocks.
After all, some of the very first orgasms in my memory involved getting hard with a friend flipping through Playboy, Penthouse, Gallery, Club, Hustler, High Society. Magazines from a certain golden era. When reading them with a friend would inevitably lead to jacking ourselves, looking at each other getting off, my very first shared sexual experiences. Looking at sexy women turned us on, but it was our cocks that made us cum so easily.
A man's steps could be heard entering the space, stopping, starting to lean against the wall, taking in the scene diagonally across from me, a bit backlit in the wider part of the passage as it opened to the shadows. I knew that he could watch me pump my full length, stopping the motion just underneath my cockhead. My head couldn't resist turning his way, seeing his hard cock being stroked downwards, parallel to his thigh. Often, these are the only signals necessary to explore further sexual opportunities, one of the simplest virtues of a gay sauna.
He settled back a bit, shifting position in a way that made his cock the center of my attention. Obviously, the same was true for him, beginning to fist himself, his head turned towards my crotch. I spread my legs wider, also settling back against the smooth tile, exposing myself a bit more explicitly, both of us now recognizing how much we were enjoying the view. In a bathhouse, it really is all about cock, and ours had already decided.
A couple of other men were moving through the shadows. It took him just a moment to sit down next to me, not really hesitantly, though no more overtly eagerly than I, moving closer as he sat. I could not stop from looking at his cock, firmly in his grasp, much like my own. My foot moved slowly, pivoted on the heel, toes sliding over the top of his foot, then along his leg, as lightly as possible.
His left hand dropped down to my right thigh, making it spread wider, thighs pressing. The skin contact added to the growing wave of pure male lust flooding through both of us. My right hand reached for him, its final goal more direct, though waiting until he began touching my cock to feel his. Sliding my hand over his sack downwards led to him touching my cock, causing a wave of pleasure too intense not to gasp at, and stop moving, just pressing my hand against him, finger probing his ass while my palm massaged his nicely sized balls.
A familiar haze slipped over my mind, thoughts being replaced by direct sensation, looking down as my hand began to slide slowly along his shaft, hearing his breathing change as my curved hand neared his cockhead, teasing him as his hand went limp along my own sensitive length. His nipple was easily found by my left hand, causing the sort of moaning which marks a true slut. Who are by far the best partners, in my now fairly broad experience with people.
