I returned home on Sunday evening, bringing with me two unopened varieties of poppers, having left all my smoking supplies behind, sitting on a bench in a sunken park, sculpture lining a stretch of what had likely been a canal in the past, a casual 5 minute walk away from the still under construction main train station. Smoking supplies which were still generous, even after having enjoyed a fat joint in the pleasant early afternoon sun in late autumn, before walking to the station, then spending the next six hours in a high speed train, enjoying the total relaxation after having spent almost the entire day before in a bathhouse.
My wife is familiar with the effects of weed on me, and generally indulges my horniness whenever I partake during a trip. Or just being horny - like last spring, after my first visit to a big city bathhouse, telling her what happened as she played with my nipple while I jacked off. Well, at least a part of it - the tales my wife hears tend towards more restraint than the ones shared here, to correspond to her tastes.
Poppers, for example, are a long known taste of mine, especially when paired with some good smoke and porn - something she doesn't quite indulge herself, keeping most of my my fantasies of introducing her to the same array of sexual delights as I experienced in the late 70s and early 80s largely unfulfilled.
Getting into bed after my travels, a couple of hours after walking home from the streetcar stop, I reached for her, hearing her somewhat bemused voice say something about my horniness. Prompting me to lead her hand to my still flaccid cock, replying along the lines of not being exactly horny yet, but certainly wanting to be.
'And what did you do when I wasn't around?' she inquired, her hand finding my cock before she was finished.
'Well ... do you really want me to tell?'
'Sure - you want to anyways - it isn't as if I'll be that surprised. Though a woman walking into your room on your last trip was a bit unexpected.'
'Not that anything happened, attractive as she was.'
'That was because of the sauna, right?' Which was true, admittedly - though I had seen her again, my interest had been fairly specifically directed towards experiencing gay group sex in a major city. And though attractive, it was just a chance encounter, unlike what I had planned, full of not exactly random encounters with other horny naked men.
We settled into our federbetten, the down filled quilts becoming warm fairly quickly, autumn still mild around Halloween. Tonight, she had slipped into bed naked, like I. Something rare, as normally, like most women her age here, she wore pyjamas to bed in the colder months. Being naked, the bed grew warm as our bodies touched, naked skin being better than covered in terms of warmth, though the initial coldness of the sheets is something to be endured.
Her hand on my cock, she asked 'What did you do this time?,' causing a sigh as she began to slide her spread fingers between my thighs. She turned into me, a breast against my side, her lips finding my neck, fully knowing that this was the best way to hear me 'confess.' A somewhat circumspect one, keeping her unaware of just how fully male only sex could fill someone's time.
Trying to sound casual, I replied 'Well, I did go to another bathhouse' as her teeth began to expertly move along my sensitive skin, scant moments away from creating another hickey, her hand letting her know just how thoroughly I was in her control, cock erect. The after effects of smoking a good half gram of hash and weed several hours ago were still obvious.
Letting me think that using my newly acquired jungle juice, allowing a comparison of the varieties I had bought, was possible. A certain familiar feeling grew in my middle, knowing that another part of my sexual adventures with men would be shared with someone else. Unlike my bi-friend, my wife has no experience of sex with someone of the same sex, and tends to be a bit suspicious of the whole thing. Partially because the idea of 'bi' seems hard for her to grasp, and partially because of her distrust of male only sex - a reasonable enough concern.
The thrill of telling her about a couple of my adventures while enjoying the enhancing qualities of the poppers next to our bed, on my side, was too powerful to resist, an almost hollow feeling with a hard center, a familiar one, often just before getting off with a stranger. Hopefully, this bottle's effects would be more powerful than the fairly mild ones of the current rush knock-off I had experienced less than a day before.
'What did you do?' she repeated, getting to the heart of the matter, her hand now stroking my full length, her tongue touching my ear.
'I sat on sling, stroking myself as a couple of men watched. It took me a minute to get in it, and it wasn't that comfortable.'
'Sat on what?'
'A sling - a thick leather pad with chains at each corner. I sat down and stroked myself in public, just like at the movie theater years ago.'
'Like now?'
'God yes, like I'm stroking now. With other men watching.'
'Did you look? Tell me what you did.' Her tongue returned to my neck, a finger sliding over my turned on nipple. Playing with myself, the rising pleasure allowing me to share more of my experiences.
'I played with my cock, looking at other men doing the same. After a while, we were all hard. I was really horny - their cocks were really sexy.'
Pausing, she asked how old they were, an unanticipated direction for a question. I replied somewhat older than me, making her say that they probably found me attractive, a perspective that had never occurred to me. Not that I planned to tell her how it felt to fuck someone on a sling, sharing poppers, my covered cock in paradise, deep in man's smooth ass. A memory that had been making me hard while sitting on the sling then, feeling the smooth leather warm under my ass, knowing that a hard cock and spread legs could be considered an invitation.
Admittedly, it wouldn't be the first time such an invitation had been accepted. I have been sucked off in a more advanced sling, years ago in a porn complex, legs spread wide, floating, my horny cock the center of my moving body, a fantastic experience. But there is something primal to be said about the feeling of polished leather, reflecting all the sex it had involved in, knowing that it could easily handle even the roughest male fucking.
'I left the sling and went to the dark area. It was pure sex. Group sex .. you could smell poppers .. gay sex .. in the room .. sexy moans .. deep hit .. talking dirty. I was horny - like now.' My concentration was fading, so I reached down to get the new bottle of jungle juice, creating a small break.
'What are you getting?'
'Just some .. I bought poppers .. I want to cum .. so good.'
'Do they make you horny?'
'You know that - and you should try, just once, with your toy getting you hot, have your slippery ass fingered.'
