CW: over the top, far-fetched smutty work of fantasy. As always, lots of humiliation and taboo sexual contact between a man and his father-in-law, as well as some semi-public exposure. Lots and lots of SPH. Skip it if it's not your thing. Otherwise, enjoy.
Around 1:00 pm Roy led us to the shower and quickly cleaned both of us up. I stood there meekly, letting him rub soap all over my body, into my pits and where the sun doesn't shine. He moved me around under the stream, then stepped me out of the bath and vigorously toweled me off.
He dressed me in clothes of his choosing, which gave me a sort of dweeby J-crew look. Khakis over a pair of white fruit of the loom briefs, a sweater vest. He even parted my hair down the center. I was grateful that his choices were not as blatantly emasculating me as what he had picked last night, when he dolled me up for our date with form-fitting clothes and gaudy jewelry. But still, having my clothes selected and my hair styled by another man was strangely disempowering - it made me feel like being a little kid, passively letting himself get dressed by Daddy.
Out on the street, I felt the eyes of every man upon me. Roy kept his hand around my shoulder or on the small of my back, and it felt like all the men who saw us knew what his gesture meant. As if they knew I wasn't just a man out for a walk with his father-in-law, but that we were lovers. That I was his bottom boy, that he had made a pussy between my legs for him.
Luckily our destination was only a few blocks from his place - Roy's athletic club. It was in a grand old building, a historic men's club that had been built in the early 20th century. The facilities boasted an indoor track, basketball and racquetball courts, weight lifting equipment and an enormous indoor pool. I had of course heard of the club before - its membership was elite, titans of industry. Heads of banks and partners of white shoe law firms. Roy had invited me many times before but prior to our golf outing I had never taken him up on the offer- now it went without saying that I didn't have a choice.
Roy led me into a soaring lobby of pink marble and gold leaf. He checked me in as his guest while II admired the large, ornately decorated oak beams framing a sitting area. An elaborate trophy case boasted silver cups and awards presumably from interclub competitions, and a white-haired man in a gray suit about Roy's age sat by a marble fireplace, reading the newspaper. He had his left leg crossed over his right knee, and I found my eyes drawn to the sizable basket in his crotch. I couldn't help myself - I openly gawked as Roy chatted with the man at the front desk. I admired his impressive size, the telltale indent that delineated his cockhead from his shaft. When I looked up I felt his eyes upon me - the old goat gave me a cheeky wink and I blushed, mortified.
As we walked down the staircase to the changing rooms, Roy explained that the club had been able to remain exclusive to men due to its designation as a social club and not a health facility. He said that the lower level housed the locker room and swim area, which included a large pool, along with steam rooms, saunas, and hot tubs.
"You know, back when I was growing up, they never had us wear bathing suits. Partly it was because the fibers in the older style of suits would clog up the filter." He recounted as we headed downstairs.
"But it was more than that, my boy. We were taught that men should be men, free of modesty. That no man should be ashamed of what hung between their legs, no matter how large, or how small." He winked as he opened the door to the locker room for me.
"A lesson that your prissy little generation is sorely in need of learning." He crowed smugly. I breathed in the strong smell of bleach, chlorine and male sweat as we passed through.
We were in a large changing room of white wood, with spotless windows looking out onto the enormous pool and a row of hot tubs.The changing room was packed with men, and quickly realized that all of the patrons were Roy's age. The youngest looked well into his 50s. They ranged in and out of the locker room completely naked and entirely at ease. Going from the pool, to the saunas and steam rooms, the showers, sinks and toilets, not one man had a towel wrapped around their waist. Towels were slung over their shoulders or in their hands, if they had one at all. The front of their bodies, their big bellies and their hairy chests, and of course their bountiful crotches, it all shook with each step they took, and I couldn't look away at the confidence of their masculinity on display.
I felt my heart race at the sight of all these naked male bodies. I knew this was Roy's influence- three months prior to our fateful round of golf and I would not have been so overwhelmed by other men, I would have barely noticed them. But now I could still see them ever after I drew my gaze away. I could still visualize their heavy hang when I closed my eyes. Some tall, some short, some slender, some overweight, hairy or smooth, they were all comfortable with their naked bodies. Each man proudly sauntered in and out of the rooms. They talked amongst themselves, they laughed, they relaxed, all with their fur-wreathed cocks swinging between their legs, sizable penises that put mine to shame.
Many of the men greeted Roy warmly, and I was introduced as his son-in-law. I was not able to keep track of the names of the big-bellied, burly men who shook my hand, all in various states of undress, not a one hesitating to squeeze my hand and slap my shoulder, no matter whether they were in a pair of underwear or had their naked dicks hanging free. The men smiled, chuckling at my nervousness - I must have been beet red. After the onslaught I stripped quickly. Roy locked up my clothes with his then he brought me to the pool.
This was the nicest pool I had ever seen. Olympic-size and immaculately maintained. At the far end of the small slip, fresh water flowed from the mouth of a brass lion's head. Men sat naked, beached on deck chairs ringing the pool, conversing, reading or relaxing with their eyes closed. Above us, the ceiling was painted in gentle shades of blue, a trompe l'oeil sky.
We swam laps for about half an hour. Swimming was the only exercise Roy took, which was common among men his age. My boss's boss talked about how he swam a mile every day, even on weekends. Once in the pool, sharing a lane with Roy and another man, I was able to calm down a bit and enjoy this relaxing form of exercise. Still, when I came up for air or sensed the presence of the other swimmers I felt small and vulnerable, floating among the bigger bodies all around me. And when I came up for air I could hear them, their throaty laughter, deep rich baritones echoing on the marble walls.
Once we were done with our laps, Roy grabbed our towels and led us to the sauna. We passed through an area that contained three large whirlpools, and he stopped to introduce me to several different men, all naked just like us. I looked down between my legs - as was often the case after working out, my already short penis had retreated into my body, leaving just a little acorn of a dickhead poking out from my groin. At the moment I had almost no shaft at all. My scrotum had also shriveled, hugging back up into my abdomen, giving me the look of a prepubescent boy whose testicles had not yet descended. This undeveloped look was maximized by my complete absence of pubic bush or even hair on my thighs - Roy had been scrupulously shaving all the hair beneath my ears for three months now. He took great pleasure in swiping away at any stubble the moment it returned, making me, in his words, "as bare as a boy."
Having to meet a gauntlet of leering old men while naked and in this shrunken, shaven state was overwhelmingly humiliating. My heart raced in panic and I tried to keep a hand over my crotch without making it obvious I was covering up, but Roy instantly objected to my modesty.
"Hands at your sides, my boy. We're all fellas here." He grunted at me, slapping my hands away. This only drew more attention to my hairless groin, and several men all openly ogled my miniscule endowment, leaning over the edge of the tubs to get a good look at what I had foolishly tried to hide.
A wave of belly-rumbling embarrassment rippled through my body, and I felt feverish as I was forced to shake the hands of four strange, older men, all while our vastly contrasting endowments were on plain display. Even the act of touching the skin of their fingers and palms, the mundane ritual of the handshake, felt shocking to do while naked. Each man smiled and got an eyeful, but a man named Ben cracked a jibe.
