Many years ago I had an experimental phase of bicuriosity. Truth is not as lurid as fantasy, so if you're looking for a rip-roaring fuckfest, this may not be the tale for you. On the other hand, if you appreciate realism then buckle up.
PART ONE: RECEIVING
I was visiting a Scandinavian country, staying in a nice chain hotel that you've heard of. It had been bright and cold outside all day, so I was pleased to see they had a small spa facility down in the basement. Looking only for some warmth and relaxation, I got my swimming trunks and headed down.
It was cozy down there. Tastefully lit. Tiled all around, enclosed, with no windows, and completely empty except for a guy sitting in the changing rooms using his phone. I did a few lengths and headed for the sauna. At first I couldn't find it, but then realized that it was located inside the men's changing and shower area. I assumed there was an equivalent in the women's room. I was thrilled at this segregation, as it would allow me to go into the sauna nude - so I grabbed a towel and did so.
I entered the dark wooden sauna room with the towel wrapped around my waist, and discovered the guy from the changing room earlier had now come in here. Young, slim and Mediterranean-looking, he was sitting on the lowest bench, also with a towel wrapped around his waist. I said nothing, taking up a position on the middle bench which was at a right angle to his, so I could see him. We both sat in silence and relaxation for a while. He got up, went out, showered, and came back. I eventually got too hot and left for another swim. I must have been in the pool for another twenty minutes or so, swimming up and down for exercise. I got out to leave, returning to the changing room intending to shower. However, I couldn't help but notice through the smoky glass door that the Mediterranean guy was still in the sauna. He must have been there for a while - certainly he'd been in the facility the whole time since I had first arrived.
I got curious.
Why was he hanging around in the sauna and changing room? Could he be...
I'd always been a little curious but had never acted upon it. I'd never had the opportunity! But here seemed to be the tiniest hint of an opportunity - and I took it.
Instead of showering and leaving like I had planned, I wrapped my towel again around my waist and returned to the sauna. The guy was there, but with no towel! I sat in my previous spot and did my best impression of pretending to relax. In this position, I could see him, but he couldn't see me without turning his head.
We sat in the heat for a while.
Moving only my eyes, I stole glances between his legs. I couldn't get a good view, but he had dark pubic hair, and I could see a small part of his cock hanging down.
I noticed the guy wiping down the sweat from his body. Was it just my imagination, or did he linger slightly on his nipples?
I decided to even the game.
I stood up and left the sauna to use the shower - which happened to be right across from the sauna door. I stood naked under the jet of hot water, soaping myself in full view. Since the guy was sat on the lowest bench, perfectly opposite me through the door, he would have had a perfect view. I was facing away from him, but as I washed my hair I turned around to give him a look at my front, while I washed my hair with my eyes closed so that he would feel like he could look without me knowing - not that I could see much through the smoky glass door. Inside the dark sauna, he remained a silhouette, but in the bright light of the shower, I would have been fully visible.
I turned around again to wash out the soap suds, then switched off the shower. I wondered what the guy was thinking, as I returned to the sauna - this time, without the towel.
I call this the dance of plausible deniability. Nothing had happened yet that couldn't be explained away as an innocent, normal spa session. That was about to change.
Entering the room, it was impossible for me not to notice the hard cock between his legs. In his seated position, it was sticking forward, almost trapped between his legs, rather than standing upright. Was he trying to conceal it?
I took up my position and sat, with my own cock only semi aroused and still mostly hidden between my legs.
The guy resumed his routine of wiping away sweat from his body, but this time there was no doubt that he gave his nipples some attention as his hands ran down his lean chest. He then opened his legs slightly, releasing his cock to bounce upward a little, and he did the same sweat-wiping motion along it from base to tip, ending with a clear rub of his exposed glans. He was getting more worked up now - and so was I. One of his hands returned to his nipples and the other began an undeniable stroke of his dick. He turned to me and spoke, in a Spanish accent:
"I'm sorry... it's the heat..." he said, as a calculatedly weak excuse. Was he still doing the dance? I was past the point of no return with that game.