My only day off in a ten-day business trip to northern Germany was cold, with a heavy wet snow coming down. Looking through all my options on how to use my day I decided to find a men's bathhouse and enjoy the opportunities that a German bathhouse offers.
I got off the train and walked the 3 blocks to the address I found online. Paying my fee, I was given a towel, a key for a room and told I had 6 hours – in English thankfully. I walked in to a very clean though a bit dark entrance with a few guys in towels lounging – and not particularly interested in my arrival. I made my way upstairs to my room, a cubical with a small platform with a vinyl covered mattress and a frosted window that let in the feeble light from outside.
Once undressed and in my towel, I headed out – exploring this multi-floor playhouse.
I was in my early 40s, pretty much your average joe, dark hair and eyes. Not hard to look at but not remarkable either. I knew I was bisexual since I was an early teen. I had also learned that when I was with a man I was a very slutty submissive bottom. Kissing me was the fastest way to get me on my knees, or on my back feet high in the air begging to be fucked. I have toyed with cross dressing, I love the feel of stockings and high heels on freshly shaved legs – and men seem to like my legs as well – since they always like to see me strutting. But traveling eliminated that opportunity. I was with a large contingent of co-workers and the risk was too high.
I was in Germany, and in a bathhouse so it was a two-fer of new experiences. The décor was mostly cheesy Greek temple with a hint of Bavaria. As I wandered the place I found rooms with designated gay themes. A video room with couches and chairs and gay porn playing on lots of screens. A second room was a maze, very dark, with cubbies and glory holes scattered around. A third room was a bondage room. Lit in subdued red lights the room contained an X frame with Velcro wrist and ankle restraints, a sling, something that looked like an upholstered saw horse with shelves for your knees and forearms. A chain that hung from the ceiling with wrist restraints on it that went to a small winch immediately drew may attention. If inclined a man could be suspended off the floor – and honestly that turned me on something fierce. I really loved the idea of being suspended with men around me, touching me, fucking me, doing whatever they wanted.
Unfortunately, that fantasy has not be fulfilled. The bondage room, like every other room I had been in was empty. I was beginning to fear that the bath house was empty except a few guys in the front who weren't interested in playing.
I went down a level, a dark room and a multilevel bed room with small beds at all heights and a series of small private rooms – also all empty. This was going from disappointing to almost spooky.
The lowest floor held the sauna and steam room. Thinking that if nothing else I could go into the steam room and finally get warm, something that had eluded me on my early spring trip to northern Germany. I opened the door. A series of hooks on the well held a number of towels – maybe I wasn't alone. The room was actually dark and divided into small cubicles. The only illumination in the room came from the far end, a window, heavily frosted and steamed up produced a dull, liquid light that didn't really improve vision but rather showed shapes with little detail – even up close.
