Anthony in the Spa

This experience starts with a guy named Greg.

If you knew him well enough to give him shit, he was "Gorilla Greg" or "Gorilla" or "Kong". This is mostly because he was over 6.5 feet tall and one of the hairiest people you would ever see.

But it was also, for those of us "in the know" because he was hung like a gorilla.

For those of you thinking this means he had a big cock, let me dispel that. See, for their sheer size and weight, gorillas aren't hung. Pound for pound, humans are the primates with the biggest dicks.

I'd seen Greg's cock. I'd sucked it. One drunken night I tried fucking it.

***Note: I am not disparaging guys who aren't hung like Gods or even average. Truth be told I have enjoyed myself around guys with average and smaller much more frequently than porn cock guys. I'm only bringing it up because of his uniqueness, which will become apparent***

Greg had just a hair over 3.5". On the surface, not an issue. I've had tremendous fun with guys with less in the equipment area. The problem wasn't the barely three and a half. It was the 2.75" across. Not around, across. Around he was just over 8.

The night we'd tried to fuck was etched into my mind. I'd sucked him a half dozen times before then. I'd marveled at how he could fill your mouth without gagging you, because he wasn't far enough for the reflex. His bigger than average loads would fill whatever extra room you had in your mouth or drip out in an unreal hot visual.

Early one evening, quite a few years ago, we'd been drinking at the bookstore we hung out at (real books, not porn shop) and one of the other guys, Alexander, had pulled me off to the side and proceeded to tear me a new one. Just over 5", Alex had a prick that looked punished, gnarled. His circumcision hadn't gone as planned, leaving him with some significant scar tissue and an extreme downward aim.

If he took you from behind he would light your prostate up like a firework.

He was done after ten minutes. Four of those we were being watched by Greg.

When he'd finished blowing his load inside me, Greg asked if he could try.

He was already hard. I had small packets of lube I kept around. I figured Alex had just banged me, we could do this.

Doggie style my bit of a bubble butt and his bit of a gut stopped things from happening just as soon as he hit my rectum. I tried laying on my back on a table with my legs pulled up. He could just start pushing in.

We had an audience of about three, including Alex when we found the one position that somewhat worked.

I lay down on my right side. I pulled my left leg clear up to my chest. He straddled my right leg on his knees and pushed in towards me.

At first, he felt like he was going to tear me. I'd played with dildos close to his size so I knew there was a chance.

Then the thing happened. We were both mostly drunk so coordination was not in the recipe. He felt like he needed to readjust himself closer to me. He took a half-shuffle on his knees towards me, still holding himself at my sphincter.

He lost his balance. I felt like someone punched me in the asshole. Angrily. I bellowed,"JESUS FUCK CHRIST!!" as I clearly felt his entire head past my ring. Maybe more.

Sylvia, standing closest to us with a drink in hand said, "welp, that's as in as it's gonna get." She chuckled.

As for me, for the next four minutes I practically hyperventilated, gritted my teeth, bore down as much as I possibly could as Greg pushed his enormous cock head in and out of me. Sometimes a little more, sometimes barely the glans.

It never got easier. I'd need way, way more practice.

Finally his already ragged breath got choppy. He coughed once and pulled completely out only to jam back inside as far as he'd been yet. "Oh (breath) fuck me (breath) gonna c.. (breath)..cum!"

Problem was, again, coordination. The second he started ejaculating he twitched and the entirety of him came loose, spitting his regularly enormous load over my ass, perineum and balls, only to shove it back in to finish a few more pulses.

"Yay." Sophie said humorlessly, "gorilla fucks man. Makes huge mess. I ain't cleaning it up." She "toodled" us with her fingers and walked away.

Greg pulled away and the ache started almost immediately. I hadn't been ready. You had to be absolutely ready.

"I gotta get back to the house." He said, pulling on his pants, "the dogs are probably pissed."

I was still lying there, huge gobs of semen all over my groin and taint, more dripping out of my loose rectum, "dude! A towel maybe?"

He looked at the store owner, Thomas, the only one of us that didn't screw around with the others, "can you give him a hand?" Turned and walked away.

Thomas, in his normal sarcastic manner, began a slow clap. "When you get up, try not to get it all over, ok?"

I wrapped my hoodie around my ass like a diaper.

And that was the one and only time Greg got into my ass. I haven't had anything near his girth in over ten years.

***I wrote that entire bit to write this***

Four years ago was an entertaining period. My wife had several fuckbuddies of different gender persuasions. I had about five regular buddies myself, including two married couples.

My wife and I had moved down to Atlanta five years prior. We'd just moved into the house we built. Things were going well.

So when I got the call from back in Milwaukee, I was curious. I answered with the ancient method, "uhhh... This is Joe?"

"Hey fucker! It's Greg! How the fuck are ya?" His voice was chipper as always.

We talked for the next thirty minutes. Life, times all that shit. Right at the end he got to the point. "So dude, Anthony and I are coming down to Atlanta this coming weekend. Wanna hook up?"

I laughed, "hook up or 'hook up' here dude?"

He laughed back, "could be both, you never know."

"Yeah, the last time we didn't know I sprained my asshole." My voice was still sarcastic.

He fired back,"bullshit! You sucked me off like...a dozen more times after that night!" He wasn't wrong.

"Yeah, but that night we 'didn't know'. After that we did." I laughed. Even though I was getting screwed a couple times a week, my current crop of naked friends were on the smallish side. If he decided to get anally interested...

"Nah, I'm good nowadays with blowjobs." You could hear his smile over the phone.

"That's good." I agreed, "who's Anthony?"

Now there was a pensive silence. "Promise you won't get weirded out?" I assured him I might, but we could talk about it.

"Remember my sister Liz?" I answered in the affirmative. "Well, Anthony is her oldest. He's turning 18 on Thursday."

"Bringing him down to see the big city?" He lived in Milwaukee, how much city did he need?

A hesitation again. "Not exactly." He started, "Anthony asked me to introduce him to some more.. Interesting locales. I figure Atlanta will be better than Milwaukee, since I know too many people in the social circles up here."

"Wait. Where do you want to take him?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

"You know that bathhouse you go to sometimes? Yeah, how about there?" Was he serious? I asked him as much, "serious as a heart attack."

"You're.. Not... With your nephew, right?" I asked. I'd be willing to look the opposite way for a lot of shit, but statutory? No fucking way. 'Age of consent' popping up in a discussion makes me feel weird.

"No, oh no. God no" he stammered. "He wants to be part of the community. He says he's gay, wants to see if it's his thing."

"By going to a bathhouse? That's kind of like taking a kid who wants to learn to swim out into the ocean and kicking them off the boat." By my interpretation at least.

He chuckled, "well, nobody HAS to participate, right? You can watch people."

"I guess." I wasn't convinced, but if the kid was 18... if the kid would be 18 when we went, I guess it's not my decision, and it might be good to have a guiding hand there....uhh.

That came out wrong.

We worked out the details. They were having his birthday party Saturday morning, flying down Saturday night. They'd made up some other excuse for the trip that didn't involve debauchery. I'd pick them up at the airport, they'd spend the night at the house. We'd go around 11am the next morning. Leave whenever.

My wife had almost the same analogy as I, except it was paddling out to the middle of a lake to dump the kid in. "Has Greg even been to a bathhouse?"

"I think so? Maybe? I'm kinda wondering if he'd been to the one back North. He has to have, right?" She just shrugged in answer.

***

Greg called me while I was sitting at the cellphone lot at 8:45 Saturday night. I picked Anthony and him up along the arrivals area and got back towards the interstate away.

Anthony was a very thin kid who LOOKED 18, if that. Dark hair in that kind of messy-but-not trend, black framed glasses. He looked to be a foot shorter than his uncle, maybe 5'5". Also more attractive than Greg and way less hairy. You could tell that from a distance.

When I saw him I had one thought, "he's gonna be in the shark pool."

We got back to the house about an hour later, sat back and had a beer. My wife met Greg way back so she started giving him good natured shit the minute he walked in the door, "Gorilla! The banana rum is in the cabinet!"

They went back and forth for a while, drinks were flowing before I got brought up, "did you come back to abuse my husband again? His asshole hasn't been right since that night." She hadn't been there but when I saw her the weekend that followed it, she got the entire story.

"Nope. I got a regular who doesn't have a fat ass, who won't whine if they've got to do a little work." I looked over my glass with a 'har-de-har' eye roll.

"What's that about?" Anthony asked in his 'exactly right for his appearance' voice.

My wife, now completely filterless, related an abbreviated version of the story. She included some grunts and carnival tricks but the general gist was there.

Anthony was laughing when she finished. "Uncle Greg? A 'Smurf House in an abandoned yard'? Really?"

"I'm a hairy guy, don't shame." He laughed.

The next morning I was up early letting the dogs out and caught Anthony sitting out by the back door with a bottle of water taking in the hazy woods behind the house spreading the morning dew onto the lawn, "how'd you sleep?" I asked.

"Alright," he started, "a little anxious, you know?"

I sat down across on another chair, "we don't have to go to the spa, if you're uncomfortable..."

He stopped me, "that's not it!" He flushed, "it's actually like.. What do they call it? 'Paris Syndrome'? Where people go to Paris and it doesn't live up to their expectations, so they get depressed? I'm worried that I've hyped it too much."

Oh boy.

A little over four hours later we pulled into the lot. I went to the admission first, then Greg and finally Anthony.

The man at the counter looked at Anthony's ID, then back at him, then did another double take before handing it back with a "Happy birthday!"

I stripped down in the room next to Greg, who was next to Anthony, who was next to the hallway. I got my flip flops and towel on and strode out.

The room next to mine away from Greg's had the door slightly ajar. You could barely see a fit man in his 30's slowly stroking himself in the dark. Oh boy, the kid didn't have to go far.

I made my way to the showers and stepped in. The parking lot had been very full but so far I hadn't seen more than four or so guys, counting the masturbator next to me. Maybe they were paired... Or tripled... Or more already?

Nobody joined me in the large shower area during my time, so I moved to my next area... My circuit, if you will, the steam room.

I found the patronage. Not all of it, but a lot.

On a raised area near the back of the room, a young, slender man with some of the darkest skin I'd ever seen was sitting on the lap of another black man, grinding. Two older white men stood on either side of the first as he alternated sucking one and stroking the other. Another young black man knelt in front of him, bobbing his head. It would have been straight out of a porno if the two white guys had been younger.. And in better shape.

Who am I to talk?

They had an audience of about four. Another white guy who was being stroked by the black guy next to him. An Asian in his 40's was stroking himself slowly while sitting intimately close to and stroking a fourth white guy at the same time. Ambidextrous...Ambidickstrous. (heh)

I took a seat near, but not 'near' a guy who was taking in the show. Probably in his late thirties, he was generously tattooed with tousled hair like he'd left the shower (which he probably had). He noticed me next to him and grinned, wasting no time in putting a hand on my already erect 5.5".

For the next few minutes he stroked me and himself, through one of the older white gentlemen ejaculating on the young black gentleman's face and chest, the one on his knees being approached from the rear by the white guy the Asian man had been stroking for a gentle yet insistent entry inside. I sat back and let his hand work.

The door opened and Greg came in. Simultaneously, the man holding me got to his knees at my feet. He just went at it. No licking preamble, no extra strokes. When he got there, he put my prick in his mouth and went to town.

There's several kinds of blowjobs.. Purposes I mean.

There are the events, like this is supposed to be memorable. You're going to get off and you're going to lose your mind over it, as far as the one who's doing the blowing is concerned.

Then you have the stunts. 'I give amazing blowjobs' then 'prove it'. Then a few minutes of mouthing later you're done. Nobody is really satisfied and you go away with different definitions of 'amazing'.

The task. Someone asked for head. Someone has to do it. You get off and go to bed.

The reciprocal. You got them off, they have to get you off, it's only fair. You can start this or end it.

Foreplay. Get you charged up for the main event, whatever that might be.

If you've been blown enough times you can tell the difference within a half minute. This gent was the last. He wanted something else.

Greg came and sat by us. He looked like he'd lost a little weight, built up a little muscle. Note, he was still a pretty heavy guy but he'd started to work on himself. "You don't waste any time, hey?" He said, looking down at the dude between my legs.

He pulled off, "fuck no", then went back to my prick, doing very, very well. Again, not well enough to get me there, but not bad.

Greg started to stroke himself a bit. He was already hard and the weight loss had more of his shaft showing. Altogether it was looking much more appetizing, probably not for bathhouse size queens, but not bad.

Maybe 90 seconds after dude had answered Greg (I think he'd been talking to me) he stood and turned around. His narrow, muscled ass hovered over my prick, aimed me with his hand and sat down.

This man was a bottom. That was really, really apparent. He went to my balls in one downward motion without any trouble. I was actually kind of surprised with the other opportunities for bigger sizes he'd chosen my five and a half/average girth.

Of course this is what he'd been priming me for. He started an aggressive pounding on my lap, jacking himself with a 3:1 ratio (by my feel) of his movements on my dick.

The Asian man stood up and made his way quickly to my rider. He hit his knees somewhere in front of both of us. I could only see the huge tattoo of Nut, the Egyptian goddess of the sky that stretch from one shoulder to the other as the owner bounced on me.

I couldn't see, but I could feel a warm hand trail over both of our sacks. Mine was lying limply on the tile seating. His had been bouncing on mine but the residents inside had pulled up in anticipation.

Greg 'hrm'd at me and I turned to look at him. He was grinning, still moving himself between his finger and thumb, which he would roll over the head on the upstroke.

I felt the guy on my lap cum. His prostate began to swell, his asshole began to tighten. The first of his shots went and I noticed there was extra weight on me. The dude on the floor had probably decided to swallow it.

A moment later the guy dismounted, turned slightly towards me, patted my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek. "Fucking awesome. Thanks. See you around."

Not wasting any time, the kneeler that had been in front of him scooched closer and started to jack me. I told him the heat was getting to me, thanked him and stood.

The action among the six guys at the one side had dwindled to 3, the seated man, his lithe, young rider, and the man who'd been on all fours in front. I walked by them as I exited, noting the drips and splashes of semen on the back of the man on the floor and the young man's chest.

The shower area was a welcome respite from the heat and I soaked in the new water replacing the superheated vapor. I cleaned myself more than thoroughly. It'd be rude to have someone mouth you with a dude's ass still on your dick.

I made my way to the sauna, briefly noting the lack of population. A slightly chubby, brown haired man my age was on his back on the hot cedar, his fat, flaccid prick flopping to one side, a pair of neatly shaved and drooping balls obscured his ass crack. He was the only resident.

Upstairs again I stopped by my room. The door next to me was still open and I saw the Asian man from the steam room mouthing the man who'd propped it open. I lingered a moment while the blowee made eye contact. Nothing more, it was an invitation if I wanted it.

I nodded but didn't enter. I entered my room, closed the door and laid down.

One thought I had kept coming back, "Where was Anthony?" I'd covered most of the place and he hadn't been anywhere.

My water bottle was to the side. I opened it and took a drink of the red stag and soda I'd loaded it with. Then another.

A few minutes went by where the swallows of the drink hit me like a freight train. All of that time in the heat plus some alcohol had me buzzing almost immediately.

I popped a cinnamon breath mint and walked back out. I remembered there was one place I hadn't looked. The fetish room.

They have a room with a few items. A massage table with restraints. A St. Andrew's cross with restraints. A sling with restraints. A gloryhole.. With restraints.

There were also several plastic stackable chairs. It was on one of these that I found Anthony.

His eyes were glued to the sling. A hairy, muscled man, bald, goaeteed and tattooed lay back in it while a plump, middle aged man grunted heavily, pushing a not badly sized cock so white it looked like bone (boner?) into him at such a pace and with such exertion you worried for his health.

Sweat poured off of the man as he punched himself into the slingman. I moved closer and sized the younger man up. He was limp, probably pushing himself to the edge of sexuality; he was at that precipice where it required so much to stimulate him, no amount of middle aged suburbanites could satisfy his hunger.

A large Prince Albert ring hung out of his urethra. A tight stainless steel ring right behind his glans. Large stainless collars surrounded the base of his shaft and top of his scrotum.

The man inside him was easily seven inches and moderately thick. He was slamming into the other with intensity that would tear some folks to shreds.

The man in the sling looked bored.

Anthony looked mesmerized. He didn't even react when I sat near him until I spoke, "hey kid, how's it going?"

He looked at me puzzled before realization hit him, "Oh...hey...hey. What's up?" He was disjointed. It's probably one thing to watch porn and another thing to see it, visceral, multisensory in front of you. Overload in a way.

"Nothing, dude. Enjoying yourself? Enjoying the show?" I noticed his towel was tight around him, his erection, not insubstantial, tented the terry.