Bathhouse Patterns

It was Sunday afternoon, either 3 or 4pm, depending on the clock or the body's experience, daylight savings time having disappeared overnight. Parking in front of the bathhouse turned out to be a more a matter of chance than normal, providing an indication of the number of men visiting it.

Entering, it was more crowded than I have ever seen it, without any space to drink a beer at the counter. One small table was free, the only one I had seen after scanning the room intently. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to me, and though certain groups were clearly familiar with each other, the sexual vibe was muted in the truly social environment of men in towels, hanging around on a Sunday afternoon. Men enjoying the company of other men who were also taking their time between enjoying the whirlpool, or the steambath, or some of the more pointedly sexual attractions, like the theater space or mirrored booths with porn playing on a screen.

The sheer number of men created an entirely different atmosphere, one that was not especially interesting to me. The social aspects of a bathhouse seem unimportant compared to getting off, while today's crowded space tended to feel almost brittle. On the other hand, the real action was above or below this level, so I went upstairs.

Reaching the spiral staircase, I then realized my black bag had been left at the bar when returning my beer glass. So, feeling a bit ridiculous in a public space, I retrieved it, then went upstairs. As is also normal, I had indulged in a bit of organic smoke before visiting, making the thought of enjoying some porn in the theater tempting, even though here, with its relentless male focus, much of the porn is not that personally interesting.

Upstairs is quite dim, with the fairly large landing having chairs on two sides. Sometimes men are sitting in them, looking at who comes up or showing off to whoever walks by, though generally everyone in this last vestige of public space is towel wrapped, partially at least.

Several men were going the other way as I walked down the hall to it ends, the right side being the entrance area to the theater. A pair was chatting there, one leaning against the body sized mirror at the end, the other naked. I semi-squeezed by, having to avoid another man leaving. The porn on the screen was nothing special, but good enough to sit and relax for a bit.

Stepping inside, glancing over the fairly dark, three tiered space, no one was near me, but on the top row, in the diagonal corner, my eyes could begin to make out figures. Somewhat hastily, letting my eyes sweep, I saw another man in the top tier at the other corner. He was plainly looking at the men across from him, and it was equally plain that he was jacking himself off, clearly unable to resist the temptation.

Setting my towel down on the middle tier, roughly equidistant beneath the men at the top corners, I began to jack off while watching the screen. The self-imposed intention was to not look at the men above me and to the right until after getting erect.

After a few of moments, the porn involving a pair ass fucking, the man being fucked limp, remained at best mildly interesting, leading me to glance upwards, intending merely to see if the other men were enjoying it. My eyes had better adapted, though the scene behind and above me remained indistinct. A couple of figures were casually reclining, but little could be distinguished before I returned my gaze to the screen.

Turning to the other corner, the man there was staring straight ahead, almost as if denying his earlier interest, now just watching gay porn in a bathhouse, nothing to be embarrassed about. At least, that was my interpretation, based on guesses. Some men seem more interested in pretense than others, even in a situation where pretense is unnecessary.

A couple of men had already entered, then left, the theater area. This surprised me a bit - generally, public sex attracts viewers, many of whom become participants in turn. Which wasn't really my intention here in the theater space, since jacking off to men having public sex is what pornography is based on. Here, there weren't any secrets about what tastes we shared.

Fairly stiff, the sound of lazy sucking coming from behind, I turned my head and put a leg up on the platform, knowing that this would be the beginning of the real show. Which included my own cock stroking.

The nearby scene became increasingly erotic as both my mind and cock focussed on it. It was a threesome, well nestled into the warm space, legs at an angle, creating an irresistible view of their bodies while playing with my dick.

All three were on display, a thought that kept bubbling as my hand pumped my heavy cock. One man sprawled in the corner, his thick rod being lazily sucked off, his eyes half shut, his face reflecting the dreamy state resulting from being in a man's tender mouth. The man doing the sucking had his left hand stretched over to play with the jutting cock of man next to him. Who was also going down on the man in the middle, while the man in the corner played with his cocksucker's balls.

A truly arousing sight, memories now arising of just how intimate that space could get, propped against a wall, watching porn while a stranger pleasures your cock. Or doing the same thing for another man that gets off on gay sex. A glory hole at a porn shop offers a much broader choice of erotic porn, and I have certainly watched porn with women as we got each other off, but gay porn theaters have been the hottest, even when the porn itself isn't.

Part of the attraction included an undoubtedly voyeuristic element - looking up, and seeing their exposed crotches, positioned in the most inviting way, considering all three were hard, and all three were being played with by another man. Gay group sex has always been irresistible to me, since first seeing it in a magazine bought when in my early 20s. A magazine that made me cum three times the first time I opened it.

The threesome appeared to be roughly my age, in a mathematical sense at least - the older and younger men seemed roughly the same distance in age from the man in the corner, who appeared to be his late 40s, like myself. There was other man, playing with himself, quite pale skinned and much younger, likely in his 20s and possibly a student at an university, with dark curled hair.

He appeared uncertain, though clearly horny, not connected in any way to the threesome, or myself. I turned my attention back to the other corner. watching three strangers publicly getting each other off in public. The feet of two of them were in reach of my hand, and there was no objection when I began to run my fingertips over sole and arch, caressing each toe, doing much the same motions that my bi-friend enjoys so much.

Feet are an erotic zone too little appreciated, oftentimes. My bi-friend is a true devotee of having her feet rubbed, and often moans most encouragingly as they are played with, her leg rubbing my often hard cock. I have played with feet here, occasionally, and the reaction has always been delightful.

Not wanting to be involved isn't quite the same offering a simple contribution to what is going on. As my hand enjoyed exploring new territory, I saw how the middle man slowed, then began to moan, his mouth surrounding a thick cock. His stroking of the man next to him also slowed, though that may have been in part because the man on the end was starting to pump him, taking advantage of the stiffness.

Still playing with myself, my hand moved to another foot, then the next - without any knowledge of whose foot was whose, as my eyes remained centered on the cock play above me. The scene was real, offering an immediacy that no screen could match, the soft light perfect. By now, I was using both hands on the stranger's feet, paying attention to playing with each man at the same time, watching them both sag against each other as the sensations flooded through them.

In the right situation - like being sucked or stroked - feet become an erotic zone, lust and sensation mixing into an ever more intoxicating blend. Watching both men, there was no doubt that my feet rubbing was making them hornier. I then turned my attention to the man in the corner, still getting head, his rod glistening after a tongue trailed along its length.

Tiring, hands at head height, I could hear the sucking changed as both cocks slowly grew less hard. The man in the other corner now moved, placing his foot near my head. I simply wasn't interested, though if he had been involved from the start, likely he would have been included. A bathhouse includes lost opportunities, especially considering how many there are for those willing to create them.

And it includes a certain restraint, teaching a longer term perspective in the heat of the moment. Cumming too quickly is one of the bad habits a bathhouse is perfectly suited to curing, as one learns to enjoy the flow of sex, riding among and through the peaks and valleys.

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Downstairs, there was only one cubbyhole free, though unlike on other crowded occasions, there were only a couple of naked men around, both showering. Considering the number of towels, it was safe to assume the steam bath would be offering a wide range of choices.

Inside the humid heat, it took a while to reach a bench at the back. It was far too crowded, yet without any active contact going on at all, two facts that seemed connected as I sat observing, simply attempting to guess how many naked men were around in the dimness.

With this number of men, it felt like being on display, with much the same feeling as at the middle level. There might have been as many as 5 times as many men as customary in both places, and it was strange to realize that the numbers were actually reducing the amount of sex, not increasing it.

After a few minutes, it was no problem to leave, followed by a quick shower before going to the whirlpool, which was in the middle of its 3 mode cycle.

There was only one free space in the octagon, and after reaching it, the lack of contact was as plain as in the steambath. It was almost paradoxical - rarely have I ever been in such a crowded whirlpool, and yet everyone was huddled in isolation. As the water continued to bubble and jet far too vigorously, I left. The splashing is irritating, while it only takes 30 seconds to create a dull itch from pulsing jets against my skin.

Returning to the welcome warmth of the steam bath, I navigated to a free space on the back bench, somewhat illuminated whenever the door opened, where I enjoy stroking myself hard.

Looking around, there was a bit of motion, one man seeming to be quite interested in finding someone to play with. He approached several men, all who remained still and uninviting. I debated getting up from the bench, a difficult thought, admittedly, as the bench's surface had a familiar feeling, creating at sexy connection between cock and slippery ass, feeling delightfully naked with my legs open.

A pair developed, and it became clear from the nipple play, caressing, cocksucking, then ass fucking that this had been a true missed opportunity - well, not counting how good it felt to jack off watching them. Looking around, the other men who had been there from the start remained somehow uninvolved, though a couple of men did enter the space, one leaning against the back wall, in the other space lit somewhat like mine.

Rubbing his sexy cock, it grew longer as I watched. When he began to turn his head to look around, I couldn't stop looking at his crotch while spreading my legs wider, sitting comfortably, my ass gliding over the slick smooth surface.

There was space to each side of me, but with spread legs, it was no longer exactly public - though neither man to the side of me was close enough to touch, and neither had changed expression or looked around the entire time we had been sitting. The same appeared to be true of the men where he was leaning back against a wall, hard cock nicely backlit as it jutted from his fist.

He started to walk over, so I straightened my right leg, looked down at my erect cock, then staring in fascination at his crotch as he approached. His balls were large, the hair on his sack just visible in the dimness, adding to the sexiness of his already seen bush.

Pivoting a bit before sitting down, our feet touched, rubbing slightly as he settled himself, and his plainly aroused cock, next to me, and my equally aroused cock. Our legs flexed against each other, removing any need to be coy as another dance of male sex started.

Our hands began to roam, and somewhat surprisingly, mine found his cock first, leading to his hand pausing while he sighed deeply, slumping, legs opening, adding to the contact our skin was enjoying. He recovered from the delightful shock quickly, beginning to kiss my neck, making me the one to start moaning in the crowded space.

A crowd which receded further as his hand stroked along my inner thigh, his fingers twirling my curly pubic hair. Hooking my foot behind his, I used the leverage to start grinding against his hand, one hand still pumping against my cockhead, the other stroking him. A finger began to flick my nipple, so good I had to stop stroking to keep from cumming.

His tongue at my neck made me stroke him harder, the only distraction available that would allow the pleasure to be shared and continue, increasing without ending yet. He slowed, in the most fantastic fashion, stretching time as my eyes closed, and his tongue roamed. At some point, his hand replaced my unmoving one, unable to stop him, and unable to think of a reason why I should.

Considering we were sitting naked, now jacking each other, it wasn't exactly teasing as his mouth delicately traced my throat, rising to find my ear, my open lips quivering at the thrill, already surrendering to the desire to kiss him. Opening my eyes, the space still filled with naked men, none seemingly turned on - a fact utterly irrelevant to me and my new found playmate, whose rigid cock I continued to squeeze, its silky skin so sexy against my palm.

It did make me wonder, briefly, if there was a point at which crowding reduced the amount of casual sex, instead of increasing the possibilities. Not that the sex he and I were enjoying could be called casual, in terms of pure lust. And not that we had passed up a chance to indulge in it, regardless of what anyone around us was doing. This was a somewhat strange feeling, just like when drinking my beer earlier - sheer numbers has its own presence, even in a familiar and often visited space.

A presence that receded as I turned my head to seek his mouth, my questing tongue touching his skin. He shifted, his lips sliding against my slippery skin until they found my nipple. His tongue began circling it in the same rhythm as his stroking hand. Concentrating, my head bending downwards, my mouth found his ear, extended tongue flowing over the sensitive surface.

Tightening and relaxing the hand holding his cock in something like the same rhythm he was getting me off to, settling into a mutually slutty state, each knowing just how hot the other one was feeling, giving and receiving. His hand began to play with my balls, causing me to moan in his ear as my tongue began to lick it, while spreading my legs wider, the right one pressing harder against him.

My left hand drifted over his face, playing with his other ear, his other hand moving from my cock to my other nipple, taking its time along my slick skin, trailing back and forth, until I whispered 'yes .. oh god .. yes,' squeezing just underneath his cockhead as my other nipple felt his touch. Hardening in response to a man who obviously knew just how irresistible nipple play can be.

He stopped sucking my nipple, his mouth travelling over my chest, moist lips pressing lightly against my throat. His hand left my other nipple, running over my head, then pulling me back to expose my neck, teasing me again. I moaned and writhed, unconcerned about anyone seeing me like this, in a space where male sex is almost always available for anyone wanting to partake.

Which we were, my spread fingers sliding along his sweaty cheek, my hand starting to pump his cock, turned on by its rigid heft, matching my own hardness. When we moved our mouths together, each positioning the other, we took our time, then rushed headlong into passionate kissing. By now, I have realized that kissing is an individual skill, unconnected to sex or age. Some people are simply fantastic kissers - and my luck has been being able to find such people on a regular basis, male or female.

Like in the present, in a Turkish sauna, full of naked men, many of them undoubtedly familiar with what we were doing. Or at least interested in it, as well one should be whenever the opportunity arises. We were both hard, making kissing a turned on treat, not the same as kissing to get turned on, as it often tends to be somewhat routine. Talented sluts know that waiting to kiss increases its intensity, if not necessarily the skill of those doing it. Being so turned on leads to a certain unmistakable sloppiness, impossible to withstand.

Our mouths quickly became the center of our mutual passion, though my stroking hand kept a firm grasp on him, making him kiss me so well, tongue probing deeply, my own swirling against it. A certain fog was spreading through my mind, and he seemed to realize it, as he broke our kiss, his tongue running down my body until it began to lick against the base of my cock.

After panting 'condom .. yeah .. oh yeah .. condom,' he paused, waiting for me to deal with the details. Which took a moment, as I was barely in condition to deal with such things, just wanting him to go down on me, his breath felt over my cockhead.

He stood, creating the perfect interval to finish unrolling the condom, then knelt between my legs. Bending his head, his lips slid along my cockhead as he began to give me head, my eyes closed, utterly unconcerned about the crowd around us as my moaning grew louder. I was in a private world, surrounded by naked men, speaking openly about what was going on - 'fuck yeah -- cocksuck me -- oh yeah -- man -- suck me.'

I almost came a couple of times until my hands were able to convince him to stop sucking me, pulling him upwards, a finger in his mouth teasing him upwards to my wanting mouth. When his lips met mine, the very thought that my fantastic cocksucker's mouth was at mine made me utterly horny, my tongue forcing its way everywhere it could reach.

As he withdrew a bit under the sheer desire, I turned my begging face up, wanting his tongue to rule my mouth as my hand served his hard cock, spreading pre-cum over his knob. His lips pressed against my teeth, a final tease, forcing me to whisper 'kiss me,' wanting his mouth against mine, tongue inside me. To which he responded perfectly, our kissing going on and on.

Still sitting underneath him, jerking his cock off, not quite cumming, I was at most 2/3 erect after having almost cum several additional times. He broke the kiss, then turned, trying to sit on my cock. Somewhat confused, I weakly pushed against his back. An unintended signal he quickly responded to, straightening himself.

My cock was now shrinking,the condom's presence more obvious, including the need to dispose of it when I left, forcing my mind to begin to think about the situation. Including recognizing that we could have spent a while with my horny cock deep in his ass, though that opportunity had also passed. Standing above me, he whispered about using one of the spaces above to continue our fun, but by now, I had reached a certain limit.

Though the idea did hold a certain attraction, having never gone to one of the booths here to get - though I had done that the very first time I kissed a man at a porn complex.