After a breathless second when I was sure RC had seen me through the partially closed slats, he too gave in to their coupling. His eyes glazed over and rolled back as he moaned in pleasure. I picked up my own rhythm again, matching Mr. Pierce’s, tugging myself to release not once, not twice, but three exhilarating times, each orgasm racking me silently. They felt like a strand of pearls, each one precious, pulled from me in rapid succession. My palm filled with jism; I smeared it along my length, coaxing a second ejaculation from me, and a third.
Suddenly the scene before me seemed private, too intimate, and I felt ashamed for watching. Mr. Pierce leaned over RC almost protectively, grinding his hips into his lover. RC fucked into his own hand, fondling his balls, reaching down farther to toy with Mr. Pierce’s behind him as well. Together they moved toward ecstasy, each guiding the other to a climax I knew would be as mind-shattering as my own.
I leaned back against the counter to catch my breath, my sore dick now limp between my legs, my feet and legs numb from the position I’d been in for so long. Rolling my head to one side, I saw the edge of a dishtowel hanging over the counter above. I reached up, stretching, and snagged it down. The faint smell of Dawn soap wafted up from the still-damp rag, which I used to gingerly clean myself off.
In the dining room, RC’s breath grew ragged. “Yes, yes,” he moaned. Then, raising his voice, he cried out, “Yes! God, Hank, harder, fuck me, harder.”
Between clenched teeth, Mr. Pierce warned, “Shh. My son’s upstairs.”
“Harder,” RC whispered. He pushed back against Mr. Pierce, eager to get off. “Harder, harder. Yeah. Oh, yeah. Yes, yes, yes.”
I saw Mr. Pierce’s buttocks tighten inside his briefs. He thrust forward one last time, up on tiptoe now, and held that position as he threw back his head, a guttural moan rising from the back of his throat when he finally came deep within RC’s ass. Mr. Pierce’s orgasm triggered RC’s own, and I saw a few white drops trickle down RC’s wrist as he closed his hand into a fist to keep from dripping onto the floor. “God!”
Then Mr. Pierce collapsed onto RC’s back. “God,” he said again, his voice scratchy and hoarse with exhaustion. “You’re something else, you know that? You’re damn good.”
RC turned his head slightly, lips pursed. “You ain’t bad yourself, old man. Kiss me.”
Without comment, Mr. Pierce did just that.
I blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream. A satisfying wet dream that had left me spent. I felt warm and relaxed, and if I had access to one of those packs of cigarettes left discarded on the dining room table, I would’ve lit up even though I’d never smoked a cigarette in my life. But I wanted to breathe in deep, hold in the moment; let it percolate within me, sear my lungs; then exhale slowly, sated. I felt as though I had just been the one in there, fucking, fucked. I had never found such release in masturbation before and knew, sadly, I probably never would again.
But now I knew how it could be between men, how wonderful and amazing it could be, and I looked forward to college more than ever. I wanted what I’d seen tonight, a man of my own, those kisses and that hard dick in my ass, that tight muscle encircling my cock. And I’d have it. The rest of my life spread out before me like a promise I planned to keep to myself.
All that and more.
Dazed, I pushed myself up off the floor and deposited the soiled dishcloth on the counter. With gentle fingers I tucked my now wilted member into the confines of my briefs, clammy from my own juices. I zipped up my jeans, careful to be quiet.
Hurrying to the fridge, I grabbed two bottles by their necks, then shut the door and hurried around the corner. I took the steps two at a time back to Mikey’s room.
Outside Mikey’s door I shifted the beers into both hands again and tapped the bottom of one bottle gently against the door. Pressing my face to the jamb, I whispered, “Mikey, it’s me. I got the booze. Open up.”
STEAM PUNK
Eric Del Carlo
Gay bathhouses offer anonymity, and that’s why they’re so popular. You don’t even have to talk to anyone. You can just enjoy the bodies of men.
But a bathhouse, I’ve always found, is also a place of raw honesty. You are literally exposed, with nothing to hide behind except those skimpy white towels that most of the men quickly toss aside. Every inch of you will be inspected by ravenous eyes as you move from pool to steam-filled room.
The place I went to was in an old industrial building in the city’s warehouse district. You wouldn’t know it was a business just by looking at the grimy, stony exterior. But inside it was always jumping, every night. It was almost like a maze, with tiled passageways branching off every which way.
I paid the nameless guy at the desk and went to dump my clothes in a locker. The bathhouse staff kept a very low profile. Some men got nervous whenever anyone official was around. I could tell which ones had wives and felt sorry for them. I’d never had to lead a double life, for which I was grateful. I had been sexually active with men for the twenty years of my adulthood and had never had to apologize or lie to anybody.
My flesh was already prickling, that first low-level arousal that comes even before your cock starts to stir, when there is only anticipation. I’d been looking forward to this all day. I draped my white towel over a shoulder and padded barefoot out into the maze. At six five and with a job that kept me physically fit, I knew I cut an impressive figure. But I wasn’t one of those gym-rat types who only wanted to fuck around with mirror images of themselves. I liked all kinds of men, and the bathhouse, as always, had lots of masculine possibilities on display tonight.
I passed by the main pool, where a couple dozen men were checking each other out. Some of these guys, I knew, would make a grab for the first man they saw. I wasn’t that indiscriminate anymore. I needed to be genuinely attracted to a man, even an anonymous one, if I was going to screw around with him. Otherwise I could just stay home and jerk off.
I headed down a corridor. The bathhouse sprawled, and even though I knew the layout, I always felt like I could get lost here. That was part of the fun, like wandering through a wonderland of steam and male lust.
Along the way there were sauna rooms and smaller jet-pools. Guys were gathered there too. And some were doing more than just gathering. In one whirling pool two men grappled in the water, lips pressed together in warm kisses, hands pulling at hard cocks. A little crowd of eager onlookers sat along the edge, enjoying the show.
Farther along, a door was ajar. I looked into one of the steam rooms. Plumes of hot vapor made it look ghostly inside, but I spotted a guy on his hands and knees on the damp floorboards that was getting his ass eaten out by a burly dude with long, slick-wet blond hair that was plastered across his broad shoulders.
Grinning, I kept heading along the rounded tunnel-like corridor. Suddenly, I heard a voice echoing off the tiles: “I told you, get the fuck away from me!”
It tripped some instinct in me, and I found myself hurrying to the corner, adrenaline starting to pump. It sounded like somebody in trouble, but when I came around the turn, I stopped short. And gaped. And caught myself just before I erupted into laughter.
The sight was so absurd. There in the middle of the corridor was a skinny, tattooed kid, pale with boot-polish black hair in a limp Mohawk. He crouched facing away from me, buck naked, and he was swinging a wet towel over his head, whipping it at a fat troll of a guy with bad skin and a leering grin. Naturally, there were no staff members on hand.
“You ain’t layin’ a paw on me, motherfucker, so back off!” the punk-type kid yelled.
It was pretty easy to figure out what had happened. I recognized the troll. He had boundary issues, and had been a problem before. He looked to be about twice the body mass of the stick-thin punk.
Again, I let instinct dictate my move. Without another second of hesitation, I went past the kid and blocked the corridor. “You want to keep going with this, I’ll be happy to call the cops,” I said to the plump predator, even though it wa
s obvious I wasn’t carrying a phone. “No means no, asshole.”
He gave me an indignant look, but quickly retreated. I turned around.
The punk glared at me. He had thin, dark-red lips, and his eyes were like extinguished coals. He wanted everyone to know what a tough piece of work he was. He said, “You think I’m gonna be grateful to you now? Think you’re gonna get a blow job out of this, old man? Well, you can fuckin’ forget it.”
He gave his towel another menacing swing. He was muscle and bone, and nothing else; a lean, lovely body, marked by at least six tattoos. He couldn’t be a day over twenty.
“Fucking forget about it I will,” I said amiably, smiling. Maybe I hadn’t expected gratitude, but I sure didn’t need this adolescent bullshit. I turned and sauntered away.
Later I heard him padding along behind me. I gave him a glance. He had the damp towel around his middle, while mine was still draped casually over my shoulder.
“You want something?” I asked.
He looked at the floor. “I’m sorry I called you old man.”
I laughed. “Compared to you I am so no worries. What else do you want?” Because he had to be following me for a reason.
“I…” He traced a square of tile with his big toe, still looking down. “I’ve never been here before. I, um, don’t really know how it’s s’posed to work.” He raised his head. Heat had flowed into his eyes. “Can you show me?”
It was like that injection of adrenaline from a minute ago. My blood raced, and gooseflesh stood out on my arms. “Sure,” I said, voice suddenly hoarse. “Let’s go in here.” I led him into a small nearby sauna room.
I was glad to find it empty. Not that I had a problem with anyone looking at me, but this kid was new to the scene, like he’d said. For all I knew, this was his first gay adventure.
The space was maybe twelve feet long, with a low ceiling. A wooden platform was against one wall. The air was thick with a hot dampness. I had worked hard all day, and that heat felt good. Immediately, sweat started coursing out of me, rolling down my chest. I tossed down my towel and sat on the bench.
The punk stood there, looking around. I wondered if he lived on the streets. No, I decided. Despite his thinness, he didn’t look malnourished. He really was a sleek little treat.
“My name’s Dale,” I said. “And by telling you that, I’m breaking an unspoken rule of the bathhouse. The guys who come here like to keep it anonymous.”
“I’m Curt.”
“Nice to meet you, Curt. Sit down if you want. The steam feels good.” I leaned back, luxuriating in the heat as it got down into my sore muscles.
He kept the towel on as he sat, but I saw him looking at my naked body. I was willing myself not to get a hard-on, despite how sexy I found Curt. I didn’t want to spook him, not after he’d had that bad encounter with the troll.
After a quiet minute he said, “I like how you look.” His dark eyes flashed away, and I actually saw a blush on his cheek.
It was endearing as hell. “I like how you look too. You’re beautiful, Curt.” My voice shook a little as I added, “I’d like to see all of you again.”
He hesitated, but just for a second. Then he stood and peeled off the towel. I sat up, drinking in his body, studying him shamelessly now. His cock was rising from a nest of dark wiry curls, and that was like a signal to me. My thick cockhead rolled up my bare sweaty thigh. I watched him watching me.
“I never done this before!” he blurted. His shallow chest was rising and falling. I could see each one of his ribs. “I mean, I’m no virgin. I messed around with guys before, but it’s always been with some ugly shithead or somebody who just wants to get himself off and leaves me hanging—”
I was surprised to see tears spring into his eyes. I stood and stepped toward him, moved. I folded him into my arms. His narrow body felt good against mine, but this contact was more than sexual. Curt had a rough time of it—bad sex partners, unlucky situations.
“It’s okay,” I told him, stroking his damp un-gelled Mohawk. His face was nuzzled against my neck, his arms holding me tight. I felt his still-hardening cock against my leg.
His lips brushed my throat as the steam continued to rise all around us. “I figured if I came to a place like this,” I heard him murmur, “maybe I’d find somebody, who, y’know…”
I could have told him he had found someone that would treat him right, but words were cheap.
Slipping a knuckle under his chin to gently tilt back his head, I bent to press my lips against his. I felt his body stiffen. He returned my kiss. I didn’t rush it; I was too busy savoring.
Our kisses deepened, at which point he boldly thrust his tongue into my mouth. It was luscious. His fingers dug into my back. His cock surged into full hardness. He was rubbing against my leg. I was practically licking his tonsils as I caressed his back with my other hand, tracing his spine down to the taut halves of his ass.
Curt moaned into my mouth. He pushed against me but not to shove me away. Together we stumbled toward the broad wood bench, still kissing crazily. He had a wiry strength to him, with enough muscle in that slim body to force me down onto the platform. It occurred to me how lucky that bad-skinned troll from before was. If he’d tried anything serious, Curt probably would have put out his lights.
I was lying back now, the damp wood warm underneath me. Sweat streamed into my eyes. Curt, with a flushed face, collapsed on top of me. I opened my arms as he laid his hard, lithe body on mine. We kissed again. He writhed, grinding his cock against mine, which sent pleasure through my slick body. I groped his flexing ass again, pressing a finger against his asshole.
A few strands of his dyed black Mohawk had fallen over his eyes. Beads of sweat dripped down the shaved sides of his skull. Both his ears were pierced with lots of studs. As he continued to wriggle his slippery body on top of mine, I realized one of his nipples was pierced.
I wondered about the sex he’d had with those other guys; if there’d been time for niceties like this. Nobody had ever come close to making love to Curt, I felt sure.
He sucked my nipples, grinning between licks. Even as my excitement rose and my back arched under me, I kept an eye on his sweet young face. Bliss washed over his features. He caught me with his teeth, but he was gentle about it, following instincts he probably didn’t know he had. Then he traded off to my left nip.
“I gotta have your cock in my mouth!” he said.
I grinned. “Yeah. Suck it. Please.” My heart was thudding in my chest.
I continued to watch him as he kissed and nibbled his way down my body. My cock was straining, desperate for the touch of his moist lips. He settled between my legs, his hard bony shoulders pressing apart my thighs. His shapely ass pointed up in the air as he lowered his mouth.
Stray hairs tickled my belly as his fingers took hold of my shaft at its thick base. His other hand closed lightly around my balls. Resting on his elbows, he gave my cockhead a tentative lick. Maybe he won’t like it, I thought. Maybe this will remind him of bad past experiences. But I was being silly. Curt’s tongue went swirling wildly over my fat plum, and my whole body squirmed with pleasure.
My nipples ached from the thorough sucking he’d given them. My balls stirred in his delicate grip. I was mesmerized by the sight of Curt’s lips around the head of my cock, his mouth dropping inch by inch down my veined piece. He swallowed me to my balls. My head thumped back down on the bench. My eyes were closed to the intense sexual joy.
His tongue worked me over. When his head rose, I cried out loud when he dropped his mouth again. He maintained a perfect suction as he started a bobbing rhythm on me. Whatever else he’d taken away from his previous sexual escapades, he’d sure learned how to suck a cock!
Red flashes were going off on the backs of my eyelids. Steam coated me, and sweat continued to roll off my body. The heat of the sauna was nothing compared to the seething, living warmth of Curt’s talented mouth. Carnal energy radiated outward from my cock, spreading to ever
y part of me. My limbs tingled. My toes bunched. I was thrusting up with every downward plunge he made. My hips were trying to lift up from the platform. Curt kept a grip on me with his hands and mouth.
I let loose a wail. My hands flailed at my sides. Curt’s speed increased. Finally I had to see his beautiful face, even as my orgasm started to overtake me.
I lifted my head, just as my balls tightened and my hot, heavy juice started to fly. Curt, who could feel it on its way, wrenched his mouth off me. My cum shot over his shoulder, a few pearly flecks dotting the shaved side of his head. He grabbed my shaft and started pumping furiously. Pleasure ripped through my body.
Curt was grinning again, watching the white globs land. He jerked me through my last few quivering spasms, then let go of my softening cock. I was panting, barely able to get a breath, but I felt wonderful. It had been a cum to remember. Even the afterglow felt great.
I wiped my damp face with a damp palm, unsure where I’d tossed my towel. But when I looked at Curt again, he’d stopped grinning. In fact, he’d shrunk away from me on the bench, an uncertain look on his face.
Uneasiness grabbed me, but then I realized. He was afraid I was going to ditch him now that I’d gotten off. I silently cursed the assholes who’d been so uncaring with him. I sat up and reached out my hand.
“Come here,” I said.
He gave me his hand, and I pulled him to me, closing my arms over him again. I smelled my cum on him. I kissed his temple, feeling a vein beating there.
“That was fantastic,” I murmured. “Now let me do the same for you.”
He sat up on the wood bench, feet planted on the ground and legs spread. I knelt on the floor, the soggy boards giving a little under my knees. Curt’s cock reared up before me, the crown swollen, the shaft veiny. He had a tattoo on either hip, I saw. One was an Oriental character, the other a flaming skull. I took hold of his meat, feeling his pulse beat urgently. I had a last look up through the steam, seeing him gazing down at me, mouth open and eyes wide. He wanted it so bad.
Best Gay Erotica 2014 Page 10