An American bathhouse.
An American bathhouse.
My business travel during this period was mostly in the Northeast states, often by car. I sometimes started my work-week with a day-long drive to the first city, then working my way homewards to end up at home on Friday night. It was hard work, moving from hotel to hotel and seldom staying more than one night in each city.
As a married man, I didn't look for women during my travels, My luggage would include a dildo and some lube, good for an ass-job and masturbation, as near sex as I could come while on the road.
One night “the devil” struck me. The bartender at the hotel bar was a “very” gay person. I asked him: “Is there a gay bathhouse in town?”
“Sure, here is the address.”
It was not far, but I found the place only with some difficulty – the front door was just another unmarked door in an industrial complex. This was in the USA so I guess gay bathhouses weren’t well marked for a reason.
As I parked the car and looked around, a tall, slim man walked by me.
He went straight to an unmarked door and that’s how I found it.
We both entered at the same time. I had never, ever, set foot at a gay bathhouse by then and didn’t quite know the routine. The doorman took my entry fee, not expensive, and gave me a key to my room, a towel and a handful of brightly coloured condoms.
The place was a maze of various kinds of meeting rooms, in addition to the private cubicles, of which I had one.
I had asked the doorman, “how do I tell what a like to do?”
“Just show yourself and you will find out.”
I walked around for a while, with the towel lightly wrapped around my waist, as all the other men did.
I looked into some open doors where a man was sitting or lying in a provocative position. Some doors were closed and you could clearly make out the sounds of the excitement of sex in progress. The grunts and the groans were very obvious. (Lycky them, I thought).
The facilities were second to no gym or spa at the best hotel. There were two saunas, a dry and a steam one, a small swimming pool and an oversize Jacuzzi in addition to a well-equipped gym.
I visited all but focused on the dry sauna. I was soon approached by someone who wanted me to give him oral sex. Sure, I can do that even though this is not why I came here. I insisted on him putting on a condom, so I didn’t get any cum in my mouth when he ejaculated. Much to my surprise it was not a negative experience for me at all.
It felt great to feel his throbbing dick as he came and pumped his cum into the condom. But, I decided there and then, the next time I would not insist on a condom, I'd like to taste and swallow the cum. That decision has been good.
Then I returned to my little room, laid down on my stomach presenting the rear part to the passers-by.
One or two came in to my room, took a quick look and left again without saying a word.
Disheartening, I thought.
I had chatted briefly with a man while we were in the Jacuzzi. I knew that he was married and that this was his first time at a gay bath house. He came in and started to fondle me. I attempted to direct his dick towards my well lubricated and very welcoming rear end.
No dice, he instead directed my dick to his ass and I completed the sex act that way, making love to him.
My wishes were so set to be fucked that I found this shocking, to fuck a man. I had only made love to women by then. Sure anal sex was part of our repertoire, but still.
This was a first for me I and I cannot really say that that was what I had come for. But the time and place did have something to do with my preconceived ideas of man to man sex.
Lo and behold, once this man left, the “tall mysterious man” came in. He was much more direct and ended up entering me from behind.
His dick stood right out. I added some lube and guided him in. That felt soo good. He took a long time, and we turned over so I could observe his face the moment he started pumping his cum into me.
Once he had reached climax, he stood up and left, equally silently as he had come in.
What? I had just learned something about anonymous sex, and I am not quite sure that the sociable part in me would prefer that.
In any case, I slept with sweet dreams in my lonely hotel bed that night. My ass felt differently, or was it my imagination? To have been fucked by a real dick felt good.
Did I meet the “tall mysterious man” again?
Yes, in a meeting room. I was back a month later with a large group from my company making a presentation for the largest local company.
The “tall mysterious man” was there too, this time with a name tag, a business card and a wedding band on his finger. We only looked at each other. He acknowledged me with one tiny, almost imperceptible wink of his eye.
I had learned more about anonymous sex and that I was not the only married man wanting sex with a man.
The next day was extremely hot and I had a five-hour drive ahead.
The drive belt to the air conditioner had broken the day before and I had no time to stop, buy one and install it. Open the windows instead.
On the way out, I decided to dress lightly, in a pair of my cross-dressing tight pants and a short-sleeved shirt. The pants were too tight and very uncomfortable in the heat so I decided to change to regular pants on the way, at a highway stop.
I had just wiggled out of the pants and was naked below the waist when a man came up and asked for “directions”. I quickly covered my nakedness with a road map. He wanted no directions but for me to give him oral sex, through the open window…
I started the engine and drove away, slowly at first. He just stood there with a puzzled view on his face. Only later did I learn that this particular rest area with its tree shaded parking areas was a favourite spot for gay sex.
I soon stopped at the far corner of a Walmart store parking area and put on regular pants again.
I replaced the A/C drive belt as soon as I came home, no more overheated drives that summer.
We learn as we live, or as we drive?