It’s after midnight on my last night in Toronto and I’m in my hotel room in bed, drinking a beer. The laptop is on the pillow beside me and I’m watching Sheriff Hopper drunkenly beat up people on Stranger Things. My phone vibrates.
“Pics” the text demands.
Its someone I messaged hours ago. I send a face pic.
“Name. Room.”
I check who it is, and message back with excitement. The profile labeled “Kum in ur 👅” is a black dude, so I don’t even ask for a face picture. I’ve been trying all week to entice someone of the darker complexion to come over, but they are rare, hard to get, and “Not your fetish.” This one says on his profile that he shoots big loads and is looking for a talented mouth drainer. We’re a perfect match!
“When can you be here?”
“5” he fires back.
I blink my eyes open and feel a surge of energy. I have only five minutes to prepare. Priorities! I leap out of bed, grab my wallet, the tip for the housekeepers, and laptop and throw them in the safe. Then I root through a pile of clothes in the corner, pull a pair of briefs off the floor, sniff them and put them on. I pace the room like a caged mouse until I hear a knock at the door.
It’s him. I let him through. “Hi! Come in,” I greet him warmly as I open the door.
He walks past me and puts his Tim Horton’s bag and coffee on the dresser, and adjusts the Apple earbuds he’s wearing.
I rush back into the room, past him, to get a good look at him. The young man has a presence that exudes coolness. He wears a thin, gold earring, and expensive jeans.
“How’s your night?” I ask him.
He ignores me. He won’t even meet my eyes. Instead he is unbuckling his thick black belt. I move closer to him, stand right in front of him. Maybe we will hug?
He stops and puts his hand out, flat in front of him, then swats downward, motioning for me to kneel in front of him.
“So you’re ready to go, eh! OK.” I get down on my knees.
Once his jeans are unbuttoned, he lowers them and his underwear to just above his knees. His cut cock is average size, but it is perfectly round, perfectly straight, and has a large mushroom cap head.
Intending to give him a show, I open my mouth, stick out my tongue and slowly move forward, sliding my tongue along its underside while I slide him into my mouth. I feel a large hand grasp the top of my head, stopping me. Then, he slowly starts to thrust.
Since I’m immobilized, I can only use my tongue to help. With each thrust I flick it against the underside of his penis. I reach up and stimulate his balls, grasping them in my hand. I place my other hand on his smooth, muscled ass, pulling him forward, helping him to thrust into my warm mouth.
He immediately stops and removes my hands from his body. I let them drop to the floor, and he holds my head still with both hands now. When he’s satisfied that I won’t try anything further, he resumes his slow thrusting.
He wanted a talented mouth-drainer, but my job could be done by a fucking watermelon. A little annoyed, I sit there on the floor and stare at his pubic hair. It’s neatly shaved into a triangle of tiny black curls. I look up, and see only the smooth underside of his chin. He’s staring straight ahead out the hotel window. From the 20th floor we have an amazing view of the neon lights of Zanzibar and the Eaton’s Centre. I can hear a tinny beat coming from his Apple earbuds. But whatever he’s listening too, its for him only. For me the only sounds are the traffic below, the buzz of the hotel air conditioner, and the smacking sound of his penis moving against my wet lips.
“Make your lips tighter,” he orders. They are the only words he’s uttered. When he thrusts in again, I let my lips curl inwards over my teeth, and then bite down on them, applying the tight pressure he craves. I can immediately feel the results. His cock grows stiffer, fighting against the pressure. “Good.” I can taste some salty precum now.
He’s been so steady he must be following the rhythmic beat of music. Only now he breaks from it, and goes faster. His movements become shallower and I feel him squeezing my head harder, ensuring him absolute control over his own pleasure.
Even as he thrusts, I feel him squirting his seed. I taste it filling my mouth, mixing with my saliva. He keeps going, draining the contents of his balls into his obedient fuck toy. The black man’s cum tastes nutty and delicious. When he finally stops, although I know he is sensitive, I don’t care. I’m just a lifeless toy to him, and he is just a snack for me. I bite down hard through my lips and pull up along his softening penis, so I can wring out every drop of my reward.
He gasps and flinches away as soon as I release him. Keeping his eyes averted from mine, he busies himself with buttoning up his jeans, buckling his belt up.
“Thanks for cumming,” I quip.
Without so much as a nod, he picks up his coffee and Tim Horton’s bag and leaves.
It’s not even 8am, and I’m standing in a hallway at the door of an apartment in Toronto. I fumble for my phone and double check the message.
“Door’s unlocked, u can come in and lock the door and come to my room and suck me.”
Heart pounding, I open the door. The bright sunny apartment is welcoming, but I feel like a prowler as I turn around and try to figure out the door lock. It won’t turn. I glance over my shoulder, half expecting a woman to walk out of the bedroom and start screaming. Finally I get the door closed by pulling it slightly while turning the deadbolt.
I round the kitchen island and can see into the bedroom. A pair of tan brown legs is sprawled out on the floor mattress. I get closer and see his cock and massive round balls. The thin 24yo asian guy smiles at me. “Hi,” he says.
Relieved, I take off my shirt and shorts and drop them by the bedroom door. I turn to look at him. Two years ago, back in Montreal, we’d chatted on Jack’d and he invited me over from my hotel. He liked my style, and I visited him each morning I was there there. Now I’m on a business trip again and we would pick up from where we’d left off. He is tall and slender, and just as I’d written, his balls are like a massive tennis ball. I collapsed forward onto the mattress and give them a sniff. I don’t think he’s showered yet. Wonderful! I give them a long lick, eager to taste his musk.
“Oh yeaaaahhhhh,” he says and shifts his legs to give me access to his scrotum. I lick it, and dig my tongue between the skin of his thighs.
“Better get that precum,” he says. I reach out and shift his cock, and see a slick drop oozing out of the slit. I suck on it like a lollipop, tasting the sweet salty flavour of his juices.
Suddenly his pulls his crotch away, getting up onto his knees. “Lay down,” he tells me. Having reviewed my story on the way here I’m excited to lay down because I know what he likes. I put my head into the dent of the pillows where his was just a second ago and wait.
He puts a knee over my chest and sidles up to my head. He grasps his dick and slaps my cheek a few times with it, smiling at the power he has over me. Finally he straddles my whole face and dips his massive ball sack into my mouth.
I lick it and my eyes drink in the curves of the most intimate parts of his body. He is small and lean, yet his butt has cute curves. I suck it and try unsuccessfully to get even one ball through my lips. They are too big. Instead, I lightly tease them and very slightly nibble the silky smooth skin with my teeth.
With a slight shift of his hips, he jabs his dick against my lips. “Suck that cock.” I open up and he stares into my eyes, gleefully watching his dick plunge into my mouth. He reaches behind himself and into my own underwear, pulls out my own massive hardon and strokes it with one hand.
“You like that?” he asks. “You want more?” He pulls out and then swings himself around, planting his butt in my face as he spreads his cheeks. I obediently stick out my tongue, and plunge it into his tight asshole. He gives a cute squeak of pleasure every time I do.
He shifts his body again, leans forward, and with one hand pushes his cock out and over my waiting lips. When we have contact, he lowers himself into my mouth again, and I feel my nose being smothered by his balls. At the same time I feel his soft warm lips around my own cock head. He gently sucks the tip, gingerly tasting it. I show him my pleasure my massaging his cock in my mouth with my tongue. He gasps with pleasure and my dick falls to my abdomen as he begins to fuck my face.
After a few moments, makes me get up and again takes my place on the bed, lying face up. I quickly get between his legs and start to suck on his cock, plunging it all the way in and out. I can tell he’s close now.
“You want to swallow?” he asks.
“Mmmm hmmmm,” I moan, not wanting to release it for a second.
“Oh yeaahhh, oh fuck, suck that cock,” he breaths, and then digs his elbows into the mattress, lifting his butt off the blanket, shoving himself further through my lips. I keep moving my tongue in circling motions, so even if he doesn’t move he can’t help but get stimulated. But then he starts to thrust his hips and I can taste more precum as it leaks from his dick.
I feel his hand on the back of my head, holding me in place. His body leans to the side as In the throws of by pleasure he’s able to balance on one arm as he frantically humps up into my face.
“Fuck man, suck that cum out,” he orders, as a second later his dick pulses in my mouth and expels the first blob of his seed. Quickly I plunge down on his member so he can feel the pleasure of shooting his load as deeply as possible. Only in the heat of the moment I had forgotten the secret of his massive balls. He quickly fills my throat and, unable to swallow with my mouth full of cock, I feel myself start to choke on his cumload. I sputter and mange to keep it down. Finally, his butt collapses back onto the bed and my head follows. I massage out the last drops with my lips as he lays there panting.
As I get dresssed, I tell him, “I’m real glad we could get together.”
“You know, I was just at your hotel visiting my friend when you snapchatted me,” he says.
“What what an amazing coincidence that you’re living in Toronto now.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I might move back to Montreal soon.”
I show up with my friend at the Garage on Church in Toronto on #FriskyFriday. My friend doesn’t drink, so I have a couple of beers while he enjoys some chicken fingers basted in suicide hot sauce. Frisky friday featured a couple of drag performers, but we quickly grew bored of them.
On my phone I Google “Strip clubs” and that a place called Flash is practically next store, so we pay our bill and leave.
We walk through the doors and immediately see a nude dancer on stage. The guard smiles and feigns blocking our view, motioning to the desk where we have to pay $5 to get in.
A performer is on stage, stroking his hopelessly soft dick. He’s bathed in red green and purple laser lights that highlight his solid abs, and he moves them smoothly to the music. He lays back and fucks the air before leaping up and gyrating around the pole.
“Just get some ginger ale for me, would you?” my friend says as I walk to the back of the place for some beer. There’s a line. Just as the bartender is pouring it my friend comes running up to me, panic in his eyes.
“Save me!” He says.
“What?”
“Did you see what happened?”
“No..”
Turns out that he had been propositioned immediately. A shirtless guy had introduced himself has Kevin, put my friend’s hand down his pants, licked his ear and asked if he wanted to fuck.
This place is a lot more interesting than the Garage!
One thing about the performers though, they are all soft! A dark skinned man with Jamaican hair performs. He has a small body, but is very strong. He pulls himself up the pole with one arm, suspended in the air. He dances, looking at me in the eye as he slowly pulls down his underwear, stroking his soft cock.
Soon he disappears and my friend and I discuss who is our favourite. We are complete opposites. He likes hairy white guys. We make a pact – we will both go to see what goes in on the back room.
The Jamaican comes up to me unexpectedly and my eyes light up, glued to his body. If you’ve been reading my adventures, you know that I can never resist Black. He notices and sits down beside me, caressing my arm like we’re old friends. “Wow, I was nervous up there! It feels like it was my first night, though I’ve been here three weeks.”
“Well, it’s my first time at a gay strip club. Anyway you were quite good,” I tell him. “I really liked it…”
“Really?” he says, moving closer to me.
“Actually, I’ve been wondering what goes on in those back rooms…”
“Only one way to find out,” he says grinning.
Right away, my friend, ever dutiful, spouts, “You should take him, you are his favourite!”
I nodd, setting down my beer. “Yeah, lets go.”
“Great!” the man says. “I just need to check in with the DJ.”
I follow him to the DJ’s closet and wait beside as he chats a bit. Two other shirtless performers move close to me but I motion that I’ve already made my choice. Then he comes out and leads me to the back. We go through the wooden doorway to the hallway full of stalls, past a sign that says it is $20 per dance.
“One please!” I said, going in feeling drunk and elated. “Just a taste, I’ve always been curious what happens in the back.”
“Sure.” He locks the door and turns to me. “Have you ever been with a guy?”
“Sure, a few on Grindr,” I say.
“What do you like to do?’
“Oral only…. Bottoming mostly. Orally.” I tell him. Apparently when I’m drunk I’m super obvious about everything.
“Oh wow, good to know…” he says, pulling me closer to him. My sweatered chest is up against his naked pecs, and I feel his cock, still soft but substantial nonetheless, up against my jeans.
I run my hands around his back and squeeze his butt. It feels like I could just slip my hands inside his expensive briefs, but I hold myself back, unsure of how far I’m allowed to go, what I’m allowed to do.
“That was one song,” he said, looking into my eyes mournfully.
Holy crap. “Well I guess I can go for TWO then,” I say. “Maybe you can move it around near my face or something.” I sit down.
He smiles and reaches a thumb under his underwear, gyrating his hips to the music. Somehow, as the music speeds up, it becomes clear than that he has a hardon, the first I’ve seen in this place.
I feel entitled, a little miffed that I’ve now spent 40 bucks to see this through his underwear, so I’m brazen. “Wow, I didn’t see that on stage!”
“Oh man I know, I wish!” he said. “But you get to see it here though. Yeah, I’m a grower!”
He isn’t kidding. He skillfully lowers his underwear just a little while I listen to the music. Is this still the same song? I can’t tell… I’m just mesmerized by his dancing. But he seems distracted now. This is not as fun as when I was pressed up against him, so why not?
I stand up again, embrace him and again we are grinding together. I gently kiss his shoulder, not wanting to push my luck with anything further. But I feel my hands move over his massive cock on their own. He is pushing his underwear down further for me.
“I haven’t been this hard at work before, so there you go.” he tells me in amazement.
I’m sitting down again on the bench, so I can get full view of my prize. And it is there, in full glory, a massive hardon. I tentatively move my hands over it, grasping it lightly, moving my hands over its huge head.
“So how well can you suck cock?” he asks me.
“Oh, I’m pretty good,” I say. But I’m not sure if this is an invitation. Maybe he’s making lighthearted conversation. What are the damn rules? For now I grasp it,
A single drop of wetness wells up in his slit as I slowly move it forward into my mouth, not touching it as he gazes down at me, muscles tensed in anticipation.
Suddenly I realize the song has ended.
“How many songs has it been?” I ask him.
“Four,” he says automatically.
Holy shit, was he just gonna let me go broke? “Well, that’s probably enough for tonight!” I tell him, reaching for my coat on the bench.
“Oh–” he says dejectedly. Then regaining his composure, suddenly he’s all business. “Do you need an ATM?”
“No, no I should be fine, I say, drunkenly rifling through my bills, the first two of which are only fives. “Do I pay you directly then?”
“Let’s make it 60.” he says.
“Yeah, yeah, great!” I tell him. I can’t wait to tell my friend what happened. But when I get there he’s gone. Oh shit, he’s not gonna know they don’t tell you when songs end… I hope he’s ok…
But after a minute my friend returns through the crowd.
“Where were you,” I ask, “Did you go with your favourite?”
“I was just in the bathroom,” he says. “When you left they kept coming over, so I went there to hide! But when I saw your guy come in I knew you were done.”
“Really?” I say. “That doesn’t make sense, he couldn’t have gone to the bathroom so quickly!”
“Yup he must have liked you, he was totally jerking off in there!”
I’m in Shanghai. My travel partner just left to go play League of Legends at an Internet bar. I finally have the room to myself. He’s my lifeline in this country. I can hardly speak a word of the local language, and nobody here can can speak English. But that’s not a problem if you can Google. In a few minutes later, I’m on Blued, the local app, chatting in one window with Google translate running in the background.
It isn’t until I post a picture of myself that my screen lights up. Here, I’m exotic. Everyone wants to meet with me and show me around. At my age, it feels wonderful to get so many notifications. I can’t even read most of them. Everyone wants me.
One stands out from the rest. A 23 year old. Eventually I work out that he’s actually two guys.
“You are 01?” he asks. A button right in the app translates it to English.
I quickly message my gay friend, who is still busy at the Internet bar. “What’s 01 mean?”
“Where did you hear that? What are you doing?”
“I just want to know.”
“It means bottom/top…”
“Oh thanks,” I tell him. Back to the other screen, I write in primitive Chinese: “I not 0. I not 1. I desire to give you mouth.”
The two guys still want to meet, but they won’t send a picture. I keep asking, but they keep saying the same thing.
“I am good. He is good. Will you meet us?”
“You first give me picture image, then I with you together meet,” I bang out in garbled script.
Finally, he sends one, a grainy picture of himself, eyes glowering at me for the indignity of being made to send a picture. The picture deletes itself after one second.
“OK. Come to my hotel very quick. I will meet you in the lobby.” I write back, copying and pasting from Google. I send a picture of the hotel logo on the ash tray, because without knowing their pronunciation,I’m unable to type the strange characters.
“No want. We come to your level. We are too embarrassed.”
I take a deep breath. They are killers. They are going to handcuff me to the bed and ransack the room, taking my cash and phone. That’s why they want to meet. This is so utterly stupid. My heart is pounding.
“Room 401.” I tell them, and lay back in the bed. I’m gripping my phone so hard, my knuckles are white.
Fuck. I’m addicted to danger. The thrill of it courses through my veins like a drug. I feel high. I jump up, and pace the room. Any moment, my buddy could come back and find us. Not that he’d care. We are the best of friends, but he only likes grizzled hairy bears. I almost want him to come. Maybe it would be safer. What have I gotten myself into?
I hear a light knock on the heavy wooden door. This is it. I check out the viewport, and see them, their distorted visage. The younger one is still glowering.
I open the door, and the two men flow in like a damn burst. The hair of one is slightly greying and he has a small belly. He drops his bag on the desk. I move back, standing by the bed, while they look around and mutter things to each other that I cannot understand.
The other man is much younger. He’s the one from the picture, but this time he is smiling. Unlike his “dad”, the teen’s tan skin is smooth and perfect. He looks into my eyes and, my cock stiffens. They come up to me, still talking to each other. The older man gestures towards the second bed in the room.
“Ni de peng you shenme shi ho hui lai,” he says. I recognize the word for friend, and when. They are asking me when my friend will return, I think.
“He’ll come back soon,” I tell them, speaking slowly and clearly in English. “We should have enough time.”
They look at me blankly. They don’t understand.
I have no idea how to respond. After a moment I grab my phone, start Google translate, and message my response in the Blued app. “My friend will return soon.”
When the teenager reads out his phone, the older man’s face flashes with a worried expression. They start to argue. The boy seems to plead with him and he gives in, finally turning to me with a half smile. “O K.” he says. “It O K”.
They are touching me now, running their hands over my body through my clothes. My eyes are locked on the teen’s body. The older man pulls up my shirt. I raise my arms and let him pull it over my head.
When I reach over to do the same, the teen he obligingly removes his shirt, revealing his thin torso and six pack. He sneers as he sees me drinking him in with my eyes, says something, and they both laugh.
“Wo xiang..” I begin.. speaking badly. I try again, slowly, to get the intonation right. “Wo xiang… gei… ni… kou.” I want to give you mouth.
They laugh again, saying something to me. I can only shake my head. I can’t understand them.
I’ve been ignoring the dad so much I didn’t notice that he had his cock out, and was tugging on it casually with with one hand.
He wraps his other arm around me, and grabs my ass, giving it a solid squeeze, before grabbing hold of my shorts and pulling them down. I help him and I am naked.
He says something and points behind me. There, sprawled on my bed is the teen, his beautiful body on display. I can’t even move. I’m paralysed staring at his body. His skin is a beautiful tan color. Two dark pink nipples sit teasingly on his smooth chest. The sides of his body curved beautifully inwards under his arms, down the sides of his belly and then out slightly at his hips, then down his thighs and legs. His soft ‘innie’ belly button looks tasty as hell. A ‘V’ shape formed nicely down to his smoothly shaved crotch with his rock hard stiffy pointing directly up at his belly. Six inches of hard, pink flesh was pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
I lean down and run my hands on the ridges of the teens rock solid abs. When he holds out his cock at me, I plant my chin against the hotel comforter and run my tongue up against his perineum. I can taste the sweat of the day, despite his shower. It’s 48 degrees outside, after all. I mouth the skin of his soft balls, and slowly make my way up his throbbing penis, already wet with precum before I let it slide through my lips.
He utters a low sound of appreciation as I engulf his penis and let his flavour ooze out over my tongue. Soon I am sucking it like a lollipop.
I feel strong hands caressing my back, making their way lower down my body. The older man bends down over me, and grips my own penis in his rough calloused hands, and starts stroking. This spurs me on, and I begin to bob my head quickly.
Now the teen’s hands fly to my head. I stop my movements and let him fuck, his ass grinding against the bed as he thrusts up into my face. In a moment, his dick pulses and I feel his load spurting out against the back of my throat. I try to help, but he is sensitive. He pulls it out and away from me, swings over and sits on the edge of the bed. I don’t want to stop touching him. I run my palm against his back, just to prove that he is real and this isn’t a dream.
His dad interrupts me, saying something incomprehensible. When I look up questioningly, he sidles up to me. With one hand on his cock, and the other pushes against my shoulder powerfully, forcing me to bend lower. I slide off the bed and onto my knees, and swallow, still feeling the thick gob of the boy’s spunk in my throat.
The man moves closer to me, slaps his four inch cock against my cheek. As he drags it across my face it leaves a slick trail of precum. When he rams it against my lips I’m forced to open up. He rests both hands on his hips, and thrusts forward, and I taste his cock.
I feel a warmth behind me, and soft hands closing around my body. The teen is kneeling behind me, and one arm reaches around my chest, and presses against my nipple, before pinching it. The hotel’s air conditioner can scarcely deal with the extreme heat outside, and I can feel the slickness of the boy’s body behind me. I’m trapped on my knees between the twin beds on either side of me and the man in front of me. I’m being embraced – no, held in place – by the boy behind me
The younger man grips my nipple, squeezing and twisting, and at the same time, I feel him grab my dick and start stroking it. I moan my appreciation, just as his dad grips my shoulders for leverage. He takes advantage of my open mouth and begins to thrust his cock into it.
He’s really determined to cum fast and hard. I can’t move. I’m being used, and I love it. With my mouth filled with cock, the boy’s hands quickly coax out my load, which drips onto the carpet.
It isn’t long before I hear the older one shout, “Wo YAO she le”. I ponder what that means, but then I taste the first drops of cum as they spurt from his cock. His body shakes, and he bends forward, almost pulling out as larger globs of sticky cum shot fill my mouth. I try to swallow all of it. It is bitter compared to the boy’s. He grunts, gripping the base of his cock, shaking it off, smirking down at me in satisfaction.
“Xie xie” I tell them. Thanks. But they clearly don’t want to stick around. They hurriedly get dressed again, before leaving as quickly as they came.
It is only later, when companion gets back that I realise that they’ve left their juice bottles on the desk beside our bags.
“You didn’t get any for me?” my friend asks. “What have you been doing, anyway?”
“Not much,” I reply, quickly using my foot to mop up the puddle of cum between our two beds. “Just planning some sights for us to see tomorrow.”
“Oh really. I thought for sure you’d be out having sex or something. That’s why I left you alone for so long!”
This is different. I don’t typically get a wristband when I check in to the Sheraton in Toronto. It seems out of place, and cheapens the experience. I look at the petite Chinese woman at the check-in counter quizzically.
“This is for your security, sir. This weekend we are not allowing overnight visitors due to an event.”
“What’s the event?” I asked.
She looks shocked, leans forward and mouths, “It’s the Pride parade.”
“Oh yeah,” I say trying to pretend I only momentarily forgot. This business trip was getting a lot more interesting.
Outwardly, I have always politely ignored pride parades. Inwardly, I used to loath them. Gayness, I reasoned, should not be flaunted. Why could they not suppress their urges, as I had? I had gotten along perfectly well, married a loving woman, had kids. It wasn’t too difficult for me to just keep this side of myself locked away. I kept my eyes up and away in the Goodlife change rooms. Sure, I had gay acquaintances, and made polite conversation, but I always avoided them otherwise. They made no attempt at self-control. I did not hate them, but I hated the unfairness that they saw no need to contain it.
That all changed a year ago. After I took some medication for depression, something inside changed. I felt confident. I brazenly fooled around with men, and it energized me. I fretted at my lack of guilt. It was if my conscience had been switched off. I could see things on two levels at once. Intellectually, I knew that was doing was unquestionably wrong, as I was committed to my wife. But as long as I was careful, it would not hurt anybody, and most importantly, it didn’t feel wrong. It made me happy, and gave me a spring in my step that she noticed and appreciated. My bitterness about our dead bedroom was gone. I was free to love and spoil her, in the nonsexual ways she wanted. What did it matter if I spoiled myself too?
I push open the heavy door to my hotel room, drop my things on the floor, splash some water on my face, and set off in the direction of the festivities.
The streets are barricaded for several blocks approaching Church street. The party is on the long street, the centre of the Toronto Gay Scene. Rainbow coloured and pink tented booths are set on on either side of the wide avenue, and the festivities stretch off endlessly in both directions. One booth offers free corn dogs, and these are easily deep throated by countless jokers. My weakness is poutine. For a moment, I rest my hand on my almost-abs under my thin T-shirt. Fuck it. I buy a container and dig into it with gusto while I slowly stroll through the throng.
Unlike the photos on the news, the people are almost normal. Some are topless, sure, but it’s a hot day. I only saw one thing extreme: A thin, bearded man, his leathery skin parched by the sun, walks nude with his flaccid dick dangling low between his legs. He holds a cardboard sign with his twitter handle scrawled on it in black marker. He enjoys the craning necks of the crowds that pass him.
A familiar face appears in the masses walking towards me. He’s brown-skinned and black-bearded. He walks, guffawing and joking with his arms locked around the shoulders of another man and a woman. He looks up, and when he sees me, his big brown eyes brighten. He grins, breaks away from the group and runs toward me, shouting “Hey. Hey! Don’t be a stranger!”
I smile, spread my arms and we embrace warmly. Back in University Town, while his boyfriend was away, I had sucked his dick many times, and most recently, I had made him writhe in desperation, aching for release in his shower. But I can’t really say anything. Is that his boyfriend there now, eyeing us? The moment passes, and we both continue on our way.
Further on, the crowd grows thick and hard to walk through. Fences confine us to the sidewalks. Suddenly my eyes widened as I see Justin Trudeau, just steps away from me. His aides usher him into a van. He suddenly brushes them aside, flashes his smile at a camera and speaks soundlessly into a microphone, getting in one last sound bite. He keeps talking even as the suits finally succeed in stuffing him inside and the van pulls away
The parade was starting now. A marching band playing trumpets and big booming drums marches past. Maybe if I were with friends, this would be fun, but alone it is just another parade. A group of black women, clad in black and gold march past. One is angry and shouting into the crowd with a megaphone. I leave the commotion, and make my way back down Church street. I have a plan, and it feels like the right time to do it.
If you walk far enough, the crowds disappear, and you get to an unremarkable street. In the middle of a long brick wall are some ornate wooden doors. They are marked simply with the words SPA EXCESS. I slink toward them, pretending that I am on my way somewhere else. A the last second, I pull one open and disappear inside.
I’ve been here before, but there was nobody around at the time. I successfully visited the bathhouse without touching anybody. Today, anything might happen.
Up the stairs, a small cashier’s window has a hastily written sign above it. This weekend, it says, there will be no student discounts. Business is good. I wait awkwardly, ashamed in my own skin, while the clerk lets a couple of guys exit before he gets to me.
“I’d like a locker, please.” I shove a crisp twenty dollar bill towards the window. The clerk expressionlessly hands me the key and the small white towel. I take a deep breath and duck in through the door, head down. The bar area is never busy. A fat, bearded man sits at a table, reading his iPhone. He’s wearing nothing but the skimpy towel. I feel conspicuous. I’ve got to get out of these street clothes.
I head past the bar to the stairs. It takes a couple of tries before I find the floor where the lockers are. All around the room, slowly changing rainbow lights illuminate bubbles coursing through plastic tubes. A hot stud is seated there, taking off his shoes. The black light makes his skin purple and his teeth and towel light up like torches. I quickly find my locker in the meagre glow. Without looking at the guy, I quickly take off my shorts, shirt, and boxers, and carefully wrap the towel around myself, and shove my things into a heap in the bottom of the box.
I head upstairs. In the staircase, I pass a tall and blonde haired guy. He looks at me hungrily as I hurry past him.
Upstairs is where the people are, but so are all the walls. A central hallway divides the floor. To the left is a corridor of private rooms. To the right is an opening into darkness. Guys are everywhere., walking briskly through the halls, not speaking, trying not to look at each-other. Dance music blares from the speakers, but it is not enough to drown out the sounds of gasping grunting pleasure from somewhere.
I slowly walk down the central hallway, so I will not look lost. The only one with clothes is an employee. He sits on a stool reading his phone. In front of him on a small table is a basket of condoms and lube.
Just past him is a bathroom, and further on, the other entrance to the maze. The screams are louder here. I turn the corner and enter. Just around another bend is a small alcove, lit with red lights. A small crowd of guys sit on boxes around the edges, looking dour. In the middle, a guy is in the sex swing, screaming rhythmically as he is fucked. The top holds onto his legs firmly, concentrating on his task while the others watch and wait their turn.
I suddenly feel weak and scared. I continue around another corner, leaving the cries behind me. It’s darker here, and there’s a bench, so I sit down.
The only light comes from a long, narrow window in front of me, looking out onto some white tiles. As I watch, a man comes up to the window, pulls out his cock, and pisses on it. It’s one way glass, and this is the bathroom I saw coming in. I watch as another dick comes in and empties into the trough. This one is dark skinned, cut, and very thick. I try to imagine the guy from his crotch. In a moment I am stroking myself, and the towel lays on the bench beside me.
“Hi,” a voice comes from the darkness, and I bolt upright and fling the towel over my penis. The voice came from an Asian man, standing and blocking me into my little corner. He is well built and has defined abs. Only a wisp of grey in his temples belie his age.
“Come, let’s go to your room,” he tells me.
“I don’t have a room,” I tell him. “And I uh, I just like to suck.”
“It’s good. Let’s go,” he says, pointing somewhere outside.
“No I’m OK,” I tell him.
“What you mean?”
“Well I’m a little concerned about STIs…”
“It’s fine. I clean!” he says enthusiastically gesturing to his crotch .
“No.” I say firmly. “I’m good for now.”
The pushy Asian rolls his eyes and disappears into the darkness.
I take a deep breath. I’m flustered and I need to walk. I rush through the rest of the maze now.
The walls feel bumpy. They are just made of plywood, coated with layers of black paint over
layers of use over more layers of paint. I stumble out into the hallway, and keep going. Now I”m in the room section.
Most of the doors are closed or only half open. I peek inside one, and see a large bottom, pointed at the door, its owner’s head buried in the pillow. “Come in,” I hear his muffled voice beckon. I quickly move on.
In the next room, I see a young brown man lying on his back, reading his phone. His cock sticks up into the air, and his balls hang down over his shaved crack. The sight turns me on. I keep going. When I get to the end of the hall, I glance back, and see his head sticking out of the room. He quickly ducks back inside when I spot him.
I circle back around and lazily make the route again, and this time when I arrive at his room, I take a breath and duck inside. The man couldn’t have been more than 20. He lazily lay back on his bed, knees spread apart, looking sexy as fuck.
“Hi there,” I tell him.
“Hey bud, you party?” he asks me, barely moving to face me.
I pause, not knowing how to answer. “By party, do you mean marijuana?”
He chuckles. “Yeah.”
“No sorry. I just wanted to see if you wanted a blowjob?”
He looks down at his cock and laughs at me. “I’ve been here since Friday,” he tells me. “I’ve fucked so many guys I can’t count. No way, I’m taking a break!”
He spots something on my hand.
“Hey man you’re married?!”
“Yeah I am,” I admit.
He looks agitated, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t be here!”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
He grabs my wrist, looks at me in the eye, pleading. His pupils are wide as platters. “You gotta be careful bud. People lie.”
Ashamed, I jerk free from his grip and leave his room, closing the door on him behind me.
So far this has been terrible. I’m all tense now, so I head downstairs to the spa.
I hang my towel and key on the hook and hope nobody steals it. A muscular black man is showering. His robust rear is facing me. I take the faucet across from him, and try to look at him as much. When he’s done wiping his face, I spin my head back so he doesn’t see me, close my eyes, and imagine his body. It is a pleasant picture.
I’m nude, and it feels strange as I walk past him, dripping wet, to the hot tub. A couple of guys are in there already. One is watching the TV, and the other leans back against the tiles with his eyes half closed. I strut past him, showing off my body, and slowly lower myself into the hot, surging waters. I find a spot on the side, where I can see the TV, and relax as the jets massage my lower back.
When I look back to the entrance for the black guy, instead I get a shock. There, staring at me, is the pushy Asian. He makes no move to get in. When he catches my eye, he backs away, and disappears into the other room again. Fuck, I feel like I’m being followed. To make sure he’s gone, I watch vintage porn on the TV for a while longer. The other two guys quietly leave before I start to get too hot, and pull myself up onto the tiles again.
I quickly shower off again, trying not to think of the hundreds of loads that must have been dumped into that water. Beside the shower is another door. I open it and peek inside. A blast of dry heat hits my face, with the scent of cedar and cleaning chemicals. I’ve stumbled into a sauna. At the other end, a group of four guys stand around. On the bench, a guy lies on his side, awkwardly getting fucked. He lies at this awkward angle because another man grasps his head, making him suck his dick. It is quiet here, the only sounds are the slurping and sliding of flesh.
One of the men sitting the bench spots me. It is the pushy Asian again. I duck out of the room. I find my towel on the hook and dash up the stairs.
I’m wandering through the darkest part of the maze. In an open area, a large structure with steps lets you climb and look down at the floor below. I climb it, but there is a bald man at the top, so I tip-toe back down. As I walk around the structure, I see eyes peering out. The men have a hiding place, where they wait for their prey, beckoning them to connect. I’m constantly adjusting my towel, pulling it tighter around myself. I feel so vulnerable and out of my element. I have no idea what I want to do. It’s thrilling.
Someone stands in my way, lightly grasping my arm. We’re so close, I can feel his hot breath on my face. I’m looking into the eyes of my Asian friend.
I feel a rush of anger. Reviews of the spa consistently complain of pushy Asians. I thought this was merely racism, but now it’s confirmed. Everything I’ve read in the Bathhouse Blues blog says this is a massive breach of etiquette. I’ve rejected him already and he should move on. I open my mouth to tell him so.
“Suck me,” he says.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
He clasps my hand, and turns, briefly surveying the place. This is his territory. He leads me away, through the dark hallways. We pass the window to the urinal without pausing, and head straight toward the sex swing. I wonder what I will do if I have an audience.
At the last moment, we swerve to the side. He opens a door, peeks inside, and motions for me to go in. The space is a closet, with barely enough room for one person. I enter and crouch before him. Everything darkens as he stands in the doorway, and half closes the door behind him. As I look up at him expectantly, he lets down his towel.
I can barely see the outline of his erection. I let it sit against my face, and then, heart pounding, I stick out my tongue and lick his soft ballsack. They smell like the soap in the spa area. Slowly I let my tongue explore,. while his penis rests against my nose, threatening to reach my eye. I try desperately to catch a glimpse of it, but I cannot see any signs of disease in the darkness. Finally, I open my mouth and let it slide in through my lips.
He moans and rests his hands on my head while I suck him to hardness. Soon, I am bobbing up and down on his cock and he is moaning louder and louder. I wonder, how often does he come here? He came after me so casually. I imagine he gets his cock sucked right here in this closet, every single day, just by asking and being shot down over and over.
He grabs his cock and slaps it against my lips, staring down at me in complete comfort. Then he lets go, and I’m forced to resume the bobbing.
“I cum soon,” he says.
I look up at him and keep on sucking. I live for this.
“You swallow?!” he exclaims, thrilled. Then, grabbing my shoulders, he thrusts with a renewed vigor. I feel the smoothness of his cock sliding and hitting the back of my mouth, sometimes scraping against my molars.
“Ooooooh,” he groans and thrusts into my mouth, and I feel him exploding onto my tongue. The man is shaking as an orgasm blasts through every muscle in his body.
Then, without another word, he wipes off my spit with the towel and deftly ties it back onto his body, and he is gone. The door swings shut with a creak, almost hitting me in the face.
The fun is over, and I think I’ve had all I can take.
When I open the door to leave, I am taken aback. There, waiting patiently, is the muscular black guy from the shower. He stares straight at me with his deep set eyes, and it is clear that he has been waiting in a queue of one for his chance to be with me.
I back up into the closet again and beckon him to come in with me. He saunters up and drops his towel. Tiny curls of black hair cover his nether regions. He positions himself in front of my face breathlessly, then looks on with anticipation. His penis is so long, it dangles downwards even while erect.
I run my hands along the smooth, black skin on his legs, feeling every hard curve of his brawn. Then, eager to please him, I engulf his tremendous penis between my lips.
I love the taste of black. I suck in a huge breath, pulling his musky scent into my lungs as if I could consume his manliness and make it mine.
I’m still carried away from the blowjob I just gave, so instead of giving him the buildup he deserves I immediately begin to suck and bob my head. I cup my hands under his balls. Their weight is like two massive ball bearings in my palm. I slide my hands around to his ass, and let my fingers dip slightly into its crevice, admiring the hard muscularity of his body.
I can taste his precum, delicious and sweet, and I try to with futility to force more of it down into my throat.
Inexplicably, he tears himself away. I am stunned, and I almost want to cry. What did I do wrong? The man cock disappears into the towel, out of reach. I look up into his face, searching for an explanation, but I get none. With a turn of his body he is gone, vanishing behind the dark wall into the maze.
I get to my feet, and stumble away, grimacing at my numb legs welling with pins and needles. He just didn’t want to cum yet, I tell myself. Maybe he just got here.
As for myself, I’m done. I walk purposefully down the hall, back towards the locker room. There are fantasies, and there is stupidity, and it’s too easy to give in here .
Back in the locker room my Asian friend is closing his locker. He’s already fully dressed in his shirt and Chinos.
