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.
