Arriving right at the bathhouse's opening time on Tuesday, the sky dark enough to think that rain would be arriving soon, the entrance was busy. 5 stacked bundles of the latest edition of a free local gay magazine were outside the door. Going in, before I could mention the delivery, a man with a blue t-shirt that read "I like face fucking - ask me" brushed by, picking up a bundle, returning inside to drop it off.
Going into the locker room, several men were already in various stages of undressing. Accessing my locker wasn't really possible, leading me to realize my black helmet was still in my hand. Returning to the counter, I handed it over with a smile, acknowledging my forgetfulness. Returning to the lockers, one of the men that had been in the way had left, with the man that had come in immediately after myself now next to me, already undressing.
As is generally the case, I'd gotten my boots, jacket, and clothes off and stowed quickly, only wrapping the towel while walking towards the bar. I drank the customary beer, surfing a French amateur site at the corner PC, before going down to the whirlpool.
Two men were in it, so I left my towel and bag on a lounger under the aquarium, and quickly showered.
The central fountain had stopped in the meantime, making it simple to move into the space between them. As it turned out, the man on my left was the one that responded to my overtures first, his foot accommodating mine as it slid along his leg. Looking at his cock led to noticing how his right hand had begun to slide over its invitingly expanded length.
It took little time for us to move closer, my hand finding his swelling cock while he shifted on the bench. Legs pressed and slid, hands explored, without inhibition, enjoying familiar games with a stranger. We began to jack each other off, barely noticing as the other man left.
At some point, the bench's jets started, making us settle into different positions. The pulsing currents make gentleness difficult, and the splashing tends to be distracting. Minor points as we stroked, gripping a stranger's cock, his other hand playing with mine. When the central jet restarted, it seemed like very little time had passed.
Shifting again in response, he put a leg over me, resting on the bench. It was easy to slide my cock against his thigh while my left hand played with his ass as he stroked himself.
A third man entered, distant from us, followed by a fourth. The latest whirlpool visitor sat to the left, with the other man's leg forming an outer barrier to him pressing against my naked body. A barrier that the new man seemed slow in grasping. He was direct, not quite clumsy and not quite rude, but seemed unaware of why he was unable to slide himself closer into the games a pair were enjoying.
A situation that only slowly resolved itself, resulting in both men playing with my dick as I stroked each of theirs. My original partner left, fairly abruptly, only to be quickly replaced by an older man. During that interval, the other man had begun to climb over me to an extent, again not exactly rudely, but it took a bit of effort to prevent any awkwardness.
Admittedly, we were both turned on, and when cock to cock, a man's tongue gliding over my ear is always welcome. Just as my playing with his quite erect nipples was welcome, his sexy moaning noticeably loud. When the other man sat down, I twisted around a bit, my hand soon finding his cock. Going from a twosome to a threesome is part of a bathhouse's appeal, but the man on my left seemed less enthusiastic, at best half-hard, regardless of what I did.
After several minutes of mutual jacking, me thoroughly enjoying their shared attention, the man to my left again forced himself against me. Only the fact we were both rigid provided an acceptable excuse for such behavior. Cock to cock again, his tongue licked my neck sensuously, while I started exploring the top of his ear with my tongue. Soon, our mouths met, tongues darting and sliding as he held my cock against his.
Breaking the kiss, lips close to my ear, he said "Want to go upstairs? I can dress first."
The question was unexpected, causing a somewhat befuddled "What?" in reply, cock pumping harder against his, providing an excuse for my lack of focus.
"I could dress - like a woman. With panties, bra, and camisole. Upstairs."
"OK" I replied, surprised a touch at agreeing, along with being surprised that this was the first time I'd been so propositioned. Not that it was a strange area, precisely, having lived with a crossdresser and his wife a couple of decades ago. I'd enjoyed his bi and tran porn immensely while living with them, though he never expressed any interest in playing such games with men. Not that I hadn't seen a number of Polaroids taken with wife, including her using a coil vibrator on his stiff rod as he wore a wig and frilled dress.
Nonetheless, apart from getting off several times to some of his bi porn, it had remained one of the more minor kinks of those I'd enjoyed over that couple of years. To be honest, what made their pictures memorably erotic was his unshaved naked wife, sucking him, or playing with the vibrator herself, lost in orgasm. And a couple of dildo shots, with her in garters and stockings.
Returning to the present as his hand slid over my aroused cock, he looked at me closely, withdrawing into the middle of the whirlpool. My hand slipped from his ass as he moved away, breaking contact, allowing my mind to focus on what might happen upstairs.
He stepped out of the water, me following, both of us still hard. I picked up my towel and bag from the lounger, while he retrieved his things from the cubbyhole. The situation remained tentative somehow, odd in light of how horny we both clearly were. It was easy enough to follow him upstairs, noting that several men were lounging in chairs around the spiralling stairs. At least one looking at us go upstairs together, attracted by the fact that both of us were still erect. It was a strange experience being so obviously aroused, as planning to have sex with another man still being something that has only occurred a couple of times here in such fashion. At least in such public form, outside of the areas where public sex was the enjoyable norm.
After several years of regular visits, I'd gotten off in basically all of the available upstairs booths, along with the public porn theater space and darkroom. As a result, apart from the 2 porn booths, to me, they were all essentially the same. The porn booths are not always better - it isn't as if all styles of gay porn appeal to me, though watching porn while getting sucked is something I can't resist indulging in, whether in public or private.
Picking the booth at the top of the staircase by noting it was bigger, he went in first, waving to invite me in. Spreading my towel next to his, I concentrated on getting out condoms and poppers, leaving the camera covered. Finished, looking around, I saw he had a larger bag, and there were a couple of condoms on his side. He had started talking as I stretched out, naked, my hand returning to my cock, studiously not looking as he dressed, turned on by the thought of how he could observe my horniness.
"You're the professor, right, from last January?" A bathhouse is a place for anonymous sex; false assumptions on someone else's part have never been a concern of mine. Oddly, the fact that I did not have to even decide about silence or information was quite liberating. Answering "Why not?" seemed to satisfy both of us, as he kept dressing.
His hand began to stroke my leg, teasingly sliding higher, prompting me to turn around. He was dressed in thigh top black nylons, a light grey pair of panties that enhanced his bulging cock and balls nicely, and a darker grey elastic camisole, with silver highpoints in the material. The second pair of black straps over his shoulders seemed to belong to a bra, which to my silent relief was neither foam padded nor frilly.
I rose, hands seeking his nipples as he lowered himself on the platform, finding that they were indeed covered by a bra. Dress up never really appealed to me, having always been much more interested in naked reality, but this was truly the first time that someone had offered me the chance to at least explore a kink shared by any number of men.
The fact that he already believed me to be someone else added to the attraction, offering the freedom to play however I wanted. It wasn't as if he was the first man I'd known who was interested in cross dressing. Including the fact that a man dressing like a woman pretty much still looks like a man - with the reality that a hard cock is a great indicator of just how turned on someone is, regardless of what they have on.
His hand found my naked extended cock as we began kissing, tongues moving wetly, soon settling his panty clad cock against my jutting erection. He began talking, saying how he was bisexual, married, providing for his children, followed by explaining how much he enjoyed a couple of hours at a gay sauna. As did I, of course, this conversation just making me hornier. And much like how the lack of a camera was not problem at this point, I decided not to talk about wives, tempting though the thought was to talk to another man about fucking. Oddly, the idea of keeping this encounter purely male seemed appropriate in the growing sexual fog surrounding my thoughts.
A hand found my nipple as another stroked my cock, lowering himself next to me. "Do you like me in nylons?" he asked. Of course I answered yes, my rigid cock being a plain indicator of my horniness, if not precisely my sincerity. Nylons tend to be the sort of thing I find best removed before sex, though a turned on partner is certainly more desirable than a mere clothing preference.
It took little time for both of us to find several mutual interests.
"Am I a slut?" he asked in a husky voice, lips close to my ear.
"Of course you're a hot slut - sluts are what make bathhouses so good to visit. I love sluts"
"Have you ever done this, get off with a cross-dresser?"
