My other recent bathhouse travel experience was to a male only sauna in a much larger and more international city considerably north of where we live.
I had read about it on the net, and after doing a bit of something resembling research, had a grasp of changed details within a familiar setting. Like fees for private rooms - the sort of spaces freely available at the bathhouses and porn complexes I have visited required payment here. Or how Thursdays, women were allowed in.
Something that became at least possible for me to experience if I spent another night away from my wife, which would be easy. I even told her about potentially extending my trip, without mentioning a precise reason. Though after reading a bit more about how those Thursdays seemed to work, which was not that attractive - a few women, at best, and far too many men. Male only sex means there can never be too many men, while couples seems the best way with men and women in a place where public sex occurs. At least for my general inclinations.
Arriving a day before my planned meeting, finding the bathhouse was simple, quite convenient to my hotel using the subway. The entrance area was actually smaller than what existed at home, and it took a couple of minutes for the attendant to buzz open the door. The dressing area was fairly large, with benches to use, the lockers more than decently sized.
I returned to the extensive bar area near the entrance, drinking a bottled beer, after having been asked if I wanted a glass with it or not. The rear space was filled with small tables and round cushioned chairs, a selection of reading material, and just a couple of men. All of us wearing nothing but towels.
The number of new arrivals was minimal, but I knew that being near opening time in the early afternoon is often like this. I went back through the locker area, and found the saunas - one steam, the other Finnish - along with a hot tub, and an open space with three showers. Deciding to enjoy the jacuzzi first, I showered, then walked up the steps until descending into the water.
The circular hot tub was empty, and quite warm - the perfect place to relax in after sitting in the train for hours. That it remained empty was a bit of a surprise, though not one I minded. It was certainly not larger than the one at the bathhouse I visit regularly, and its molded plastic construction was considerably less enticing than the tiled octagon I'm familiar with. On the plus side of the balance, it did not have an overly energetic fountaining phase.
After soaking for a good quarter hour, I stood up, and went into the steambath, which was lit with a red fluorescent light against one wall. A couple of men were in the damp space, that I briefly explored. The room only had a couple of fairly small bench spaces, one facing the red light, the other on the opposite side of the shared wall, in shadow.
While wandering through the unlit walled spaces, none very dark as the top of the dividers were roughly head height, a man brushed my cock, making me stop moving and draw my breath in anticipation, letting him slide his hand against my thigh, over my sack, touching my eager cock again as it grew. I reached for his cock, finding it already half hard as my fingers began to play with it.
We both got hard quickly, and when his tongue found my lips, I couldn't resist meeting it as we kissed, each playing with a stranger's hardening and horny cock. Both of us knowing exactly how good what we were doing felt, overwhelming any concerns about enjoying pure male sex, especially knowing that here was a place intended exactly for men like us. When his finger found my nipple, I leaned against him, completely enthralled.
Another man approached us from my left, his cock hard when my hand began to stroke it. The first man's hand began sliding over, and then delightfully between, my ass cheeks, making me moan. And then turn slightly, to give him a better position to reach my balls as his hand kept pumping my cock, pre-cum already working its familiar magic.
But when the other man began to slide his uncovered cock over my skin, it was clearly time to firmly set a border of what I do freely and what I don't let any stranger do merely because they want to.
It was a slight surprise how much effort it was to first simply stop what I did not desire in the least, as I had no condoms with me at this point. Whose use is a very basic rule I follow very strictly in what remains a clearly uncertain environment. Exactly the same as always riding with a helmet is a fixed rule.
Finally breaking free from what turned out to be unwanted attention from both of them, not quite forceful, I left the steamroom, showering the sweat off before exploring downstairs. Much like the bathhouse I visited last year in the next, larger city to the north along the highway, the feeling was a bit different from my normal standards - pushier, essentially.
Downstairs was essentially empty, having several rooms without doors along the wall facing the staircase, and two corridors running back. One side included two slings, a porn room, three open gloryholes, all dim but not truly dark. The slings were sturdy, of well worn leather hanging from solid chain. I stretched out in the first one I discovered, towel still covering my middle. The sling was very solid, different from another sling I had been sucked off at a porn shop-laid years ago, when first discovering the simple joys of male sex.
This led to recalling of someone complaining on a forum about a woman's flesh somehow spoiling the manliness of 'his' sling at this bathhouse, which has admitted women since something like 2009 on Thursdays and Fridays. Reading it, the entire text seemed a bit silly, if not overtly stereotypical somehow. On the other hand, having now experienced its actual touch, though the opinion was still silly, it was at least somewhat understandable - this sling had the feeling of being made for men by men, black leather and gleaming metal.
Walking further, exploring the other corridor, it was clear that something like a third of the space at this level was devoted to private spaces, those requiring payment. Blank and uninteresting, in large part because the reality of public group sex is what makes a bathhouse so irresistible to me - till now, I have never gotten off with a man in a private space at one.