Okay– I don’t do this very often but I’m gonna blog about sex. Sex that I had. Ridiculously Hot sex. At a Toronto bathhouse.
So if you don’t want to read explicit depictions of yours truly doing graphically homosexual deeds– stop reading now.
Consider yourself warned.
Okay- so there are a few bathhouses in the gay village in Totonto. One of the more popular ones being “Steamworks”. This is actually a franchise and there’s one in Chicago (and SF/Berkley and other US cities).
Anyway– my conference let out way early today and I was thinking “What to do… What to do…?” When I suddenly found myself walking to the Village with purpose. The purpose of visiting Steamworks.
For the bathhouse uninitiated, there are wet areas like a locker room (showers, steam rooms, jacuzzis, saunas, etc) and there are individual rooms for “rent”– basically just big enough for a single bed.
And then there are “dark” areas for doing “dark” deeds. Areas like mazes, gloryhole booths, sling areas, communal lounge areas with couches and gay porn playing, etc.
Guys arrive, get undressed, wrap a towel around their waist (for modesty!) and then wander around looking for a connection.
Also for the uninitiated, you probably think it’s like just one huge orgy of sexy debauchery with piles of bodies doing… Everything. And I suppose sometimes (rarely) it can be.
But mostly it’s a lot of standing and walking around and trying to look fetching in a small white towel while hoping you’ll meet someone interesting who is interested back. With whom you can then have fairly anonymous, freaky circus sex.
This can be a lot of work and can be very ego crushing.
It’s very similar to being in a singles bar. You have the unattainable hotties, the trolls, the druggies, the shy ones, twinks, old guys and the average joes. All trying for a pickup.
But unlike the bar you are even more vulnerable being mostly naked, and then add to that the very real chance of being rejected by guys that don’t find you worth even an anonymous mouth fuck. At a place that is supposed to just be for sex.
And all with no alcohol to numb it.
Anyway, so I find myself in this very position. In a towel, wandering the bathhouse, searching for… Something. Someone. Hoping to find a hot guy who will do dark deeds in a dark corner. With me.
Then I see him. Not just a guy… the guy. Casually leaning against the wall, where the half light catches him just so.
He is so definitely my type. About 6′ tall. Close buzz cut dark hair. Stubble. Broad shoulders and chest. Thick legs that are a bit furry. Stocky but not fat. And not too gym-perfect.
I can’t tell what, but he has a hint of an exotic look drives me wild. Faintest olive completion. Angular nose. Full lips. Eyes like sex.
I pass him in the hall and make eye contact. And look back after I pass– he’s still looking. I pause and we lock eyes for several seconds. Then I continue on (I have to play a bit coy, right?) I make another loop, but I can’t find him.
Time passes and I can’t find the handsome stranger anywhere. He’s probably found something better. And now I’m back to square one.
Then I round the corner to the central couch/porn area. And there he is. Sitting by himself and stroking himself through the towel. He smiles a sheepish, yet sexy smile. I smile back.
I sit down– two cushions over. I don’t want to presume at this point. There’s porn playing, but I’m only watching him. Him stroking his now visible (and impressive) cock.
I join him– stroking myself too. And I can see he is not watching the porn either, but had his eyes cut over to watch me.
I look up at his face and he meets my gaze. Then he flicks his eyes to the cushion next to him. I pick up on the subtle invite and I slide over.
We still aren’t touching at all, just now masturbating in close proximity. And then he flicks his eyes to his cock while taking his hands away. And I slowly reach over and touch him.
He doesn’t recoil. Quite the contrary, he arches his back and and sighs and his thick cock flexes in my hand. Fills my grip with silky warmth.
As I stroke him slowly, he reaches out and gently brushes my nipple.
Aside: my nipples are like the gate keepers, and if a key master plays with them, then the gateway to Gozer opens and all hell breaks loose.
My reaction to his touch is immediate and intense. So he leans down to tease my nipple with his mouth and tongue.
And then it’s on. It’s on like donkey kong.
The next thing I know I’m on my knees in front of him sucking him like I’m a drowning man and his cock was the snorkel.
And the man had a beautiful cock! Thick. Rock hard yet silky smooth. Veiny. Probably about 7.5 inches and perfectly proportioned. With a slight, graceful curve up toward his belly button.
He kept playing with my nipples and I went into overdrive. Then, while still sucking, I reached up and brushed his– and was rewarded with a whimper and his cock jumping and flexing in my mouth with every tweak.
Then he grabbed under my pits and hauled me up into his arms. I looked into his smoldering, half-lidded, hazel eyes… and then he kissed me. A deep, soft, wet, passionate kiss.
I think I heard a slight “pop” and caught a whiff of ozone as all my synapses short-circuited.
After that we were like two teenagers on a basement couch. Only much more naked. And caught in the act by our parents, only the parents don’t stop us, they just watch us while masturbating.
I honestly was so focused on him that I didn’t notice the crowd gathering around is. We humped our dicks together as we made out. He sucked my nipples, I sucked his. I sucked his cock. He sucked mine while fingering my ass.
We finally came to our senses briefly, and that’s when I noticed the others. Like eight other men seated nearby or standing. All watching and jacking.
I whispered to him that we should continue elsewhere. He agreed. So we got up, gathered our towels, and went in search of our own dark corner.
We found a booth of sorts, that had a convenient fuck bench in it. We made out some more and I finally said, “So, what’s your name?”
“Mosheh,” he says. But with his accent I only half catch it.
“Etes-vous Francais?” I asked, taking a wild stab.
“No, not French Canadian. I’m Israeli, Mosheh Is the Hebrew version of Moses,” he says with a smile and that lilting accent.
And my knees literally got weak.
Israeli men are in my top three fantasy fucks. Well, all middle eastern men, really, but especially Israelis.
His jaw and neck were then claimed by my mouth and he moaned softly. And then our mouths were on each other again. (Fuck he was a great kisser!!)
“You need to fuck me,” I tell him. “I need you in me. Now.”
“Okay,” was his reply.
He left the booth to grab a condom, and was back in a flash. We had lube, and soon I was bent over then bench with him teasing me with his beautiful dick.
And then he was in me to the hilt.
I sucked in air sharply at his thrust and moaned loudly he asked I I was ok. I grunted out that I was (although it was a lot of cock and I wasn’t fully relaxed yet). I wasn’t about to have him pull out, though. Hell no! I was gonna be the best piece of ass I could possibly be for him!
He grabbed my hips and slowly began to fuck me. Bent over a fuck bench. In a semi dark booth. In a bath house.
And it was incredible.
Before long we were getting loud and I was bucking back to meet his every thrust. That’s when he pulled out abruptly and commanded me to get on my back.
Oh yes sir!! Anything you say sir!
I did as I was told, we relubed, and then it was back to fucking. But face to face, where we could tweak nipples and kiss and hump like mad.
I’m not gonna lie– it was awkward as hell. Yet this make it somehow all the hotter. The bench had an angle to it, which put my head down below my hips. My legs were propped up against the boot walls, and my head sorta hit the wall with every thrust.
Fuck, I didn’t care.
By the end we were going at it hammer and tongs and getting LOUD. Like “I don’t give a fuck while giving a fuck” loud. I may have even started speaking Hebrew, I don’t know.
All I know is that he finally came with me working his nips (and my ass) for all I as worth, and I came seconds later with him fisting my dick.
After the orgasm subsided, we started giggling a bit as we realized that again we had an audience as our animated sex had unlatched the door and it had swung open. And guys were watching.
We closed the door and made out for several more minutes. Then, once composes, we left the booth and hit the showers.
We chatted amiably while we cleaned up, and then we dressed and went our separate ways. After a lingering kiss, of course.
And now, as I write this. I am completely kicking myself for not trading cell phone numbers. Or email. Or any goddamn contact info.
In my addlepated sex haze, I didn’t even think about it. And this is my one regret from going to the bathhouse.
I’m so stupid. How can I find him and trade information now? A missed connections ad? You: hot Israeli at Steamworks. Me: dumb Minnesotan that let you just walk away.
And I’m sure he probably has a boyfriend or wife or someone significant in his life and I was just a convenient fling. Plus he lives in Toronto– and I don’t.
But damn, he sure was good sex. Sex I’ll remember for a long, long time.