Tales from the Baths (One)

Cleveland, OH—January, 2013

I made excellent time, avoiding impending snow, as I left New York.  The moment I crossed into Pennsylvania it hit.  I crawled through Erie but the weather cleared as I crossed into Ohio.   By then, I‘d had my eight hours in the car and found a motel just outside Cleveland.  I ate.  Over coffee, I realized I needed ass and the local bathhouse seemed the logical choice.  I was close enough to downtown that it would be an easy trip.  I needed to fuck and to breed—the things I had been missing most of those weeks in New York.

The bathhouse is so big that it feels empty, even when the parking lot is fairly full.  I walk the halls, my combat boots clomping in the narrow spaces.  I have a towel—but it’s on my shoulder.  I have worn an old jock that shows every curve of my cockringed dick and balls.  I am advertising.  And it seems to be working, from the appreciative stares of those I meet.

I make the circuit one more time.  A bubble butt has caught my eye.  He’s in one of the larger rooms.  He’s lying on his stomach, legs slightly spread, his ass arched.  He’s handsome.  Or handsome enough with that butt.  He is looking over his shoulder.  I bat my hand across my pouch.  He nods.  I go in.

“Shut the door.”  Damn.  I’d liked to have showed off, but fine, I do what he asks.  I kneel on the bed.  I tongue his hole.  Soft.  Velvety.  He’s pre-lubed with Boy Butter.  My cock has sprung out of the ragged jock. 

“You want this in you?”  I ask rhetorically, slapping my cock on his upturned ass.

He reaches back and feels my cock.  He grunts, reaches under the towel next to him and says, “No, with this.”  He is handing me a very small, pink plastic dildo. 

I just look at him.   Finally I grease and insert.  He moans like it’s the biggest thing in the world.  While I twist it in, he reaches back under the towel and lays out a slightly bigger one.

“You can’t expect me to take one this size.”

But I do.  I know he wants it from the way he says it.  I grease up this 8 incher while the small one is still in place.  I pull out the small cock and work in the next one.  He moans.  My cock is the next logical size up.  I slather some Boy Butter on its red head and jerk it as I twist the 8 incher into his clenching hole with my other hand.  His hand is groping under the towel again.  A 10 incher materializes, and is placed across the small of his back.

“You can’t expect me to take one this size.”

I rap the base of the one in his ass with the back of my hand.  He jumps.

“Don’t use this next one on me.”

But it’s already in my hand, being greased.

“You are gonna take this with no problem.”  I pull the 8 incher out and toss it up by his head.  “Open up.”  I slap his ass.  He grunts and his hole contracts.  My fingers dive into his butt—and then are right there to guide the thick 10 incher into his ass.  He bucks back.  And as I guessed, he can take it without a whimper.  I work it slowly up him until the bulbous plastic balls are resting against his gorgeous mounds of flesh.  I watch and wait.  Yup.  There he goes.  A 12 inch double headed cock—this time in black—is pulled out.  I take it from him.  I grease it up.

“You can’t expect me to take one this size.  Please.”

I pull the 10 incher out.  His hole is so pliable now, I can insert this slightly thinner cock into him without any effort.  Two inches.  Four.  Half.   I push and it slips in easily to about 10 inches, so just the last bit and the thick helmeted head of the other end stick out of his ass. 

“Oh, God.”  He grinds his crotch into the bed.   I wonder if he’s coming.

I pull the plastic from his ass.

“Now here’s the real thing.”  I slap my cock against his butt cheek.  He pulls away like I have stuck an electrode up his ass.

“No way,” he spits out.  “That’s the real thing.”

He’s not acting now.  He’s serious.

I sigh and pull out the double headed dildo.  Maybe a little rougher than I might have.  I toss it on him.

“Have fun.”  And I walk out the door.

 

(To be continued…)