“You know that’s not my thing, Phillip.” He said, shifting forward, hands planted either side of his thighs. “But thanks,” he chuckled.
The towel he had draped over his lap was folded inward, making him laugh. He did not try to adjust the towel.
“I suppose other guys have asked you the same thing,” I said, returning the chuckle and covering the momentary embarrassment of asking. It was now out there. It was over.
Through the steam, he glanced at me. “Couple of times I guess,” he said, nodding and looking away.
“One of them. The other was a guy from… it doesn’t matter. No one like you and Janice though.”
“I just mean, conservative, I guess.”
His eyes drifted to my feet, my knees, the abs, arms and shoulders he’d created, my eyes, then away and forward again. Involuntary spasms caused me to thicken.
“Are we conservative?” I asked, almost wondering aloud.
“I’ve been to your house, remember? Yeah,” he snickered, his back arching powerfully, stretching, chest swelling, continuing the exposure; pubic hair shaved tight, dramatic tan line, the base.
His eyes caught my attention and he moved on, collapsing in the steam, the long, relaxing ropes of muscle.
“So,” I said, shifting in the heat, “We do legs tomorrow?”
“Yeah, if you’re up for it. Tomorrow’s leg day.”
We inhaled the hot, humid air and felt beads on our skin.
“So, you never … took anyone up on their offer?” I said.
He continued to look forward, into the thickness surrounding us, with his large, sculpted foot shod in flip-flops set firmly on the tile flooring.
“Yeah, I did.” He said. “That was a bad idea.” He began rocking slowly back and forth, the towel on his lap slipping by fractions of an inch down his tightly muscled thigh.
“What happened?” I said. I adjusted my growing erection underneath my towel and removed my scrotum from my thigh.
“I wasn’t at my best.” He said, exhaling. “I like guys. I mean she was beautiful but the whole thing just ended up … frustrating. I wanted him, but that wasn’t happening. He may have been feeling down but he was not there with her. I think she would’ve freaked a little.” A knowing glance. “And then it just ended.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Plus, I lost a client. It was a bad idea. I should’ve asked for money. As a prostitute. That would’ve changed things I think.” He said, almost musing. “I could’ve fucked her for money.” A level gaze on me now. “Plus, I think he’d have liked it. Paying for it, I mean.”
As a smile appeared on his face, he raised one eyebrow. “You wanna pay me to fuck your wife?” He chuckled and looked away, rocking slowly. He drank his water bottle.
Now, his cock was visible and lay between his legs on the towel. Was it getting too difficult? It had to. The top of my chest was filled with blood pressure as I drank from the water bottle.
“We’re already paying you.” Cool, measured, watching for a reaction.
“As a trainer.” He said, the indignation thinly masked. “But she hasn’t been around in weeks.”
“She knows what you have. It doesn’t matter what mystery it may have held, she just saw it. Remember when she saw it?”
“Oh, I remember.” Something nervy, dismissive in the corner of his mouth.
“She came home and told me about it, like someone who just met their favorite celebrity.” I said.
He turned to me to acknowledge my words. His gaze then slipped away.
“And now she’s embarrassed.”
“That’s not on me.” He said.
“Well, it’s a little on you, don’t you think?”
He did not say anything. He rocked slowly.
“She’s not embarrassed that she wants you.”
I saw his eyes again.
“She’s embarrassed that she wants you and can’t have you.”
“So now you have to fix it?” He said, studying his long toes as they flexed and contracted against his flip-flops.
It looked vibrant now, full and long. The perfect mushroom. It had a wide head, which was delightfully out of balance with the shaft. Janice wanted it.
“We actually have a bet.”
His attention was immediately drawn to me.
“I bet her I could turn you.”
“Oh, yeah?” He said. His jaw relaxed. He stopped rocking and leaned against a wall. He wanted to appear casual and impassive. He tried to make his lips crease with a unconvincing smile, but it failed.
“Well, not by paying you.” I said.
Slowly, I started to rock in the heat, with my hands on the tiles near my thighs. My erection began to tent the towel above my legs. It caught his attention. He relaxed his jaw and slackened it again. He forced his nostrils to open, and he rubbed his scalp.
Minutes in the heat.
“Are you getting hard?” I said.
He looked straight forward. He did not say anything.
“Looks like you are.” I said.
“You too.” He responded.
“Why you think?” I said.
“Why what?” He said.
“Why do you think you’re hard?”
His cock was now stiff between his legs and hovered above the towel below him in a gentle arch as if it was floating on the shaft.
“You know.” He said, looking forward, his jaw flickering between tense and slack.
I stood, his eyes on me, as he remained against a wall, resisting, sweating in rivulets, following the channels of His form.
“I’m going to shower, clean up, cool off then come back for round two.” I said, as I walked toward the door. “What have you got going on?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He said, leaning slowly forward, covering himself.
I was cold when I went to bed, and my erection became a small sleeve of skin in a nest full of thick, dark brown pubic hair. I froze, cut the water, and cooled.
I wrapped a towel around me and began walking toward the steam room. As I drank deeply from my water bottle, I took in the view of the surroundings. A towel was wrapped around his neck and he was sitting outside the steam room, looking at his phone. I took two towels off the rack and placed them on my shoulder. He sat down next to me.
“Good shower?” I said. “Wash everything away? Clean? Pure? Ready to sweat again?”
He lifted his head and turned toward me slowly, pulling his eyes from the adhesive on his phone. I was struck by two huge, bright blue orbs. They were perfectly spaced beneath a strong, straight eyebrow that framed his aquiline nasal. The corners of his eyes showed tiny muscles that contracted almost imperceptibly. The surface was cluttered with urgent thoughts. My diaphragm was roused by a sprite electrochemistry.
“Make sure you hydrate.” He said, a dimple appeared and faded in the hollow of one cheek like a trick of light.
“Always important.” I raised my bottle and sipped.
“Especially at your age.” He said.
Friendly and different, his lips were framed by thin concentric arcs that fram his mouth. His gaze softened to something close to tenderness, and he was greeted with dimples. Momentarily innocent, like an open door on a summer night. Secret, but not private.
As I nodded and grimaced, he held my eyes with both of his. While I was drinking, his eyes moved quickly over me.
“Well, it’s good to know you care.” I grinned.
His expression was now serious and his eyes were wide open, a sign of deep curiosity.
After a half-beat, I took his gaze and shifted down to the fresh white terrycloth that was stretched tightly over his legs. I sipped again, and used the loud plastic snap to punctuate the conversation by closing the lid.
“Ready?” He said.
As the steam room door closed behind me, I could hear him exhale. I was there to follow.
As I entered the room, a steam-soaked towel-covered old man stood on his feet and pushed me past. A second man, an older man, was leaning forward trying to find a center of gravity that would allow his body to stand. As he shuffled away, I held the door open to let Jason and me remain alone in the thick steam of eucalyptus-flavored steam.
As I entered the room, I pulled out a towel from my shoulder and stopped in front of him. He looked up, resting his head on my hands. He was almost hard again and exposed. I leaned forward and put my foot on the bench near him. It exposed my thickening hair. As I moved closer, I began to slowly twist the towel as a bread tie until it reached my throat.
His eyes scanned the room. The door. Fixed on me.
“I can give you what you want.” I said.
I grabbed the towel with one hand and pulled him together, feeling his resistance diminish as we grew closer until our noses met.
“What do I want?” He said, in a voice not as confident as he intended, a quake of ripples in his jaw as he fought for control.
I wrapped the towel around his neck and pulled him back against the wall.
I took the towel off my waist. He was focused on my erection. I was full hard, his eyes focusing on my erection. As I wrapped the towel around my legs, I lean forward and reach down between his legs. He leaned forward, his head pressed against the wall, and his eyes were fixated on me as if he was looking at the Mona Lisa.
“Funny thing about that.” I said, as I began to stroke him to the root. “The gap between getting what we want and knowing what we want is where we spend our lives.”
I moved my face within inches of his and let go of the towel. Blood was flowing again.
“False starts, mistakes, regrets.” Slowly twisting again. “Surprises, love, ecstasy.” I could feel him swelling in my hand. “That’s the madness, the joke, the secret we carry around inside but can’t decipher.” Slowly, I stroked.
I touched his lips. He was swollen, wet, and slippery from sweat. I could feel the heat on his breath.
“The only way out is generosity.” I breathed the words into his mouth.
His tongue touched my lips, then he licked them. We exchanged pleasantries. Then slid away.
I moved alongside him, keeping him in my grip. He had a leash around the neck, and he had a leash between his legs.
“Do you think I know what you want Jason?”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on me, and his hands behind his back, he stiffened his legs. I continued to gently stroke his slippery length.
“You think I can give it to you?”
“Can you give me what I want?” I twisted the wet towel at his neck.
His eyes seized for my sex. He nodded.
I sat down and studied his cock. It was so close. I reached under the head of the engorged man and squeezed the fluid from the tip with my hand. I gently pulled at the frenulum, his throat, with my thumb and finger, pulling the towel tighter.
His throat was full of a strangled moan, and muscles were rigid. His body started to flex. His cock began spasming and swelling. I bent the towel so hard that I could lift my mouth above him.
I swallowed maniacally.
I’m an erotic fiction writer and I publish stories in all the usual places.