A drunken, straight man finds trouble in the steam room.
I sat in the steam room, thankful for the solitude. I was totally fucked up on too much booze. It was two o’clock in the morning, and I was in a hotel in a strange city. I had struck out with the local ladies up in the bar, and was now trying to sweat the booze out of my system. Ten beers, four whiskeys and eight shooters.
It was dark in the steam room; the only illumination came from tiny red LED lights. I stretched my legs out across the aisle, reaching under the bench across from me. Clouds of steam were rolling up from little holes near the bottom of the wall. The steam blanketed my feet and legs, even my crotch. I lay my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.
I must have fallen dead asleep, because when I opened my eyes a guy was sitting across from me. He looked about eighteen and he was out of it, leaning back against the wall, eyes shut. Another casualty of the bar I expected. The guy had dark hair falling across his face, thick girl lips, and was as scrawny as they came. Skinny legs, sunken chest, thin arms. His biceps displayed barb wire tattoos. I laughed to myself. The smallest arms I had ever seen. The guy was as white as a ghost. Fucking Casper. Probably a faggot.
Why did the idiot need to sit across from me?
The whole damn steam room was available. Whatever. I closed my eyes and forgot about the idiot.
When I felt a gentle touch against my foot. Strangely, my cock began to stir. I had been thinking about those women in the bar. And I was drunk. I opened my eyes and looked at the newcomer. Casper the faggot. He appeared to be asleep. I looked down at the floor, but couldn’t see our feet in the mist. The idiot must have shifted his foot.
I closed my eyes again. When I felt the same touch, except this time, right up the inside of my calf to my knee. My eyes flew open. The fag still appeared to be asleep. What the hell?
The steam was getting thicker, climbing up near my chest. Sweat was pouring off my head, my torso, my arms, my legs, everything. I was ripped and glistening. A true Adonis, unlike the pathetic specimen sitting across from me.
Just then, the door to the steam room opened. Two huge guys sat down just inside the entrance. Bodybuilder types. They sat and began to shoot the shit. They didn’t even bother looking down to my end. Why would they?
As I turned back, I felt something run up my thigh, come to rest against my cock, and press. I was shocked! My cock began to flush. What the fuck!
“Hey!” I said.
I couldn’t see my crotch through the steam, but the faggot was wide awake, smiling. He put his finger to his lips for me to be quiet. My alcohol soaked brain realized it was his foot pressing against my cock. And my cock was getting hard! Fucking stupid booze.
The faggot stood up, loosening the towel around his waist. He stepped towards me. I tried to push away from the wall to stand, but I was dead drunk. With a flick of his hand, the faggot dropped his towel. The towel bunched around his crotch, but didn’t fall. The steam was swirling, thick and hot. My mind was swirling in booze, thick and hot. The scrawny faggot shook his hips, dropping the towel to the floor. He was as naked as I was, and holy shit, his cock was hanging there right in front of me!
The faggot stepped towards me, and instinctively I moved back, away from his nakedness. My head cracked against the wall and I saw stars. I thought I would pass out. I began to smell something really weird. A chemical smell. I had never smelled anything like this before. My head began to swim. My body temperature rose even higher. The sweat poured off me. I began to hear a thump in my skull. My knees buckled, it was a damn good thing I was sitting. My arms went limp. And my cock was strangely hard.
I felt hands caressing my skull, the spot where I smashed it. The hands ran through my thick hair, slid down my heaving chest and found my nipples. I moaned aloud. I heard the faggot shushing me quiet, but I couldn’t help myself. My cock began to twitch as it filled. I was losing myself. What the fuck was happening?
Expert fingers continued to work my nipples. I was falling into a strange surrender. I moaned again, loudly, startling myself, except this time, the faggot bent down and quieted me with his lips. He had placed his lips on mine, and I was moaning into his mouth.
The fag was kissing me!
And my god, I was kissing him back!
I could hear our mouths come together. His lips were soft and thick. His expert finger work on my nipples opened my mouth wide, and the faggot pushed in with his tongue. My arms would not move. I could not ward him off. I felt his tongue probing, penetrating me. I was helpless to stop this sick, gay shit.
“Fucking faggots,” I heard, above our moaning and kissing.
I was stunned. I was able to twist my head enough to see the two body builders leave, in obvious disgust. As was I. The pounding in my head began to weaken. My heart rate began to settle. The faggot stepped back. The steam around us was gone. Holy shit. How long had we been kissing? Ten minutes? Twenty minutes? Certainly long enough to clear the steam. Fuck sakes.
The body builders had not only heard us, they may have even seen us.
Kissing another man. Disgusting.
It was time for me to crush this little fucker and get the hell back to my room.
I was about to get up when I smelled the chemical again. I also felt a glass object up against my nostril. Then the other nostril. The chemical smell was twice as strong as the first time. What was it, some kind of drug? What was this faggot doing to me?
The rush came immediately, pounding my skull, weakening my limbs, straining my cock.
The faggot took his own hit, and then placed the bottle on the bench. With the steam gone, I could clearly see his cock. His rising cock. His long, thick, pale cock. Jesus Christ, the shaft was at least eight inches in length. I felt hands on my head, guiding me forward across the slick bench. My ass slid, and I tipped off the bench, landing on my knees with a thud.
Before my fucked up eyes, the faggot’s bell began to thicken. His cock looked so out of proportion on his undeveloped teenage body, a giant club swinging between stick legs.
I tried to push away from him. Nothing happened. His cock was now pointing directly at me, inches from my face. The faggot had the bottle back under my nose.
“Breathe in, cunt,” he commanded.
I had no control of this situation, so I did. Within seconds, black dots began to fill my vision. My cock pounded between my legs, stretching up, rubbing against my six-pack. I felt a caress across my nipples and I opened my mouth to moan.
“Open your eyes bitch,” came his next order.
I did, my eyes barely slits. I saw his cockhead quivering. I had to admit, the thing was fucking impressive. Bigger than mine. Thicker. The fag’s cock was better than mine. Shit. This was hard to digest. How was this possible? How could this fag be a bigger man than me? How fucked up was this? How fucked up was I? For the first time in my life, I felt small. Weak.
The faggot let go of my nipples. Reached down and grabbed my hands. Moved my hands to his ass. Pressed my hands firmly on his ass. Fuck, his ass was so small and so tight.
Christ! What was I doing!
My hands were on this faggot’s ass. And I was kneeling before him. And he was in total control of the situation. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Time for you to eat,” the faggot said.
I felt him moving towards me, his giant swollen bell leading the way. Was I actually pulling him forward, with my own stupid hands?