My story Tangiers Beach was the first thing I've ever put out on public view as it were and I really didn't know how it would be received especially as I'd failed miserably by cutting and running. However, so many guys wrote to say how much they enjoyed the story so I'll take a chance on telling some more of my experiences. Again I'd like to emphasize that this is all for real. In those days, before the scourge of AIDS, we did things that would amount to suicide today. I was lucky, a lot of guys weren't and paid with
their lives. Should any of you wonder how I could have such good recall of times past the answer is that I kept diaries, in detail, well hidden. First in note books, then on floppy disks, big 51/4 inch disks which held an amazing 360Kb, a whole years worth of screwing around on one disk! And I've transcribed those notes on to each subsequent generation of removable, and easily hidden, storage.
A couple of years after the encounter I described on a Tangiers Beach I converted on to 707's, and started having layovers in faraway places, New York City for one. That's where I got turned on again by men, for real this time. I guess my favourite city was NYC. What can I say about it that hasn't been said so often and so much better. Well it was, and is, unlike any other city I've ever been to. It's a world of its own. For the first two or three layovers I walked the streets in awe, especially when I happened upon places that had long been familiar in films or TV programs. One of the things I noticed was the magazines. There were all the familiar titles like Playboy and its imitators, with the usual scantily clad girls on the covers, but then there were others which had men on the covers. This was before the debut of Playgirl, and I'd never seen anything like them before. Maybe they were available in Amsterdam or Frankfurt at the time, but definitely not in
Britain. Now at this time I was straight, like the rest of my colleagues, so straight I bent over backwards. (Years later I discovered one who bent forwards, he did for me, but that's another story.) Apart from that guy in Tangiers, who in fact may not have been gay, I had never met a homosexual, or "fucking queer" as we all referred to the miserable sods. I still wasn't sure exactly what they 'did' to each other. Were some always on the receiving end, like women? Or did they swap places? But I knew they were queers, and definitely disgusting. However, for some reason that I could not have explained, those magazines fascinated me. I wanted to look inside, just a look. Would there really be photos of naked men? I mean totally naked. How much would they show? Full frontal showing everything? Perhaps these magazines were really for women. Or could they actually be for queers?
Playboy and Penthouse were just beginning to show pubic hair on their pin-ups, but of course what was hidden by the hair didn't show. But with men any shot taken from the front was bound to show the cock. Now, I wondered, if they showed cocks would they be hard or soft? I had to have one of these magazines, but it was a long time before I had the nerve to buy one. I went a long way from the hotel, to Grand Central Station, during the rush hour. It had to be busy so that the stall keeper wouldn't have time to look at me,
and I could get lost in the crowd with my filthy purchase. Then I hurried back to my room and devoured it from cover to cover. I was amazed, shocked. It was for men, and it was all open, up-front and hard too, just like it was natural! Having plucked up the courage to buy one I knew I could do it again, provided it was rush hour in Grand Central. On my next trip to NYC I bought another. Soon I was buying two or three every time I was in the States. At first I was ultra-cautious, always hiding the brown paper bag inside my raincoat, or under another purchase, but gradually I became more blase. i was taken by surprise one day when I met a colleague going back up in the elevator in the hotel. He looked at the paper bag which obviously contained a magazine and made a joke about one-handed reading. I am sure I must have blushed, I stammered something about a hot-rod kit-cars. H asked if he could see it. Luckily for me the elevator stopped at my floor at that
moment. I stepped out promising to leave it for him at the airport when I was finished with it. Of course I had to buy a copy of the hot-rod magazine to leave for him. After that I went back to hiding my purchases again. This went on for a few months, I jerked off looking at the pictures of all those magnificent cocks and balls, but I wasn't just in a closet, I was in a shoe-box hidden at the back of a closet.
Around this time there had been a few movies released, the first of the soft porn I suppose, which claimed to "SHOW ALL." I'd been to at least three, with colleagues. I've no way of knowing what they'd hoped to see, but I will admit that I went in the hope of seeing a guy with a full erection. Some hope! No erection, not even a glimpse of a cock, nor any realistic fucking either! Also around this time something happened, and looking back I guess it was pivotal point of some sort. We were in Chicago. I suppose I should explain that the Trans-Atlantic flights all arrived in the late afternoon to early evening, and as a rule the whole crew would gather in one room, usually the skipper's, for a drink, or two, or three, before heading out on
the town. We had gathered as usual, but none of us knew the city well except a navigator who was who'd been flying to the Sates for many years, he knew Chicago well. He suggested various pubs, and then just as an afterthought added that he knew of a gay bar, which was very close by. He was I should add anything but gay, in fact he was a regular lady killer, they all fell for him! I have no idea why, but everyone was enthusiastic about going. I must admit that I had doubts about going into a gay bar, four guys and six women, just didn't seem right. But there were no other dissenters, so off we went. We were extremely well treated by the staff, nor did I detect any resentment from the other patrons, and this in a strange way made me feel worse about going. We were voyeurs, interlopers, no question about it. They could have been rude, or thrown us out, or worse, but they were perfect gentlemen. The others I'm sure were looking at these guys as freaks, but deep down I was looking at them and wondering what would it be like if I was on my own?
The next day I was speaking to one of the girls and she expressed exactly the same feelings as I had had about going. "We shouldn't have gone, it was gross, that was their world and we should have stayed out of it."
That was the truth, but it had opened a door in my mind, I'd seen a glimpse of the forbidden, and I never forgot. I still remember a song that was played over and over on the juke box, don't know the name but the refrain was, "Come on baby light my fire." That night started something smoldering in me, and it never went out.
Eventually, after months of reading magazines, I worked up the nerve to go to a gay movie, at The Hudson if I remember correctly, on 42nd Street in Manhattan. After the previous disappointments with porn films I didn't have any very high expectations so you may imagine my surprise as I walked into the darkened hall, there filling the whole screen was a close-up of a man's cock and balls! So clear, so close, I was stunned. The cock wasn't hard, it wasn't completely soft either, swollen I suppose would be the word. But in those days there was no action, just one guy on a bed, or chair, his hand just caressing his stomach, or brushing against his cock and balls. It was incredibly exciting to see close-ups of men's genitals, but what puzzled me
was that they never got erections, nor did they ever pump on their cocks. Sometimes as they moved on the bed their balls would slide across their inner thighs, God they looked so good! On my third or fourth visit, when I was totally engrossed in the movie, the guy in the next seat put his hand on my crotch. It came as a complete surprise, a shock, I almost lifted out of the seat. He felt my hard cock straining at my pants. My heart nearly stopped when he felt for the zip, but I did nothing to stop him as he pulled it down, reached in and dragged my cock out. Nor did I resist when he unbuckled my belt, and the button at the waistband, then spread the opening wide. I could hardly breathe. This was so much better than jerking off alone with the magazines. I was on the verge of coming, but the cum would have gone all over my pants, white ones. The stains would have been obvious and as I was heading home next morning there would have been no chance to wash and dry them. He wanted me to go to the men's room, but that was more than I was ready for. I didn't go.
I hurried back to my room on a high, a man had touched my cock! I'd let him do it! He'd felt my balls too! I'd let him touch my most private parts, hadn't resisted, just let him do it! I spent half the night jerking off
thinking about what had happened. Not long after that, on another visit to a movie, I felt a man's cock and balls for the first time. It was strange, he was hard too, to my hand his penis felt exactly like my own, same length, same thickness, but the sensations that were flooding out of my cock were caused by what he was doing to me, not what I was doing to the penis in my hand. I remember reaching for his balls, he let me take them. I squeezed, this was too much for him, he nearly lifted off the seat, and yet, even at this early stage, that is what I wanted him to do to me. Neither of us ejaculated, me because I was too nervous to entirely forget that I was in a public place with a lot of guys all around, in his case probably because of
my incompetence in hurting his testicles.
I saw quite a few films: did a lot of reading. A couple of years after I'd first bought a magazine one of them had an article about the Continental Baths which had just been refurbished, and The Club which had recently
opened. Both looked really luxurious. I could hardly believe the pictures: men lounging around, dancing on a disco floor, in the sauna, diving into the pool. All stark naked, all relaxed, nothing hidden, no shame. There was a write up about the steam-room in the Continental. I'd never been in a steam-room, but my imagination ran wild. It was about eight in the evening, I was lying on my bed in the hotel.
'Wouldn't it be wonderful,' I thought, 'if I could go to such a place.' By this time I'd been fondled many times in the movies, often the guys had tried to suck me off in the seat, or asked me to go with them to the men's room. I never could I relax enough to let them bring me off in the seat, nor had I the nerve to go with them. Now here was my chance to go the whole way. I remember thinking, 'What would it be like to be naked with other men, totally naked. Not just some guy's hand fumbling around in my jeans in the dark. Not in fantasy, but for real, for all to see.' I was getting hotter by the minute, I knew I had to go. 'What about going into that steam-room? That would be just incredible! What might happen in there? Would the guys be satisfied with my cock, or would they want more?' When I got into a stewardess's room I didn't go for a bit of heavy petting, I wanted to fuck. I'd read enough about anal fucking that I wasn't shocked by the idea. In all those stories even straight guys with virgin assholes had been really turned on by being fucked. 'Would I be seduced? Or raped?' I didn't know. In the stories there was a bit of pain then shear bliss, that couldn't be too bad. Up until this point in my fantasizing that's all it was, just fantasy. Then it occurred to me that I could do it. In fact the only people in the city who knew me were crew members. If I met one of them, well he could only be there for the same reason. If we had sex together then neither of us could tell tales. With that thought I got up and got dressed, quickly before I lost my nerve.
I decided to go to The Club. I knew my way around the subway very well by this time and had no trouble finding The Club way down at the southern end of 2nd Avenue. I went in the front door, up a few steps to the check-in. Behind the glass screen was a beautiful young man.
"Membership number?" he asked as he pushed a clipboard towards me. I explained that I wasn't a member. "If you're not a member you'll need to get someone who is to sign you in." I tried to explain that I'd only just arrived in the city, I knew no members, but I'd really like to join. It didn't move him in the slightest, in fact he just turned his back on me, the interview was over! I retreated more than somewhat downcast. I'd psyched myself up to the Nth degree to get here only to be rejected out of hand. As I made my way back to the subway station I felt really low, but then in the train I remembered that there had been two baths in the article. I couldn't remember the name of the other one, but I got out of the train at 42nd Street and bought another copy of the magazine. There it was, The Continental, on 74th & Broadway, just a short ride on the 1, 2 or 3 train. I was feeling good again as the train rattled north, but the nerves started winding up as I came out of the subway at 72nd. Just two short blocks north and I was on 74th. Now I was really getting wound up. I walked slowly along the street looking for numbers and came upon it almost immediately. Too soon, I wasn't ready, so I continued on to the end of the block, not far, but I was back in control. Or so I thought. Coming back down the block I could see the Continental from a distance because these buildings all had a few steps up from the sidewalk, a stoop I believe it's called. But the stoop in front of The Continental was enclosed in a black wooden structure, so that the front door was right at the edge of the sidewalk. I tried to time my arrival at the black door when there was a gap in the pedestrian traffic. It was looking good until the last second when a group of young men came out of a shop, I'd have to walk up to the door right in front of them. Couldn't do it, kept walking to the end of the block.
The third time around there was just a middle-aged couple coming towards me as I neared the target. Too bad, I doubted that they'd know what went on behind the black door. I walked up to the door and pushed it open. I was in a small lobby, large glass window on the right behind which a check-in clerk was taking the money and handing out keys. At the far end of the lobby another black door, a wooden one, no glass pane, no way of seeing anything beyond it. I was relieved to find that there were three or four men waiting in line, that gave me a chance to have a look at them. They seemed quite normal, cheerful, that was encouraging. It also gave me a bit of time to see the list of accommodation available: lockers, single rooms and double rooms. I think that was the choice. However, I still had no idea what to expect if I was allowed in. Was everyone stark naked? Again I wondered if I'd be seduced? Or would it be rape? I don't know why I didn't back out at this stage, but something kept me in line. I suppose it was the fear of seeing myself as a failure, as someone who fantasized but couldn't carry it out. I decided to go for the single room, cost a lot more than a locker, but I liked the idea of a safe haven to retreat to if I needed it. The clerk taking the money didn't seem to be asking for membership details, just pushing a clipboard across the counter for the guys to sign in. That was better than The Club. As each guy picked up his key there was a loud buzzing of an electric door control. One by one they pushed on the black door and disappeared. I craned my neck each time to see what I was getting into. Didn't see a thing, couldn't get any idea of what happened inside. By the time I got to the front of the line I was shivering violently, shear nerves. When I tried to speak I almost lost my voice, had to clear my throat before I could ask for a room. The clerk thrust the clipboard at me, I saw that I had to print my name, and sign too. I didn't want any record of my visit so on the spur of the moment I wrote a fictitious name, then foolishly signed with my normal signature. The guy couldn't have cared less, I suppose he was
used to men signing in as Donald Duck. I was shaking so much that I fumbled with the money and dropped the key. Then came the raucous buzz of the door strike. I had to go in.
What I saw as I stepped through the black door was a great relief. Most of the guys were wearing towels around their waists, although some just had theirs draped over a shoulder, hanging down the front of their bodies partly covering their genitals. I felt better already. A really beautiful young man stepped up to me with a towel draped over one arm, his hand outstretched to take the room key. He was stunning, only about 5' 5" tall, boyish build, short blond hair, the bluest of blue eyes, and wearing only the tiniest pair of hot pants I'd ever seen.
"Please follow me," he said. I'd have followed him anywhere. Just inside the door there was a lobby; to my left a staircase going down to a basement; to the right one going up to what the Americans logically call the second floor. I followed him up the stairs, just a few steps below him and from step to step caught sight of the cutest, hairless balls being nudged from side to side as he climbed. He stopped at a door, opened it, and held his hand out with the key and towel. I fumbled for some cash, pulled out a five dollar bill, way too much for a tip, but I gave it to him anyway. His smile was reward enough! They were called rooms, but really they were cubicles, enough space for a single bed and a locker. The 'walls' were just partitions, only about seven feet high, so that there was a three or four foot gap between the top of the partition and the ceiling of the building. I soon discovered that it was possible to hear everything that was going on in the rooms on each side. I am sure there must have been some 'glory holes' too, but I didn't notice any that first night.
From the moment that I had decided to go to the baths until the door shut behind me I had been running on auto. If I'd stopped to think about what I was doing, even for a second, I'd have chickened out. Now, alone in my cubby hole of a room, I had time to think and the whole enormity of the situation sank in. This wasn't just a bath-house, not a place men came for a bath, or to relax, it was a high temple for homosexuals. There were hundreds of them just the other side of the door and I was going to go out there wearing nothing but a towel. What might it lead to? Would I be seduced? Scorned because my cock and balls weren't big enough? Raped? It seems strange looking back on that night, I really didn't know what I wanted to happen. I hadn't decided whether I wanted to suck or be sucked, fuck or be fucked. I'd just decided to go to the baths, had no plan, didn't know what I was getting into, I just knew I had to do it. I stripped off, but I had a problem. All the guys I had seen were very relaxed, casual, and soft. We'd passed several guys on the stairs, not a sign of an erection, not even a bulge under the towel. I had a raging hard on. I decided to lie on the bed for a while until I calmed down. I thought about what I had to do the next day, where I'd go, worked out the exact routing, by bus, and subway. It worked, my cock drooped. But as I reached for the towel, up it came again as strong as before. I lay some more, softened…and stiffened. This wasn't working so I decided to try and hide my dick by tying the towel tightly around my waist with the head trapped under the edge of the towel. That's when the second problem became obvious. The towel I had been given was so small that it only just went around my 32 inch waist. No extra to twist into a knot. If I tried to wrap it around my cock as well the ends didn't meet at all. What would any reasonable guy do in the circumstances? Go back and ask for another towel, only I wasn't acting rationally. Maybe I was afraid that the guy at the desk would think I was scared of my cock and balls being seen, that I didn't have the nerve. At last I hit on the idea of folding it diagonally, that effectively made it longer. I had in effect two over-lapping triangles, where the two points hung down it gave quite effective cover. I wrapped it around my waist trapping my cock head over my left hip bone. It wasn't long enough to knot the ends properly, but by twisting them over and over I managed to get it to stay in place. Looked pretty good. Then as I was about to open the door I realized that my ass wasn't covered at all. If I moved the towel around to cover my ass my balls were out in the open. There was no way that I could cover both my ass and my genitals at the same time. I settled for hiding my erection, that was the biggest problem when all the other guys looked so cool. So, about an hour after I checked in, I was ready
to step out of my closet.
All went well for the first few steps. I started down the stairs. There were a lot of guys coming up, one of them brushed against me. My dick broke free as my towel fell away. I was covered in confusion, but nothing else. I struggled to get the towel back in place. Couldn't do it, my dick kept escaping, I had to retreat to the room. It was a good twenty minutes before I was fit to set off again.
On the way in I had seen a stair leading to a basement, there were sounds of music floating up, so that is where I headed. I passed what looked like the entrance to a darkened room, looked in from the doorway, just an arch, no doors, but couldn't tell how big it was because the interior was so dark. One thing I distinctly remember was the electricity in the air, like static. I had never felt that way about any place before, nor have I since. It was exciting and frightening at the same time. I didn't know what was in there, nor was I ready to find out. I backed away and made my way down the stairs. In the basement there was a small dance floor to the right of the stairs, a pool, sauna and steam-room on the left. What caught and held my eyes were the dancers, half a dozen wore towels, two were stark naked. One of these had his back to me, the other was facing me, what a sight he was. His cock was soft, but a good five inches long. His balls were big and loose, hanging way down, and the whole lot swung and bounced in time to the music. I couldn't take my eyes off him, or off them to be precise. I still wonder if it is rude to stare at an exhibitionist. After some time the music stopped and the dancers wandered off so I had a look around the lower floor.
There were some hanging chairs beside the pool, sort of egg-shaped things made of rattan and suspended from the ceiling by a chain. They looked very comfortable, so I decided to hang around for a while and watch the action. The pool was quite a good size, maybe 15 by 30 feet. Twenty or more guys were playing in and around it, all naked of course, and very well worth watching. On the far side of the pool were a couple of doors, I could tell that this was a steam room by the large cloud of steam that billowed out each time anyone went in or came out. I decided that it must be pretty thick in there, just the sort of cover I needed to get started. I watched the guys going in, nearly all slipped off their towels, hanging them on pegs outside
the door as they went in, but a few went in with their towels draped around their necks. I wondered what I should do; play it safe by taking my towel; or go all the way. While watching the swimmers my cock had calmed down, it wasn't exactly flaccid, but it wasn't straining at the towel either. I could have looked quite nonchalant if I had slipped it off at that moment, but as soon as I thought about going into the steam, up it came again. I sat for a while trying to calm myself down, it didn't work, I realized that no matter how long I waited I would not be looking casual as I walked through the door so there was no point in wasting more time. I was almost sick with nerves as I walked around the end of the pool, I still hadn't decided what to do with the towel, then at the last moment I slipped it off, hung it on a hook, stepped through the door and was enveloped by the steam.
It was incredibly dense, dark, and hot. I couldn't see anything at all, nothing. The heat of the steam made me cough when I breathed through my mouth, and caused a burning sensation like pepper when I breathed through my nose. I waited just inside the door struggling to get a breath. A figure emerged out of the fog, I didn't see him until he was a couple of feet away. I stepped back against the wall as he went by, glad of the darkness that hid my erection. Somewhere in the fog ahead of me there was a red glow, very dim. Gradually my eyes adjusted to the dim light: breathing became easier. I found that I was standing by an alcove, and that there was another one just a bit further on. From the second one I could hear soft sucking sounds, but
it was very dark in there so I could see nothing. After a while I made my way past these alcoves keeping to one side of the passage. The light began to get a bit brighter and the steam a bit thinner. I followed the wall
around to the left, then it turned right and suddenly I was in a large chamber. I couldn't see the far end, but I later realized that it was about 20 feet long and maybe 10 feet wide, and there right beside me was a group
of men. There would have been about 8 or 9 standing in the group and a similar number sitting on a long stone bench which ran along one side of the room. The men who were standing were touching each other, there were hands on cocks and tits while fingers probed asses. Then, as I watched, first one man, then another, knelt down to suck on dicks which were beginning to stiffen. This got the action going. Some of the men on the bench joined in, soon all of them got into in the action. To me this was an incredible sight, I was absolutely hypnotized. They were doing things right in front of my eyes that I had only read about, I'd never even seen anything like this in the movies. All my life I had been taught that that men who had sex with other men were the dregs of humanity, and yet they didn't look like queers were meant to look. They were fine looking guys, good physiques, enjoying each others bodies, happy and unashamed. As the group grew in numbers it also moved about, I had been 4 or 5 feet from them when I came in, but now the nearest man was only just out of arm's reach. He put out his hand reaching for my cock, but this was too much for me, stepped away and hurried on to the far end of the room. There I entered a narrow section again with another couple of alcoves, one on each side. The steam was definitely thinner here, I could see a stone bench in each alcove, like the bench in the main room, and in one a man was lying on his back being sucked off by another guy kneeling between his legs. It looked so good I stood and watched for several minutes. There was another door at the end of this passage. I thought of going out this way even though I'd have to walk back naked to where I had left my towel. I had almost convinced myself that I could do it when three men came through the door and started groping each other in the passage. If I had tried to get past them I am sure I would have become involved. I chickened out, retraced my steps back through the steam.
Back in the main room I saw that the milling group of men now blocked the way back completely, so I sat on the bench well away from them and watched. While I was sitting there two more men came in from the second entrance and stopped right in front of me. They fondled each other for a while then started kissing, deep wet kissing, tongues going in and out. They were really getting worked up, after a while one of them moved around behind the other and started to work his dick up into a willing ass hole. The man being fucked was within arm's reach, I was torn between reaching out to touch him and crouching as far back as possible so as not to be noticed. The dull red light which filtered through the steam enhanced the magnificent demonstration. I was so close that I could see the veins on the bottom's cock which was now fully erect, arching up towards his stomach. I could see his balls as they swung between his legs swinging in time to the thrusting penis that was slamming up his ass. The top reached around the guy's chest caressing and pinching his nipples, then slid down to his crotch, one hand feeling the balls the other pumping on the penis. By the time I saw the cum spurt out and splash on the wet floor I was almost on the point of ejaculating myself. All this was like a dream, the red and black color scheme enhanced the surreal feeling. It was as though I had stepped too close to a cinema screen and found that I was part of the film. The two turned to face each other then kissed a long, deep, lingering kiss before wandering off. By this time most of the others had also gone. I needed a break too, my mind was in a whirl. I came out of the steam, picked up my towel, didn't stop to fix it around my waist, just carried it in front of me, I had to get back to my room.
I lay on the bed re-living the scenes I had just seen, I really wanted to jerk off, my balls were aching, but I didn't want to waste my cum because it was now about five in the morning by my time. I knew that I would only get one shot of juice out of my balls and then I'd collapse. I remembered the darkened room that I had seen on my way to the basement. I wondered if there really was an aura about the place or if it was my imagination, so I fixed my towel as best I could and set off again. The entrance was just an archway, and yes there was definitely something about the place. The only way to describe it is as a silent, shrill ringing at a frequency which was too high to hear, but definitely could be sensed. I had to go in. The room was large, I could just make out the wall opposite the entrance about fifteen feet ahead. The room also extended both left and right, but just how long the room was I couldn't see because the only light was what came from the entrance. There were two rows of bunk-beds, one row against the far wall, the other on the side where I stood, each had a white covered mattress. Whether they went all the way to the ends of the room I couldn't
see, they just faded into the darkness. I went in a little way, until I could see nothing in front of me, then stopped and leaned against an upper bunk. It was a comfort to have something solid to lean on when it wasn't possible to see. Looking back towards the entrance I could see a steady stream of men coming in, most of them turning to the right, away from where I stood, but some came past me and disappeared into the gloom. After a while my eyes adjusted, there was a wide passage between the two rows of beds. I didn't want to walk into something solid, or even into a group such as I had seen in the steam room, so I stayed where I was. Eventually I could see more of the end of the room that I was in. Sure enough there was a group of men in a huddle at the far end. But looking towards the other end of the room, beyond the arch, I could see nothing. Yet that was where most of the guys were headed, that was obviously where most of the action was. I knew that I couldn't just stand there all night, for one thing I had had a terrific erection for hours now and my balls were really aching. I wanted sex with a man, have him take my juice, drain off every last drop, to be touched, sucked, fucked, anything! But it was difficult to move away from the
apparent safety of the bed I was leaning on. I was on the point of moving, to take what was coming, at least that's what I tell myself, when a hand came up between my legs from the lower bunk and grabbed my balls, and I mean grabbed. I literally took off. I must have gone straight up about six inches in the air, my nuts didn't, they were wrenched downwards. Now I would describe it as beautiful, but at that time it was a hell of a shock. The guy must have been equally surprised at my reaction because I was out of that place in a flash, straight back to the room, on with my clothes and out of there.
By the time I made it back to the hotel I was cursing myself for being a coward, again! There had been only one reason for going to the baths, to have sex with a man. Yet I had spent the evening avoiding contact, and when somebody finally touched me I ran. I jerked off thinking of those two men in the steam room, but there was no escaping the fact that I had failed miserably. I didn't think I would ever have the nerve to go back, but I did.