Arriving right at the bathhouse’s opening time on Tuesday, the sky dark enough to think that rain would be arriving soon, the entrance was busy. 5 stacked bundles of the latest edition of a free local gay magazine were outside the door. Going in, before I could mention the delivery, a man with a blue t-shirt that read “I like face fucking – ask me” brushed by, picking up a bundle, returning inside to drop it off.
Going into the locker room, several men were already in various stages of undressing. Accessing my locker wasn’t really possible, leading me to realize my black helmet was still in my hand. Returning to the counter, I handed it over with a smile, acknowledging my forgetfulness. Returning to the lockers, one of the men that had been in the way had left, with the man that had come in immediately after myself now next to me, already undressing.
As is generally the case, I’d gotten my boots, jacket, and clothes off and stowed quickly, only wrapping the towel while walking towards the bar. I drank the customary beer, surfing a French amateur site at the corner PC, before going down to the whirlpool.
Two men were in it, so I left my towel and bag on a lounger under the aquarium, and quickly showered.
The central fountain had stopped in the meantime, making it simple to move into the space between them. As it turned out, the man on my left was the one that responded to my overtures first, his foot accommodating mine as it slid along his leg. Looking at his cock led to noticing how his right hand had begun to slide over its invitingly expanded length.
It took little time for us to move closer, my hand finding his swelling cock while he shifted on the bench. Legs pressed and slid, hands explored, without inhibition, enjoying familiar games with a stranger. We began to jack each other off, barely noticing as the other man left.
At some point, the bench’s jets started, making us settle into different positions. The pulsing currents make gentleness difficult, and the splashing tends to be distracting. Minor points as we stroked, gripping a stranger’s cock, his other hand playing with mine. When the central jet restarted, it seemed like very little time had passed.
Shifting again in response, he put a leg over me, resting on the bench. It was easy to slide my cock against his thigh while my left hand played with his ass as he stroked himself.
A third man entered, distant from us, followed by a fourth. The latest whirlpool visitor sat to the left, with the other man’s leg forming an outer barrier to him pressing against my naked body. A barrier that the new man seemed slow in grasping. He was direct, not quite clumsy and not quite rude, but seemed unaware of why he was unable to slide himself closer into the games a pair were enjoying.
A situation that only slowly resolved itself, resulting in both men playing with my dick as I stroked each of theirs. My original partner left, fairly abruptly, only to be quickly replaced by an older man. During that interval, the other man had begun to climb over me to an extent, again not exactly rudely, but it took a bit of effort to prevent any awkwardness.
Admittedly, we were both turned on, and when cock to cock, a man’s tongue gliding over my ear is always welcome. Just as my playing with his quite erect nipples was welcome, his sexy moaning noticeably loud. When the other man sat down, I twisted around a bit, my hand soon finding his cock. Going from a twosome to a threesome is part of a bathhouse’s appeal, but the man on my left seemed less enthusiastic, at best half-hard, regardless of what I did.
After several minutes of mutual jacking, me thoroughly enjoying their shared attention, the man to my left again forced himself against me. Only the fact we were both rigid provided an acceptable excuse for such behavior. Cock to cock again, his tongue licked my neck sensuously, while I started exploring the top of his ear with my tongue. Soon, our mouths met, tongues darting and sliding as he held my cock against his.
Breaking the kiss, lips close to my ear, he said “Want to go upstairs? I can dress first.”
The question was unexpected, causing a somewhat befuddled “What?” in reply, cock pumping harder against his, providing an excuse for my lack of focus.
“I could dress – like a woman. With panties, bra, and camisole. Upstairs.”
“OK” I replied, surprised a touch at agreeing, along with being surprised that this was the first time I’d been so propositioned. Not that it was a strange area, precisely, having lived with a crossdresser and his wife a couple of decades ago. I’d enjoyed his bi and tran porn immensely while living with them, though he never expressed any interest in playing such games with men. Not that I hadn’t seen a number of Polaroids taken with wife, including her using a coil vibrator on his stiff rod as he wore a wig and frilled dress.
Nonetheless, apart from getting off several times to some of his bi porn, it had remained one of the more minor kinks of those I’d bahis şirketleri enjoyed over that couple of years. To be honest, what made their pictures memorably erotic was his unshaved naked wife, sucking him, or playing with the vibrator herself, lost in orgasm. And a couple of dildo shots, with her in garters and stockings.
Returning to the present as his hand slid over my aroused cock, he looked at me closely, withdrawing into the middle of the whirlpool. My hand slipped from his ass as he moved away, breaking contact, allowing my mind to focus on what might happen upstairs.
He stepped out of the water, me following, both of us still hard. I picked up my towel and bag from the lounger, while he retrieved his things from the cubbyhole. The situation remained tentative somehow, odd in light of how horny we both clearly were. It was easy enough to follow him upstairs, noting that several men were lounging in chairs around the spiralling stairs. At least one looking at us go upstairs together, attracted by the fact that both of us were still erect. It was a strange experience being so obviously aroused, as planning to have sex with another man still being something that has only occurred a couple of times here in such fashion. At least in such public form, outside of the areas where public sex was the enjoyable norm.
After several years of regular visits, I’d gotten off in basically all of the available upstairs booths, along with the public porn theater space and darkroom. As a result, apart from the 2 porn booths, to me, they were all essentially the same. The porn booths are not always better – it isn’t as if all styles of gay porn appeal to me, though watching porn while getting sucked is something I can’t resist indulging in, whether in public or private.
Picking the booth at the top of the staircase by noting it was bigger, he went in first, waving to invite me in. Spreading my towel next to his, I concentrated on getting out condoms and poppers, leaving the camera covered. Finished, looking around, I saw he had a larger bag, and there were a couple of condoms on his side. He had started talking as I stretched out, naked, my hand returning to my cock, studiously not looking as he dressed, turned on by the thought of how he could observe my horniness.
“You’re the professor, right, from last January?” A bathhouse is a place for anonymous sex; false assumptions on someone else’s part have never been a concern of mine. Oddly, the fact that I did not have to even decide about silence or information was quite liberating. Answering “Why not?” seemed to satisfy both of us, as he kept dressing.
His hand began to stroke my leg, teasingly sliding higher, prompting me to turn around. He was dressed in thigh top black nylons, a light grey pair of panties that enhanced his bulging cock and balls nicely, and a darker grey elastic camisole, with silver highpoints in the material. The second pair of black straps over his shoulders seemed to belong to a bra, which to my silent relief was neither foam padded nor frilly.
I rose, hands seeking his nipples as he lowered himself on the platform, finding that they were indeed covered by a bra. Dress up never really appealed to me, having always been much more interested in naked reality, but this was truly the first time that someone had offered me the chance to at least explore a kink shared by any number of men.
The fact that he already believed me to be someone else added to the attraction, offering the freedom to play however I wanted. It wasn’t as if he was the first man I’d known who was interested in cross dressing. Including the fact that a man dressing like a woman pretty much still looks like a man – with the reality that a hard cock is a great indicator of just how turned on someone is, regardless of what they have on.
His hand found my naked extended cock as we began kissing, tongues moving wetly, soon settling his panty clad cock against my jutting erection. He began talking, saying how he was bisexual, married, providing for his children, followed by explaining how much he enjoyed a couple of hours at a gay sauna. As did I, of course, this conversation just making me hornier. And much like how the lack of a camera was not problem at this point, I decided not to talk about wives, tempting though the thought was to talk to another man about fucking. Oddly, the idea of keeping this encounter purely male seemed appropriate in the growing sexual fog surrounding my thoughts.
A hand found my nipple as another stroked my cock, lowering himself next to me. “Do you like me in nylons?” he asked. Of course I answered yes, my rigid cock being a plain indicator of my horniness, if not precisely my sincerity. Nylons tend to be the sort of thing I find best removed before sex, though a turned on partner is certainly more desirable than a mere clothing preference.
It took little time for both of us to find several mutual interests.
“Am I a slut?” he asked in a husky voice, lips close to my ear.
“Of course bahis firmaları you’re a hot slut – sluts are what make bathhouses so good to visit. I love sluts”
“Have you ever done this, get off with a cross-dresser?”
“No, but it feels really kinky, being with such a horny slut, touching such sexy panties with a hot cock inside.”
By this point, my hand was sliding over his smooth bulge. His tongue ran over my ear lightly, his hand taking mine, placing it on his chest again.
“Do you like my sexy bra? I love being touched there .. yeah .. it makes me so horny. I cannot wear a white t-shirt – my nipples are always erect and obvious.”
I gasped as he brought his nylon covered inner thigh against my bare cock. Soon, my hand began sliding against his smooth lingerie. By now, I’d become fully intrigued by playing such sexy games of make believe, surprised at just how much fun it was. Talking was certainly a part, bathhouses tending to be rare areas to engage in such intimate conversations. In part because the sex tends to be so direct most of the time, and in additional part because a lot of men, it seems, really aren’t very vocal about their interests, unlike most women of my experience.
Particularly considering how his interests and my past exposure to them intersected as we continued to stroke, fondle, and otherwise pleasure ourselves, talking dirty to each other the entire time. Running my hand over his chest, talking about the pictures of a crossdresser and his wife that I’d lived with. How his wife had introduced me to vibrators, how it turned out it was really his toy, with a cock cup that made jacking off with her watching porn unbelievably addictive. He was amazed that the wife participated in her husband’s kinks, tonguing my earlobe, panty covered cock pressing against my naked one.
“She allowed him?” he moaned, pressing himself against my hands, rubbing our erect rods, my hands under his bra and camisole, playing with his nipples. “Dressed like a woman?”
“She didn’t care,” I explained. “The wife knew .. oh yeah, sluts are like that .. she took pictures .. her husband in ruffled .. lingerie and .. wig.” The sensation from our moving cocks was irresistible, keeping me talking as the words flowed into a stream of sexual memories.
“I saw pictures .. her lips .. sucked wet cock .. playing with the vibrator .. cock and garters .. cumming. Hot porn .. bi porn .. cocksucking .. watched with them.” His covered cock sliding against mine found a magical spot, making me sigh as I just gave in to his attentions, having wonderful sex with a bi cross dresser whose horniness matched mine.
He was now talking, saying really dirty things about getting off in women’s clothing, how turned on it made him to be with another man like this. I responded as well as possible, saying how kinky playing with horny men made me, wearing panties, making me so slutty. He began to tongue my nipple, spread fingers stroking my length, his thumb gliding over the lubricated slit. I slid my foot over his nylons, gasping helplessly when he began licking my armpit.
Tongue sliding over my neck, moving near my lips as my thigh between his legs began rubbing over his cock. One of his hands found a wanting nipple, and when he broke our kiss, my tongue still mindlessly seeking more, he rolled onto his back. The next thing to do was obvious, but I like listening to people asking to be pleasured.
“What does a sexy slut want?” I demanded, stroking, seeing how his eyes remained fixed on my cock. “A turned-on bathhouse slut in panties, ready for kinky fun.” He sighed as my finger lightly traced the outline of his package, sliding right along the elastic edge to touch the exposed base of his shaved balls.
“Lick me .. lick my rod” he moaned, making me grin in anticipation at his pleasure. Becoming surprised to discover just how mutual our delight in panty licking was. A reason being the fact that actually, this was my first time having bathhouse sex with someone who was not equally naked. Along with the fact that the panties were enough of a barrier to remove any deeper concerns about indulging him orally.
Tonguing his cock against the panties took time and care, first using my tongue to trace its outline, recognizing quickly how tantalizing it was for him. Followed by my lips moving up and down his growing shaft, lips and tongue soon working together, starting to make the stretched fabric wet. Ending with my tongue slathering over his wetly covered dick.
Hearing him talk the entire time, mainly encouragement and directions, such as how good it felt getting licking and having someone play with a nipple at the same time. His words became more distracted, leading me to further desires, knowing how his cock was taking over. Making me beg him to take off the camisole, saying how much I wanted to see a slut’s bra, face just above his panties, my hands sliding over his nylon covered thighs towards his cock and balls. “A kinky slut’s bra, for me to look at it and jack off. Talking like kaçak bahis siteleri this makes me so hot. Show me your sexy tits so I can lick them like your cock, slut.”
Sitting up, he pulled off the camisole, revealing his bra – black cloth, not really padded, though definitely double layered. And, oddly enough, along the lines of dress up, not something I had ever seen a woman wear. But then, neither of us were women, this being a fantastically male experience. The sensations were coming from several directions, including an awareness of how enticing first times can be, particularly when combined with practiced skill. Leading to thoughts of going much further with crossdressing.
Rising myself, between his thighs, sensuously sliding my jutting erection against his warm and wet bulge. Cock to cock like this, looking at his face, I began to talk about about getting off in panties. Both alone, and with my first girlfriend making me cum in her panties as she watched.
He only moaned when I asked him if he got off in panties, my rigid length sliding over his, coated by spit, my hands feeling him up as he sank into the pleasure of having sex with a stranger while wearing a bra and panties.
“When I bought this bra, I let the clerk know why” he panted, starting to thrust his hips upwards. “You think its really sexy, don’t you? Dressing like this .. turned on slut.”
“A slut with a slut” was my response, both of us fixed on the other’s faces as our cocks moved. “A kinky slut .. sexy panties make me hot .. slut panties over hot cock.” My desires were betrayed when I started asking if he had any panties I could wear, dressing like a total slut, each word of my desire to wear women’s clothing thrilling me as it was spoken, my cock thrusting against his. Speaking to a bi man who understood just what my cock was interested in. Someone who already thought me to be another person.
The booth we were in was right at the start of the porn corridor, the first booth in that direction from the spiral staircase. With a good 18 inches open at the top, the booth was not remotely sound proofed. Knowing that people walking by could hear me ask, with total lust, to wear another man’s panties.
“I have other panties” he groaned, moving to his bag as I settled to his side, looking at his cock outlined underneath slick grey, a black nylon covered thigh moving between my legs, along my balls and teasingly between my ass cheeks. I put my hand under his panties, touching his naked cock, telling him how turned on this was making me, making him lose focus.
As was I, telling a man about wanting to wear female underwear, telling him how horny this kept making me. Time passed in a haze, until concentrating, his face showing how turned on he still was, he held up panties, much like those he was wearing, in red with a black diamond pattern in the middle.
“Do you want to wear these, slut?” I heard. “Dress like a sexy woman?”
Hand returning to stroke my aroused length, sighing and finally answering “Oh fuck yes, I want to wear panties over my cock .. be your slut. Get off with another man like that.”
It wasn’t difficult to put them on, though doing it felt unbelievably kinky. They fit well enough, my bulge against the smooth fabric utterly erotic. Knowing that another man had already worn them, or at least aroused by the thought. Soon leading to touching myself, pulling the front down as I knelt above him. Leading him to stop me, several times, finally distracting me enough to keep my hand out of my sexy slut panties.
“Fuck yes, feel my hard cock in panties .. so slutty .. I just want to jack off. Sluts love jacking off.”
“Sluts love this too” he said, pulling himself to my crotch using his arms along my thighs. He positioned himself, making me gasp as his tongue began to flick against the panties. After a bit of teasingly perfect foreplay and adjustment, he began to do me like I’d done him, now fully aware of how enthralling the sensation was.
He gathered my panties to expose each side of my sack, his tongue beginning to teabag me as I wallowed in the pleasure, one hand forwards, under his bra, the other backwards under his panties.
Creating an irresistibly charged sense of pure kinkiness, both of us hard, wearing women’s underwear as we played. Shifting, his tongue began to lick my panty covered cock again, just like I had done to him a few minutes before. The words were unstoppable – “Kinky sluts love slut sex, lick my sexy panties, make it feel so good. I loved licking your panties, tongue sliding wet over your hard cock. Oh fuck yes .. sexy panties.”
Right at the edge orgasm, inexorably growing less controlled, growling how good it was to play with cocks like this, pulling his panties down as I stroked his sexy dick behind me.
He returned to ball licking, causing me to lean back, using an extended hand to stroke his nylon covered thighs, feeling his reaction at my balls whenever I approached his cock. We were both under the same spell, crossing a boundary of surprising delight, one he knew all about. A boundary that I’d only approached in the past, living with a straight cross dresser – which cross dressers generally are, according to most accounts, scientific or otherwise.