It started in the steam room

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At forty-five my life had settled into a middle-aged routine that I suppose most men have fallen into by that age. I’d been married almost twenty years, my kids were in their mid-teens, I had a good if not exciting job, we lived in a leafy suburb with good schools, we had solid friends and family nearby. But if I was content, I was not really happy, not in the relaxed, carefree way you have when you’re in your twenties. Maybe it’s unrealistic to expect more at my age, but it was nevertheless a fact. I needed some excitement in my life. Particularly where sex was concerned. I truly loved my wife, and we had always had a good sex life. Nothing too exotic, mind you, but a lot of it when we were younger, and just spicy enough as we got older to keep us both interested through our thirties. But as our mid-forties approached, we didn’t seem to spark as often, and I at least felt that something was missing. I had no intention of cheating on my wife. I was sure I’d eventually get caught, and I couldn’t bear hurting her that way but my fantasy life got a little weirder. My imaginary sex was wilder, more abandoned, sometimes rougher, and often featured things my wife and I had never done together, like anal sex, or sex with vibrators or other toys. I jacked off more often than I had in years, played with my ass sometimes, and though I had never had much interest in porn, I started visiting online sites more often. One thing that never occurred during these fantasies, however, was gay sex. Like many guys I had experimented a bit when I was a teenager, and I knew what if felt like to have another guy’s dick in my hand. But I had never followed up on these adolescent adventures, and I’d been happily straight for nearly three decades. But one day that all changed. At the gym that morning I had decided, for the first time in weeks, to vary my post-workout routine, which usually involves a brief soak in the hot tub, by going for a short stint in the steam room. I stripped off my workout clothes, wrapped a towel around my waist and headed toward the steam room, which is in a short corridor near isvecbahis the showers. It was empty but almost filled with steam, so I sat down on one arm of the U-shaped bench, leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. A minute or two later I heard the door open, but I was so relaxed that I didn’t open my eyes at first. When I did the guy was sitting directly across from me on the other side of the U, and after a second I made out the face of a guy I had seen around the gym a few times but had not met. “Hey,” he said. “Hey,” I said back. He closed his eyes and settled back against the wall. I looked at him briefly, about my age, a bit younger maybe, on the slim side but not skinny, with a pleasant-looking face, and closed my eyes again. A couple of minutes passed quietly, then I heard him stirring. Automatically I opened my eyes, and found myself looking at his backside. He had stood up on the lower bench to rearrange his towel, but instead of wrapping it around his waist again he was spreading it flat on the upper bench. I remember thinking he was taking more time to do this than was strictly necessary when he finally turned and sat down. The steam was pretty thick, but I thought I saw him give me quick look and a faint smile before he closed his eyes again. That was weird, I thought. But then I realized that his legs were slightly spread and his cock and balls were on full display, and that seemed more than just weird. I felt a jolt of apprehension. I might not be the most sophisticated or experienced person in the world, but I was worldly enough to suspect he was doing this for my benefit. For the first time in my life, I realized, a guy was coming onto me. There was a time not so long ago when I would have reacted scornfully to such a proposition, and some guys might have punched him in the nose. But I had never been the violent type, and while what I felt was hard to describe, it wasn’t scorn. I was uncomfortable, that’s for sure. A little scared, too. But I couldn’t keep myself from looking. What guy could? We’re always stealing glances at each other’s dicks, much as isveçbahis giriş we hate to admit it. The guy had a nice package. His cock wasn’t all that long (a bit shorter than mine, I was glad to see) but it was thick. His pubic hair was blond and short, like it had been trimmed. His balls were big and round and hung loose in the sack. In that respect I didn’t compare as well; my balls are smaller and tighter in the sack, and I’d always kind of wished I had low-hangers. Then I noticed that his eyes weren’t entirely closed. It was hard to see in the clouds of steam, but I was pretty sure he was watching me watching him. I looked away. If I hadn’t been red already from the heat, I surely would have reddened from embarrassment and shame. I realized my heart was racing, and for a second I wanted to dash out of the room. But something held me. It was partly the unwillingness to look like I was panicked, but it was something else, too. Curiosity, I guess. I was interested in what he might do. Was I turned on? At first I didn’t think so. But when he moved one hand to his leg, and slowly moved it toward his cock, I felt my own cock give a little start under the towel. Part of me wanted to leave, but another part was mesmerized. I watched as he tugged his balls the way all guys do to get more comfortable, and for a second I thought I had imagined the come-on. But another slight move and his cock was firmly in his hand. My heart was pounding. I shifted my gaze from his crotch to his face, and he was looking me straight in the eye. No doubt now about what was going on. I felt my cock give another start, and realized I was getting hard. That jolted me out of my daze. I stood up, putting my hand to my side to make sure my towel stayed in place. In my haste and confusion I knocked it loose instead, and it fell to the floor. It was an accident, I swear, and normally I would have just picked up the towel and walked out without another thought. But not now; there were no accidents in here. Whether I liked it or not, everything happening in that room was charged with meaning. So I stood isveçbahis yeni giriş there, my dick at forty-five degrees and climbing. Not until I realized that his dick, too, was rising, did I collect myself enough to pick up the towel and leave. As I walked toward the showers, I asked myself, “What on earth did you just do?” And I realized with something like panic I had as good as told him I was interested in his proposition. I realized, too, that I was stalking around with a rising boner, and I clutched my towel in front to hide it. Luckily there was no one near the showers at the moment. There are about a dozen shower stalls at my gym, six on each side of a narrow corridor leading from the locker room to the pool. I chose one on the left side. As I hung my towel on the peg outside it, I turned around slightly, expecting to see the guy following me. He wasn’t. But as I stepped into the shower, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw the steam room door opening. I flung the curtain closed and turned the water on full and hot. My cock was now fully erect, and I could not resist grabbing it with both hands. “What the fuck are you doing?” I thought to myself. My head was aswarm with conflicting emotions, among them the fear of being discovered with my hands on my dick, but I couldn’t keep my hands off myself. A few seconds later I heard the metallic sound of a sliding shower curtain from across the corridor. I knew without looking that the guy had gone into the stall directly opposite. I also knew without looking that his hands were on his cock. Without realizing it I had started pumping my dick. It was so hard it hurt, and I wanted desperately to come. I knew it was crazy to jack off in a public place, but by now I wasn’t even close to thinking straight. Worse, I wanted just as desperately to see the other guy pumping his dick. Without breaking my rhythm, I pulled the curtain back enough to peek across the corridor. He was standing there, the curtain wide open, his raging cock grasped firmly in one hand. He, too, was vigorously pumping his rod, and when he saw me looking at him he speeded up his motion. I saw his lips move; he was mouthing the words, “Show me,” and without hesitation, without even thinking of the chances of getting caught, I moved my curtain aside so he could get a good look.

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