The Natural Progression of Bathhouse Convention - 1. The Natural Progression of Bathhouse Convention

The Natural Progression of Bathhouse Convention

Slightly out of breath, I wrapped my towel back around my waist. It was hot in the steam room, which was part of the reason I was winded. The other reason was the blowjob I’d just received. The bestower of said fellatio pulled himself up from his kneeling position and rejoined me on the bench. He smiled at me coyly, a sense of reserve in his expression.

“First time?” I asked, ensuring the towel was firmly in place.

His smile dropped into a frown and he looked at me through sad eyes. “Was it not good?” Ugh. I hated that lack of confidence. It was a real turn-off.

“Not that. I meant is this your first time in a bathhouse?” I watched him as his expression changed, realization spreading across his face.

“Oh. Y-yeah. How could you tell?”

I stood up, gripping my towel though I knew it was secure. He joined me in standing, and we began walking toward the exit of the room. I couldn’t deal with this humidity anymore. “You seem a little timid, is all.”

He walked a few paces behind me, but kept stride. “Yeah. A little.” He kept his response short, and I could tell that I’d hurt his feelings, or at the very least embarrassed him a little.

“How old are you?” I asked as we stepped into the hallway. The slightly conditioned air was beyond welcomed, though I could still feel the tackiness of the sauna sweat on my skin.

“Twenty,” he responded. Well, fuck. I assumed he was young, but he was almost half my age. It explained a lot, I guess. He probably hadn’t had a whole lot of experience in general, let alone random hookups like this. I could be making a quick judgement of course, but his demeanor led me to believe that I was correct.

I didn’t respond to him, because frankly I didn’t have much else to say. He continued to follow me, which I had no problem with. He was a bit awkward, sure, but that blowjob was good. It earned him the right to stick with me for a little bit longer.

We entered the room that housed the pool, which was slightly more populated than the steam room. I draped my towel over a chair, and stepped into the shallow end. He followed suit, though a little more hesitantly. I noticed him glancing around as he shed his towel, probably to see if others in the room were watching him. I remembered my first bathhouse experience, and it was certainly intimidating being fully naked in a room full of men. What he didn’t know was that none of them cared. Everyone was doing their own thing.

He sank into the water beside me, and I saw that he was still hard. The exhilaration of it all, I was sure. He still looked like he felt a little sheepish, so I grabbed his arm and pulled him a little closer to me. “Relax, kid,” I said, and gave him a quick kiss. I could smell the eucalyptus scent on him from the steam room.

That seemed to do the trick, and he smiled. “Thanks,” he said. He dunked his head under the water and when he popped back up, pushed his hair out of his face. Since it was wet, it stayed slicked back. “What’s your name, by the way?”

I looked at him and debated giving it to him. I didn’t come here to get acquainted with people, and as such didn’t generally give my name. Then again, most of the guys I hooked up with were in the same mindset as I was and never asked for it. But I was feeling a little sympathetic toward this kid, who I could tell was really trying. So I obliged. “Dave. What’s yours?”

He looked back at me kind of goofily, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. I wondered if he was deliberating whether or not to use his real name. “Trevor.” He looked like a Trevor. He was probably telling the truth.

A silence fell over us as we relaxed in the water. He stepped out a few feet from me and kicked off from the edge. He swam to the other end of the pool, and I watched his bubble butt skimming just under the surface. He had a nice ass.

He had a nice body in general. He was toned, not too buff. He clearly spent a decent amount of time at the gym. At 38, I couldn’t remember the last time I looked like that. Not to say that I was out of shape; I kept myself together. But still, after your 20s things started to get harder to maintain.

Once he reached the other end, he flipped around and backstroked his return. His was clearly showing off. His erection had gone away, and his penis floated in the water above his body. He had a nice dick, too. Even now, soft, it was fucking glorious.

Apparently just the one lap was good enough for him, and he rejoined me once he made it all the way back. He smirked. Even though he had been shy initially, I could tell that my kiss had really boosted his confidence. He knew I had been watching him, and that’s exactly why he had done it.

He reached under the water and wrapped his hand around my shaft, and it immediately began to stiffen. Though I had just gotten off less than ten minutes ago, it was obvious that I was immensely turned on by this kid. Typically, once I’d gotten mine, that was it. I didn’t usually stick around after all was said and done, so that was one difference here. Another was that I really did find myself attracted to him. Normally I didn’t care too much if they were hot or not. Obviously I didn’t hook up with really unattractive guys, but looks weren’t my priority. Nice dick, willingness to keep it brief, and good hygiene. Those were my normal qualifications.

But with Trevor, I’d let him stick with me after the steam room. I liked his body. And his face. His hair was that shade of brown that looked black when wet, as it was now. It was that surfer shag look which had gone out of style years ago, but worked for him. His eyes were blue; not deep ocean blue or light sky blue like everyone always describes eyes, but just blue. His skin was tight, tanned, and he had angular features. His jawline was enough to give me a hard-on regardless of if he was touching me or not. I had a thing for white boys.

I was full staff by now, and he was loving every minute of it. That meekness he had displayed in our earlier interaction was gone. Maybe I’d judged him prematurely, after all. He bit his lip, which on most men tended to make them look like they were trying too hard to look sexy. On him, it worked.

“We should hit the showers, wash this pool water off,” I said. He nodded, releasing his grip and stepping back to let me lead the way. I used the rail to help hoist myself out of the water, and he followed close behind.

We grabbed our towels, positioning them back around our waists. The showers were on the other side of the building, and I had a feeling he would want to strike up a conversation on the walk. I was right.

“So what do you do?” He asked it nonchalantly, as if we were chatting at a bar. Considering that I rarely gave my name at the bathhouse, additional personal details about my life such as occupation were things I never discussed.

I glanced over at him. He didn’t look expectant or like he was forcing conversation. It looked like he just genuinely wanted to know.

In my head, I sighed. He was cute. Out loud, I gave him a truthful response. “I’m a vet.”

“Animal or military?” he asked, completely serious.

I chuckled. “Animal. I’m a partner at the clinic over on 7^th.” I mentally kicked myself in the shin. That was definitely more detail than I normally provided. I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to dwell on it, so I returned the question. “You?”

“Student. I work part time at the bookstore-café hybrid near campus, though. The Book and Bean?”

“I love that store!” I said without thinking. The little shit. He was getting me to open up.

“You like to read? Any favorites?”

At this point, I’d already been letting him know more about me than I normally would. So I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal, now. “Faulkner, if I’m being facetious. Dickens, if I’m being truthful. King, if I’m admitting guilty pleasures.”

“I love Faulkner!” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. I looked at him, pointedly. He stared back. “God, I’m kidding. I know who he is, but I’ve never read anything he wrote. I know it’s cliché, but I really do like Shakespeare.”

It was another of those moments I felt like didn’t require a response, and in any event, we’d reached the showers. The room was empty. I was appreciative, because it tended to be the room with the most onlookers. While voyeurism wasn’t an issue to me, I wasn’t in the mood that night.

I hung my towel over a hook on the wall, quite conscious of how often the thing had been removed and replaced over the course of the evening. I chose the showerhead closest to the corner and turned it on. The water pressure wasn’t the best, but it was sufficient for why we were there. I stepped under the steam and let the water run over me. As was commonplace thus far, he did the same.

He used the janky dispenser to release some of the generic body wash into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, lathering it, and brushed it over my chest. He ran my chest hair through his fingers, soaping up the entirety of my torso. He teased the area below my belly button.

The water ran down our bodies, just inches apart, rinsing off the suds he’d created. He was hard again, and so was I. This little shit.

Without even really thinking about it, I lowered myself to my knees and pulled him into my mouth. I didn’t usually do that. Honestly, I was typically pretty selfish. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sucked a dick. I considered myself a top, and even though I liked having a cock in my mouth once upon a time, I had only allowed myself to perform this same action maybe once or twice in all of my bathhouse encounters.

He tasted of sweat, slightly salty despite the shower we’d just taken. He was a solid six inches, maybe six and a half, and girthy. He moaned gently, grabbing the back of my head with his hand. It was probably the most submissive I had allowed myself to be in years, letting him control the movements of my head. He finished quickly, and I swallowed as I stood back up.

“Sorry,” he whispered, likely embarrassed by his stamina level.

“Don’t be.” I had never understood men apologizing to one another for climaxing relatively soon after a sexual act started. That was never a problem for me; if it was quick, it meant it was a job well done. Pun intended.

I gave him another kiss, this one lingering much longer than the peck earlier in the pool. I hadn’t kissed anyone deeply like that in years. I honestly couldn’t recall the last time there was tongue involved. As I got older, and more interested in just getting off, the intimacy level dwindled greatly. While I knew some people were into making out in their hookups, for me it meant feelings and interest. Thus, when I was fooling around with a random that insisted on kisses, mine were brusque and closed-lipped.

When we pulled apart, I stared into his eyes. They were still just blue; I didn’t have a miraculous change of insight where now I felt that his eyes were an indescribable, magical shade. However, as he stared back at me, I felt a connection there. It could have just been due to the fact that it was the first time that I had felt so vulnerable with a bathhouse hookup. Sharing my name, the kissing, repaying the favor of the blowjob. Those were exposures I wasn’t used to. But I assumed it was more than that.

I think much of it was actually feeling a connection to this person, even in such a short amount of time.

His enthusiasm reminded me of when I was young, fuller of life and looking for new experiences. Here I was, damn near 40, and I had stopped caring. Stopped trying. I went to work, came home, repeated the process day in and day out. Aside from regular errands and chores, the biweekly visits to the bathhouse were about the only deviance from that. And I had turned them into a robotic routine.

His timidity reminded me of how it felt to be nervous as the result of a mixture of excitement, fear, curiosity, and who knows what else, all at the same time. The uncertainty of youth, and not knowing what the future held. I was living on a mundane, unchanging schedule where I knew exactly what was to come. And that wasn’t a good thing.

His adaptability reminded me that one of the great glories of being gay is that we have so many options when it comes to sex. Topping, bottoming, dominance, submission, anal, oral, handjobs, toys, fetishes, a combination of all those things. There used to be more to me just sticking it in whatever warm orifice was available. I could be more like the Dave I used to be. The complete exhilaration I had just experienced with him in that shower was proof of that.

And finally, his presence in general reminded me of what it was like to care for another human being. He got me to open up, but knew when to pull back; followed me around, but knew his boundaries. Not saying that I was about drop everything and marry the guy or anything. But again, as with everything he was reminding me of, I was really coming to terms with how unfulfilling my life had become.

He snaked his arms around my waist, cupping my ass and pulling me closer to him. “So… how does this work, now? Does it cost extra to use one of the private rooms?”

I continued watching his face, knowing that he was asking because he thought it was the natural progression of bathhouse convention. “It does.”

“Shall we?” he asked, eyeing me with that same reserve he had in the steam room. I could tell he wanted to have sex, and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been envisioning it in my own head. Sure, I could saunter back to the front desk, drop the 30 bucks required to get a key for a private room, and throw him on the questionable mattress and fuck the shit out of him. I wanted to, and could, do those things. But I didn’t.

“Follow me,” I said, pulling his arms from my waist and leading him into the adjacent room. The locker room. I let go of his wrist and snatched open my locker as he watched me in confusion.

“What are you doing? Do you not want to…?” he trailed off.

I stopped pulling my clothes out of the cramped space and turned to face him. “Oh, I do.” I looked up and down his body, displaying my interest in what he had to offer. “I really do. But I’m interested in getting to know you a little bit more, on a more personal level. If you’re up for it, I’d like to take you out.”

He blushed noticeably. “Take me out on a date?”

I nodded. “I know we haven’t know each other for very long. Very long at all, actually,” I said, seeing the time on my watch as I pulled it out of the locker. I had only been at the bathhouse for a total of two hours, and hadn’t come across him until partway through. “But you’ve made me feel things I haven’t felt in quite some time.” I felt stupid as the words rolled off my tongue, like a walking cliché. I had never heard myself speak like that, even when I was still on the dating scene.

It clearly didn’t come across as silly to Trevor, who tugged open his own locker. He was still blushing, almost as red as the paint on the locker doors. “I, uh… I’d really like that.”

As he accepted the first date invitation I’d extended in probably 10 years, we got dressed in silence. Once we were both fully closed, he turned and smiled at me. “Ready?” As I heard the echoes of the meaningless hookups that were occurring down the hallways, I grabbed his hand and led him out of the building and toward the next chapter in my life.

End