Jazz Baby

by Roland Graeme

  “But I’ve never sat on a guy’s dick before.” I pushed my arms under his armpits and held the back of his head in my hands. I swabbed out his ear with the tip of my wet, squirmy tongue.

  He squirmed, too. “Come on, Keith, sit on it. Try something different. You’ll like it. It’s a great way to get fucked. You’ve enjoyed the other positions we’ve done it in. I haven’t steered you wrong so far, have I?”

  As he spoke, his right hand went down and hefted his hard-on. I felt his wet cockhead brush against my asshole, between my buttocks.

  I ran my tongue over his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. “You might puncture something in there if I sit on it, and it jabs around inside me.” I nibbled the tip of his nose.

  “Don’t worry. Your ass will stretch itself around my cock. It always does.”

  “You make it sound as though all we do is fuck,” I protested.

  “What else is there?” he retorted. “That’s worth doing in bed, I mean?”

  Unable to come up with an answer to that, I covered his mouth with mine and blew air down into his lungs. He pulled his head to one side and chuckled.

  “Stop stalling, you little prickteaser. You know what I want. Let me have it. Let me get in that hot little hole of yours.”

  “All right.” I took hold of my own hard-on and pointed it at him. With my other hand, I grasped Paul’s erection. Briskly, I massaged both of our fuck tools. “I’d better make sure this big thing of yours is good and hard, if it’s going to go up my ass.”

  Paul groaned. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem!”

  Letting go of our pricks, I rose up on my knees and took the jar of Vaseline from the bedside table. I massaged a generous amount of the petroleum jelly over Paul’s cockhead and down his shaft, half-jerking him off as I did so. Paul groaned again, grasped my thighs, and arched his back under me. I dipped my fingertips into the Vaseline and swabbed my asshole with the grease.

  Then I pushed Paul down flat on his back and I took his cock in my left hand. Rising up on my knees, I straddled him, and I pushed the head of his dick up between my buttocks and against the pucker of my greasy sphincter. Paul pressed upward with his hips, impatiently.

  “Wait a minute,” I begged, as I felt his glans distending my anal opening. “Take it easy, stud. Let me go down on you slowly—!”

  Paul lay back, emitting little grunts of impatience, as I held his fuck tool upright below me and I gingerly lowered myself down onto its bulk. I felt a stab of pain when his cockhead stretched open the rim of my ass and began to enter me.

  “Take it,” Paul pleaded. “Take it up your ass!”

  “Damn!” I eased myself slowly down on his cock, impaling myself on it, until I could feel his balls pressing against my ass cheeks. “Ah, that’s one hell of a big fucking cock!”

  I wasn’t flattering him. He was big! And now his solid fuck tool was lodged all the way up my asshole. I did my best to relax my anal muscles around its bulk, and Paul let out a grunt of pleasure when he felt me surrender my anus to him. He began a fucking motion, up and down.

  At the same time, he reached over and took the jar of Vaseline. He massaged my hard-on with a greasy hand, until it was slick and throbbing between his fingers.

  “Oh, hold off,” I warned him. “I’m going to shoot if you jerk me off too fast.”

  “All right.” He loosened his grip, but he continued to stroke my prick, lightly, teasing me.

  I began to ride him, letting out little cries of delight as the tip of his cock nudged my prostate gland. The cum welled up within me and I could feel the pressure of an impending orgasm building up in my loins.

  I rode his cock, his hips lifting in the same tempo as my up-and-down movements, his fist caressing my dick, his free hand clawing frantically at my thigh.

  “Slow down, Keith. I’m going to come if we keep this up, and I don’t want to shoot yet,” he told me. Taking his hand off my cock, he pressed on both of my thighs to slow me down, while his dick pulsed away, deep inside my anus.

  I reached down and put my hands under his sweaty armpits and lifted him up by his back toward me. My legs went under his butt. He sat up, still keeping his cock in my ass, and he tucked his feet under his behind.

  He raised my body and we faced each other in a rocking-chair position. Our arms locked around each other. Our mouths came together, tongue rolling wetly over tongue, and my feet slipped under his butt to support him.

  For a long moment we rocked back and forth like that, kissing wildly, feeling each other’s muscular backs, with Paul’s big, hard cock lodged deep inside my ass. Then I started riding him again, up and down. Paul’s mouth slid over my chest and I felt the wetness from his mouth trickle down my stomach. I reached between our bodies and began jerking off again.

  He pushed forward, forcing me back. My legs shot out from under him and I fell back against the bed. Paul’s arms came under my legs and he lifted them over his shoulders. For an instant, I felt his cock slipping out of my ass. I reached behind him and forced his butt forward to keep it in me.

  He arched up, grasped me by the backs of my ankles, and shoved his dick full force into my hungry rectum.

  “Fuck,” I gasped, shuddering from the impact of his thrusts into me. Paul rose up on his knees and held my legs against his chest, humping steadily away at my ass. My legs went stiff against his pecs. He bit my calves and nibbled on their flesh, pushing still deeper into my asshole with each new thrust he made.

  “This position is pretty good, too,” he declared.

  He fucked me face to face, driving into me hard and deep.

  “I’m going to come, man—oh, God, I’m going to come!” I cried. I felt his dickhead slam against my prostate, and then, sure enough, the cum exploded inside my cock. Paul fell forward, my legs over his shoulders, and he pumped his prick even faster in and out of my asshole. He was sweating from the effort he was making.

  “Christ!” I yelled. A first squirt of hot fuck cream shot from the tip of my cock and hit my chin. “Shoot, man!” I urged Paul. “Shoot off your load, too!”

  He slammed even harder than usual into my ass and let out a long, loud moan. Cum began pulsating from his cock. He pulled back for a second, and then he shoved in again, and sperm streamed from my own cock over his stomach in quick, warm jets. Paul bent far over, straining his neck, locked my thighs against his sides with his arms, and he held the head of my cock in his mouth, to drink the cum which was still pouring out from it.

  As I came in his mouth, I felt his cock dumping its load deep inside my ass. The thick head of his phallic monster was jammed all the way up my hole, throbbing hotly, jerking, and splitting open the walls of my anal tunnel.

  For a full minute or more, we remained frozen in our fuck position, until the jism stopped flowing. Sweat poured from our bodies. Paul’s disheveled hair lay on my stomach, matted with sweat and cum. I reached down and moved his hair around on my belly to feel the cum liquefy with the sweat.

  Finally, he lifted his mouth off my cock and tossed his matted hair back from his forehead. His cock stayed hard and was still jammed up my ass. He leaned back, his lower legs tucked under his thighs. He looked at me. After a moment he said, in a low voice, “Your cum tastes delicious, like buttermilk. Warm and creamy and sweet.”

  “Thanks.” I lifted my butt, his dick slipped out from between my ass cheeks, and it fell back against his belly and thighs with a soft, wet, smacking sound. Paul sat up and looked down at me again.

  “I love you, you motherfucking whore. Do you know that?” he said, challenging me.

  “How can I know it, when you’ve never told me/”

  “I’m telling you now. But what a fool I am. Falling for a guy again, after—”

  “After what?”

  “Never mind. After the last time. The last jerk I had an affair with. You don’t need to know the details.”

  I wiped the sweat from my face. The hair of Paul’s husky thighs was rubbing again
st the insides of my legs, and it felt bristly. His stomach and chest above me rose and fell, and his breath came from his mouth in long heaves.

  “Are we having an affair?” I asked, naïvely. “Is that what this is?”

  “It’s something,” he grumbled.

  “What’s the difference between this, and just having fun with other guys?”

  “If you have to ask—! Jesus!” he exclaimed. “Are you really that dumb, or are you just putting on an act? But never mind. I’m no better. No smarter, that’s for sure. Because if I did have any sense, I’d cut you off,” he said.

  “Huh? Cut me off? What do you mean?”

  “Stop having sex with you,” he explained.

  “Why’d you want to do that?”

  “To make you stop taking me for granted. Yeah, if I had any sense—which I don’t—I’d close up shop. I’d tell you that this is the last time we’re going to fuck, until you decide where your head is at,” he spat out, bitterly. “What the hell it is you want from me—besides a good time in the sack, that is. Haven’t you ever been in love with anybody before?” he asked.

  “No. No one. Not like this. Not to the extent that I’d beg the other guy to shove his cock up my ass and fuck the shit out of me on a regular basis. It’s not as though you can complain about being neglected … about me not putting out for you, any time you want.” I got up and went into the living room, nude. “Which is why I don’t understand why you have to be such a hard ass about it,” I called back to Paul. “Why you can’t cut me a little slack.”

  Paul followed me. He came up behind me, also naked, and he put his arms around my waist and his hands on my stomach. He kissed me on the back of the neck.

  “You drive me crazy,” he murmured.

  “I don’t intend to,” I protested.

  “No, you can’t help it. Listen. Do you want to be my boyfriend, or don’t you?”

  “Not if it means having to put up with all of this crap from you. Otherwise … yeah. Of course I do.”

  He sighed. “Come back to bed, baby.”

  “Have we reached an understanding?” I demanded.

  “No, we haven’t. Not yet. But that doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I want you. I want you so bad … please.”

  I gave in to him, as we both knew I would.

  Chapter Nine: My Debut at the Baths

  As exciting, as satisfying, as these nightly sex sessions with Paul were, I seemed to have phenomenal powers of recuperation back in those days. A few hours of sleep, cuddled next to my hot jazz musician roommate and lover, and I’d be ready to go again, my treacherous dick stiff and throbbing, and already on the lookout for action, as though it were a phallic periscope hidden away—barely—inside my jeans.

  One afternoon in late autumn, Paul was busy at a recording session, and I was on my own, since I didn’t happen to have any classes scheduled that day. As I moped about the apartment, daydreaming about various guys’ cocks, I remembered that one of my recent tricks had mentioned a bathhouse in our neighborhood. He went there often, he said, and he’d expressed his surprise that I hadn’t made my debut at the place yet. I decided to give it a try, since I had several hours to kill.

  My informant had told me that this particular bathhouse was busy even during the daytime. So I walked along the street toward the place with my anticipation all but sticking out of my pants.

  On the outside, it looked almost like an abandoned building, with most of its windows boarded up from within. The doorway opened directly onto the street, and it was marked by a sign which was so small and discreet that a pedestrian might walk right past, without ever suspecting what a den of iniquity thrived behind that door. When I found the address and stood there at the entrance, I couldn’t help glancing rather sheepishly up and down the street, to see if anybody might be observing me.

  Then, after this brief, deliciously guilty hesitation, I pressed the doorbell, and I was buzzed inside. Quickly, I ascended a flight of stairs, and I found myself in a fairly large room with benches and a small snack stand. Directly opposite the benches was a cubicle in which the receptionist was sitting, reading a bodybuilding magazine.

  I went up to the opening in his cubicle, feeling like so much raw meat being dangled in front of a hungry lion. I examined a sign on the wall, which listed the rates for a room and a locker, and the rules of the establishment.

  The musclebound stud looked through the aperture at me, sizing me up. Evidently having decided I was too young to be an undercover cop, and too nervous to be a potential troublemaker, he then flashed me an unexpectedly warm, sexy smile.

  “You want a room or a locker, buddy?” he asked, gruffly.

  “Uh—a room, I guess.” I pushed the money through the opening. The big guy reached behind him and took a numbered wooden box from a shelf which contained a long row of them, and he shoved it toward me.

  “You can put your valuables in here,” he advised. “If you need change for the vending machines, you can come out here and I’ll give it to you.”

  I deposited my wallet, watch, and key ring in the box, and I received in exchange a numbered tag and key attached to an elastic band, along with a freshly laundered towel, a bit ragged at the edges.

  “First time here?” he guessed.

  “Yeah. In fact … it’s the first time I’ve ever been to a place like this.”

  He smirked. “Fuck! A bathhouse virgin?” he said, with relish. “I didn’t think such a thing existed. You’re in Number Thirteen,” he grunted. “You don’t look like the superstitious type.”

  I wasn’t.

  “Have fun,” the bodybuilder said. “Relax. You’ll make out okay.”

  I thanked him, and then I went through another door, where I saw a staircase leading to the second floor of the building.

  A young guy passed me, just wandering about aimlessly, wearing nothing except a towel around his waist and a pair of shower clogs. He looked me up and down, smiled suggestively, and graciously allowed me to precede him up the stairs. This seemed like a promising beginning to my adventure.

  The door at the top of the stairs led into a dimly-lit corridor. The air was kept very warm and dry, I noticed at once. The second thing I noticed was that the place was full of near-naked men. Guys of various sizes, shapes, ages, and races were milling about restlessly, up and down the corridors, wearing towels. A few of the more brazen exhibitionists were actually prowling the hallways stark naked, with their cocks exposed and in various stages of erection.

  I don’t have to tell you the effect this display had on my already charged libido. I quickly got my bearings as I joined the throng, feeling conspicuously overdressed. Two red Fire Exit signs glowed at either end of the otherwise dark corridor, and partitioned rooms—actually no more than cubicles—opened onto the corridor, with each door numbered. I found Number Thirteen, flicked on the low-wattage light bulb, and closed the door behind me to give myself a few minutes of privacy before I plunged into the sea of bodies outside.

  The room was nothing much, about five feet wide by ten feet long, with a narrow metal bedframe, a mattress with clean sheets and a single small pillow, and a small wooden bedside table on which a plastic bowl was set. In the bowl was a handful of condoms and single-use packets of lube, compliments of the management. Hooks on the walls provided a place to hang up your clothes. The walls of the cubicle went up about nine feet, but it had no ceiling of its own, so that the lights from the adjoining “rooms” reflected off the peeling paint of the communal ceiling, which was even higher overhead, and cast a ghostly glow about.

  Feeling increasingly excited, I sat down on the bed and took off my shoes. From the cubicle to the left, I could hear the squealing of rusty bedsprings and the unmistakable sounds of fucking—loud groans and gasps, along with bumps and thumps. As I pulled off my socks and wriggled my toes, I heard one of the guys next door let out a loud orgasmic grunt, followed by a volley of quick, breathless gasps from both him and his partner.

  He was
obviously blasting his sperm deep into the other guy’s ass! My blood pressure soared, my cock pulsing with pure, mindless lust, as I listened to the two men hump their way through their mutual orgasms, so close to me.

  I stood up and stripped, hanging up my clothes. Now that I was naked, my cock sprang free, rock-hard and inflexible even when I grasped it in my hand and bent it away from my belly, experimentally. I wrapped my rather small, immodest towel around my waist. My dick bulged quite obscenely in front. I didn’t think any of the other patrons would be offended by the display, though!

  I slipped the elastic band with my room key around my wrist, and, attired in the “uniform of the day,” I stepped out into the hall, turned off the light in my room, and locked the door.

  I was mildly startled to find a group of several young guys—two of them looked barely twenty, in fact—loitering near the closed door of the cubicle where my two neighbors were fucking and ejaculating together. The cluster in the corridor was eavesdropping on the sex sounds. Obviously, this place wasn’t for the shy.

  Satisfied that the fuck was finished, the group broke up. One of the younger guys moved slowly down the hallway, giving me a look over his bare shoulder. As I lingered in front of my own room, not sure which way to go, several more men approached down the dim, red-lit corridor and passed me.

  Nobody spoke. The men moved silently, hungrily, looking one after the other into any open doors of cubicles. All around me, though, I could hear more sounds of men making love, sucking and fucking each other, coming from inside isolated cubicles.

  I moved away from my door and joined the anonymous, near-nude, restless procession. Some of the cubicle doors were open, and in the dim light inside I could make out the figures of guys lying on the white sheets on their beds.

  They were all naked, of course, most of them fondling full erections with their hands. Guys in the corridor would stop, peer into the rooms, and usually move on. Now and then, though, a man would go inside the cubicle, approach the nude male on the bed, and reach down to feel his cock. If the guy on the bed liked his visitor’s looks, he would nod his head, or whisper to him. The visitor would shut the door, and the sex would begin.