by Zack
Gil noticed the others had secured their locker keys around a foot, using the elastic bands they were attached to. He raised his left leg and slipped the band over his foot to leave the key dangling above his ankle.
“This way,” Marcos announced, and led them back along the room, dragging Mike by the hand behind him. Armando inclined his head at the pair, and Gil followed him and the others.
Gil had a preconception of a bathhouse, that it would be very dark and dingy. The opposite turned out the case—although some areas did prove to be shadowy. Taste and comfort were hallmarks of the baths: heated tiling in the locker room and around the sauna and steam baths, soft carpets everywhere else, sophisticated lighting. It was obvious that Armando’s boast had not been an idle one, and he and Marcos gave them a tour of the facilities. Although broad daylight outside, here inside windowless night reigned. Most areas were low-lit, the bar-restaurant with its high skylight the only exception. Shadowy figures strolled between rooms or lounged on divans scattered the length of connecting hallways.
Downstairs, there were two steam rooms behind the showers and a hot tub nearby. Beyond the sauna cabins a modest-sized pool glimmered with dark blue light and steam rose from its heated surface. The two upper floors were carpeted. Several narrow corridors ran between rows of cubicles. Passing by, Gil saw through an open door a naked guy lying on a single bed, absently stroking himself. Armando grinned widely and bent his head to Gil’s ear. “He wants you go suck him.”
Gil shook his head, and shoved Armando lightly on his butt.
On the top floor, heavy curtains concealed the entrance to the main orgy room. “We try later, huh?” Marcos murmured to Mike as Gil and Armando caught them up.
Turning aside from the curtain, Marcos led them to the left and out into a broad space which acted as a major connecting throughway. The blank outer wall of the orgy room formed the passage’s right-hand side, which ran into the penumbral distance. A platform rising to about chest height created the left side, supported at intervals with wooden uprights. At the end, broad and shallow steps led down into the large open area below.
As he turned the corner above the stairway, Gil noticed a low opening giving access to the dark space below the platform, which itself ramped gently down alongside the steps to the lower level auditorium. This was dotted with sofas and armchairs facing a large TV screen playing porn movies. Coupling figures occupied some of the chairs. Looking back up the wide, sloping area rising behind them, Gil saw lone figures toward the top, lying back on the thick carpeting, relaxing, or just plain waiting for someone to proposition them.
“Let’s go back up there,” Armando suggested after they had looked around, and went ahead up the stairs back to the upper level. He rounded the corner and pulled Gil with him to stand up against the raised platform so that their heads stuck up above it. Way down, Gil had a clear view of the TV screen between the shoulders of two reclining guys who were stretched out on top, the backs of their heads only feet away.
“Just wait a bit,” Armando whispered as Mike and Marcos joined them. By leaning back slightly and peering down through the opening into the cramped undercroft, Gil could just make out the shapes of figures lounging on a padded bench immediately below him. Then he caught the motion of a hand reaching out to stroke the bump in the front of Armando’s towel. A second later a testing probe came against his own dick, gently brushing against its limp length. Gil straightened up and his cock twitched involuntarily.
Armando’s headlight grin beamed at him. “You getting some?”
Gil nodded, pressed his hips harder against the open wooden framework. The invisible hand wormed its way between the fold of his towel and released his stiffening cock. A moment later a juicy warm mouth closed over his cock head and slowly jacked him up to full hardness. He looked down at the only visible inch of Armando’s dark shaft sliding in and out of another mouth. I hope Mike’s getting the same. From the sublime expression on his friend’s face, it looked as though he was.
“Oooh, too soon,” Armando suddenly exclaimed. “He’s one hungry cock sucker.” He pulled back, adjusting his towel over an evident hard-on. Marcos obviously agreed and pulled Mike unwillingly away. The Puerto Ricans were all smiles and laughs, suddenly a little embarrassed at the obvious tumescence tenting their towels. “We go’n have a shower and sauna, okay? Then the orgy room?” Armando asked, taking Gil’s hand.
As they retraced their steps toward the main stairs, Gil spotted a strange looking metal and plastic contraption standing in an alcove. It piqued his curiosity. “What’s that?”
Armando went over to it. “This thing? Yeah, that’s for having a good face fuck. Look. See, here, the fucker swings this seat thing out so the other can slide in on his back. You place the back of the knees over this”—pointing up at a padded cross bar—“and wriggle to get comfortable on the cushions. Then the fucker drops it all down on the swing.”
Gil could see that this brought the seated guy almost upright, upside down, his head resting on a cushioned back at midriff height to his partner.
“Then, the fucker, he stands on the stirrups down here, trapping the other one in. He puts his dick into the mouth”—extending a suggestive finger at the right height—“grips these outer bars, and starts a hot fuck-fuck. If the guy who’s gettin it can’t take all the fucker’s stuff, it collects in the bowl underneath.”
Gil saw a shallow basin equipped with a small faucet and drain. All so very hygienic.
“You wanna try it out?”
Gil laughed. “Maybe, later. I’m not sure I want to be on show, though.”
“Hampstead Heath?” Mike snickered.
“Oh… well, that was a bit different.”
For an hour they spent time switching between the steam room, sauna, and shower, during which activities the four boys got to know each other better, fondling and stroking up languid boners, then relaxing. The two Puerto Ricans seemed happy to swap around a bit, so Gil had already given Armando a light suck on his lengthy meat and the same on Marcos’s shorter, but thicker cock, stacked above a pair of neat balls. The boy compared himself proudly to Mike’s massive globes in their tightly stretched ball sac. At the end of this pleasurable period, Armando announced he was ready for a bit of real action in the orgy room.
Betoweled again, they pushed through the heavy drapes and into virtual blackness. After a minute’s adjustment, Gil could make out the faintest detail of a few feet of the long room, with its bunk beds along the walls. Here and there, a two-level bunk bed stuck out at right angles into the room, providing standing support, and it was against one of these that Marcos and Armando guided their tourists. “You fuck me standing up now, Gil? Someone down there, he’ll suck me while you do,” Armando stated confidently.
Their towels flopped to the floor. Armando turned and leaned against the uprights of the bunk bed, pressing his ass cheeks back onto Gil’s jutting cock. He felt the boy’s questing hands slip around his cock head with a cool, greasy grip. Like Marcos, he had picked up a tube of the free KY Jelly. Then he guided Gil’s lubed weapon up to his crack, working it up and down the cleft, letting the KY do its work.
Gil was lost in the dark with only the slightest impression of Armando’s jutting spine disappearing into the murk, but his body was alive to the glorious sensation of the boy’s clenching asshole. He reached around the waist for Armando’s dick, and discovered that the young prophet was correct. He felt a mouth already busy at work on his fuck’s dick, and the bucking motions Armando began to make testified to his intense enjoyment.
Someone jostled Gil and he reached out to trace a face that felt like Marcos’s. Running his hand down and forward he discovered Mike’s head—he would know the feel of that hair anywhere—bent forward in the same position as Armando. Marcos is topping Mike, he realized with some surprise.
Mike had be
en surprised as well. It wasn’t that he disliked getting it up the ass, just that—apart recently from Gil—he usually did the fucking. All of the signals Marcos had given so far seemed to suggest that Mike would be nailing the kid’s ass to the bedpost. Marcos, however, had different plans, and speedily manhandled his taller, more powerful companion into a bent over position. A cool slap of KY in his crack, and the notion of the small guy screwing his ass like a jack-rabbit turned Mike on.
He clenched down on Puerto Rican cock as Marcos pushed gently in. Suddenly, a hand gripped his meat and stroked him to full hardness. He couldn’t see a thing. Deprived of the sight of his cock getting jerked, Mike surrendered to the sensation of the disembodied manipulation. Being unable to see who was doing him only added to the bliss of his powerful arousal.
Moments later an equally invisible mouth replaced the hand, presumably belonging to some guy reclining on the lower bunk he leaned against. He was getting it both ends and loving it. The guy was a tough, mouth-clamped sucker. Mike lowered a hand and realized the guy was lying on his back, his head bent back at an angle to encompass Mike’s shaft. It didn’t feel like getting sucked as much as him fucking down into the wet throat, which opened willingly to take every lunge. His cock head and sensitive tip received a tongue lashing one second and then there came a deliciously slippery thrust into the grasping mouth and throat.
The angle bent Mike’s cock down sharply when he thrust in deep, which added a painful thrill and worked stunningly with the reaming Marcos gave his ass as the kid sped up the fuck. With his shorter length than Gil, Marcos didn’t ram Mike’s prostate, but he made up for it by a meaty girth that rubbed every inner rectal muscle and the frenzied pace he set up. It felt like getting it from a piston working on overdrive—a fuck speed Mike had never before experienced. At the same time, Mike’s flank continually bumped Armando’s next to him and that fleshly contact just added to the thrill.
The sexual heat built inexorably between the four—and the two invisible cocksuckers. And then the sound of slurp-gulping from below Armando, the quaking of the Puerto Rican’s sweaty body and his super-hard, convulsive ass-grip on his burning meat told Gil that the boy was coming. The sound of Armando feeding the guy sucking him and his moans, which Gil felt rushing up from the boy’s abdomen, brought him to the point of no return.
Pressing down hard on Armando’s back, Gil let fly with his own groaning orgasm, the ecstasy of the moment heightened by the feverish grunts of Marcos as he unloaded into Mike with a distinct wet slapping noise. Mike, in his disoriented state, could only go, “Oh, oh, oh,” as he jizzed the guy sucking him while he held on for dear life to the bunk upright.
They finally ended standing up in a sweating four-way hug, humping the last of their juices against each other’s slippery thighs, hips, butts, and still-stiff cocks. When the pace had lessened Mike spoke up. “I wonder what the time is. We can’t be late.”
“Time don’t mean much in here,” Marcos answered. So the only clock’s in the restaurant.”
Pulling their towels back up, the foursome wandered down to the glassed-in “winter garden” to check the time.
“Okay,” Mike breathed. “Enough time for a good shower off.”
That resulted in more thrashing before they really got cleaned up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Deal
A yellow cab dropped them off outside Subway. It had taken a bit to disengage Armando and Marcos, who insisted that Mike and Gil could get them in with their passes and the fact that they were both such very beautiful boys. Fifty bucks each had finally persuaded the Puerto Ricans to make their disgruntled way home. The line waiting outside the club was impressively long.
Feeling like frauds, the two walked up to the head of the line and showed their passes to the burly security men, who waved them in. Opposite the main line, a shorter one was being fed in through the doors to calls of frustration from those waiting for access. Gil noted student-age kids dressed in all their scant finery and marked out by their buff appearance made up this second group.
“The beautiful brigade,” Mike said laconically.
“Did you get a blowjob, in the orgy room I mean?”
“Oh yes. God knows who. All I know is the head was a buzz-cut, so it felt like a sexy guy. It took me a bit by surprise that Marcos wanted to screw me. Still, he was pretty good at it.”
“So, gimme all the details.”
Mike did as they made their way to the entrance to be let in.
Subway’s colossal interior was only beginning to fill up, so it took little time to reach the production office, where they found Rod finishing his set up. “’Bout time, too,” he grumbled with a smile. “Here, Mike. Check out the recorder. We’ll just go with whatever you can grab. I’ve done a load of light readings around the place. But as with Paradise, it’ll have to be an optimum setting rather than the best.”
“And what can I do?”
Rod looked up. “Actually, not a lot right now, Gil. Just get the four magazines loaded, and then why don’t you go have a wander around and, say, check back here every half hour.”
Ten minutes later, Gil slapped gaffer tape on the last magazine and numbered it. He looked to Mike, who waved a free hand. “Go on, lover. We’ll manage fine.” He took the four paces over to Gil and pecked him lightly on the cheek. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Har, har, har…”
Out in the club the rising heat slapped Gil in the face. He pushed his way through the customers, many only towel-clad in honor of the Steam Night. Back and forth on the gallery he went, and down onto the dance floor. He glanced up at the lighting gantries overhead and saw that from below they were very similar to those of Paradise, but they boasted a lot more features and exotic fixtures, whirling helicopters of flashing lights, mother ships with extensions, and cone-shaped things with arms that lowered until they hovered only feet above the dancers’ heads.
Eventually, he was drawn through the crowd to the zigzag stage arrangement at the far end of the disco and witnessed something he had never before dreamed of, let alone seen. Hemmed in by the boys crowding the front, three fine specimens of beefcake stood facing out, stark naked, and jacking off in time to the music.
He pressed up to a clutch of youngsters and the one he bumped into half turned to see who had pushed him. He did a double take at seeing Gil behind him, and with an appreciative whistle, shoved his pal next to him aside to let Gil in. “Top porn stars,” he shouted, waving a hand at the three on the stage. “The one in the center’s Jack Strider. You see his dick everywhere.” He saw Gil’s querying look. “His dildo is the top seller!”
Gil was now at the front, only a few feet away from the apparently legendary Strider. The boy who had let him in slipped a hand around Gil’s waist and gave a light hug. “Won’t be long now,” he uttered in a long sigh. At that moment the jerk-off star stepped right to the stage’s edge and swayed his knees, offering. Immediately there was a rush as the boys around Gil reached up in a mass to take quick rubs and licks at the mighty cock proffered at head height. The boy holding Gil swept him forward just as the star crouched a bit lower and the kid got a good mouthful, to the evident envy of his companions.
“Go, go, go!” he urged Gil on relinquishing the rampant flesh. He pushed Gil in the small of the back. Gil felt impelled. He strained up and forward and his lips swallowed the bulbous cock head, slippery with the spit of others, and, as he tasted, a healthy dollop of pre-cum. He sensed the gimlet eyes above regarding him intently. The man sank to his knees as the music speeded up toward a climax and he waved imperiously, obliging Gil to lean in again and take the slicked erection in his mouth.
Continuous cheers all around him drove Gil on, that and several hands groping him. He hadn’t realized how hard he had become. The music climaxed, and so did the porn st
ar. He raised himself upright on his knees, grabbed the back of Gil’s head, and pumped his mouth with cum, professionally pulling back after two jizzes to spray the rest over the thronging crowd of craving students.
Gil staggered back into the arms of the one who had let him in. The boy mashed his mouth against Gil’s, his tongue probing for a taste of star-filled cum. They broke breathlessly and Gil pushed his way out of the scrimmage as the crowd swayed to either side in the hope of catching something from the two other stars.
The extraordinary event, for which he had no preparation, filled his head. The pungent waft of drugs in the atmosphere wasn’t helping. Subway sold only soft drinks, but speed, poppers, pot, and stronger stuff were everywhere.
He made his way toward the front of the dance area and passed under the gallery into a second big room with a much lower roof than the main floor. Here, a line of guys buying sodas at the long bar idly watched the antics of a few youngsters leaping happily naked into a massive wooden barrel, filled to the top with steaming water. As each clambered up and fell in, water sloshed over the rim and the cement floor around was awash. Opposite the bar, and disappearing into the dim interior under the low roof, Gil encountered the club’s backroom; not dark, because low-wattage lamps lit it moderately well. The entire area was raised on a solid terrace about three feet above the level of the bar area. Thin gray plastic-covered mattresses stretched from wall to wall. At the center, facing Gil, a narrow trench at floor level ran deep into the middle of the platform.
The space was busy with teens and upward cruising, making out along the walls and in the corners, and lining the edge of the trench, its purpose immediately identifiable, for it was filled with guys giving blowjobs to the ranks standing above. The height of the duct meant no one had to bend down to suck. The orgiastic promiscuity immediately fascinated Gil. He hesitated, and then decided to climb to the terrace and was inexorably drawn to a position about half way along the trough.
