A Fictional Essay by P. Atreides
There's this little neighborhood bar around the corner from my apartment. From the outside it looks like any other normal drinking hole. When you walk into it, it still looks that way. Slot machines built into the bar, stools lined up in front of the machines. A small kitchen for your standard bar fare: burgers, fries, wings and the like. Tables and chairs, booths. Seats maybe 175 people. A small hallway leading to the restrooms and public telephone. There are four doors leading off this hall. One marked Office - Private, one marked Women, one Men, one Janitorial.
Seems like any run of the mill joint. Inside the mens room are two stalls, a 5 foot long floor trough urinal with no privacy panels and a counter with two sinks. Inside one of the stalls is an unmarked door. If you gave it any thought at all, it would appear to be a connecting door to the Janitorial room. If you were observant, you realized it was offset from that by just enough to open into another room.
I'd been frequenting the place for a number of months. It was only last week that it struck me. I would see guys go into the men's room, but they wouldn't come back out. At first I thought maybe I just wasn't paying attention and didn't see them reemerge. But the other night there was no mistaking it.
It was early evening on a Friday night, probably around 7:30. I'd stopped right after work to wash down the grit of the day. Just as I was getting ready to go take a leak, this fairly tall, good looking guy got up from a barstool after having (evidently) lost the sawbuck he fed into the slot machine. He strolled across the bar disappearing down the hall towards the mensroom. Now I ordinarily wouldn't go into this mens room if I knew someone else was there. I have a shy bladder and can't force a stream if someone is there shoulder to shoulder with me.
So I was deliberately waiting for this guy to come back out. I waited a good 20 minutes. Then I just had to go. If I didn't I was going to piss my pants. I finally went in. Nobody was there. Huh. I know damn well he hadn't slipped past me. I was extremely vigilant feeling the urgent need to pee. I stood at the floor trough, whizzing against the wall, wondering how I could have missed this guy coming back out. Took me a long time to completely empty. I'm just forcing the last few squirts out and hear something in the stall. I looked over and the stall door wasn't closed. Curious now I shook off, stuffed myself back into my pants, zipped up and quietly leaned down to look under the door.
No feet. I pushed the stall door open. Nobody was home. I heard more sounds. Like footsteps going up a set of stairs. My curiosity really got the better of me. I reached out and tried the knob. It opened almost soundlessly. I pulled it open a tiny crack and peered in. A dimly lit stairway led up to a landing. I slowly went up as stealthily as I could. I hit the landing, which led me to short hall and another set of steps, again going up. I poked down the hallway which was a dead end with one exception. The wall to my right was kind of transparent overlooking the trough. If you stood here you could observe any guy coming in to take a leak. Gave me second thoughts about ever using the trough again.
I went back to the stairs and quietly made my way up them. A door at the top had a sign that read ROOF ACCESS. I slowly pushed it open a crack and peered around. Umbrella tables and chairs. Chaise lounges with small tables. Small landscape lights were just starting to pop on in the twilight. I saw a few were occupied. I pushed the door open and stepped onto the roof. Guys were laying on the chaise lounges, just dozing or talking in murmurs, sipping on drinks. Naked. Hmm. OK, a nice rooftop tanning place. I'd have to remember this. It'd be a great place to be on a nice warm Saturday or Sunday afternoon. A couple of guys waved to me and offered a quiet hello. I waved back and went back in.
I got to the landing and again peered down the small hallway. A guy was standing and whizzing. I was mesmerized. I watched him until he was done clearing and shaking the last drop, stuffed in, zipped up and comfortably arranged. The sense of voyuerism gave me a bit of a thrill. I couldn't deny it. The proof was in my jeans. I waited until he'd washed his hands and left before making my way down. I didn't want to scare the guy if he heard me.
As I reached the bottom again I saw I'd missed a narrow hallway along the left side of the stairs. Well, what the hell? If I was exploring, why not go all the way. A straight flight of steps led down to a small alcove and a door reading BASEMENT ACCESS. I tried the knob and opened the door. It was fairly well lit and I went in. It appeared to be a locker room of some sort. But too big of one for a small bar staff.
Lockers lined two walls. Benches in front of them. An aisleway down the middle. I heard voices and running water. At the end of the room was shelving with towels piled high. Right around the archway to my left was a huge gang shower. I saw the guy that had left the bar. Under a spray of water with his back to me. A couple other guys were in there as well. One noticed me and waved. I waved back and smiled. On the other side of the hallway was a small alcove with a small raised floor area. A guy was standing bare-assed taking a piss against the wall. Another floor trough.
Past these was a glass door also on the right side. Really fogged up. I assumed a steam room as I later found out was correct. The main room led out to a large lounge area. Guys were sitting and watching TV, reading magazines, some in quiet conversation. A couple of them looked up when I walked in and nodded at me. Some were nude, some had towels wrapped around the waist. Beer and soda machines lined one wall; a couple of snack machines. A coffee maker with a full, fresh smelling pot sitting on the warmer. A small door was on the opposite side of the room. A sign next to it read SHOWER BEFORE ENTERING WET AREAS.
This was truly intriguing. It looked like some type of spa club. With some very nice amenities. I wondered what the cost was to join. I mean what a great place to just lie around and relax, chill out on a Friday or Sat night. Just a very bizarre place for it. I noticed another dooway. Again a sign was next to the door MASSAGE ROOM and in smaller type under by Appt Only. Next to it, another door: VIDEO.
I poked my head into the door marked wet areas. An indoor pool! And jacuzzi spa. A quick count told me all 20 chaise lounges were occupied, guys kicked back, relaxing. There were probably another 20 to 25 guys in the pool; some just hanging at the edge, a couple swimming laps, a few floating around. There were probably 6 guys in the jacuzzi. Three huddled up together, two perched on the deck with feet dangling in the water, one with his head leaned back eyes closed. Noone was wearing anything but a smile.
I turned and made my way back into the lounge and the guy from the bar, towel slung over his shoulder, was just settling into a chair with a cup of coffee. He smiled and said hello. A dazzling smile and just the slightest hint of dimples in his cheeks. He was a good looking guy. About 6' 3" tall with one of those perfectly proportioned builds. Broad shoulders and narrow waist. Maybe in his mid-forties. Dark, wavy hair on the longish side. He had beautiful dark eyes and the longest, thickest lashes I'd ever seen on a man. I nodded to him as I walked past. Then backstepped and motioned to him to follow me. He got up, wrapped the towel around his waist and followed me out.
As I followed him back into the locker room I saw the hair at the nape of his neck was still damp, sprung into small curls. When we got to the locker room I introduced myself in a low voice. He shook my hand and gave me his name. I asked him what the place was and how I could get in on a regular basis. He took me to a locker, opened it up and handed me a business card. It was a plain card with THE FRATERNITY "are you man enough?" written on it and a phone number. Membership is by invitation only. He asked if I'd noticed that everyone had a thin gold or silver band on the right ring finger. I hadn't but looked down at his. It looked like a plain gold wedding band. I was welcome to stay since I'd stumbled in but if I wanted to join I'd have to call and say who was sponsoring me. He'd call and verify if he thought I was the right kind of guy. Otherwise they would turn me down when I called and guys would begin checking rings. And I wasn't to think I could get away with buying a plain gold band. There's an inscription on the inside.
Well, I thought for a moment. Elite membership clubs always kind of ticked me off. He waited patiently. But there seemed to be something special about this place. And everyone I'd run into so far had seemed really kind. I shrugged and said OK. He opened a locker and told me to use it. He told me to get undressed, grab a towel and he'd be in the lounge. He tossed over his shoulder as he left that I should shower.
I was just finishing up my shower and toweling dry when a couple guys wandered in. They too smiled, nodded, and said hello. One of them looked me up one side and down the other. I pretended I didn't notice - or didn't care if I had. I wrapped the towel around my waist and went back to the lounge. He stood as I entered and offered me a coffee. I took it gladly and we sat down on a small sofa. He told me the club was a charitable organization. It raised money to give away. Money was made by monthly dues, the vending machines, occasional raffles and a few other sundry things. Like the massuer gave a percentage. That kind of thing. I nodded and told him I thought it was excellent. A terrific way to support charity.
Then he asked if I was gay, bi, or was I a straight guy who liked an occasional circle jerk. I laughed with embarrassment but didn't understand why he was asking. He reached over and put a hand on my crotch and gave a little squeeze. I just sat there and didn't move. He started rubbing and squeezing me, running his other hand along my thigh. Much to my own chagrin I felt a slight stirring, even though I was looking around nervously at the other guys in the room. He smiled at me and stopped.
Said he'd show me around. I followed him to the pool. We floated around a little bit and then hit the jacuzzi for a while. I got a little too hot and sat up on the deck. He moved between my legs, pushing them open wider, and proceeded to knead and stroke my entire package. Nothing was happening. I couldn't get past the fact that we were in plain sight of the rest of the guys in the jacuzzi. He told me to lie back and close my eyes. I laid back on the deck, threw an arm across my face, took a deep breath and tried to relax. I mean, come on, a freely given hand job? I wasn't going to turn that down no matter who was on the other end. Being single and between girlfriends I'd been doing enough solo flying for a while. Slowly I started to respond.
As I laid there, breathing with purpose, I actually started to enjoy it. I rolled my head to one side and peeked out at the other guys. They weren't paying any attention to us at all. I finally relaxed completely and felt my soldier rise to full attention. I removed my arm from my eyes and looked at the guy between my legs. He winked at me and smiled. Then asked if it felt good or if there was something I'd like him to do differently.
I couldn't deny it. It was fantastic and told him so. This was by far the best hand job I'd ever gotten in my life. Ever. He was strong, steady, gentle, and purposeful in his ministrations. Each stroke, each kneading motion, each massage over my balls. Everything was in perfect harmony with my sensations. I felt my nuts start to elevate and he backed off and slowed down. As they dropped back down he picked up speed and pressure. Four or five times he brought me right to the edge and then squeezed the base and gently pulled my testes back down. My entire crotch was soaked in my own slick wetness of precome.
By this time my hips had begun to writhe and thrust up pushing my hardness through his hands. My balls began to ache. It was a good ache though; they felt heavy and full. And even as he tried to hold them down they pulled up firmly against his fingers. I heard myself start to moan softly. He had me so close. A few more strokes across the head and I'd be done for. I thrust my hips up forcefully. And suddenly lost the crest when I felt four hands start massaging my chest and arms.
My eyes opened instantly and started to sit up. It had scared me. Not enough to lose my wood, but enough to stop me from ejaculating. Two of the guys who had been loungeing around in the jacuzzi were smiling down at me. One told me to relax, that it was ok, I was fine. Noone was going to hurt me.
I laid back again. Now I had six hands wandering my entire body. They were everywhere. Within a minute or two they had me right back at the peak. My whole body began to vibrate. They strung me along like that for the longest time. I know I was moaning and crying out, twisting and writheing around. My butt was thrusting up high off the deck. But I wasn't in control of any of it. Those six hands knew precisely what they were doing, driving me to the brink. I savored each and every touch. It was like small, constant jolts of electricity through me.
I heard my voice crying out in pleasure. They brought me higher and higher. Just to the edge and back down, to the edge and back down. I'd never experienced anything like this in my entire life. Nothing compared to it. And just as I thought I couldn't possibly get any harder than I already was I felt a mouth lower slowly down to the root of my burgeoning 8". A rough tongue played over the sensitive underside of the shaft, then swirled around the corona of the head. Another tongue started lapping at my nuts. I know I yelled out loudly. I heard myself. Exactly what I was yelling I don't know. It probably wasn't anything intelligable at all.
I looked down and I swear my tool was longer, thicker, and certainly much, much harder than it had ever been. I could feel the spasms deep inside of me as my overfilled prostate tried to force the fluid from itself. And still they didn't let me come. A hand squeezing hard at the shaft base shut off the escape route. My balls felt huge. They ached with a dull throbbing. I could feel my cock pounding, expanding and contracting in girth with my rapid pulse.
I'd had plenty of women over the years give me handjobs and suck my dick, but nothing like this. Not a single one of them had ever taken me to this place. My body was tightly wound. Every muscle tense. Every nerve end singing.
I felt the hand release my balls from its grip and the hand squeezing the base of my pole loosened and started a milking stroke, squeezing as it made its way up and over the tip. I felt a finger push through my rectum and against my prostate. Like a geyser in Yellowstone I felt the hot liquid boil over and shoot up through me. Every nerve was so tuned I was able to track the progression. I felt it shoot up through the shaft, pause for a milisecond at the base of the head and then the first spurt finally exited through the tip. Hot splatters fell over me as I felt the gathering force of the next spasm begin deep down in my groin.
As the muscles around my prostate relaxed I could feel the hot liquid fill the void of the first shot. I felt the force of the spasm gather and suddenly squeeze sending the next volley spewing through. Up the shaft it moved as the smooth muscles forced it along its path. Again the nano-second pause just under the head before it shot free and washed over my body. Each spurt lowered slightly in force, but not sensation and I gasped for air between each one. The stroking hand kept to the rythym of the pulsing shots, milking the shaft each time and I would feel a gentle squeeze on my balls and a slight pressure against my prostate. I don't know how many shots fired out of my steel pole. It seemed to go on for a long, long time. And I didn't want it to end.
My body was limp when the spurts ebbed to a river drooling from the tip. The sheer force and volume of my ejaculation left me drenched in warm, slick pools of thick fluid from the hair on my head to the fine hair of my abdomen. Hands were spreading it over me, bathing me in it. It seemed like hours that I lay there, breathing heavily, sighing loudly.
I heard a whisper in my ear asking how I felt. All I could do was sigh in complete satisfied relief. My skin soft and warm. The hand still very slowly and gently stroking my wet, slick cock. Fingers gently running over my balls; balls which now felt so light. Empty. I felt so good. So relaxed. So utterly at peace. As a warm, soft, thick towel was gently laid over me he whispered, "Welcome to the Fraternity." I smiled and drifted off into a sound sleep.
Copyright 2005 by P. Atreides. All rights reserved. Permission to use or reprint all or part of this fictional essay may be obtained by writing to [email protected]