My Sauna Master


Just a little background info about me, I’m 21, 6 feet tall, and fairly slender. I had been regularly going to a rec center in to work out and use the indoor track, trying to get some tone on my plain body. The rec center was in a small town, about a 30 minute drive from the slightly larger town I live in. I go there to spare myself some embarrassment – I didn’t want anyone I might know from school to see me benching 60 pounds or doing anything equally pathetic, making it painfully obvious that I was new to working out. If you hadn’t guessed, I’m a bit shy.

As per my routine, after I was finished, I changed into my bathing suit in the locker room and headed towards the hot tub, across from the swimming pool. As I was walking across the wet concrete, I passed a man who had just left the hot tub. He was a fairly large man, and must have been in his late 30’s, early 40’s. He not only had a bit of a belly on him but had thick, hairy arms which were unmistakably more muscle than fat. His face seemed semi-typical for a man his age – traditional mustache and a rough board, like what I would have if I didn’t shave for a week or so. As we passed, he looked me up and down like I did to him, only with an unsettling hint of interest. I turned my head back to see him keep walking, noticing the early stages of balding on his head. “Of course”, I thought, “there’s always at least one fat, old schmuck at these rec centers. ”

After I had soaked long enough in the hot tub, I stopped myself when I walked past the Sauna room. I had never gone in this one but I remembered going into them as a kid at my home rec center. I remembered them being filled with naked dudes, and wondering why they weren’t wearing their bathing suits.

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   But I also remembered enjoying the warmth and steam after being in the cold pool. My curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to give it a shot.

I opened the door and walked in, barely able to see my own hand in front of my face through the steam. It was just barely enough visibility to make out the distinct figure out of the same man I passed earlier, white towel around his waist. He was sitting far off to side, well away from the tiny window on the door. I’m the kind of guy who, after tripping over a crack in the sidewalk, acts like he meant to do it to save face, sorta. So as much as I wanted to just turn back and head to the lockers, I proceeded I and sat down on the wooden bench, as to not offend him or create an awkward situation. In retrospect, there was a lot of irony in avoiding an awkward situation by putting myself right in the middle of another.

I sat down and hung my head, trying not to make any eye contact. This is where things got interesting. He started tapping his foot lightly. I didn’t get it. There wasn’t any music. I just shrugged it off and kept staring at the ground. Then I started remembering, I read somewhere that sometimes guys in bathroom stalls tap their feed to signal that they want some action, maybe a handjob, or a blowjob, or something.

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   Here I am, late at night, alone in a foggy sauna with a big dude who wants to get off. I’ve never considered myself gay, or even bi, but some things you should know about me are A) I have a wild fascination with anything taboo, I mean, granted that it’s not unreasonably deviant, like scat, piss, or intense pain, and B) I’ve always daydreamed and secretly fantasized about ME being the one who submits to a man, in that sort of “what if I was a girl” way, probably because, as I said, it’s taboo, but also because of my curiosity in role-reversal.

The naughty image of my stuffing his cock in my mouth in a public-ish area rushed through my mind like a flash-flood. Suddenly a million unanswered questions were running through my mind. Is he really tapping his foot because of that? Or is he just tapping his foot? How do I find out? Will I just ask him if he wants head? What if I get caught? Does he know anyone I know?

“Baby steps, man, baby steps”, I thought. I mustered the courage to scoot a few feet in his direction. Not subtle at all. He didn’t seem to have any reaction at all. Now I was getting really nervous. As soon as I was about to give up, play it safe and leave, I noticed a tiny, yet unmistakable gesture - his hand, down by his waist, and his finger, slowly curling inward. Now you’re speaking my language. I stood up, and sat back down directly next to him. He slowly slipped his towel off of his groin, revealing a cock that made my mouth water on sight. Perhaps I’m gayer than I give myself credit for. It was pure beauty.


   It had impressive length, even more impressive girth, and it was only part-erect at this point, and let’s not forget his plump, low-hanging balls.

I gradually slid my hand over his leg and wrapped it around his cock. It even felt heavenly in my hand.
    Soft, warm, and meaty. I stroked slowly, feeling his cock go from being a soft slab to a full-blown, stiff, blunt rod. It grew to at least eight inches, and I was lucky if I could fit my hand around it. It was a good way to start off, but it didn’t take long before I got bored of jacking him off. I wanted him in my mouth.

    I placed my own towel at his feet and kneeled on it, resting my hands on his big, hairy legs. I let all of my excess saliva drip down on the head of his cock. I knew I’d need it as slippery as possible. I started off slow, gently lapping his balls with my tongue, and running it over that entire area, trying not to neglect anything. I then ran my tongue up his shaft, until my lips met hit the shiny head. I slid down on his cock, and keeping my lips wrapped tightly around him. As I expected, I couldn’t get very far down, but I was loving every second of it.


       It appeared that he was loving it too, judging from his long moans and grunts. I obliged him by going faster, but my lips were getting tired. Keeping a tight grip on his cock with my lips proved harder than I thought. After my lips began to lose grip, things took an interesting turn.

    I felt two big hands on the back of my head. He pushed my head down on his cock. He sensed that I was going soft on him and he wasn’t going to leave unsatisfied. I resisted and panicked a bit. I wanted to go at my own pace but he was very strong and had the upper hand. I alternated between resisting and just trying to take the amount of cock that was being forced into my mouth. Unfortunately, both efforts were completely futile. He only pushed harder and faster. It was getting to be too much. Tears were running down my face, drool and precum was running down my chin, and it was damn near impossible to get a sufficient breath of air, but there was no way I could tell him to stop most of his fat cock down my throat.

    I let out a desperate muffled whimper, to which he muttered “Almost there…”

    He groaned, and then groaned a little louder.

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       Sensing that this would soon be over, I surrendered completely. I stop pushing back. He took an extra-firm grip of head, for good measure, and forced me all the way down on his cock, my mouth and throat engulfing all 8 inches of the beast, my nose pressed up against his protruding gut. At the same time, I reached my arms around his waist, grabbing his plump ass checks, and trying to pull him towards me, as if to try and push more of his cock down my throat. My throat went into spasms and my eyes rolled backwards. I could feel his cock throb and pulsate, as he spurt gobs of cum straight down my throat, a lot of it coming out of my nose. He must not have cum for weeks. He didn’t let go of my head until he was thoroughly finished.

    When we finally pulled me off, I was coughing and gasping, my entire face a mess of cum, saliva and tears. He stood up, picked up my towel and wiped his dick clean, and then tossing it at me. He put his bathing suit on, threw his towel over his shoulder, and walked towards the door. Before opening it, he turned towards me and sternly said “next week”. Still recovering from the sheer shock of receiving a genuine face-fucking, I looked him in the eye and managed to let out a “y-y-yes, sir” before he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

    To be continued.

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