Date: Fri, 30 Apr 1999 20:36:39 -0400
From: Lee <lburwell@adan.kingston.net>
Subject: In the Sauna

This story involves sex between men. If you have a problem with this, 
then picture me waving "toodles", and click on your browser's 'Back' 
button.

And no, this isn't part of the service at *my* health club, so don't 
bother asking where that is. <g>

Feedback, positive, negative or (best of all) constructive, can be sent 
to <lburwell@adan.kingston.net>


IN THE SAUNA

When you sit at a desk all day, there's nothing like a good workout to 
get you a good night's sleep. The physical exhaustion overcomes the 
brain's urge to rehash your day, over and over again, so that you can get 
a restful sleep. It also does wonders in making sure that you don't end 
up with an ass the size of Manhattan Island.

When I moved here, after getting a job straight out of college, the first 
thing I did after finding an apartment was to find a health club. During 
the summer, I rarely use my membership, preferring instead to run outside 
in the almost-fresh air. But when it was cold or wet or otherwise 
miserable, it was good to have someplace to go. I don't need much. A pool 
to do laps, a treadmill to run on and just the basic nautilus equipment.

The club I picked wasn't the closest to my home, nor was it the closest 
to my workplace, but that was alright. It had one feature that the others 
didn't: It was open until midnight. Most of the other clubs I'd checked 
out closed at eight or nine, never late enough to do a proper workout on 
a night where I'd worked late. The late hours made it worth the hassle of 
the longer drive.

That was what I was doing there at nearly ten o'clock on a Thursday 
night. We'd finally shipped the new version of  our software product that 
day, on budget and on time, and the boss had told everyone to take Friday 
off. Of course, we'd all worked enough overtime to take a *week* off, but 
that was alright. I like my job, and I don't mind the long hours. I was 
single and lived alone, so it wasn't like there was anyone to care if I 
worked late.

But despite the adrenaline drop that came at the end of a project, I was 
too keyed up to sleep, so I decided to stop at the health club on my way 
home. I had gear in my locker, and even a spare set of clothes to wear 
home.

Needless to say, that late on a weeknight the place was nearly deserted.

Stripped to my shorts, I stared at the locker trying to decide what I 
wanted to do. A few weights? A run on the treadmill? Finally, I pulled 
out my Speedo's and decided on doing some laps. The club had a good lap 
pool, and I dove right in, barely leaving a ripple behind.

Swimming is like running; meditation in motion. You concentrate on 
lifting the arm out of the water and over the head. You concentrate on 
kicking in an even tempo. You concentrate completely on the physical, 
until all thought drains away. Very Zen.

I was so successful at shutting down the mind that when I finally pulled 
myself, rubber-limbed, from the pool, I found that it had been more than 
an hour, and it was after eleven.

That meant I had just enough time to relax in the sauna for a while. A 
quick shower sluiced the chlorine from my skin and hair, and then I 
headed for the sauna.

The sauna was a great way to drain the last of the tension from my body. 
Two levels of wooden benches ran along two walls; one set high up for 
those who really liked the heat, and one set lower for those who don't 
like it quite as much. The sauna was actually in the men's locker area -- 
presumably there was one on the women's side -- so there were no rules 
requiring clothing.

I stripped my swimsuit off and dropped it on one bench with a wet >plop<. 
By the time I was ready to leave, it would be pretty much dry. I spread 
my towel over one of the upper rank of benches to protect my skin from 
the hot wood, then stretched out on my stomach, my head pillowed on my 
forearms. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. A half-hour of this and I 
would be ready to head home for a good night's sleep, with no alarm to 
wake me up in the morning.

Some time later, I wasn't sure how long, I heard the door creak open, and 
a slight draft from the hall made me shiver. I didn't bother looking up, 
not having the energy. Some other night-owl or late worker, I thought. Or 
maybe Jack, from the front desk, was taking a small break. This time of 
night he could lock up the cash and relax. There were never many people 
looking for help.

The hairs on my body prickled, and my mind filled in what was happening, 
since I didn't feel any urge to open my eyes. Whoever it was stopped for 
a moment, no doubt realizing that he wasn't alone. Then he walked to the 
back of the sauna and boosted himself up onto the upper bench. I could 
hear the creak as first the lower, then the upper bench took weight. From 
the amount of creak, I would guess that he was about two hundred pounds. 
Maybe even a little more. Then there was a deep sigh.

'I hear you, man,' I thought to myself, then slipped back into my doze.

I was drifting quite pleasantly in a warm haze when I felt it: Something 
touching my foot. I tensed, but didn't turn my head. Maybe it was just an 
accident. Maybe he was sitting a little too close, and would now move 
away.

He didn't. Instead, I felt a hand slip underneath my foot and lift it up. 
I froze. This was just too damn weird.

And it got weirder. He was *massaging* my foot. Gradually, the tension 
drained away, and my curiosity started to grow. But for some strange 
reason I didn't bother turning to see who it was.

After my foot had been thoroughly massaged, he moved to the other, giving 
it the same treatment. Then he started moving up my legs with a firm but 
gentle touch.

By the time he reached my ass, I was a puddle of goo lying there. He 
cupped my ass cheeks and gently squeezed then, kneading them like two 
lumps of dough (not that my ass has any resemblance to a lump of dough, I 
must say). Then he pulled them apart and blew a breath of slightly cool 
air across the valley there, sending shivers up my spine.

Up until now, this all could have been put down to general friendliness, 
but it had just graduated to the sexual. My cock, sandwiched between my 
belly and the towel, falling along the space between the bench boards, 
perked up and decided to start paying attention.

I almost pulled away to see who it was, but then I decided to just close 
my eyes and go with the flow. It had been a long time since I'd gotten 
laid -- between work and the new city -- and my libido had suddenly 
decided that it had been asleep for far too long. Since graduation, I 
hadn't had the time to find myself a lover, or even a fuck-buddy. Besides, 
while I got along fine with my boss, he was a bible-thumper, and I didn't 
think that being exposed as gay would do me much good at work. It might 
be a well-furnished, comfortable closet, but I was definitely in it.

But other than the one erotic caress, my mysterious masseuse didn't try 
anything. He just kept working his way up. First the back, then the 
shoulders, down the arms and finally the *best* scalp massage that I have 
ever been treated to in my life. Even if there wasn't any sex on the 
agenda, I wasn't going to complain. I felt *great* .

"Turn over."

The husky voice startled me. Then I recognized it. It *was* Jack.

Jack was the guy who ran the club. I had the sneaking suspicion that he 
might even own the place. He was always there, handing out towels with a 
grin, always ready to help when there was a problem with the equipment. 
He also happened to be gorgeous, although I'd never allowed myself to 
notice more than that, and only in passing. Brown hair, gray eyes and the 
sort of build that comes from working out, but without being the over-
pumped like some of the weight-lifters who came to the club.

I paused for a moment, and he slapped my ass. Not enough to leave a mark, 
or even to sting. Just enough to say 'pay attention'. Deciding to go for 
broke, I rolled over onto my back, and my cock immediately slapped 
against my belly, dribbling in its eagerness.

Again, he went back to my feet, and started working his way up my body. I 
didn't know who'd taught him how to give a massage, but I thanked that 
unknown person. I hadn't felt this good in ages.

The only problem was he skipped right over what I wanted him to touch the 
most! He skipped right past my cock, and massaged my stomach only where 
he wouldn't actually brush it, then moved to my chest. I may be leaner 
than most of the muscle men around town, but I certainly had nothing to 
be ashamed of. My pecs were firm and well-defined, and he manipulated 
them expertly. Then I groaned. He leaned forward and flicked his tongue 
over each flat nipple.

Then he sat back and grinned. He lifted my right arm, and carefully 
massaged the upper arm, the lower arm, then very slowly each finger. Then 
he maneuvered my arm until it was stretched up and over my head.

"Keep it there," he said in that wonderful whiskey voice. I grinned back, 
and did as he said.

He repeated the actions on my left arm, first massaging, then arranging 
it.

Then he crouched over me on all fours, not touching me anywhere, and 
lowered his face until I could feel his breath against my lips. Tired of 
waiting, I lunged upwards and caught his mouth in as deep a kiss as I 
could from my position, trying to tell him 'Get on with it!' without 
saying a word.

It worked. He pulled away quickly, and without any more teasing, he moved 
down and took my entire cock down his throat in one gulp.

Whoever had taught him massage was a master, and whoever had taught him 
to suck cock was equally good. He hummed, making my eyes roll back in my 
head, then pulled back and did this thing with his tongue that I can't 
even describe, except to say that it made me scream.

I was close -- so *damned* close -- when he pulled away. I hollered my 
frustration and reached for him, but he grabbed my wrists and put my arms 
back where they'd been.

"Stay here. Don't move, and *don't* touch yourself," he said, then got up 
and left the sauna room.

I lay there obediently for a couple minutes. Then, when he hadn't come 
back, I started to worry. Here I was, stretched out on a bench in the 
sauna, my cock hard and dripping. What if he didn't come back? How long 
did I wait? And what if someone *else* came in?

By the time the door opened again, I was starting to fume. Another minute 
and I would have gotten up and gone to take a cold shower. I turned my 
head, frowning.

Jack stood there, gloriously naked and aroused, wearing just the grin on 
his face.

"Good boy," he said. "Just needed to lock up and get this." He held up 
the ever familiar small square packet. "Now where were we?"

He climbed back up onto the bench, looking down my body. The small noise 
of the packet ripping open was loud in the small room. He pulled out the 
condom, and rolled it onto himself.

"In fact, I believe," he said in a thoughtful tone, "that we were right 
here!"

With that, my cock was back down his throat. This time there was no 
teasing. Just a steady suction and massage until I started to spasm. Then 
he pulled away, but continued to pump me until I filled his hand with my 
cream.

Gasping, I didn't move at all while he lifted my legs, covered his latex-
covered cock with my cream, then steadily pushed his way into my ass. 
Between the massage, the heat and the blow job, there wasn't any 
resistance.

He leaned forward, my legs over his shoulders, until I was bent almost 
double. Then he started a steady pounding rhythm, pistoning in and out of 
my ass like a jackhammer. I was too drained to get it up again, But I 
groaned and arched into the thrusts, the hits on my prostate sending 
aftershocks through me, the friction driving me nuts.

I wasn't the only one on edge. It didn't take long until Jack froze above 
me, his cock pulsing inside of me. Then he dropped down on top of my 
chest, breathing heavily.

He finally pulled out, setting off one last little volley of aftershocks, 
and pulled off the condom. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on my lips, 
then stood.

"Take as long as you need," he said before leaving the room.


By the time I'd worked up the energy to go take a shower to wash the 
sweat and spunk off of myself, it was well past midnight. I dressed, 
feeling calm, relaxed and ready for bed.

At the front desk, I tossed my used towels into the laundry basket, then 
grinned at Jack. He grinned back.

"Have a nice night," he said. "You look a hell of a lot better than when 
you got here."

I raised an eyebrow at that. I'd been tired and nearly burnt out, but I 
hadn't realized that it had been that obvious. "I *feel* a lot better," I 
said, enjoying the well-used ache in my backside.

"All part of the service," he replied. "Keep that in mind."

"I will," I said, then headed off to find my own bed for the night. It 
was shaping up to be a *great* weekend.

THE END