Date: Thu, 4 Jan 2018 07:50:41 -0500
From: bldhrymn@aol.com
Subject: Carpenters Town

Carpenters Town
By Bob Archman

This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex.  If this offends or
bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a
discussion of safe sex. If you have, comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com


If you enjoy these stories. Please consider giving a donation to Nifty!


Carpenters Town was a working-class neighborhood that dated to the
1850s. It was created by a carpenter named John Carpenter. He was a house
builder and during lulls in construction he developed small houses for
working men's families. He inherited a farm on the edge of Richmond and
subdivided it into small lots.

With his friends who were mostly bricklayers, painters and plasterers he
built houses. These builders gave him a discount in exchange for a portion
of the profits. This arrangement was profitable for all.  By 1870 the area
was called Carpenters Town. By 1900 the area has 300-350 houses. The houses
were well-built but had no frills.

In 1900, a descendant of John Carpenter gave the area what would now be
called a community center. Carpenter Hall had a large meeting room, and
most importantly public baths. City water reached the area in the 1880s,
but his was used for the kitchen sink and a toilet.  Water heaters were
unknown, and you heated water on the kitchen wood stove and poured it into
a portable tub for the weekly or bi-weekly bath.

The Hall has a ladies bathing area on the upper level, and men's bath in
the basement. Carpenter Town was built on a hill, and the entrance to the
men's bath was hidden from view on the back of the building. The baths were
a great success until after World War II when the old houses installed
indoor bathrooms. The area declined in the 50s, 60s and early 70s as the
houses aged.

The houses were run down, but well-built, small and inexpensive. They were
ideal for skilled persons with little cash.  They were prefect for people
who could do repair and renovation work themselves. Artists, aging hippies,
eccentrics and persons with alternate lifestyles liked the area. By 1990,
the area was reviving. It never became an elite residential area, but
houses were renovated and improved. The hall was disused, until in 2000 the
upper floor of the hall became a popular restaurant.

The owner of the restaurant, Wilton Grant, was gay, as was most of his
staff. It served the entire community, but by 9:00 in the evening, it
became an informal gay social center. Wilton was the heir to wealth, and
tended to move in the chandelier and brie segment of the gay community. The
neighborhood attracted the flannel shirt and working boots gay men.

I'm a retired Navy officer and Wilton's cousin, Phil Grant. My Dad was
fifty when I was born and a business man. He died leaving me a modest
inheritance. After retirement, I visited Wilson, liked the area and bought
a house there. I had been planning to buy in Northern Virginia, but I
bought the barely livable shell of a house in Carpenters Town for
$30,000.00. That was the cost of a new kitchen near D. C. Wilton introduced
me to a local contractor and eventually I had entire house for
$150,000.00. That changed my retirement from a barebones life in Fairfax to
quite a comfortable life in Richmond.

I helped Wilton with his restaurant. I was in personnel in the Navy mostly
because I am a good judge of character. I was born with a bullshit
detector. I can tell when a man was down on his luck and needed a break, or
feeding me a line of shit.  In the restaurant business, that was a valuable
gift. Wilton lacked it; I had it.

He helped me with my life. He was gay. I was 100% in the closet. Wilton
wasn't attracted to rough trade, but he didn't mind men who were "rustic."
The flannel shirt crowd would not have been attracted to him, were it not
for one outstanding physical feature. Luckily that feature was much admired
in the gay community.  I found the flannel shirt crowd attractive. I like
manly gay men.  I should have disliked Wilton, but under all the
pretention, he was a good man, intelligent, imaginative and willing to help
anyone who was sick, or down on their luck.

His restaurant was in the old social hall. The remains of ladies' baths
occupied the rest of the first floor. Wilton decided to remove the baths
and make a function room for weddings, receptions and parties. These paid
well and were well suited for his part-time employees. These events could
last well into the night and might clash with his informal gay social
center.

The men's baths were in the unused basement. There wasn't even a stair
between the floors. That was apparently related to Victorian prudery.
Wilton had a few of his contractor friends look at the space. Wilson had
barely looked at the basement.

There was one major shock. Wilton assumed the building had 1900 period
plumbing. The tile and marble work dated from that period, but the plumbing
was modern. He later found out there had been an effort to use the building
as recreational center in the 1980s, but when a new YMCA located nearby the
effort failed.

The basement had three rooms. There was a central entry and locker
space. To the left was a gang shower which originally was available for
dime. To the right was a game room surrounded by private baths. These had
been available for a quarter. The private baths were 7 by 6 feet. Each had
a bath-shower and a small table with a checkerboard top. The old lights
were in place and still working.  The light level was low, but adequate.

Wilton had planned on doing extensive renovations. When his gay friends saw
it, they thought it was fine as it was. There was another surprising aspect
of the basement. The building was still classified as a bath house.  The
work done in the 1980s was approved and still acceptable. There were no
building code problems. He could just turn on the lights and reopen.

When Wilton brought some of the men down to look at the place they loved
it. They were willing to clean it up and use it as is. Wilton told them he
would give it a trial period to see if it was viable. There was one
condition. Whatever was going on in the basement could not have any impact
on the restaurant above. The men agreed that anyone who made a fuss or
caused trouble would be disinvited.

Most of the gay men in the area were older and had jobs. They weren't bar
flies. A few men were unemployed artists, but they were real artist, not
just men who liked the look. There were some younger men, but they all
worked. Some men were socially prominent, and they liked Carpenters Town
because it was out of the way and out of the limelight.

It turned out that the flannel shirt group and the chandelier crowd got
along well, and most were hard workers. A cynic might say that if you
wanted a project to unite the gay community, a gay bathhouse was a good
choice. A few weeks later, the place looked good. Some donated exercise
equipment, since almost everyone had unused equipment they would rather not
have in their house.

I became the default manager of the baths and hired two, retired, old guys,
Rollo and Dennis to serve as door men. They would have been willing to work
for free just for the chance to see the scenery in the showers. Rollo was
the friendly Grandfather type. Dennis had been around he seemed to be able
to smell potential trouble.

From the start the baths were to be a low overhead operation. Our main
costs were janitorial services, water and electricity. Some men were
willing to do the clean-up for free access. Baths were famous for athletes'
foot infections.  An older guy, Carlo, worked for us.  He was the night
janitor for a health club. He had standards and made sure volunteers knew
what they were doing. He was very macho and gay as a goose. His other
health club was strictly no look, no touch.

At our bath, looking was fine, and touching was okay if you asked
politely. Carlo stripped when he started cleaning. He was short, with the
physique of a bear and a full body coat of hair. He seemed to have a short,
butt-plug like cock shrouded in an oversupply of foreskin. Naked cleaning
was good, because you didn't have wet clothes after you were done. He had a
ribald sense of humor and reminded me of Long John Silver with a Spanish
accent. Carlo had double the usual male characteristics, unadulterated by
being attractive. He got along well with our clientele.

Dennis was a find.  Dennis knew every hooker, rent-boy and user in the
city. If he didn't know them in person, he knew the type. He had also been
a professional wrestler and he looked it. The gang shower cost two dollars,
the rooms were ten. Most men used the gang showers until they got lucky and
then rented a cubical.

As a former Naval officer, I thought we should have rules. Wilton thought
we should just see what happened and then make rules as necessary. Dennis
had his own rules and he enforced them. There were no drunks allowed in the
baths. He told me he wanted to see if the male sex drive was stronger than
the need to drink.

The first week was calm and quiet. Just seeing men you had known for a
while naked for the first time was enough for most of them. By the second
and third weeks we were open, the men were more relaxed and willing to
explore.

At first there was just looking and a few accidental bumps into each
other. Later in the week there was some touching when no one was
looking. They weren't looking because everyone else was feeling out the man
next to the them. By the end of the second week there was some sucking in
the corners.

Rollo and Dennis made periodic visits to the showers the make sure all was
well. At first, the men thought they were shower monitors. They wore
terry-cloth robes, but it seems they had a difficult time with the knots
securing the cloth ties.  Somehow their cocks were exposed.  Dennis had
balls the hung to his knees, and he like to display his equipment.

They were affable men, but had standards. They didn't like trash talk and
bullying.  They didn't like men who insulted other men. Dennis had an ear
for when joking turned into insults.  Bullies have a technique to clothe an
insult in a joke. You couldn't fool Dennis.

Rollo and I made a rule at the end of the second week. You had to clean up
sperm leaks immediately, or take it directly from the cock.  Sperm is
slippery and dangerous on tile floors. That rule had repercussions. There
were more facials and cum swilling than before and several men volunteered
to take the load for you. Rollo had an uncanny ability to catch air born
sperm.

The game room and private baths section were very different. Everyone knew
what the cubicles were for. When you rented a cubical you had a key to the
door. You could have privacy if you wanted it. The game room was open to
everyone. Often men left the cubicles' doors open or cracked open to let
men know they were interested. I assumed they would lock the door when the
sex play became intense. Anyone could cruise the game room, but they had to
ask to go into a cubicle.

About 50% of the men locked the doors. The other men left to door ajar to
see if other men wanted to join in the play. You could poke you head in and
ask, "Is there room for one more?" If the men inside said yes, you joined
in. The men developed an inoffensive slang. "I'm thirsty," meant you wanted
to suck, and "I've got an itch in a hard to reach place," meant you
bottomed.

I thought that while I was the manager for the Baths, I would spend most of
my time with the restaurant. However, I never respected hands-off managers
in the Navy.  These men who had no idea what was going on with the ships or
departments they ran.  I visited the gang baths the day they officially
opened. Let's just say, I liked the scenery. In the Navy, naked men were a
temptation and a potential danger to my career. Here, they were potential
playmates.

Much to my surprise, some of the men saw me as having recreational
potential.  I'm a middle-aged guy who is sort of in shape with a
well-trimmed beard and a hairy chest.  Some of the men who worked on my
house were there and they looked at me in a different way than they had
before. I have a hard time connecting with men sexually. It just seemed
impossible they would be interested.

I discovered that nudity resolved the problem. I am reticent about my
sexual interests.  Cocks aren't shy or uneasy about making new friends. The
men near me didn't get hard, but it was clear they were interested. My
construction friends sported cocks that showed they were appreciative of
me.

One man, a beefy muscular crew-cut man was more than appreciative. Bruce
was a male nurse and he had a room. We went to the game room and his
cubical.  "You are nervous?" he asked.

"It seems so obvious and public," I replied.

Bruce smiled. "This place is a ladies' tea party compared to some I've been
to," he said. "Everyone here knows why we are here, and they are here for
the same reason. You might as well relax and let it all hang out."

"It's already hanging out," I murmured.

He smiled again. "An erect cock gives a clue to your intentions, doesn't
it? I am talking about letting it hang out mentally. Give up on your
inhibitions and hang-ups," Bruce said. "Everyone knows what and hard cock
means. Admit it to yourself and let yourself enjoy it." He dropped to his
knees and began sucking me.  The door was still half open.

"Should we close the door?" I asked.

He looked up, "I like what I am doing, and you obviously like it too," he
said, "Why worry?" After a minute or two, he got up and I sucked him.

A little later a man looked in the door. "Bruce, you have a new friend!" he
said. "Is there room for one more?"

"There's always room for you Doc," Bruce replied. "Phil, this is Doc
Peters, the best Urologist in town. He does house calls. Phil is new to the
scene and is a bit uneasy."

"You seemed to be taking care of that," Doc said, "and I do not make house
calls!" He was smiling.

"He has the dubious distinction of having introduced a good portion of the
men in Richmond to their prostates," Bruce said.

"The introduction was for medical, not recreational reasons," Doc
explained. "Bruce has a split personality. He's a top-of-the-line intensive
care nurse and the most sexually driven man in the city."

"Every man needs a hobby," Bruce said. Doc had a shaved head and face. He
had a jogger's body and was in shape. Bruce stood on the bench, so I could
suck him as Doc sucked me. By that time, I was excited. Bruce was oozing a
rich brew from his balls.

Doc began moving his finger toward my ass. I was more excited than
shocked. He played with my ass pucker.

"Are you okay?" he asked. For some reason I said yes. A second later, he
slipped his finger in my ass, pressed something and I shot to the moon. He
released the pressure and I came back to earth and then he pressed again.

"Do you bottom?" he asked. I replied no.

"You are well equipped for it. If I were you I'd add it to my to do list,"
Doc said. Just then I shot off and Doc apparently knew about the no sperm
on the floor rule.  He took it all.

My orgasm seemed to inspire Bruce. I had only rarely taken a load, but it
seemed to be my only option. I discovered that taking a load was much more
enjoyable while I was shooting off too.

Doc and Bruce were useful men. They introduced other doctors and nurses to
the baths. One young doctor, Ben Cohen was starting his practice and
provided an introductory free check-up for men at the bath.  Free was good
for men who hadn't been to a doctor in years, and he provided testing
services too, with his nurse and lover Roger. To say they were
non-judgmental is an understatement. They were also thorough and helpful.

The character of the bath's patrons changed during the day. At 6:30
business men showed up, on the way to work. Around 9:00 older men visited
along with artists and men who worked part time. Many of these were waiters
who came before the restaurants opened for lunch. Retired men came after
one, and construction guys at 3:00 or 4:00. Business men and some teachers
came after 5:00. The night crowd was a mixed bag.

I was surprised at the variety of gay men.  I think I had fallen for the
media portrayal of gay men as flighty and effeminate florists and
decorators.  There were some of that type at the baths, but since we were a
mix of men, those who wanted a specific type went elsewhere. We were not
up-scale or spa-like. So those who wanted to be pampered with the
"in-crowd" went elsewhere.

The only exception to the lack of pampering was Rocky and Milton, two
non-professional masseurs. Their services were recreational, not
professional.  Milton took a cubical next to the game room several times a
week.  Rocky was an exhibitionist, and he set up in the middle of the gang
shower. For men who liked to show off, he gave a good massage and your
choice of happy ending, oral or anal. The older men tended to go to
Milton. Younger, more in shape men liked Rocky. In general, the gang
showers were more oral than anal, but Rocky added some additional
excitement.

I know that some men easily can be excited by a well-shaped zucchini. Open
and unashamed sex is much more inspirational. I thought that sex was like a
lightning strike, dramatic, but rare. It took me a while to adjust to open,
public sex. Sex had been a tense, dangerous activity for me when I was in
the Navy. It took me a while to adjust to the baths. I finally realized
that man sex without the tenseness and fear was more pleasurable. Wilton
told me that sex teaches itself. I also realized that many of the men at
the bath felt the same way.