Date: Sun, 12 Apr 2015 15:55:38 -0400
From: bldhrymn@aol.com
Subject: Tip Top

Stranger Night at the Tip Top Health Spa
By Bald Hairy Man

This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that, DON'T
read it! You have been warned! It is intended for adults to read, and is
not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual.  I have made no effort
to portray safe sex practices.  If you have any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com

The Tip Top Club is a top-of-the-line, exclusive and expensive spa and
health club for men. It caters to an elite clientele. The membership fees
are high, but all services, including food, are free.

We have a well-trained professional staff. We pay our affable and pleasant
staff well. The staff is also all gay and sexually driven. One of the
reasons for the high pay is to avoid the potential for prostitution. While
no one on the staff would provide sex for money, they are not shy about
sexual activity at all. To say the staff is tolerant of sexual activity is
perhaps an understatement.  Our club members are open minded, and they can
entertain themselves with other members or the staff.  Of course, the club
is very strict about health and tests both the staff and membership
regularly. Since the men can easily get their needs met at the club, after
our first year of operation testing was hardly necessary.

I am the manager, Donny. One of the older members, Wiltshire, came to me
with a mild complaint. "This is an excellent facility and the staff is
superb," he said. "We do tend to be homogenized. I have no problem with
that in general, but it can be boring. I was thinking it would be nice to
introduce some variety. I personally find working men exciting. Perhaps we
could invite some for a day of relaxation here. They would be guests, not
members, but would receive all the benefits of membership while they were
here."

Wiltshire picked his words carefully. The benefits of membership were
sexual. I found out that Wiltshire was representing several men in the
club.  He mentioned that a number of men shared his interests in men who
were construction workers, truck drivers, firefighters and cops.

"Are you interested in rougher activities?" I asked.

"Not at all," he replied. "I just would like some activity that is a bit
less genteel and more basic than we are use too. I am not looking for
Attila the Hun, but perhaps some men who have callused hands and don't
spent $150.00 on a haircut would be interesting."

Wiltshire said he was not interested in a change of policy.  He thought
that a trial run might be good, just to see if scheme worked.  I told him I
would look into it. Wiltshire was not just a member of the club.  He was a
founding member and one of the primary financial backers of the
organization.

I talked to the chair of the Board of Directors, Newman Friend. He thought
it might be possible, but he said he would check with his friends in the
club to see if it was of general interest or just Wiltshire's
hobbyhorse. He called back a week later and told me there was some genuine
interest.

"I have to admit, I have no idea how to find these working men," he
added. "Until you mentioned it I hadn't realized how isolated I am. I know
the man who owns the lawn and garden service that takes care of my yard,
but I know nothing of the men who work for them. My wife has seen them, but
I am normally at my office."

I told him that I would make discrete inquiries. I called Wiltshire I told
him that Newman had given me a tentative approval.  I asked if he had any
specific ideas. Wiltshire and his friends had been doing quite a bit of
thinking on the subject. They were interested in physical contact more than
social contact. They wanted it to be more of a group activity than one on
one. At the club there was considerable activity in the showers and pool,
but there were also were small, therapy room where you could be more
private. Some of the members were open about their interests, but others
were shy, uneasy or closeted.

I had a suspicion he thought it would be safer if sexual activity took
place in a group. I realized then how detached Wiltshire and his friends
were. They lived in gated communities in elite suburbs. Many had little
contact with working people, other than waiters or servants.

As manager, I came into regular contact with tradesmen, contractors,
plumbers, electricians and others who repaired or renovated the club.  We
tended to use people who were gay friendly. We never asked if the workers
were gay, but we did not need to ask. We paid well and quickly.

I knew many of these men, and I have to confess that my relationships were
not always platonic with some of them.  You can get the impression that the
world divides into gay, straight and bi people.  I think there are many
more variations. There are sexual omnivores, people who like sex and do not
care if it was with a man, a woman or a vegetable.  There are straight men
who will have sex with whomever is available. Some think that other men are
better cocksuckers than women are and some who think a man's ass is tighter
than a vagina. Their connections are purely recreational, not emotional.

I talked with Bubba Thomas, my usual go to man for repairs. He ran a small
operation that specialized in quality repairs and small projects. Most of
his staff was open minded, as was he. I told him about Wiltshire's proposal
and asked if he thought anyone would be interested.

"Wiltshire wants to have sex with men he never met. He wants some men who
are a little roughhewn. He also likes construction workers and firemen-cop
types," I explained.  "He's not into romance or getting to know each
other. He wants it to be a no strings attached sex. Do you know anyone who
would be interested?"

Bubba laughed. "Other than me you mean?" he replied. "I suspect everyone I
know would enjoy it. Is it to be all oral, like a circle jerk?"

"No, Wiltshire wants it to be full service, oral and anal," I said. "The
club is mostly bareback.  We have a doctor who tests to make sure bodily
fluids are up to snuff."

"You mean all the cream is edible?" Bubba asked. "We can both plow and
seed?" I nodded. Bubba is a country boy who tended to play his cards close
to his chest. I detected a tinge of excitement in the voice when he
mentioned plow and seed. "You would test my boys?"

"We would have to do that," I said. "Would that be a problem?"

"Not at all," he replied. "How many men would you need? That would be in
addition to me, I hope?"

"I was thinking perhaps ten men," I said. "Would they all come from your
operation?"

"Most would, but I know other guys who would love it. Some guys are a bit
squeamish about group play, especially if other guys are watching," he
said. "Most of my pals aren't much into the lovey-dovey stuff. That does
happen of course, but most are into the sex. Some of my men are good until
they shoot off and then the lose interest.  I assume you want men with long
fuses and a short recharge time. Do you want young men or some variety? I
have an older friend who sports an impressive firehose."

"I know the men who have expressed interest in this.  They are not into
watching.  They want action," I said. I also told him some variety would be
fine and oversized equipment is always fine.

 Over the next two weeks, Bubba sent a dozen men to see me.  I talked with
each and told them the plan. If they were interested, I sent them to be
tested. All were interested and several got hard just talking about it. I
interpreted that as a good sign. I asked Wiltshire to join me in the
interviews, but he said he wanted to be surprised.

The men were a good cross section of gay men, a few bear types, a couple of
musclemen, and a number of plain old guys. They were tall and thin, short,
beefy and average. There were no problems with the testing and our doctor
said they were all clean. Some came from work and were covered in dirt and
grime. Doc Billy said it was just the day's accumulation, not a week or
months collection of grime.[BW1]

Doc also told me all their equipment was in tiptop working order. Doc Billy
sometimes liked to take samples. He said that sweet sperm was a warning
sign of diabetes. The men knew that was not part of the standard exams, but
they did not mind. Doc was skilled a coaxing sperm out of a man's balls.

The men were all masculine, and there were no twinks or queen types. I
assumed those men were not attracted to the building trades. I met the man
with the fire hose, Gino DeMarco. He was a retired firefighter from the
Bronx. He had a friend, Dunbar, who was an investigator for the Fire
Marshall. Dunbar was a short, slim, bearded man.

We scheduled the event for Sunday morning. That was a slow time for the
club and a time that most were available. We had nametags on chains for all
the men. It was to be a free for all, but I did add a red dot for men who
did not bottom. Some men were more comfortable wearing the dot. At the end
of the party, I noticed that most of the men had peeled off the red dots. I
think the men were more comfortable with each other by then. At least they
were comfortable enough to open their ass for another man's pleasure.

The men were straightforward. I would not call them rednecks, but I assumed
none had season tickets to the ballet. There was on black man, Tyrone, a
muscular brick mason, and one Latino in the group, Hector. He was a cop. I
was a little worried that we would have a line of whites fucking
Tyrone. That did not happen. Tyrone was an affable and cheerful top, and
some of our members found that very exciting. In fact, there was a line of
white men waiting to take his cock in the ass.

This was the first sex party for Hector and he loved it. When I met him
with the doctor, Hector said he liked to bottom. That turned out to be an
understatement. Hector made friends quickly.  His ass was a sexual
playground, and his sphincter opened easily and clamped tight once you were
in him.

I had a vision that it might be like a dance in Junior High, with the girls
on one side and the boys on the other. I hoped lust would triumph over
shyness. Wiltshire and his close friend Goodhue Miller were socially
skilled. Goodhue had been the executive director of the chamber of
commerce. His specialty was getting people to meet and mix.

Wiltshire was outgoing, but several of the guests were with the program
too. A construction bear named Billy went for one of the club members, Tom.
Tom was an Italian restaurant owner and was a hairy gorilla of a man. Billy
was a Scottish Ginger.  Billy was completely graceless, but cheerful. That
went well.

 Dunbar, the fire investigator, seemed to be attracted to one of the older
members, Richard. Richard was Polar bear. He was half-hard as soon as
Dunbar approached him. They said hello, and Richard dropped to his knees
and swallowed Dunbar's tool. I have never seen Richard that forward
before. Dunbar must have excited him.

The event was in the atrium. The room focused on a small, shallow pool that
was big enough for ten or twelve men to sit in and chat. There were pillows
on the edge. It just happened that if you were in the pool standing,
someone sitting on the pillows could lie back and their ass would be at a
good level for fucking. There were several small rooms off to the
side. These were suited for shy men.

Wiltshire was the first to connect with Tyrone. Tyrone was a tall, muscular
bricklayer. He was as black as a man could be. Wiltshire was about a white
as a man could be. The big black man took his time. His member was long and
somewhat thick. Once he was in, Tyrone had a knack of making hid partner
squirm and moan. That was a first for Wiltshire, who like to be in
control. I thought this might be embarrassing for Wiltshire, but the
pleasure was intense enough to overcome the embarrassment.

Tyrone said he liked to breed and seed, but he always asked before the
seeding. He could plant it deep in the ass or squirt on the hole and shove
it in. Some men wanted the cream but did not want anyone to know it and
deep planting solved that problem.  Others wanted to show it off. Tyrone
was accommodating either way. I had never seen Wiltshire take a cock in the
ass not to mention take a load before.

Goodhue connected with Bubba. Bubba was a cheerful, aggressive man with a
beer can style cock and a tight ass. He was not much into small
talk. "Let's do it!" and "Git it done!" were his mottos. He liked it all
and was entirely versatile.  Bubba liked to please.

Goodhue tended to prefer handsome young men straight for the pages of
GQ. Most of them knew they were handsome and knew what they wanted. Goodhue
was a good-looking man, but he had passed his sell by date. He was wealthy,
generous and well connected but I had a suspicion many of his playmates
thought they were slumming.

Goodhue looked a bit taken aback when Bubba came over to him, but he was a
really happy man ten minutes later when his cock was deep in Bubba's
ass. The next time I saw them they had reversed positions and Goodhue was
having no problems at all with Bubba's beer can.

Bubba brought his best friend Wilmot, and Wilmot's cousin, Big Wilmot with
him. Wilmot ran a good auto repair shop, and was a good mechanic. Big
Wilmot was not that good, but he did not mind the dirty jobs. Both men were
hairy, scrawny men. Wilmot was six feet tall and Big Wilmot was five-six.
The Big referred to his age, not his size.

Both men cleaned up for the party, but they were still ugly men. They liked
to double team and that had an attraction. I think of myself as a good
judge of character, but I had not guessed Randall Lewis-Montfort would go
to them. Randall was a successful interior decorator and social
butterfly. I would not say he was swishy, but compared to him, Shirley
Temple was a hardened street thug. If you looked beyond the hairy, scrawny
body, Wilmot had a long, white snake dangling from his groin. Big Wilmot
had huge balls, but his cock appeared to be a cockhead wrapped in thick
foreskin.

Randall soon discovered that Wilmot's rock hard cock went deeper in his
body than anyone had been before, and that Big Wilmot was a bottom. I think
Randall was slumming and he discovered his ass could not tell the
difference between upper class cock and a working man's member. He
certainly enjoyed Wilmot.

Bubba was not a member of the social elite, but he knew men. While the club
members were all from upper class backgrounds, that was no guarantee of
sexual satisfaction.  Bubba's friends were both sexually skilled and nice
men. The party wound down after several hours and all of the men left. I
went home and awaited the reviews. The members of the club had no problem
expressing their opinions.

Everyone seem to have enjoyed the event, but I knew many of the clubs
members were moody. I also noted that the sex seemed to have been both
intense and remarkably in view of all. There had been multiple orgasms and
penetrations, all in the open. Sex at the club was typically almost demure
and private. Once and a while one heard a moan from a private room, but it
was nothing like the free for all.

Randall was the first to visit me. He said he felt like a teenager
again. While he had enjoyed Wilmot's ramming, he had loved unloading in Big
Wilmot's ass. "When I was younger I dreamed of being a slut, of taking
anyone who wanted me, or was willing.  I was shy, inexperienced and living
in a small town in the country," he explained. "I never did anything."

"When I came to the city I found a job with Tommy, a decorator who took me
under his wing and showed me the ropes of both the decorating business and
sex. He was sexually aggressive and demanding, but modestly endowed," he
continued. "He loved oral and had a fixation with sperm. I shoot big loads
and had no problem with multiple orgasms. He had several friends who share
similar interests so I began a sperm fueled climb to the top. With the
exception of Tommy himself, the rest were genteel old Queens who loved a
mouthful of my semen. The Wilmot boys gave me my first real experience as a
slut."

"You enjoyed it?"

"Enjoyment is too mild a word," he said. "Wilmot went deep into places
untouched by a cock before. Big Wilmot is strange but was willing to do
anything. He told me that Wilmot was his son; he had fucked his brother's
wife. Wilmot would not fuck him. Big Wilmot rimmed me afterwards and ate
some of his sons' sperm."

That had been good for him. Randall went off to the exercise room.  I
called Bubba and asked how the men had liked it.

"What's not to like?" he replied. "It was great. Everyone was so open and
willing. I've been to some bars but that seems to be mostly hours of talk
and chitchat and you were still not sure you would score. Last not was like
being at a target range when the targets were only three feet away and you
hit the bulls-eye every time!"

"It seemed to go well," I said.

"It was a lot more than well," Bubba said. "I could just look at a guy. He
would wink and then bend over and we would go at it. I think all my pals
felt the same way. Tyrone told me he got a year's supply of ass in one
night!"

Goodhue and Wiltshire dropped by a half hour later.

"I think it went well," Wiltshire said. "It was much more than I expected;
it was almost overwhelming.  I mean that in a good way."

"Your friend Bubba picked the guest list?" Goodhue asked.

"Yes, I've known him for years," I said. "He's a good man, and he
associates with good men."

"Several men called me and said they were embarrassed at the openness of
the activity," Goodhue remarked. "The want to keep the event secret."

"It was a one-time only event, so they do not need to worry," I
said. "Bubba friends are not that open about their sexual preferences."

Goodhue smiled. "My friends want to keep it secret, but they very much want
to do it again!" he said. "They loved every minute."