Houston Bathhouses: Chapter 1
For a start, these narratives I write are based on real-life events from my personal experiences. I've been married to the same woman for 35 years, so I have no other means to share these stories other than this platform. This will mark the beginning of a series of bathhouse stories from Houston. I also have accounts from Dallas, Chicago, and Cleveland. I'm based near Houston, but I frequently travel to these other cities for work.
I previously wrote about a gay massage I experienced at a bathhouse in San Francisco, which was remarkably good, marking my first-ever happy ending with a gay man. Although I'm not personally gay, here's my logic behind it. (Please comment if you have any opinions or can provide a better understanding of my actions.)
- I don't find men aesthetically appealing. I don't rate any of these men based on attractiveness, my ultimate goal is just to engage in sex.
- I have no desire to foster a relationship with a guy. I hardly even carry on small talk with them.
- I'm undeniably drawn to women. A pair of large breasts or nice legs arouses me beyond measure. If there was a mixed-sex sexual spa, I would move in.
- I even carry my iPad with me when I visit bathhouses. I occasionally return to my quarters to indulge in straight porn, just to gear up for a session.
Shortly after the massage in San Francisco, I received a gay massage in Philadelphia. This was at a tiny private massage parlor. I've visited this place a few times. The last time, an adolescent (around 20 years old) collaborated with the masseuse for a four-handed massage. It was enjoyable, but not outstanding. While Houston has many options for private gay massages, it's challenging for me to choose one over the others, as each one has a picture of themselves, and I simply can't decide which is better looking.
Instead of selecting a masseuse, I inquired whether Houston had a gay bathhouse. Lo and behold, it does. Club Houston. I had a light schedule one day and decided to investigate.
Upon entering, there's a man behind a desk, sealed off by glass. This is where you need to show your ID (they keep it), sign in, and pay. Baffled by the dynamics, I simply rented a locker. The other choices include renting actual rooms. They have about a hundred of them, ranging from single rooms with a small single bed and mere 30 inches of walking space to double rooms with queen-sized beds to rooms with TVs (four or five gay porn channels) and even a couple of deluxe rooms equipped with sex contraptions. One room contains a swing, and one has some kind of rack. I couldn't comprehend what to do with it.
The rental regulations are stringent. You can only rent for a six-hour span, you can't rent more than one six-hour period within a 24-hour frame, and you can't depart the premises and return during your six-hour tenure.
Lastly, after checking in and paying, the man hands you a towel and allows you entry. 99% of men exclusively wear the towel.
To provide context, I'll describe the place briefly. The first floor is adorned with a large lounge area with couches and TVs. As few as one or two people occupy this space at any given time. Nudity is forbidden in this area, so keep your towel on. Flanking the lounge is a minuscule gym containing around 20 machines and treadmills. Every bathhouse possesses one of these, but they're rarely utilized. I experimented with them initially, curious about the etiquette. If you use a machine, you're required to wear standard workout attire.
The locker area is also situated on the first floor, but it isn't a private locker room; it's just sectioned off by a half wall. This is where you undress, donning the towel.
Once you slip on the towel, you can pass through a door to explore the remainder of the establishment. Here, nudity is permissible, though most individuals still don the towels. The rest of the first floor features a large open-air shower room with roughly 10 shower heads. It's separated from the outdoor pool by a glass wall and door. In addition to the pool is a dry sauna and steam room.
On the second floor, five floors of hallways are teeming with rentable bedrooms.
A lot of guys tend to keep their doors unlocked. Essentially, an open door is like an invitation for a random guy to come in and have a bit of fun with you. The position you're lying in is supposed to give away what you're into - whether you're a top, a bottom, or something in between. I've never engaged with someone who came to my unlocked door. One time, I tried to engage with a young guy who was lying on his stomach. I figured I'd give being a top a go, so I entered the room while keeping the door open, just in case anyone else wanted to join. I approached him intending to start with a blowjob. I placed my cock in front of his face to kick things off. Then, I moved to straddle him when I climbed on the bed between his legs. He heard me open a condom wrapper, and said, "I don't like condoms." I replied, "Yeah, but I'm wearing one." He declared, "No, no condoms." So, I thanked him for the blowjob and left.
Apart from the bedrooms, there's also a "Play Area." This Play Area consists of an open shower room, a TV room with four large screens playing gay porn, a sex swing, and a bed in a small room with windows, allowing others to watch. There are also two other amenities that I didn't quite comprehend, but they're important in this story.
The first couple of times I visited this club, nothing much happened. It's puzzling. The place is filled with guys wearing towels, all wanting to release some tension, and yet many of them seem to be attempting to avoid eye contact. This was so frustrating that I decided to take a few free condoms provided by the club and went to a straight massage parlor on my way home on two different occasions. Amy, my favorite masseuse, could be persuaded to have sex with you, but only if you had a condom.
On the third visit, things changed. I checked in, paid my admission, and stored my clothes in my locker. I spent some time in the hot tub near the pool. Not much happens in the hot tub or pool; I guess it's too public a spot for most people.
After a bit, I made my way up to the second-floor playroom. I explained that there were two features I didn't understand, and here we are.
One is a 3-sided room, with one long side being the main hallway. The room has staircases on the left and right sides of the space and a platform connecting the two staircases. The platform had a half wall separating it from the center of the room.
If someone were on the platform, they could look over into the relatively open area between the staircases and the platform. The only other feature is a wooden piece of furniture - two cubby holes that two people could enter and get frisky in. There's no door for privacy.
There's enough room for a few people to wander between the cubbies and the platform at any given time. It took me some time to realize that the half wall had massive holes that acted as glory holes, and the platform was just high enough so someone on the floor could walk up and give you a handjob.
It's very dark in this room. Everything's painted black, and there are just a few red lights along the hall. If you're on the platform, you can see out, but it's tough to make anything out on the platform itself.
I cruised through this area a few times without any luck. Eventually, on my third pass, I bumped into a guy who was standing up there. He wasn't close to the railing where he could receive a handjob, and where I could've seen his outline against the backlighting.
He was leaned up against the back wall. I walked right into him. We were both wearing towels over our necks, and we collided with a gentle impact. Of course, my hard cock hit him before I made contact. I apologized for bumping into him, but he didn't seem to mind. He put one hand on my shoulder and took my left hand, placing it on his very stiff dick.
I told him to be careful with something that large - he might hurt someone. He took this opportunity to put his other hand on my other shoulder to guide me down to my knees. In no time, I was giving my first blowjob to a gay man (as opposed to the few times I did it with trans masseuses).
I kept this up for a few minutes, and then I got the idea to stand up and guide him to his knees. He reciprocated and we took turns for a while. However, he then started affectionately caressing my back and gently running his fingers along my ass. I was craving anal sex and asked him if he wanted to have sex with my ass. He said, "Yes, do you have a room?" I said I didn't, and he said, "No problem, I know where we can go."
I initially planned to perform the act on the platform, but he directed me down the stairs to a cluster of plywood cubicles. This was another aspect I didn't grasp. There are eight compact, square rooms about 4 feet by 4 feet. Each has a glory hole that leads to its neighboring room.
He led me into one, locked the door, took my towel, and hung it on a hook. He then asked me to kneel and blow him some more. Once he was fully erect and dripping precum, he stood me up. I believed I would guide him down to perform oral sex on me, but that wasn't his intention. Instead, he turned me around and bent me over. My head was in the corner of this room, and my hands were bracing my body in this bent-over position. At this point, he prepared to penetrate me.
I was terrified, intrigued, and excited to experience this for the first time. However, in the recesses of my mind, there was a query. "Do you have a condom?"
He stated that he didn't and attempted to force entry. I stopped him and inquired about a condom. He became annoyed yet horny. He left the cubicle, grabbed his towel, and returned in a matter of seconds to the condom dispenser, which was approximately 20 feet away.
It wasn't enough time for his erection to fade, but he did make me kneel again and blow him hard, possibly as a punishment for bothering him. This time he employed his hands to increase the pace. He was forcefully fucking my mouth.
Later, he stood me up, turned me around, and bent me over again. This time, he was more forceful, determined to complete the deed. I heard him remove the condom and don it before aligning his penis for penetration.
I enquired if he had lube, but, of course, he didn't. It took a short while for him to force his way into my tight anus. It was challenging for me to relax, but I tried my best.
The sensation was painful, particularly the initial penetration with no lube, but it gradually grew more comfortable. Once he fully inserted himself, he began pumping. Long, rapid strokes. Occasionally, he would push all the way in and pause for a moment, presumably for self-control.
After some more minutes, he began thrusting even faster and more frantically, indicating his imminent orgasm. One final deep thrust before he made a loud growling noise while coming again and again into my anus. Despite the condom, it was evident how much semen he was releasing.
After a moment, he removed his limp penis, standing me up, turning me around, and embracing me. He began stroking me while giving me a hand job to balance the scales, but I informed him it wasn't required. It was just the fucked I was after.
Then I said to him, "I realize this is meant to be anonymous, but as the first man to penetrate me, I would like to know your name." He responded, "Armondo," took his towel, and exited.
I never encountered him again. However, I did go back to the gloryhole to receive oral sex to alleviate my tension.
