To You, In The Steam Room

Did you forget to look at the wall clock before entering?
Wasn't it 6pm? Peak hours, remember?

Ok. If that didn't cross your mind, well, the sheer number of guys on the steam room should have reminded you. We were about five or six. On the average. Coming and going. But not cumming.

I mean. There were just too many people. Right?

No? You didn't care. Obviously.

You walked inside as most of us inside were indulging in our illusions. Of the hot steam nuking our fat bellies.

As we closed our eyes. Trying to look oblivious. To the others in their towels. Underwear. Swimwear. Hardware?

Was that your black briefs? Or trunks? Your swimmer's bod did justice to it. I admit. But your Koreanovela pale face looked ghostly in the cloudy haze.

At first, I thought you were like the rest of us. Oblivious. Or just observing. Like why would anybody attempt anything at such a time?

But in the midst of the smoke, I felt your eyes. On me. And I started to wonder.

Then you sat beside me. Even as I tried to ignore you. Careful not to give you any signals. But still you caught my attention.

With the subtle way you started to caress. Your groin. Over your black briefs. Or is it Speedos. Ever so slowly, carefully. Flicking the back of your thumb over it lightly, as your hands were crossed in front. As you tried to catch my eye.

Mind-blowing. Five or six people inside the steam room. The small steam room. At 6pm in the evening. On a weekday. Boy, you've got guts of steel. Or a libido that won't quit till satiated.

Dude. Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong person.

Been there. Done that.



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