My First Time in a Bathhouse I Got My Hairy Hole Annihilated by a Blue-Haired Zaddy

"I arranged myself on top of him and spread my juicy, fat ass above his mug—my starfish all puckered up to kiss him."

By Leo Seales

All photos are of the author, courtesy of him.

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It was three in the morning on a Wednesday night at Club Philly, and I found myself roaming a labyrinth of private rooms. Monitors playing nonstop porn lined the walls: DPs, threesomes, and bukkakes galore. As I passed each door, I heard moans of ecstasy: some subtle and quiet, others loud and boisterous. 

The explicit sights and lusty chants tightened the pouch of my gold-shimmer Andrew Christian thong. My dick was a machine ready to go. But with no takers in sight, my horny-boy engine was stalling. And my asshole, plugged by the thong’s fabric, felt literally and metaphorically like a backed-up vent. Was I doomed to spend my first night in a bathhouse alone?

I noticed two private rooms, doors wide open with occupants inside. Were they waiting for someone? Maybe they booked their rooms with a partner. Or perhaps they wanted a stranger to come in. What was the etiquette for this situation? I didn’t know as a baby slut new to gay saunas!

Fortunately, I spotted two of the bathhouse’s employees down the hall and hounded them with my questions. They gave me some advice:

“It feels weird at first, but it’s actually pretty easy. Just knock on the door and ask if they’re busy.”

I thanked them profusely for their help and returned to the pair of open rooms.

In a saucy game of Let’s Make A Deal, I had two choices:

• Door 1 had a tall, lanky, smooth daddy with spiky blue hair, entirely in the buff, eagerly stroking his cock.

• Door 2 had a younger twink with the face of a charming juvenile, still somewhat clothed, starting to get their jerk on.

I’m a sucker for seasoned male exhibitionists, so I knocked on Door 1. With no hesitation, Zaddy Blue Hair let me in. (Damn, that was really all it took.)

I discarded my thong, reuniting my plump ass cheeks, and enthusiastically positioned my nude body on the other side of the twin-sized bed. Zaddy BH was an alluring Gen-Xer with soft blue eyes and a velvety voice. We chatted about our kinks and bonded over being two bottoms who didn’t need a top to have fun. Soon our mouths did more than talk.

In little time, I crawled on top of Zaddy BH, rubbing my hairy cub chest on his smooth torso, our balls sliding against each other. Our lips danced like partners in a ballroom, giving and receiving, pushing and pulling.

ZBH took the initiative and instructed me to suck his cock. I eyed his warm, peach-toned body, passed over a gorgeous blue tattoo circling his navel, and focused on his elegant cock and robust balls. Zaddy’s sack was red and throbbing in the grasp of a steel cock ring, like an apple ripe for picking. I was hungry for a taste of his low-hanging fruit.

I guided my tongue from the base of Zaddy’s balls, up their shaft, and atop the tip of their cock. Then, I relaxed my jaw and got to work.

Zaddy’s dick was comfortable—not too big or too small. I knew I could take all of him. And being the perfectionist that I am, if I don’t feel a dick in the back of my throat when I give head, I’m not working hard enough.

I lowered my mouth, my lips instinctively curling in—protecting Zaddy’s dick from my chompers—while I emulated a Fleshlight thrusting up and down. With each bow of my head, I got his cock further inside me. Then I felt a gag erupt from the pit of my stomach, up my chest, and into my esophagus. Mission accomplished.