We currently have stories with more being added every day

The Club

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 11 Aug 1998 1 comments
1 likes views Category: Sex Stories Male Gay Tags:

by GuyNYC As a bi guy in my early 30s living in New York, it's sometimes tough to get my rocks off with other guys without having to buy into the whole gay scene. Don't get me wrong: I go to gay bars on occasion, and I'm not homophobic, but in truth, at some level, most of the gay guys I connect with also would like some sort of relationship and I don't respond to guys on that level, just physically. (And the ones who DON'T want a relationship tend to be into some hardcore stuff that I'm not.) And, frankly, while I can get off on anal or oral sex with another guy, I have a tough time always staying hard in those situations, because it doesn't ultimately interest me as much as sex with women. Having said all that, I DO really like to get hot and physical with another guy (or guys). And last weekend, I had the ultimate experience, at least for me. It was a Sunday, and I was feeling horny. I don't know why: I'd actually hooked up with a guy two nights before and we did have some pretty wild sex, about three times before he left the next morning (my straight, unknowing roommate was gone for the weekend.) So maybe that primed my pump. Regardless, I was in a mood to get off again by Sunday afternoon, and thought I'd check out a club I'd heard of but never been brave enough to see what was up. It's a J.O. club for men that has strict rules about "no anal, no oral, no inserting anybody's anything into anyone's anything." I'd heard that, unlike saunas and other such places, it was also relatively free of attitude, and that, too, is tough to find in this city. So I threw on some shorts and a T-shirt and wandered up to where I knew this club was located (it rotates locations, but this was the Sunday evening location). I went downstairs, my heart pounding--would this be hotter 'n hell? would I see someone I knew and lose my privacy by being "outed"? would it all be well-meaning but desperate trolls? I had no idea what to expect. I paid the guy at the booth $10, and walked on in to where the clothes check was. I could see into the next room (dimly lit, but no dungeon) where there were guys walking around naked, but I chose not to look there just yet. I grabbed a hanger, stripped down as I saw the other guys in this area doing, hung my clothes on the hanger and handed them to the man. Here I was, then: stripped naked except for a granola neck chain I had on and my sandals. The guy actually tried to hand me a ticket with a number, so I could later reclaim my clothes, but I just laughed, wondering where the hell I'd put THAT for safekeeping--in my ass?--so I just told him I'd remember the number and turned to go into the main room. Wow! There were easily 50 or 60--maybe more--guys in there, all as naked as me, and almost all of them walking or standing around, pulling on their shafts. Young guys who obviously had spent more time at the gym than I manage to, regular guys about like me in age and build, older guys who must have been into the leather-and-sex thing since Stonewall, good looking guys, ugly guys, skinny guys, fat guys, muscled guys, all races and ethnicities. And everyone was as naked as they'd be in a shower room at the gym, except they were all unabashedly jerking off and checking each other out. Quite a few were gathered in twos, threes, fours and more, stroking each other, even nibbling on a nipple here and there, and a few were already near the point of no return, sometimes with their tongues lathing the back of each others throats. I was already dripping pre-cum, and thought I'd shoot my wad right there, just seeing all this. I wandered around the room a bit to check out the various scenes. In this one corner, several guys were sitting around, watching each other stroke it and occasionally helping out. In a few other instances, some really studly guy would be whaling away at himself while five or six other guys would be stroking themselves, watching appreciatively. A few of these guys made me think: "Damn! That guy looks like a fucking varsity wrestler, but he's not going to be in any shape for a match after that!" Around this time, as I was standing on the periphery of one of these groups, a hand reached out and started stroking my meat. My knees just about buckled, as the feeling of someone else's hand on my whanger will do to me, and I closed my eyes, trying more to keep from cumming than to get into the building explosion. Finally, not wanting to stop but knowing I should if I wanted to last, I pulled away, smiled apologetically, and explained that I needed to go a little slower than that. The guy--about my age, maybe a little older, but one of those gym rats that know they're built like a fucking house--grinned, knowing he'd brought me that close to the brink, and turned back to face the main attraction we were all standing around. I then went over to a table in the corner, where a large older man was giving a much younger man a long and luxurious massage with oil. There were about 20 or more guys standing around here, stroking themselves and watching. I thought for sure somebody was going to start shooting all over the guy's lats as he got a rubdown, until the masseur had him turn over and I saw his rugged face, his chest, his biceps, and a not-even-hard 8-incher flopped along his thigh. At that point, I thought I was going to shoot all over him! The dude on the table--he looked like one of those shirtless guys you see rock-climbing, and you just hope they get to the top, get naked, and whack off before smoking a joint or whatever--stayed soft (if a thick, veiny, 8-inch rod can ever be termed "soft") until the masseur reached out and grabbed another guy's hand who was standing right by the table, and had him wrap it around the supine guy's cock using the ol' up-and-down, aided by about a quart of the massage oil. Mr. Rock Climber still had his eyes closed, but his johnson got hard immediately, and I knew I had to move on, because I knew I wouldn't last long watching what had become at least 10 inches shoot all over his pecs and dribble down the helper's fist. I walked into a side room, which was a bit darker. Although it was at best a third the size of the main room, there were easily as many guys, if not more, in there, crowding each other, brushing up against each other, and stroking themselves and each other. On a table to one side were some big tubs of lube (it had the consistency of Crisco) and some paper towels. People were passing one of the tubs, or reaching out to another on the table, and occasionally, some lucky guy who'd just shot his load would grab some paper towels to dry himself up. It was into this mass I threw myself, and I leaned against the wall next to an athletic-looking Hispanic guy who was hot at it with some other guy in front of him. Despite them being all involved, the uncut Hispanic guy moved his hand from his friend, and started jerking on my chain, so I reached out and ran my hand across a very nice chest (I'd have taken his rod in my hands, instead, but the other guy had that taken care of.) Realizing the other guy was being all-giver but not much of a taker at the moment, I reached out with my other hand and started stroking him. Then I got a surprise: the Hispanic guy in the center of our threesome leaned forward and started kissing me! I've been kissed by guys before, and while it can be hot in the right situation, more than half the time I just don't like it. But this was fine, seemed to fit with the mood of controlled abandon, and we started tonguing each other like all get out. Of course, a few minutes of this got me all hot and bothered again, so I broke away, promised to return, and wandered around a bit more with my very obvious, very hard dick leading the way, taking part in a few more scenes, observing many others, and just astounded that here I was in a room packed with naked guys reveling in their hard-ons and in jacking off, just like me. Ten bucks didn't seem cheap for this; it seemed more like I was stealing! I finally went back to the room where I'd been with the Hispanic guy. He was gone (actually, I saw him elsewhere, but he was, uh, "busy") and I went deep into the crowd of men to the back of the room, my cock inadvertently brushing a thigh, a butt cheek, even across the shaft of another cock or two. There I ended up in a circle of guys who were, for some reason, pouring all their concentrated efforts on getting this one guy off. He wasn't any more or less exceptional in looks, which is what made this whole club and situation so hot: everyone wanted everyone else to get his rocks off. One guy was stroking this guy's shaft, another had his hand down and was massaging his balls. Another, to the side, was playing with his chest, while another, on the other side, was rubbing his hard cock lightly against the guy's thigh. Then there were three or four like me standing in front of him--I was directly across from him in this little circle--getting a full view of the proceedings and whipping ourselves up into our own frenzies of orgasm. Somebody had a tub of this really slick lube everyone was using, and we greased our poles up further and really went to town. You could tell the guy who was the center of all this was building up to something big, and when he started to hit the peak, out of sheer habit, it seemed, he closed his eyes and grabbed his own dick and started beating it so fast his hand was a blur. We watched in awe as one...two...three thick white ropes of jism shot from down deep in his nuts and out his shaft, landing on a few legs in the circle, followed by a less-projected stream of cum on the middle of the floor between us. At this point, understandably, I lost it, and I too started to shoot. I was trying NOT to hit anyone else--seemed polite to avoid doing so, after all--but I'd spent the past hour bringing myself to the edge and backing off, and that built-up force combined with an inopportune grab of my shaft upward caused me to shoot all the way across the circle, onto the still-hard cock and hand of the guy who'd just cum, and then some smaller spurts--each still with the power of a single orgasm in my usual experience--on a few legs before I too finished with some smaller loads on the floor in front of me. My knees again went weak and I had to close my eyes to keep the room from spinning, and I missed seeing a few of the other guys shooting their loads, but I could even hear the "splats" on the floor and, in at least one instance, felt another dollop of spooge on one of my calves. Exhausted, buzzing, and--yes--sore, I found some paper towels and wiped off the lube from my hand and dick, and cleaned up the jism on my leg. I stumbled out to where my clothes were, somehow remembered the number of my ticket, and got dressed after splashing some water from the restroom sink on my cock and balls and washing up my hands and my legs. I was still slick, however, and I still smelled of sex as I awkwardly made my way back up the stairs and to the outside, where the late day summer sun was still shining, blazing on my arms and legs, though the people climbing aboard the bus nearby had no idea of the stars I was seeing instead.