First Time at Chargers


It started with a massage from a woman. After she’d given me my happy ending she asked if she could use her strap-on on me; well, I was feeling nice and relaxed so I said sure. She produced this purple thing, maybe six inches long, pushed my knees under me so I was presenting my bum to her, and pushed straight in. At first it just felt uncomfortable, but as she hit her rhythm, and started penetrating me right to the hilt, I started to feel a warm glow spread through me, and my cock started to stiffen again. I was surprised that I actually felt disappointed when she stopped.

For my next few wanks I found I was fantasising not about a women but about a big male riding me, his cock thrusting into my arse. I’m 44, a delivery van driver, married with a teenage daughter, and I’d never had the slightest erotic thought about another man until then, but increasingly I began to find I could hardly think of anything else.

After three weeks of this I decided I had to scratch the itch, find out if it was really what I wanted. A few minutes online told me there was a gay sauna club near my home in East London. So a couple of days later, telling my wife I was going to have a night out with the lads (which was technically true) I set out, arriving just before 9pm.

The place was on a main street but you could easily have missed it – just the name, Chargers, over the door, and a plain brick wall where a shop would normally have a display window. I paid my entrance fee to the receptionist, a good looking muscular blonde 20-something with ‘Masseur’ written across his bulging white vest, and he handed me a towel and directed me to a locker room and shower area. It was deserted and I quickly stripped to the buff and took a shower, then headed into the club proper, the towel wrapped around my waist.

There was a jacuzzi with three guys probably in their 60s sitting in it, separate from each other and just chatting about sport. I passed that, bought a pint of beer from a young fully dressed female barmaid (something of a surprise), then followed sounds coming from a nearby room. The noises were coming from a huge TV in the corner, on which a muscular black guy was being sucked off by a skinny white boy who looked only about 16 but must have been older. I sat and removed my towel; to be honest the show didn’t do much for me, but my dick started twitching as I watched two naked şişli escort guys sitting a few feet away, both around my age, kissing deeply, the hand of one wrapped around the other’s cock.

They left together a couple of minutes later; so did I after about ten minutes, when nobody else had entered the room. Starting to feel a bit disappointed by the place I returned to the bar and bought another pint. The girl who served me said, “I ain’t seen you here before, have I? Have you tried the dark room?” She pointed to a flight of stairs, which I ascended.

A slow thumping drum and bass beat was coming from the room in front of me, which had a black curtain for a wall. I hung my towel over my shoulder and stepped into the room. It wasn’t entirely dark, there was enough purple light to see a couple of leatherette sofas and few shadowy figures moving around, one or two dancing. I put my pint on a table – at this point I was at a bit of a loss, I had no idea what you were supposed to do in such a room. I jumped and gasped as someone I hadn’t noticed stepped backwards into me; he started to rub the crack of his bum up and down my cock, which instantly stiffened in response. My heart was thumping like a jackhammer at my first actual sexual contact with another man. All I could see was that he was around the same height as me (five-feet-ten), slim and pale with closely cropped blond hair.

He pressed back against me more insistently, and for a moment I thought he was going to impale himself on me there and then. But after a few seconds he wrapped his hand around my erection and led me by it to a padded rail just above waist height. He picked a condom packet out of a dish built into the rail, tore it open with his teeth, handed me the sheath and lent his forearms on the rail, presenting his pert bum to me. I’d gone to the club to be fucked, not to fuck, but he had got me going and as he impatiently wiggled his tush at me I mechanically donned the johnny, moved in and gripped him by the hips. My new friend lifted himself up on his toes and thrust himself down onto me. His arse was delightfully tight, and each time I pushed into him he tightened his buttocks around me. As I hit a good rhythm he started to whimper, and reached one of his hands down to play with himself. It felt utterly surreal, fucking a complete stranger of my own sex in a large dark room mecidiyeköy escort with other people around is, maybe watching us. I lasted probably 20 strokes before I came, and as he felt the condom swell inside him he gave a little scream. The music was between tracks, and it probably sounded louder to me than it really was.

He continued to squat on my dick for a few seconds then freed himself, peeled the condom off me and dropped it in a bin on the floor, stroked my cheek then he was gone. My brain twirling, I placed my towel on the sofa beside the table where I’d put my pint, sank down, closed my eyes and relived the last five minutes in my mind. My eyes snapped open when I felt a strong pair of hands massaging my shoulders, fingers and thumbs digging deep. It felt good and, my eyes still closed, I leaned into it. To show willing I reached out my hand and curled it around the guy’s prick; I’d never touched one before, except my own of course, and his felt massive.

A deep, gruff Cockney voice rumbled in my ear, “Are you top or bottom?” Despite having just topped someone I said hopefully that I was bottom. Without another word my masseur stood and walked in the direction of the doorway; for a moment I thought he hadn’t liked my answer, but then in the light from outside the room I saw him staring intently back at me. Taking the hint I rose and followed him. He walked to a flight of stairs and glanced meaningfully back at me then climbed them. He looked like my idea of a Turkish wrestler – several inches taller than me, probably 50-ish, bald on top with a cropped fringe around his head, short grizzled beard. He must have been 20 stone or more, with a slight beer belly and love handles, but beneath the folds of fat there was a solid muscular body. He was a real bear, hair from his neck to his feet, and across his shoulders and down his back. Without another look back he walked to one of a row of identical doors, turned a Yale key that was sitting in the lock, removed it and walked inside. As I followed he closed the door and snapped the snib on the lock to secure it.

Now it was just him and me, alone and naked. He sat on a wooden double bed with a thin mattress. I joined him and he stretched a ham hock arm around me, pulled me to him and smacked his lips to mine, pushing his ox tongue into my mouth. I tasted salt and beer, and his istanbul escort beard prickled against my skin. He broke off after ten seconds and, standing, laid me face down on the bed then removed a condom from a wicker basket on a shelf and rolled it onto his cock, at least eight inches and thicker than a bratwurst. There was also a half-pint bottle of a clear liquid on the shelf my bear-man dipped two fingers into it then shoved them into my bum, spreading the icy cold gel around my cavity.

Having done that, I was surprised when he turned me onto my back, spread my legs and kneeled between them. As he shuffled between my thighs I mumbled, “Don’t be too rough, this is my first time.” At that his eyebrows raised and his mouth twitched into a smile. He raised my legs over his, positioned himself then, for the first time, I felt a prick enter my anus. He did take it gently at first, going slow, pausing between each stroke and not going deep; but as he felt my hole expanding to accommodate him he began to up the pace and the depth, until he was grinding into me to the hilt, his big balls swinging against my bum. Christ, for the first few seconds I felt like he was going to tear me apart, and I bit my knuckle to stifle a yelp, but as I got used to it I started to love the plunge of his full length into me, his eyes locked on mine, flames searing up through my belly, and I gasped each time his groin slammed against me. My cock responded too, stiffening as he continued to ride me. His last few strokes were huge, then with a big gasp he shot his load into the rubber, and I felt his warmth filling my bumhole.

With a sigh he lay down beside me and we cuddled for a minute or so, my flat smooth belly pressed to his big hairy one. Then he stood, dumped the rubber, wiped himself clean with his towel. Then delicately wiped the lube out of my arse. I assumed he was finished with me then but, to my surprise, he dropped to his knees and took my still aroused cock in his mouth. He fucked me with it, his tongue flicking around me, his whiskers tickling me and a hand stroking squeezing my balls. I warned him I was about to cum but with that he just sucked all the harder and, my hips bucking, I exploded deep into his throat.

I’ve become quite a regular at Chargers now, and I’ve struck lucky a few times, including once more with the bear, fucking, sucking, being fucked and even rimmed. I’ve actually spent my last three evenings there with the same guy, a pretty Indian a few years younger than me, and I’m looking forward to seeing him again. I think my wife’s becoming suspicious, but to be honest I’m so close to becoming a total convert that I don’t really care.

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