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Bathhouse (terza rima) - WMASG - 12-30-2025
The side street is deserted, dark,
But the length of the block is lined
With cars. There’s no place left to park.
Most private rooms have been assigned
Since shortly after ten o’clock
To men who came hoping to find
Someone to fuck or suck their cock.
Some twenty lockers, not much more,
Are empty. A forgotten sock
Lies on the vestiary floor
Beside a man still in his jeans,
His eyes watching the corridor
Where two boys just out of their teens
Exchange a whispered word or two
While standing at the pop machines.
He wonders if they’re going to
Hook up or came there as a pair,
And thinks, “They’re much to young for you,”
Pretending that he doesn’t care,
And turns his back to be discrete
(As if modesty matters where
Anonymous male partners meet!)
Before he reaches and unzips
His fly and pulls down to his feet
The denim pants that hug his hips.
He stands there in his boxer shorts
A little while, and then slips
Out of them.
All the while his thoughts
Imagine dimly lighted halls
Where sex-starved cruisers of all sorts
Stand casually by the walls
Or walk by in self-conscious haste,
Stroking their cock, cupping their balls,
With towels tied around their waist.
They peer through doors on either side
To see if someone to their taste
Lies stretched out on the bed inside,
Hairy or smooth, cut or uncut,
Smallish or large, a cock to ride,
A dick to suck. Some doors are shut.
Behind them you can faintly hear
The sex noises of men in rut.
A sigh or moan may reach your ear,
Or a gasp following a smack
That loudly lands on someone’s rear.
Behind the showers in the back,
Where the blaring disco boom
Is muted, naked bodies pack
A blind space, stuffy as a tomb,
And with their groping hands inspect
Each other in the orgy room,
Some brazen, others circumspect.
A hand runs down a chest and feels
The living wood of an erect
Penis. The man who touched it kneels
As if he meant to worship it,
Fondly caresses it and peels
The foreskin back and tongues the slit,
Licks round the head and down the pole
Until it’s slimy with his spit.
His open mouth sucks in the whole
Shaft to the base to feel it fill
His throat and drain the very soul
Out of him in the seed he’ll spill,
While the other stands his ground
And thrusts into his face until
His back arches, a strangled sound
Seizes his frame, and tangy, hot,
White cum spurts throbbing.
All around
Them in the darkness there, a lot
Of men have formed a circle and
Observed the blowjob. Now he’s shot,
They wait for their turn, prick in hand,
Wagging to tempt him, but he’s had
Enough, and goes out. They disband
And wait until another lad
Comes along and they get their chance.
The steam room, too, is full. A scad
Of men sit sweating, and their glance
Sizes up all who take a seat
There, or their hands blindly advance
And touch in the dark, misty heat
A muscled thigh, an erect tool.
The touch returned, perhaps they beat
Off, or else it is someone who’ll
Have his own room for privacy.
They’ll shower, let their bodies cool
Down, chat a bit, and get to see
Who they’ve picked up, and then have sex.
Not all are prowling hungrily.
A few have gone to firm their pecs,
Deltoids and abs up in the gym,
Although one of them slyly checks
Another out, and follows him
When he’s finished his exercise.
He searches him out in the dim
Hallway. The first shows no surprise
Because he sensed his interest.
Beneath their gym trunks bulges rise
When fingers brush across their chest.
“The showers first,” says one. So they
Head there together, get undressed,
And stand beneath the soaking spray
And lather up, and while they scrub
Both see what they have to display.
“You wait for me in the hot tub,”
Says one, “while I go get a drink.”
Could be a put-off or a snub –
The other’s not sure what to think.
He nods to him and goes to wait
For him there, lets his body sink
In the hot water.
Since it’s late
Just one or two have come to soak.
Ten minutes pass before his date
Returns and says, “I had a smoke.”
Beside each other on the ledge,
Knees touching, the two softly stroke
Each other’s parted thighs, a pledge
Of more intense pleasures to come.
The others there, their nerves on edge,
Strain their eyes to see through the scum
Of swirling bubbles that conceal
How one of them has placed his thumb
On his friend’s swollen dick. They steal
A kiss; both take it as a sign
That they are ready now for real
Sex. One asks, “In your room or mine?”
“My double, with the mirrors on
The walls and ceiling.” “Sounds divine!”
(The other wonders if he’s gone
And picked up someone fem.) They stop
Outside his room. “Let me make one
Thing clear to you, dude: I’m a top.”
The second answers with a grin,
“Yeah, baby, fuck me till you drop.
Just take it slow when we begin,
Then, if you want, go on all night.”
They open the door and go in.
Outside the sky is growing light
When the exhausted bottom wakes
Held in his sleeping lover’s tight
Embrace, and his hand gently takes
The heavy arm off him and goes.
His back is cramped, his asshole aches.
It went unnoticed in the throes
Of passion, so he doesn’t mind,
And smiles as he puts on his clothes
At how it felt to be fucked blind.
No sound of sex is heard, just snores.
It’s time to leave the baths behind.
The night attendant mops the floors.