One of my fave benefits of online dating sites is forum chat. Ah, the things I can learn! There I was, on the hunt for an awesome bathhouse in my ‘hood, and found plenty of online advice from guys on where to find a clean, sumptuously-lit, and safe place to have-it-out publicly with other horndogs. I also came across the red alerts for dark, skanky, shithole sex-cellars. What can I say? I was feeling dark and shithole-skanky that night, and chose the latter.
I was looking for a sexual experience that would safely immerse me into dangerous territory. What ultimately went down can only be compared to having pinpricked my finger in shark-infested waters – within the safety of an anti-shark cage.
The place I was warned about was, indeed, pretty sad to see (what could be seen, that is: everything was painted black, and what lighting there was shone so dimly its source couldn’t even be traced.) Shapes moved in the dark, but they could’ve been anyone, or anything (pretty gross when I think back now; but rest assured, dear reader, at no point in this story did I allow any of these trolls to actually touch me).
I dodged through the moving shapes (hereafter referred to as “sharks”) until – bingo! – I found what I had read about online: rooms, lockable but hardly private, with bars rather than solid walls. Inside were single plywood benches. I chose a “cage” and locked myself in.
The sharks outside my cage were immediately confused by my having locked them out. None spoke, but bars were quietly rattled in hopes of an invitation.
I ignored them. Naked, I got on all fours on the bench and lubed my ass and cock (never leave home without lube!) With one hand I spread my asshole open, aimed in their direction, and with the other I began masturbating in all my exhibitionist glory!
Within seconds the bars were rattling on all sides. I was stirring up a feeding-frenzy that would have shamed the late Jacques Cousteau. No doubt those sharks would have eaten me alive with their unwashed disease-infested guck; but not once did I even pretend to acknowledge their presence. After I finally came (and oiy-oiy-oiy did I cum!), they moved away, immediately indifferent once “my bleeding” had stopped. Interesting, I thought to myself…
I dressed and stepped out of my cage. No sharks blocked me, nor was I followed as I made my way through the dark towards the exit. I was safe and sound, well-spent, and back on the sidewalk in no time.
I can’t say I’m in a rush to sink to such skanky depths again, but I certainly don’t regret it: Veni, Vidi, Vici…iterim!
Be safe!