Gay club stories-My Visit to the Gay Sex Club - 3:AM Magazine

The good, the bad, and the glitter She freaked out. I didn't talk with her for months after, but we are good friends to this day. I was a kid in a candy store. I remember thinking the guys were so hot.

Gay club stories

Top Stories. What I hated though was all those straight bitches taking up the dance floor. He walked us down the windowless corridor. Berghain nightclub is well-known to ravers Image: Srories Get the biggest daily news stories by email Subscribe We will use your email address Gay club stories for the purpose of Gay club stories you newsletters. Like us on Facebook Follow us on Twitter. Chris Hernandez. On a wall before a corridor, there were piles of fresh towels on several wooden racks. We watched an OK drag show in the basement, and then went next door to Duplex where we shamelessly made out and watched people sing karaoke.

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Cocklust Ch. Great Meeting Ch. Gay club stories of Being a Lifeguard. I cant believe he would do something like that in front of me, after the night we shared and everything. It was a boring Saturday afternoon and I was just kicked back watching re-run TV shows, downing a couple of cold Budweisers and waiting stkries my Nude sex with penetration friend Kevin to show up All models at Gay club stories Porntube are 18 years old or older. The Club. Rating: 9. Martin I met Martin at a popular gay bar in town. The Run. Rating: 5. Did he mention his wife is out of town? Sort by:. An after party with a happy ending

The modern gay rights movement started in a bar.

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  • Mystery Threesome : Part 10 Boring detention turns fun that leads to another mystery note

From the front, it looked like a nondescript shopfront in an industrial area of town normally overrun with tradesmen in their hi-visibility shirts through the day.

The sun was out, the sky cloudless, mid afternoon on an unseasonably warm autumn day. My accomplice and I were met at the front counter by Bruce, in his 40s, one of the owners. He had muscles like raw spaghetti. He informed us that the other owner, Karl, in his 70s, was waiting for us upstairs.

Bruce and Karl were a committed couple. Bruce walked us through the sex shop at the front — shelves of DVDs, magazines, toys — and took us up a wooden staircase. He had white Santa Claus hair and a nose like a rotten strawberry. Karl took us back downstairs and started to show us the area beyond the sex shop. On a wall before a corridor, there were piles of fresh towels on several wooden racks. The locker room was further down the corridor.

The next room was long and narrow, tiled, with three showerheads; Karl explained that the room was intentionally narrow to facilitate interactions between those who were showering. Next to the shower room was a single toilet. There were pink pump packs with hand soap on every wall, next to small sinks. Bowls full of condoms and boxes of tissues were also omnipresent. We walked out of the showering area and started down another long corridor, this one darkened. Natural light disappeared behind us; the only light was artificial and came from a snack food vending machine on one side of the corridor and a display case on the other side.

The walls were covered with large posters of naked men, their muscles bulging, their cocks long and erect, their glares steely. It is then that I caught my first glimpse of a large man wearing only a towel.

Instead, I kept my eyes on his towel, making sure it stayed exactly where it was. We were shown into a small lounge area, dimly lit, with a large TV in the corner playing a hardcore gay porno. On one side of the room, running the length of the wall, was a long desk with six networked computer monitors. I would hasten a guess that seventy per cent of our clientele are married with children.

We were offered tea and coffee. The next room to which we were taken was a small cinema room. There were no seats, just three floor levels at varying heights.

The entire wall nearest the entrance was taken up with a TV showing another porno. Before I could think further, a thin man with long hair cascading down his back entered the room wearing a bra and G-string. He lay luxuriantly on one of the levels and started playing with himself. I was suddenly very self-conscious, feeling as if I was interrupting him, like I was a stranger in his home.

Karl quickly escorted us into the next room, which was even bigger and darker. All the walls were painted black, the only light available was that creeping in from the corridor. It was then I realised they were human noises: several men grunting as if in pain, or overwhelmed with pleasure. Karl explained this was the orgy room, fitted with two king-sized beds. It smelt of stale sweat, like an old gymnasium. My imagination ran wild, as did my fear, unable to see what was in front of me or behind.

My accomplice would later thank me for wearing a white T-shirt: in such a dark room, he always knew where I was. I could not see his face and as quickly as he appeared, he was gone again. My heart was racing. Karl finally returned to find us, and my breathing and pulse rate slowly returned to baseline. He led us into a narrow passageway. Except there was no window. Instead, there was a long, rounded vertical slot cut into each wall.

The air was thick, the muffled grunting continuing in the next room, people shuffling back and forth, adjusting and readjusting their positions. Karl recounted a story of a man who once fell asleep in one of the partitions.

The night staff manager who was locking up noticed the sleeping man and shook him awake. The darkness enveloped me, the spaces disorientating. I could not tell how big the establishment was or how far it extended as Karl led us from one darkened room to another. It momentarily occurred to me that I had no idea where the fire exits where, something that rarely concerned me.

Out back, we finally emerged into an expansive open area flooded with natural light. But we need to get some plumbing put in out here. Karl finally led us up a darkened stairwell, lit only by a small rope of LED lights along each wall, as would be seen in a cinema. Catching his breath at the top of the stairs, Karl stood in a corridor revealing eight darkened doorways.

Men were standing in the corridor, loitering, or disappearing in and out of rooms. Karl showed us into the first room on the right. He flicked on the dimmer button, illuminating the room slightly. In the corner, a bowl of condoms and large box of tissues were on a small table. If we had sheets or duvets, they would be ruined in an hour.

When one pulls out, they can frequently leave a deposit on the mattress, which depends on what they may have eaten before they came out to see us. He walked us down the windowless corridor. I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead and not look at what was going on in each room.

I felt awkward but also nervous, uncertain of what awaited us. The air was becoming stuffier, the black walls closed in. The only noise I could hear was troubling: another hardcore pornographic film blaring from the end of the corridor. The room on the right had an intricate series of wooden latticework on the ceiling, with long metal chains hanging down into the room.

There was no bed. We returned downstairs to the main corridor where several new men had appeared, wearing only white fluffy towels. One man was leaning against a wall, watching a film on yet another TV screen. He was fully clothed, neat and tidy, as if he was about to go and play a round of golf.

The man laughed. We returned to the front part of the shop where Bruce was sitting behind the counter looking bored. We recounted our tales of heroic survival. Bruce smiled knowingly. With the tour over, we thanked our hosts and returned to the blinding natural light of the car park.

Utes, trucks, vans, panel vans. Peter Papathanasiou was born in a small village in northern Greece and adopted as a baby to an Australian family. He divides his time between Australia, London, and a small village in northern Greece. Twitter: peteplastic. My Visit to the Gay Sex Club.

Sapphic Seduction Housewife accidentally wanders into gay bar. Ian finds a friend This is a series of explicit gay sex tales that are based on a real experience - enhances a bit for your pleasure. Rest in Peace Paul Grady 1. A Spring Tete-a-Tete Fantasy becomes reality for weekend bachelor. American Idol.

Gay club stories

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Why Every Straight Man Should Go To A Gay Club | Thought Catalog

Due to certain life transitions — a move to Portland , a divorce — I found myself very unemployed. There was such a gap in my professional life that no one responded to my applications.

Friends from Philly, with whom I was raised, laughed off my new job. Reactions from gay friends from further back east were mixed.

My Portland friends just wanted me to have a job. Every response, though, was priceless. My Bostonian bestie was appropriately puritanical. Tell me all about it! Are the guys hot? There are showers and lockers, and you spend a lot of time folding towels. People get a workout. Could I tell them the truth? I claimed a lot of freelancing. At the bathhouse, duties are shared by everyone, regardless of seniority.

One time I was collecting trash when — boom! A lot of passion. I screamed, and another employee quickly turned into the room. The main reason for gloves is the hospital-grade cleaners used, which are fairly harsh when used repeatedly.

That Fitbit or health app on your phone will record several miles a day. Steamrooms must be cleaned multiple times each day. A few times each week, a really thorough cleaning happens. Grates are removed, and these are heavy. Then you scrub everything, also a workout. Then, of course, there are mattresses. These need to be wiped down, on both sides. They may want to know everything about you. We could hear ya from the front desk!

I spend a lot of time in gay businesses read: bars and I knew to approach patrons only if they flashed a smile that indicated I knew his secret.

We were complicit, and seeing me out and about was kinda exciting to them. But I also experienced exactly the opposite. He was always very nice to me at work, so to make him feel comfortable I moved outside. After a month of working in a gay bathhouse, I was desensitized. Who decorated that room, his grandmother? This gets you thinking. That poor grandmother. She goes to Florida for the winter but lets her wayward grandson stay at her house.

Now here he is, renting the place out to a porn producer, 69ing on the loveseat, right in front of the Christmas tree. But you get lurkers. On one of my first shifts — a slow weekday afternoon — I pulled out my spray bottle and cleaning cloth and went to spray the frame around the gloryhole. All of a sudden, a rather large phallus was presented to me. He removed his engorged member from its uncomfortable distance to my face.

At one time, bathhouses were primarily for bathing. Only in the last century did running water become standard in homes across the economic spectrum. Some men, though, really do come to unwind. Some are straight and comfortable enough to brush off advances. These guys want to visit the sauna, get in, get out and get home. Of course, the overwhelming majority want to get in, get off , get out and get home.

Whenever gay men get together, there are always well-intentioned barbs. As a college kid in New York, we were warned against bathhouses. They were described as places for drug addicts, or guys brimming with STIs. Things have changed so much. With people now becoming aware that non-detectable HIV-positive guys cannot transmit the virus — and with many gay men electing to take PrEP — the range of clients at the gay bathhouse is diverse. You encounter college guys as often as you do retirees. These tourists check in, close their door, put on headphones and sleep.

You call them a cab for the airport, and they leave wearing a tie. Toggle Menu. Log in Sign up. Feed Guys Stories Chat. Terms of Service Privacy Policy. Follow Hornet. Shockingly, they hired me. Here are 10 things I learned from working at a gay bathhouse: 1. Your friends will have very different reactions. Gloves become your best friends. I remember my first freak out. Working in a gay bathhouse is a workout. There will be hazing. Were you surprised by anything on this list?

This story was originally published on August 19, Log in. Sign up Get the App.

Gay club stories

Gay club stories

Gay club stories