Sauna - Part 1

Sauna

Story by Whack Attack

Part 1 of 2

 “If I had a nickel for every time…” is a pretty common phrase. But, in my case, I think it’s true. I’d have thousands in the bank if I collected one every time some dude stole a glance at the bulge in my pants. Or for the blatant looks at my swaying dick in locker rooms and showers at the gym. And if by some chance I sprouted a little bit of wood from soaping things up, which is quite natural (I mean, how can you run a hand along a slicked up cock without getting at least a bit of a boner), the looks became stares.

So, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, I’ve been blessed with a little bit more than the average guy. With a pair of large, heavy stones to match, even loose khaki’s are tight across the zipper. So I can appreciate the envious looks. Or at least that’s what I thought they were, anyway, - simple envy - until I became chummier with a couple of the regulars who work out at the gym.

I sat down with a folded towel under my ass in the steam room one day after a fairly rigorous workout, leaned against the hot tiled wall, closed my eyes and heaved a sigh. The wet, heavy air even felt good entering my lungs. I heard the door open and close but didn’t bother to find out who’d just come in. We sat in silence until I heard the utterance of “holy shit” under his breath.

I turned to look in his direction and was surprised the steam had dissipated enough for me to see him clearly. I smiled. “What?”

He nodded toward me. “That. Dude, I’d heard but…”

“Huh? What’re you talking about?”

He chuckled. “Your dick, man. Very nice.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned my head against the tiles again. “Thanks for noticing.”

In our discussions out in the gym, side by side on the machines, we’d shared plenty of information about our lives and families; his wife and two sons, my pregnant wife and one daughter. But, after years in the military, I was used to guys commenting on my package. It was typically in jest, so I’d never read anything more into it.

“How can anyone not notice! Jesus, it’s huge. How does your wife handle that thing? I think mine never would’ve married me if I had a monster like that.”

I laughed. “Usually between her tits, but she handles it okay otherwise, thanks.”

“How much bigger is it if you get a full hard-on?”

I looked down. I hadn’t noticed my pole was at half-mast. I shrugged. “Another few inches, I guess.”

“Whew…”

There were rustling sounds as he moved and sat next to me. “Uh…”

“What?” I asked without opening my eyes.

“God, I can’t imagine that.”

I snorted a laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… this is going to seem weird - but I hope you won’t take it that way.”

“Uh-huh.” I had a feeling I knew what he was looking for. What the hell, I thought, it wouldn’t be the first time a guy had seen me with a full-blown boner. Due to my wife’s pregnancy, it had been a good six weeks since we’d had any sex and it had been at least two weeks since I’d found an opportunity to get off. I wrapped a hand around the base and needed to stroke only a few times. “That what you’re wanting to see?”

I turned my head toward him and opened my eyes to tiny slits. He sat open-mouthed, gaping at my cock, which now pressed against my torso - damn near as hard as it could get - the tip of its almost 13-inches resting between my navel and pecs. I couldn’t help myself; a quiet laugh escaped. His pecker was hard as a rock and about half the size of mine. I wasn’t laughing at his size. Honest. I laughed because he was fondling his nuts and I’d have bet he didn’t even realize what he was doing.

“Wow…”

“Yeah,” I stated, closing my eyes again, “that seems to be everyone’s reaction.”

“If I had one like that,” he sighed, “I think I’d have gone into porn.”

“Really?” I inquired.

“Do you have any idea how much money you could make with that thing?”

“I’ve got no interest in making money with it. And I’ve never needed money to entice me to get my rocks off, have you?”

“No, I guess not. It sure is… Do you mind, can I…”

I opened my eyes to find his hand hovering over my now pulsing dick. Now, this was a new one on me. No man had ever been that brazen - looks, low quiet whistles, sure. But asking to touch me? Besides, we were both straight, married men. I stayed silent for a second to think it over. Would it be any different, I wondered. “Well, I…”

He laid the palm of his hand along it and pressed my rod into me. Involuntarily, my hips thrust toward the pressure. That was all the permission he needed, I guess, because his hand wrapped around it in a firm grip. He gave a couple squeezes and began stroking up and down. I lowered my position on the bench and spread my legs wider. The damp heat from the tile had already permeated my towel and my balls, dragging against it, responded. My body relaxed and I moaned softly as his hand gripped tighter and his thumb swiped across the underside of the head. God! Like any man, I love that sweet spot! Ample pre-cum flowed from my piss-slit and his hands began to milk me with long, slow strokes all the way up and over the head.