There's not gonna be excuses for me not being around. I have none. This and all of these have been and shall be, products of a whim. A warning to those who know me. This time it's about me, and it's gonna be graphic.
Not so long ago, in a steam room not so far away at the fitness club I go to, I felt an exuberance of friskiness. It was one of those love-hate moments you get with yourself, where wave after wave of internal heat courses through your veins, and in my case, one of the larger ones down there. I might have let it pass as usual, but the pulses wouldn't stop. As fate would have it, I was alone in the steam room for all of 5 minutes. The crowd outside was mostly dressing up as it was a weekday. I had time to spare, and for all of 5 minutes I was determined to release the tension building down below with moistened hands.
Lo and behold, the steam room door slowly opens. I calmly hid my impatience under a bunched towel, because a well folded towel just doesn't sit well with me. A guy walks in. 30s, a little shorter and leaner than me, and glistening with sweat. Great. Divine intervention to tame the beast, I thought. I thought wrong.
It began subtly, one glance at me, one glance away. One glance again before his eyes sink a little lower to where it matters, and his hands a little closer to his inner thighs, where matters rose quickly. I am no stranger to the torrent of signals constantly streaming through the walls of the men's locker room, but I have also yet to take part in it, until today. I make eye contact, smirk, nod, and leave. A quick hop out and a flash of a shower later, I'm in the sauna, and there he was. His position strategic, his towel loosened, and his tension matching mine.
I sat to his right where he can reach me, but far enough to be out of sight. He has a view of oncoming traffic, but the rest of him is well hidden from public sight. The both of us removed our towels and kept our hands to ourselves at first. Shy, perhaps? The irony. He initiated. The both of us went at it like little kids having the time of their lives with their first experience of a thrilling video game, only with a larger joystick. Each stroke getting closer and closer to the highscore. Finally, without warning, he let go of me, stood up, faced me, aimed, and shot. He took a quick glance outside before sitting down to play with me. I appreciated the helping hand, very much.
I'll spare the boring details of cleaning up but rest assured, we both started our day right.
Dangerously Detailed,
D.
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