We climb out. Grab our towels. The short walk to the sauna door. Every step the wet suit shifts against sensitive skin.
The heat hits before the door shuts.
Wet wood. Thick air. The kind that makes every breath feel heavy.
It is not empty.
A couple sits on the bench across from the door, towels on, talking low. Jessi climbs to the top deck like she owns it, stretches out, and closes her eyes.
“Wake me if I start snoring.”
I take the lower bench beneath her.
The suit is soaked. Sweat runs into the new cleavage and stays there.
In the far corner, the man from last time.
Same towel. Same loose drape. He is not looking at me. Not yet. One arm along the wood. Head tipped back. The edge of the towel sits too low on his thigh.
I close my eyes.
Just heat. Just a minute. Jessi above me. Other people in the room. Safe enough.
I try to meditate. Slow my breathing. Push the heat down. Calm the fuck down before anything starts.
A blue window flares behind my eyelids anyway.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Arousal threshold exceeded.
Aura activation imminent.
Host arousal levels rising.
A low pull under my skin. Outward. I know what it is now.
The Arousal Aura is starting.
Not here.
Not with Jessi three feet above me.
Not with a couple ten feet away.
I keep my eyes shut. Keep breathing. Trying to force it back down.
A minute passes. Maybe two. The wood creaks. Someone laughs, quiet.
I open my eyes.
The guy from the corner is sitting right next to me. Close enough that his knee touches mine.
Then the door opens.
Cool air cuts across my shins.
The couple is gathering their towels. One of them holds the door. They step out. The latch clicks.
The room is smaller without them.
He is looking at me.
The towel has shifted. The tip of him sits out against his thigh, flushed, thick, not even trying to hide.
It is just the three of us now.
Last time I only stared. This time the aura is on, and he feels it. He does not move away.
I try to not look down, but he heat coming of his body is too much… My eyes drop.
Jessi does not move. Eyes closed. Breathing slow. One arm over her face. She is right there and she is fast asleep.
He does not say anything. He looks at my mouth. Then the suit. Then his own lap. The towel falls open.
His cock is right there.
Hot from the room. Heavy against his thigh. The head shiny, flushed, already wet at the tip. I have seen this shape only from my perspective when I was a guy. I have never had one this close with nothing between us from this perspective. My stomach drops and heats at the same time.
This is a bad idea.
This is the worst idea I have had in this body. But I can’t stop. It’s like this body needs to know… Like I need to know…
My hand moves before I decide to let it.
I reach out.
Fingers first. The skin is hotter than I expect. Soft over something that does not yield. He exhales through his nose. He does not stop me. He also does not take my wrist. He does not close my fingers for me. The choice stays in my hand, which is worse, because I cannot blame him for what I do next.
I wrap it around him anyway.
Oh.
Oh my god.
He is thick enough that my fingers do not meet. Not long, but really thick, like wrapping my hand around a small can of beer. The girth fills my fist completely. A pulse jumps against my palm, one hard beat, then another. Heavy. Alive. Hot from the room and hotter than that underneath. The ridge sits under my thumb. The head fills the top of my fist. I can feel the vein along the side. I can feel him twitch when I do not move, like the grip itself is already too much.
This is the first cock I have ever seen in this body, and now I’m holding it…
Not a photo. Not a toy. Not Jake through a shirt in a coffee shop. A man’s, bare, in my fist, in a public sauna, with my best friend asleep three feet above us.
I can let go.
Right now. Open my fingers. Pull my hand back to my lap. Pretend I reached for the bench. He is not holding me there. One movement and it is over, and she never has to know, and I can still be the person who only looked. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
I do not open them.
I just sit there with it.
Entranced. Stupid. Learning the weight like I am going to be tested on it. How wide he is. How the skin moves when I barely shift my thumb. How a bead of precum wells up and smears across my knuckle, clear and warm, and the smell hits a second later. Salt. Heat. Him. My mouth actually waters. I hate that. I do not pull my hand away from it.
Let go.
Let go.
Let go.
My hand will not take the instruction.
I stroke once. Slow. The skin slides over the hardness underneath and a sound leaves him, quiet, rough, not a word. Then I do it again, because the first one was not enough to understand. He leans back. One arm along the bench behind me.
No.
Yes.
My thighs press together. The suit is stuck to me, soaked, dragging over my clit every time I shift. Every stroke makes the ache worse. I go faster without meaning to. His hips lift into my fist. Precum strings between my thumb and the head and I watch it, fascinated, disgusted, hungry.
I glance up.
Jessi is still out.
I could stop. I should stop. I am a guy. I was a guy. I am sitting in a sauna with a stranger’s cock in my hand and my friend sleeping through it, and the part of me that knows how bad this is keeps talking, and the hand does not listen.
I twist my wrist at the head the way I used to do to myself.
His thigh jumps.
He is close. I can feel it in the way he swells, thicker, hotter, the pulse getting mean. The aura is humming so hard I can barely think. Part of me wants to lean down. Part of me is already imagining the weight on my tongue, the taste of what is smeared on my thumb, how easy it would be to just…
No. Not my mouth. Not with her right there.
My hand stays.
His free hand reaches up. Fingers hook the right shoulder strap of the swimsuit and drag it down. The tight fabric gives. My right breast pops free, heavy and bare, the nipple already stiff and aching from how hard the suit had been crushing it.
The feeling of being exposed just like that is intoxicating. Cool air hits the newly exposed skin.
The weight of it sits differently now that nothing is holding it in. I can’t help it. My left hand comes up on its own and squeezes the aching nipple, rolling it between my fingers while my right hand keeps stroking him. Completely entranced. The door could open. Someone could walk in. I don’t care. The only things that exist are the thick heat in my fist and the sharp, perfect spark shooting from my nipple straight down between my legs.
His hand covers mine and tightens the grip. Not trapping me. Showing me. Two more strokes. He swells in my fist. He is right there. One more and he is going to finish in my palm. I want it. I am horrified that I want it. I tighten instead of letting go, still pinching my bare nipple, still not looking at the door, not caring that anyone can see what I’m doing.
Above us, half asleep, Jessi mumbles, “Woah. What’s the time?”
He jolts.
The hand on mine is gone. He yanks the towel over himself and is off the bench before I can close my fingers. The door bangs. Cool air cuts across the room. He is already out.
I did not finish him.
I stare at my hand.
Only precum. Clear, slick, stringing between my fingers, smeared over my thumb. Not the load I was about to take. The disappointment hits sharp and stupid. Like I failed.
I curl my fingers loosely so it doesn’t drip and keep the hand low, out of sight. The tacky smear is still warm. I can feel it every time my fingers twitch. Jessi shifts above me and I freeze, terrified the smell will reach her, terrified I’ll do something stupid with the hand before I can wash it.
I had it.
I held it.
Jessi pushes up on one elbow, blinking. “Okay. I’m cooked. Let’s get out of here.”
I quickly tug the swimsuit strap back up, shoving my breast back into the tight fabric before Jessi can see. It doesn’t sit right. The nipple is still half-hard and the suit keeps trying to slip.
I curl my fingers.
Precum webs between them, clear and warm, already turning tacky in the cooler air from the door.
I keep the hand loose at my side, palm turned in, afraid to drop it and afraid to look at it while she can see.
My thigh is a different heat.
The suit is soaked at the crotch. Every shift pulls the fabric and lets it go, and what slips past the edge is mine. Hot. Slick. Sliding toward my knee because holding him made me this wet, and I cannot close my legs hard enough to stop it.
“Coming,” I say.
She hops down, still half asleep, and heads for the door. I follow.
Halfway to the exit she glances back.
“Hey. Fix your suit. A piece of your nipple’s showing.”
Heat floods my face. I yank the fabric higher, heart slamming, and keep walking.
The air outside the sauna is cooler. That makes both things worse.
The line on my thigh cools at the edges and stays wet in the middle. My fingers stick when I tighten them. Salt. Heat. Him. I catch it anyway, even with my hand down, and my stomach flips like I am still on the bench.
I had him.
He leaked into my fist and ran, and now I am walking behind Jessi with that drying between my fingers and my own wetness running down my leg.
Outside, the aura cuts off. But I’m still insanely horny.
Jessi stretches and yawns.
“You good? You look flushed.”
“It’s just the sauna, it really took it out of me, haha” I say.
I don’t answer, just shrug my shoulders.
My fingers are stuck together. The weight of him is still in my fist, like my hand has not caught up to the fact that he is gone.
We go back to the locker room. I claim a shower stall and lock the door with the clean hand.
The suit peels off. The inside of my thigh shines, and it is me. I know the difference. His is on my right hand, thinner, tackier, a film over the skin that catches the light when I turn it.
I lock the stall door.
My right hand is still sticky.
I bring it to my face before the water even starts.
Salt. Heat. Him.
My mind is hazy, and I can’t think straight from the intoxicating smell.
My tongue reaches out and I lick it.
Slow. From the base of my thumb up over the knuckle, catching what’s left. The taste hits and my knees almost go. I suck each finger clean while the shower runs, chasing every smear, eyes half-closed, not caring that Jessi is two stalls over.
Only when the taste is gone do I turn fully go under the spray and shove two fingers into myself. Then three.
I had him in my fist.
He was about to come.
All I got was this.
“Nnh…”
The first orgasm hits fast and thin. My forehead knocks the tile. It takes the edge off for about three seconds.
Then the ache comes back worse.
Not enough.
I swap hands.
The clean one drops. The dirty one, the one that just had a cock in it, the one that almost made him finish, slides between my legs. Precum and my own wetness mix. My knees give out at the first stroke.
I go down on the tile.
Too dirty. Too much. The floor is cold and I do not care. I am sitting in the spray with my thighs open, fucking myself with the hand that held him, and my other hand goes to my chest because the new weight is right there and it hurts in the good way.
Bigger. Fuller. Sensitive enough that a pinch makes my hips jump.
“Ah…”
I had a dick in my hand.
I was stroking it.
What did it taste like.
What if I had just licked it.
What is his cum like. I almost had it. I almost had it in my palm.
Why are these thoughts in my head.
Why can’t I stop.
I roll both nipples. They tighten immediately, sore from the new size, and the jolt goes straight down to the fingers inside me. I curl them. I hit something deep and my mouth falls open.
The picture is there in my head, what could have happened.
His cock. The shiny head. I’m approaching it with my mouth wide open.
My free hand leaves my chest and trails up. Two fingers. They push past my lips and I suck them, slow, the way I was about to do to him before Jessi spoke.
Salt. Skin. The ghost of him and the heat of my own mouth.
“Mmm… fuck…”
That is what breaks me.
The second orgasm hits harder than the first. My heels slip on the tile. I suck my fingers and fuck myself through it, a broken sound caught around them, until my arms shake and I have to stop or I am going to fold in half.
I stay there.
Water on my back. Fingers still in my mouth. The other hand resting between my legs, not moving.
Spent.
When I pull my fingers free, the picture is gone. My head is clearer than it has been since he sat down.
I wash the hand. Slow. Soap. More soap. The smell fades. It does not leave. I can still find him if I breathe in against the skin.
I dry off, wrap the towel tight, and step out.
Jessi is by the lockers, already dressed, scrolling her phone. She looks up, takes in my face, and smiles like she is letting me off.
“Long rinse,” she says. “Sauna get to you?”
“It was hot.”
“Mm.” She tilts her head. Not pushing. Not saying the thing. “You went real quiet when that guy sat down. Then the door opened and you jumped like I’d caught you at something.” A small shrug. “I’m not asking. You just had a look. Same look you get when you’re trying very hard to seem normal.”
My ears burn. She already knows... Is she going to say it?.
“I…,” I say.
“Lighten up.. I was just teasing you.” She tosses me my shirt. “Get dressed. We’re going to get some coffee.”