They wanted me to be their play thing and introduce me to others.
I was their submissive and I was in heaven. It was my first time doing G and I never passed up a new chemical especially when it was free. He was also a little too tan for a Chicago January.Īfter inviting me back to their room they offered me some “Gatorade” – the “G” being the operative letter. His counterpart had more of a swimmer’s build and resembled Vin Diesel a bit – although with unnaturally white teeth and well coiffed hair. And not as boyish – perhaps a little weathered? LOL. The bigger looked a little like John Cena – not quite as muscular, but certainly defined. I ran into two muscular guys that found me attractive – the greatest intoxicant alive for the formerly chubby boy from small town Illinois. Within minutes I felt that I was the luckiest boy alive. It’s definitely the kind of place where you need to wear shoes. Related: “Forced against my will” – Man tells his college rape story You actually have to ask for condoms when you go there! A public health nightmare! The smell? A combination of cigarette smoke, air freshener, pot, poppers and Crisco.
Tom of Finland, old photographs, ancient carpeting, cracked paint. The bathhouse was straight out of the 1970s. Hallway of Bath HouseĪfter signing a document that I would follow all club rules (yeah right), I grabbed my key and towel and excitedly entered.
Let’s just say this place would rank a level 10 on the nasty-scale. To ask for the grungiest at this place was redundant. Chomping away at my gum, I excitedly exclaimed – “the grungiest.” There are two bathhouses here in Chicago. “Room preference?” – asked the cute 28 year old Latino working the desk. Soaring from vodka and red bull I was on a mission to get the hottest, the biggest and the most. As I walked to the bathhouse I was giddy with anticipation. And the attention of hot men was as big of a high as the vodka I drank or the crystal meth I smoked. The “chubby” gay dude was no longer chubby.