Banos Roma, large glass plate windows welcome you into a 1930’s lobby with beaver board reception desk of glass brick and fake marble. Ancient attendant smiles and takes your personals – cheapo watch, Wonka glasses, black leather Tijuana wallet, silver Aztec ring, pack of Lucky Strikes – say ‘Howdy’ to a tall dark and suave cowboy on the way in. He smiles back a beautiful mouthful of pearlies.
Well, down to business. Walk through the moist and grimy halls in search of an unoccupied cubicle. The sounds of slurps, grunts, and growls of broken random lust mixed with Mexican top 40 permeates the humid air. How many times do I hafta hear Daddy Yankee's Rompe? Finding a cubicle in the dim back – just the perfect spot – I set up camp. The white tiled room is covered in mildew and filthy drawn graffiti; there is a small cot and on the wall wooden hooks with a broken mirror. I disrobe, wrap myself in a white towel, slip on flip-flops and start the hunt.
I hit the steam room - sitting on the white tiled bench, relaxing as the hot vapors swirled around me. Not there five minutes and out of the misty mists comes a thin lad wagging his long and nasty at me and it was on like Donkey Kong. After a good bout of gulp-n-slurp, I wondered back to my room to cool off and check out the eye candy prowling the halls. Jumpin’ jigglin’ Jesus! The guys on parade were hot – all this for seven dollars!
Standing outside my room, I hit up a hottie for a cigarette – menthol, yech – and stand there talking a bit. I glance up to the steel girders and wish I hadn’t, a biological nightmare of fungus and mildew. Just as I am about to mention this, said hottie grabs my joint and we repair to his cubical where before I know it I’m on all fours getting the bajeebus pounded outta me. Unfortunately, he blows his wad in a couple of minutes and after gracias I hit the showers and take a sensual bath under the watchful gaze of three guys in jock straps posing by the glass brick wall.
After the shower, I sit on the olive tiled bench opposite the handsome three and take in the surroundings. The air is hazy and humid. Water drips constantly from the grimy fungus covered girders and hissing pipes. The Boy comes by and I order a beer. A cerveza Sol. Relaxing, sipping my beverage, I watch as the three pretty boys in jock straps start up. The skinhead kneels down in front of his friend in the middle and pulls out his cock; it bobs long and hard. He sucks it with gusto. The other jacks off while kissing the guy getting blown. The masturbator squirts his semen all nasty like onto the tile floor, as the skinhead leaves no trace of his friends’ semen to be found. He swallows it all like any good fag should.
Well, that shit made me horny, so with my towel poking out at the crotch, I enter the steam room and sit down. Opening my towel, I let myself swing free. A guy with a shaved head and prison tattoos sits next to me. He has great arms and killer abs and his tongue swirled around my cock like a champ, I couldn’t help myself, I shot off like a ten year old virgin when I touched those rock hard muscles on his back.
I returned to my cubicle and paid The Boy to retrieve from my safety box my Lucky Strikes. God, were they needed. Then outta nowhere – well, not outta nowhere, from the entrance, I guess – came my friend Lazo. By this time, it was early afternoon and the place was packed, so I invited him to keep his things in my cubicle. After changing changing into his towel Lazo lost himself in the mists of the steam room for the next hour or so. May God have mercy on his sphincter.
Close to my room, there was a hallway that led to a shower room that looked like it hadn’t been used in fifty years, This skinny hottie in red boxers meandered that direction and I decided to follow. In the grimy shower room – littered with beer bottles, cigarette butts, and used condoms – there was this large open window over looking an filthy alley. Him standing there, with the lighting and the background, looking like an erotic photograph. What could I do? Not saying a word, I walked up, pulled out his penis and started blowing him. Pulling his boxers down, I turned him around and lubing my penis with saliva, I pushed him against the dirty wall and fucked him standing up. Yanking out, I spilt my semen onto the grimy floor. Smiling and squeezing my hand, he pulled up his boxers and left. I hit the showers again.
I found Lazo lounging on a bench in front of the radio sipping a soda and listening to reggaeton. Ordering a beer for myself, we sat and joked and watched the boys go by. Lazo informs me that he has had his eye on that tall and suave cowboy that I met on my way in. I smile and tell him to go for it. He walks off and does. Lo and behold, when I am returning to my cubicle, tall and suave cowboy’s cubicle is right across from mine and Lazo is sitting in there on the cot with him. For some goofy reason, Lazo invites me in there, and cowboy looks so hot in nothing but his black boxer briefs. Long, long legs. And I am a sucker for long legs. Well, the three of us have a funny and nice chat and Lazo invites the three of us for frescas. When he goes to gets them, cowboy asks me to close the door and the next thing I know those long legs are wrapped around me like tentacles and cowboys tongue is swirling in my mouth. Sorry Lazo. Sliding myself into him, I held onto his ankles and fucked him hard and fast. Shooting what I had left into his tight ass, we lay there sweating and breathless kissing each other for a couple of moments.
I put on my towel and open the door and there is Lazo holding the drinks – oops – he said it was no big thing and we sat in the sauna and talked. It was late and I was with empty scrotum and flaccid penis and I said I had to go. Getting dressed, I said my good-byes and left into the cool night air. Stopping first at Burrito Row for two burritos colorados and a manzana fresca, I walked back to my trap and fell asleep.
Well, down to business. Walk through the moist and grimy halls in search of an unoccupied cubicle. The sounds of slurps, grunts, and growls of broken random lust mixed with Mexican top 40 permeates the humid air. How many times do I hafta hear Daddy Yankee's Rompe? Finding a cubicle in the dim back – just the perfect spot – I set up camp. The white tiled room is covered in mildew and filthy drawn graffiti; there is a small cot and on the wall wooden hooks with a broken mirror. I disrobe, wrap myself in a white towel, slip on flip-flops and start the hunt.
I hit the steam room - sitting on the white tiled bench, relaxing as the hot vapors swirled around me. Not there five minutes and out of the misty mists comes a thin lad wagging his long and nasty at me and it was on like Donkey Kong. After a good bout of gulp-n-slurp, I wondered back to my room to cool off and check out the eye candy prowling the halls. Jumpin’ jigglin’ Jesus! The guys on parade were hot – all this for seven dollars!
Standing outside my room, I hit up a hottie for a cigarette – menthol, yech – and stand there talking a bit. I glance up to the steel girders and wish I hadn’t, a biological nightmare of fungus and mildew. Just as I am about to mention this, said hottie grabs my joint and we repair to his cubical where before I know it I’m on all fours getting the bajeebus pounded outta me. Unfortunately, he blows his wad in a couple of minutes and after gracias I hit the showers and take a sensual bath under the watchful gaze of three guys in jock straps posing by the glass brick wall.
After the shower, I sit on the olive tiled bench opposite the handsome three and take in the surroundings. The air is hazy and humid. Water drips constantly from the grimy fungus covered girders and hissing pipes. The Boy comes by and I order a beer. A cerveza Sol. Relaxing, sipping my beverage, I watch as the three pretty boys in jock straps start up. The skinhead kneels down in front of his friend in the middle and pulls out his cock; it bobs long and hard. He sucks it with gusto. The other jacks off while kissing the guy getting blown. The masturbator squirts his semen all nasty like onto the tile floor, as the skinhead leaves no trace of his friends’ semen to be found. He swallows it all like any good fag should.
Well, that shit made me horny, so with my towel poking out at the crotch, I enter the steam room and sit down. Opening my towel, I let myself swing free. A guy with a shaved head and prison tattoos sits next to me. He has great arms and killer abs and his tongue swirled around my cock like a champ, I couldn’t help myself, I shot off like a ten year old virgin when I touched those rock hard muscles on his back.
I returned to my cubicle and paid The Boy to retrieve from my safety box my Lucky Strikes. God, were they needed. Then outta nowhere – well, not outta nowhere, from the entrance, I guess – came my friend Lazo. By this time, it was early afternoon and the place was packed, so I invited him to keep his things in my cubicle. After changing changing into his towel Lazo lost himself in the mists of the steam room for the next hour or so. May God have mercy on his sphincter.
Close to my room, there was a hallway that led to a shower room that looked like it hadn’t been used in fifty years, This skinny hottie in red boxers meandered that direction and I decided to follow. In the grimy shower room – littered with beer bottles, cigarette butts, and used condoms – there was this large open window over looking an filthy alley. Him standing there, with the lighting and the background, looking like an erotic photograph. What could I do? Not saying a word, I walked up, pulled out his penis and started blowing him. Pulling his boxers down, I turned him around and lubing my penis with saliva, I pushed him against the dirty wall and fucked him standing up. Yanking out, I spilt my semen onto the grimy floor. Smiling and squeezing my hand, he pulled up his boxers and left. I hit the showers again.
I found Lazo lounging on a bench in front of the radio sipping a soda and listening to reggaeton. Ordering a beer for myself, we sat and joked and watched the boys go by. Lazo informs me that he has had his eye on that tall and suave cowboy that I met on my way in. I smile and tell him to go for it. He walks off and does. Lo and behold, when I am returning to my cubicle, tall and suave cowboy’s cubicle is right across from mine and Lazo is sitting in there on the cot with him. For some goofy reason, Lazo invites me in there, and cowboy looks so hot in nothing but his black boxer briefs. Long, long legs. And I am a sucker for long legs. Well, the three of us have a funny and nice chat and Lazo invites the three of us for frescas. When he goes to gets them, cowboy asks me to close the door and the next thing I know those long legs are wrapped around me like tentacles and cowboys tongue is swirling in my mouth. Sorry Lazo. Sliding myself into him, I held onto his ankles and fucked him hard and fast. Shooting what I had left into his tight ass, we lay there sweating and breathless kissing each other for a couple of moments.
I put on my towel and open the door and there is Lazo holding the drinks – oops – he said it was no big thing and we sat in the sauna and talked. It was late and I was with empty scrotum and flaccid penis and I said I had to go. Getting dressed, I said my good-byes and left into the cool night air. Stopping first at Burrito Row for two burritos colorados and a manzana fresca, I walked back to my trap and fell asleep.
1 comment:
you know, luis, one of my most fondest, drunken hopes is that i can somehow, at some point before i die, finally make it to banos roma before even i'm too old and decrepit to get laid (i.e., three weeks ago).
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