Date: Tue, 11 Dec 2012 16:11:04 -0800 (PST)
From: M S
Subject: Sauna Incident

      This is a true story that happened to me when I was 16. I've only
told two people. One acted shocked and disgusted and she never spoke to me
again. The other became so aroused I had to fight him off. Lately I've
wanted to get more people's reactions, but other than those two times, I've
never dared to say anything. When I learned about this website, I couldn't
wait to start jotting down memories. Of course I'm able to be more explicit
here than when I told my two friends (I basically gave them a two sentence
summary). Who knows? Maybe I'm looking for justification. However you might
react, it's a true story.
      In retrospect, there isn't much to tell. A quick wild interlude that
took place thirty years ago. It was the summer I was sixteen. At that age I
was always horny. We wore those super tight cutoff shorts with the slits up
the sides stylish for the time, and I suppose I sported more than my share
of erections. I was cute—dark blond curly hair, blue eyes, 5'6", about
130 lbs, and in shape. I was on the high school track team. My specialties
were the 400 and 800 meters. I remember girls hitting on me a lot, but I
had realized early I was gay and never wanted to waste my time with them.
      I never flaunted my sexuality, but I never killed myself trying to
hide it either. In those days, guys were pretty open about sexuality,
perhaps more than they are now, and several of my friends and I fooled
around. Looking back, I was probably less promiscuous than most of my
generation. So, despite this odd kinky story, I really lead a quiet sex
life. Even now, I'm more vanilla.
      I had just finished track practice about a week before school's
official start. Even in those days, we ran in our jean shorts. Gear wasn't
exactly hip in 1986. We didn't even use backpacks. I remember my stop light
green sneakers and a t-shirt to match! When I got home, cleats dangling off
my shoulder, I ran to my room, stripped off my clothes, grabbed a towel,
and headed for our sauna out back. We weren't super rich, but we could
afford an indulgence like a sauna.
      When I stepped in, I was surprised to see Dad there. He was usually
gone that time of day, not returning from his engineer job until closer to
six. I stopped, gaped, and was about to leave so as not to disturb him,
when he told me to come in and shut the door. His towel had slid to the
side, but he slyly covered himself once I sat down a few feet away. I could
still see part of his left glutes.
      Dad and I always got along, but mostly we kept a respectful distance.
He was no Ward Cleaver, but he was no Homer Simpson either. He was a
handsome man, forty years old at the time, in shape from playing
competitive tennis and racquetball. He made sure to keep fit. I'd been
aware since I was ten that Dad and Mom had an "open relationship." His hair
was more russet colored than mine, but we had the same bright blue eyes. He
was close to six foot, 160ish lbs. with medium amount of body hair. He had
a bubble butt and melon-sized calves, which I remember always envying.
      After asking me the typical after-practice questions, he closed his
eyes again and seemed to be dozing. I settled back, and inhaled the dry
heat. Now the thing about saunas and me—I get really dizzy. Drunk
dizzy. To this day! I remember once when I was younger in a sauna with Dad,
and I couldn't stop giggling. He had to escort me out. I was past the
giggling stage, but my head still swam. My heart quickened. I felt woozy,
as always. Five minutes is usually all I can stand. When I got up to leave,
the floor spun out from under me, and I fell into Dad, losing my towel
along the way.
      Dad jerked awake, surprised to find his naked son on top of him. He
asked what was going on, and I said the usual: I got dizzy and tipped
over. He laughed and patted my ass. But instead of removing his hand, he
let it stay there. I immediately sprung a hardon. Dad, of course,
noticed. He started to play with my sweaty ass crack, and I began to squirm
and moan on top of him. It happened super fast. I was so dizzy and horny I
don't even recall seeing his face.
      His towel loosened further and fell to the floor. Dad's cock sprung
up hard as a steel rod. My heart was beating in my ears, and I thought I
was going to pass out. Add that to my sexual arousal and I had no idea what
even my name was. I went woozy, and I thought it was my duty to please
him. It almost felt like he wasn't my dad, but some hot guy with a raging
hardon, and my instinct was to please him.
      I slid down his hairy, sweaty body and took him in my mouth. I had
seen Dad's dick before, as recent as a few weeks prior when I saw him throw
on his robe, but never hard. It wasn't too long but man was it fat! To this
day, I have to admit, to this day, Dad had the best looking cock I've ever
seen. Perfect for my taste. Thicker than an ear of corn!
      Despite his girth and my small mouth, I took him down all the way to
my throat. He started mumbling and grunting. I sucked on him without caring
about anything but getting him off. He sat upright and stated to thrust in
and out. Eventually he grabbed hold of the back of my head and fucked my
face harder. I tried to raise my head so I could see his expression, but he
held me down on him. I obliged, and kept my lips as tight and puckered as I
could.
      I finally forced my way up and without making any eye contact I
straddled him. I grabbed his shoulders and gyrated my ass over his thick
cock. My ass was so sweaty, he popped right past the sphincter and we both
cried out. Dad instinctively wrapped his arms around me and started
pounding into my ass. I met his thrusts by sitting down hard on him each
time. I remember we both were grunting and moaning like crazy.
      Without speaking, I pulled him out and sat my ass on the edge of the
bench and spread my legs as wide as I could. Dad was immediately on top of
me, fucking me like he might one of his dates. I clasped my hands over his
muscular ass and felt his glutes flex with each thrust. Dad was pressing
into me hard and we were drenched in sweat. I removed one of my hands and
started to beat off to his thrusting. I shot all over my chest, and seconds
later Dad's hot explosion torch my insides. He collapsed on top of me and
breathed heavy for what seemed hours. Only about a minute passed. He got
up, wrapped himself in his towel, and walked out. All of it probably took
less than five minutes.
      I didn't see him for two full days after that. We both avoided each
other. Eventually, we ran into each other in the kitchen. We shared a
glance and said nothing.  The implicit look in Dad's blue eyes was clear:
"Don't ever mention what we did!" There were a few times within a two year
span after that sauna incident when I thought Dad and I might have sex
again—once while camping with relatives and we were alone in the shower
room but he left clearly nervous about seeing me naked, and another time
when I had to help him put on his shirt a few times after he broke his arm
and we had brushed against each other—but nothing ever happened again.
We made sure to never be in the sauna alone. If anyone was with us and they
got up to leave, Dad always hopped up and followed them out.
      Dad grew sloppy and fat, but he was still probably the best bottoming
experience I've ever had. I still masturbate thinking about it. But I don't
really picture him, per se, as much as I picture the concept of those two
people together. I'm almost exclusively a top now, and I still use some of
the moves I learned from Dad. My favorite is the way he went super hyper
fast plowing me right before we both came.

      Well, that's my story. Hope you enjoyed. I kept my word about not
mentioning our sauna incident until ten years ago when I told two separate
friends. Dad died last year, so perhaps that's why I've been thinking about
it more and decided to share my experiences with others. Not sure what I
expect to gain from it. Perhaps in doing so, whoever reads this can grow
more comfortable with his sexuality. I know that even when I came out at
20, Dad seemed almost proud (maybe he thought he'd turned me gay!). I do
recall that was the one moment when I first thought Dad might want to kiss
me on the lips.