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About this blog

A brief recount of ten years of my life of visiting a rather old bathhouse in Fort Lauderdale, South Florida, as best as I can remember. 

While memory is not an exact science, I’ll try to be as truthful as possible. 

Entries in this blog

Bathhouse

The Licker

It was a Tuesday afternoon and I was laying down, ass up, on my thin black leather mattress at the CH2. Since discovering the pleasure of being penetrated by men, a month or so earlier, I was hooked, and Tuesday was my day off. I always leave the door to my room open, and I usually leave a chalked message on the little blackboard at the toilet entrance: *** Room 17, BB bottom *** I learned that trick during my second week at the bathhouse, and by god, it had an effect! S
Barebacked

Barebacked in Bathhouse

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Bathhouse

My Best Angle

It took me less than three or four visits to the CH2 to realize, that “angle” was important when laying down on a black leather mattress, belly down, waiting to be used by a cock whose owner I would never know. Whoever has been there, will probably agree. There is nothing like opening the door of one’s tiny room, all lubed up, and then quickly lay down on the bed, smooth ass up! I would lay down and immediately take a double hit of Rush, my favorite poppers. I would wait for the p
Barebacked

Barebacked in Bathhouse

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Bathhouse

The Thick Redneck

It was my second or third visit to the CH2. The attendant gave me room 8. I can remember it clearly. I went ahead with my already habitual steps. Lock the door. Place the key on the tiny nightstand, and fish out my flask of lube from my duffle bag. Get my newly purchased bottle of Rush open, which I always did oh-so-carefully in the semi-darkness of the room. Next, I would undress and methodically fold my clothes into my bag. Naked, I would turn around, looking at the black walls
Barebacked

Barebacked in Bathhouse

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Bathhouse

The Rules

I’ll try to list of rules that were present in every single private room, as I can remember them. Please remember that this was the  mid to late 90s and the following did NOT exist: — No mobile internet. The best thing at the time were beepers, even though shortly after, cell phones with numeric keyboards showed up, where you had to press the number “1” twice for “A”, thrice for “B”, and four times for “C”. Pressing the number “2” twice gave you a “D”, thrice an “E” and so on.  — Needl
Barebacked

Barebacked in Bathhouse

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Bathhouse

That very first visit

After a cop showed me the door of the place I was looking for, (I was literally in from of it), I remember entering the minuscule reception hall. An ATM to my left, another door to my right (black and heavy looking), and this teller window. In time I would get to know a few of the guys who worked there (definitely not all, but two of them fucked me regularly, later on), but on that day, I wouldn’t remember the teller’s face even if I had to save my life, that’s how nervous I was. After
Barebacked

Barebacked in Bathhouse

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Bathhouse

Police

One thing I’ll never forget. The very first time I drove to the place. I had it bookmarked, written on a paper, heck— I even printed a map of Oakland Park Blvd! Reminder to readers— there were no navigation apps at the time, and iPhone 1 was still a few years from being invented. So… I was driving up and down the boulevard, not being able to find 2536… I guess I drove one too many times because— honest to God, a cop stopped me right after crossing the railroad tracks going ea
Barebacked

Barebacked in Bathhouse

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