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The funny thing was my dad was the one that offered me up to my uncle. Long story short, my dad had health issues growing up, moved to the US in his teens and my uncle was the one that took care of him. So he liked the fact my uncle and I “got along” lol.

Tanbottom, perhaps the name of the basement bathhouse was called THE CELLAR? I've heard about it but never did go back then.

Man's Country in Chicago. It was like being dropped in a candy store.

My first bathhouse was the Northern Sanua in Flushing, Queens, NY. The place was real slezzy and a lot of fun.

Part 11: At the Clinic Buffet: A College Redhead's Understall Clap He doesn't wait for you to move. With a rough, angry motion, he pulls up his scrubs, shoving his still-hard, cum-slick cock away as if it's something filthy. He turns his back on you, staring at the wall, his shoulders rigid with a fury so deep it has become cold. You scramble for the door, your own erection a painful, shameful pressure against your jeans. You fumble with the handle and stumble out into the sterile, white corridor, leaving him alone with his poison and you alone with your desire. Your body moves on its own, driven by a singular, desperate need to blow the load that the doctor's confession has caused. To avoid anyone seeing the massive bulge in your pants, you make a beeline for the men's restroom. You push the door open and step into the stall in the back, locking it behind you. Your eyes go immediately to the wall, to the biohazard symbol you defiled with your "still neg" failure just an hour ago. But something is different. Fresh, milky-white cum is slowly dripping down the tile from the center of the symbol. A thick, pearly drop hangs from the lower point of the symbol, poised to fall. Someone else was here. Someone else marked the symbol as their own. A wave of horniness, more potent than anything you've ever felt, crashes over you. All thought is erased. There is no doctor, no clinic, no disappointment. There is only this. This offering. This gift. You press your face close to the divider and lean forward, pressing your tongue flat against the cool tiled divider, slowly licking the fresh, salty cum from the wall. You savor the taste, the texture, the anonymous risk. As you're lost in the taste, you hear a soft rustle from the other stall, then a whispered voice, young and a little cocky. "You hungry, man?" Your heart hammers. „Oh yeah.“ You hear the distinct sound of a belt unbuckling, a zipper, and then the soft thud of jeans falling to ankles. A moment later, the rustle of fabric as someone kneels down close to the divider wall. You quickly sit down on the toilet and bend over, your head almost to the floor, to look under the divider. There's a good foot of space, and the view is perfect. The first thing you see are legs—pale, athletic, and covered in a fine dusting of red hair that glints in the dim light. Your eyes travel up to a crotch, and you see a neatly trimmed, thick red bush and completely smooth, shaved balls. And then a cock comes into view. It's a nice, thick cut cock, and as the owner strokes it, you see it: a bead of thick, yellowish fluid oozing from the piss slit. Gonorrhea. The clap. A dirty, proven bug. A wave of arousal hits you so hard you feel dizzy. The word "negative" echoes in your head. Not a rejection. A directive. Work harder. Take every opportunity. Don't question who, just take what's offered. This clinic isn't a place of shame anymore; it's a buffet. "Shove your butt over here..." the voice commands, husky and inviting. He wants an anonymous understall action, nothing more. You pull back, shuck your jeans, and lie on the floor. You lift your legs and slide your ass under the divider. He's on you instantly, hands rough, grabbing your hips and yanking you the rest of the way under the divider until your ass is flush against his side of the wall. He owns you now. He spreads your cheeks open. "Fuck," he breathes. "Nice tight hole." He spits. You feel the wet head of his cock paint your hole, smearing the sticky, yellowish precum all over you. "What you here for?" he grunts, positioning himself. "Check-up," you gasp. "Negative." He laughs, a low, dirty sound. "Shame. That why you're so hungry?" "Yeah." "You want it?" "Yeah." "Me too," he grunts. "Got the clap." "Fuck," you moan. "Never used rubbers. Not on Prep. So... who knows?" "Doesn't matter," you groan. "Just do it." He lines up and pushes in the tip. Teasing you. „You want it?“ „Yeah…“ „Might get more than the clap.“ „Give me all you have.“ „Sure? Might be permanent…“ „I dont care! Want it bad…“ He pushes a small brown bottle through the gap at the bottom of the divider. It rolls across the grimy tile towards you. "Here," he grunts. "Open up." You unscrew the bottle, lift it to your nose. Smell the familiar scent. Breath in deep. One, two, three, you hold your breath, your head starts spinning, four, five, six, your vision clouds. Just as the poppers hit their peak, your whole body going loose and your mind soaring, he slams his cock into you in one brutal, deep stroke. He lets out a loud, satisfied groan. He doesn't wait. He immediately starts fucking you, a hard, rhythmic pounding, his hips slapping against your ass. His rhythm is a little erratic, driven by pure youthful horniness. "Fuck, your hole," he pants. "Gonna fill you... with my diseased cum." "Yeah," you choke out. "Breed me." "Gonna knock you up... take my fucking bugs." His words, combined with the knowledge of the gonorrhea he's spreading inside you, send you into a frenzy. Your mind reels, not just wondering, but hoping what else is in this toxic cocktail he's loading you up with. Each strain a new chapter in your conversion. You reach down and start stroking your own cock, your fist flying. The reality of it is overwhelming—the dirty floor, the anonymous redhead using you, the filth pouring from his mouth. "Fuck... I'm gonna cum," he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Gonna give it to you... now!" He slams into you one last time and buries himself deep. You feel the powerful, rhythmic spasms of his young, but not so innocent, cock as he unloads his poisonous cocktail inside you, a thick, warm flood of his anonymous, diseased seed filling your ass. The feeling of it is all it takes. Your own cock erupts, spurting cum across your chest and stomach in a massive, shuddering orgasm. He stays inside you for a long moment, panting, before he slowly pulls out. You feel a trickle of his cum run down your ass crack. You hear him zip up, the sound of his belt buckle, and then his stall door opens and closes. He's gone. You lie there for a moment, panting on the floor, your body half in one stall, half in the other, a student's diseased cum leaking from your hole and your own drying on your chest. You are a mess. A fulfilled, claimed mess. You slowly pull yourself back into your own stall, your muscles aching, and begin the process of putting yourself back together. As you reach for your jeans, a shadow falls over the stall door. You look up. He's standing there, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed…

I just had one of the best sex experiences of my life. I'd been horny for a cock in my ass since morning, so I was on Grindr. Around 1 p.m., I contacted a very sexy top (big dick, athletic body, lots of tattoos). We arranged to meet at 3:45 p.m., so at 3 p.m. I wanted to confirm, and he told me that another bottom had just left him and that he was already empty, so we had to reschedule. I was super pissed. I started browsing profiles, but it was hard to find anyone in particular (since I can't invite them over, I was looking for someone with a place to stay). I didn't succeed, but I did connect with a super sexy 50-year-old guy with a 8-inch dick who wanted to meet up. I had to have him, so I decided to book a hotel. I got to the hotel, got ready, applied some oil, and waited. Finally, he let me know he was downstairs, so I went down to get him. We chatted for a while while he undressed. Then we started kissing passionately. Then I sucked his cock, licked each other's assholes, and finally I got on top of him. I rode for a while, and we switched to doggy style. At first, he fucked me slowly, and then he asked if I was ready. I said yes. He started pounding me harder than I had in a long time, and finally he asked if I was ready for his load. I moaned and begged him for it, and he pissed inside me. He immediately started licking my cleft and told me to shoot his load into my mouth. Then we kissed, cum dripping from my ass.

Tanbottom, You are likely referring to The Cellar in Toronto. There was a stairway leading downstairs just beyond the entry door., which was unmarked except for the address. Oh what fun that place was!! chiilfuck

Over 20 minutes of guys huffing poppers: [think before following links] https://thisvid.com/playlist/176696/video/poppers-compilation2/

I've heard that place was wild!!!!

Slammer should have been a great place for a 1st time, from my experience it has a lot of action.

I've heard about The Ballpark, it apparently closed before I moved to Denver.

Hello, My first bathhouse was Vesuvio Steam Bath in Windsor, Ontario, Canada, likely during the spring of 1992. I had thought the first was what was then called The Spa on Maitland in Toronto (now Steamworks) until a friend reminded me we went there a month or so after having experienced the Vesuvio. Oh , the days of the numerous and active bathhouses!! chiilfuck

Sounds like my dad ..... Fortunately, neither of our dads figured it all out, and we're still here, doing what we most need to do. 😉

Pearl St. Warehouse, Austin,TX

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It was a fun weekend. I also ended up fucking the Boy and giving him a load on Sunday.

san francisco. no clue what it was called. not a great experience. the 70s was when gay culture really hit mainstream and the bathhouses seemed lit. but coming of age in the 80s i saw everything 70s as dated and lame, like the music your dad listened to. plus the aids crisis really destroyed them, both fairly and unfairly. by the time i went to my first one on a trip to SF in the late 90s it was like a touristy thing, like riding a cable car. the place was like a failing mall in vibe. the sex was "eh" and i got my very first STI making the whole thing seem like a huge disappointment, like a tourist trap of a by gone era. but this was also a by product of survivors in the pre-prep era. freedom had turned deadly and the new vibe was "i'm a good girl. i wean a get married some day. just like you straights". prep has really allowed us to loosen up and go back to our slutty selves.

I think it was a place called "The Ballpark" in Denver, sports themed clearly. This would have been 1977, I was 19-ish?

He should be scocooping it back inside, showing respect for your work and the other tops loads. Or eat it, or feed you. Or let another guy clean up. Anything else than just wasting it at least.

Okay? I always had a crush on him, would love to have a session where he breaks me open, get his friends taking turns, then finishing up with his characteristic growl while cumming inside me, before felching some of all those loads and make me swallow it. It's a huge fantasy of mine. But no, I've not had sex with any porn stars...

My first tubs experience was at Mans Country on N. Clark St, S. Andersonville, Chicago. And, it was the first of many .....

Which is I - for one - keep my distance from them. I'll take experienced bottoms every time.