Tracey Parker is a gay cruising fanatic who travels around the world, sharing his steamy hookups at top-notch cruising locations. Tracey takes us to another hot place to check out in Rhode Island. Read on below and get off to another steamy bathhouse.
I saw Max smoking in the outdoor area as I was acquainting myself with The Mega-Plex for the first time in Providence, Rhode Island. It was a balmy Sunday afternoon. Over the next few hours, a decent crowd would arrive, but for now, the place was pretty empty.
Max was standing directly beneath a security camera—blind spot to the lens—finishing up a small joint.
As I walked by, he quickly concealed it in a small black handbag draped across his sculpted, tattooed torso.
The bag rested on his hip, just above a bright white towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He looked at me, and I looked right back. His beautiful puppy-dog eyes were heavy-lidded, the whites a soft shade of red.
He was clearly smoking some good shit. Once he decided I could be trusted, he pulled the joint back out and offered me a few puffs. We didn’t speak, but he pointed up at the camera with a quiet smirk. When the joint was finished, we went our separate ways, getting lost inside the halls of the dark facility.
Since we were two of the only people there, it didn’t take long to run into him again. I walked into the common shower area and found him standing with his back against the tile wall. His towel hung by the entrance.
His hands were raised above his head, massaging his temples beneath long black hair, exposing his thick, hairy armpits. Water cascaded down his contoured body to his equally hairy groin.
His heavy, perfectly shaped balls hung beneath a thick, short semi-erect cock, its pink head peeking out from a veiny, dark foreskin.
I dropped my towel and joined him. I turned on a shower directly across from his, but the stalls were so small that we naturally occupied each other’s personal space. He was in his own world, and I knew why. Keeping his eyes closed, he glided his hands from his head down across his torso. His body was a canvas of random drawings and numbers, making him look like a living sculpture in a museum.
He knew I was watching, and he was clearly enjoying it. His cock began to grow, transforming from a chubby, heavy nub into something long and dangerous. The harder he got, the more confident I felt. I stepped into the space between us, eager to put my hands on his warm, muscular, wet skin.
I took two steps across the slippery tile, leaving my own shower running behind me. I brought my hands down firmly onto his sturdy chest. The sound of our wet skin smacking together echoed in the space, sending a spray of water droplets flying into the air.
He reached up and gripped my beard. Being significantly taller than him, my hands wandered naturally to his armpits, my fingers sliding into the thick hair. The sensation tickled him, causing him to break his stern expression with a sudden, innocent laugh that revealed a softer, almost feminine disposition.
Soon, my hands made their way down to his rounded buttocks, spreading his cheeks so the falling water could stream over his heat. He lowered his hands, wrapping them around my cock to pace me.
He turned around, placing both palms flat against the tile wall. The dim shower light reflected off his shiny black hair and his muscular back, which was covered in a fine layer of dark hair that thickened toward his waist. I stared at it, fascinated, as my cock automatically aligned with his depth. I teased him, moving against his skin without fully penetrating. He shifted his hips back, his hungry heat searching for the head of my shaft.
When we clicked together, I slowly began to open him up, sliding all the way inside. He let out a low, raw moan as he took the length of me.
He stood directly beneath the downpour; I stood just outside it. The water irrigated our friction right where we connected, creating an intense rush of sensations amplified by the high-quality weed. I opened his cheeks wider and drove deeper. Whenever my torso pressed flat against his back, water pooled between our chests, releasing in a heavy splash every time I pulled back. He loved the re-entry. The ring of his muscle was growing looser, but inside, he was incredibly tight, soft, and silky.
The water made wet, squelching sounds that mixed with his uninhibited moans, but we didn’t care who might be watching or listening. My attention kept returning to the rough contrast of his hairy armpits against his smooth, sculpted frame. I gripped him there tightly, digging my fingers into the hair and wrapping my thumbs over his shoulders. Bracing myself against his weight, I began to fuck him relentlessly, driving hard against his wet, slippery thighs.
I groaned aloud as I came deep inside him. When I finished, we stood perfectly still, the water drenching us, indifferent to the release that had just passed between us. We caught our breath in the heavy steam. He turned around, leaning back against the tile, and stared into my eyes. Without a word, I stepped back to my shower, turned it off, grabbed my towel, and left him there.
As I walked away, I kept my eyes on him through the large bathroom mirrors. A few other guys had gathered around the showers to watch us, all of them jerking off. I wondered if he would let any of them touch him, but instead, Max simply joined in, turning it into a circle jerk. One guy stepped forward and tried to suck him off, but the overhead spray kept pouring directly into the man’s mouth, forcing him to break away, coughing for air.
Abandoning the oral fix, the man rested one hand on the tile wall next to Max, and the two of them jerked off side-by-side. It was a scorching scene to watch. Max had the water on cold, and I could see the contrast of their warm, flushed skin against the chilled spray, a faint mist rising between them.
Their faces lined up close, but they didn’t kiss. Instead, they just kept their mouths parted, breathing each other’s exhales. The intimacy of it pushed Max over the edge; his thick cum shot out across the other man’s torso before the heavy stream washed it down into the drain.
Max finally shut off the water and walked over to his towel with the unbothered confidence of a sex god. Draping it over his neck, he walked out into the main club completely naked and dripping wet, letting the air conditioning dry him as he soaked in the stares of the crowd.
I tried talking to him later that afternoon, which is when I finally learned his name. He didn’t have much to say—a peculiar, quiet character, but one I’ll always think of whenever I remember Providence.
