Tracey Parker is an urban explorer, based in Mexico City, who discovers and presents unique gay cultures around the world. After sharing with Squirt members the steamy hookups that take place at MEN’s Resort & Spa, in Siem Reap, Cambodia, Tracey takes us to another place, this time back in the USA, with an infamous gay bathhouse in Atlanta, Flex.

I used to love going to Flex when I was in college in Atlanta. I would love to go on cold Friday afternoons after I had finished my classes. It was never that crowded, but I was always impressed by who I would meet there—usually, other college students from Georgia Tech, Georgia State, or many different colleges in Atlanta. 

It was the only place where I met gay people, since most of my friends were straight. They knew about me, and that I didn’t like girls, but I never felt comfortable telling them about my sexual life or what I did when I went to this secret place on the other side of the highway. 

Fall semester finals week was also a great time to wander over there at any hour. When all the social places on campus were empty, other than the library, Flex had a dependable crowd of students unwinding under the unbearable stress of this time of year. 

I remember when the professors would try to counsel us about finding ways to make it through finals week, I would always smirk from ear to ear. I knew they had no idea what I was thinking, but I assured them I had my way of coping. I liked that nobody in my life knew about this place. I dreaded that any of them would ever find out.  

I savored every part of the experience. When I arrived, the guy at the door would recognize me, especially in the rare case that I went two days in a row. He would never acknowledge that he remembered me, but I knew that he did.

I remember one day, as soon as I got there, I saw the tall, skinny, dark-skinned Indian guy whom I had had a crush on for years. He worked at the Athletic Center’s front desk, where we would scan our student IDs to get in. I had no idea he was gay, but he was definitely in my “spank bank.” A year ago, I used to masturbate thinking about him and imagining how he would look naked. And now I saw him wrapped in a towel and leaning against the wall, talking to somebody else. 

My mind began racing, and I began to consider leaving. I would always get off on how close this club was to campus and how different my life here was from my life on the other side of the bridge on North Avenue that crosses over Interstate 85. 

I had previously hooked up with a few students from my school. I would always dread what would happen after, but I was always surprised at how things settled down after such an intense sexual experience at a place like this. Some would nod at me as we passed on campus, while others acted as if they didn’t know who I was. 

I figured the shame I had for being here and being spotted by him was probably something he would either be thinking for himself, or he wouldn’t care if he saw me here; if the former, we both wouldn’t mention it back at campus that we saw each other at the local gay bathhouse.

But I also knew if he was here looking to hook up, he might be into hooking up with me. Worst case scenario, he would just become one of the guys I passed on campus who pretended not to see me. We both had as much to lose as to gain.

I decided to follow him from a distance and watch where he went after finishing his conversation. After so many visits here, I had the layout of the palace memorized. If he turned left, I knew where to go so that we’d run into each other quickly. 

He entered the steam room, and I quickly went to the other door so I could meet him in the middle. I waited for him on the other side of the tiled wall. As he emerged from the other side of the wall, through the steam, I reached out my index finger, touched the black hairs in the middle of his chest, and traced a line down to his belly button. I then looked up, straight into his eyes, which I had always avoided daily at the campus gym. Here, I had a brazenness that didn’t exist outside the walls of this bathhouse. 

His eyes were staring back at me, and we met somewhere far inside our imaginations.

I continued to trace down across the knot of his towel and grab his cock, which was beginning to swell beneath the fabric of his towel. His dick was growing so quickly that his towel was starting to open up without him touching it. 

He was horny for me just as I was for him, and the thought made my own dick start bouncing, half erect and eager to move this forward. His skinny, hairy arms hung on either side of his body, motionless. The only part of his body that was moving was his cock, which kept growing until the towel popped off and landed on the floor, almost in a cartoonish manner, leaving his cock hard, erect and ready to get sucked.

Right there, I got down on my knees and I grabbed onto his veiny, hairy cock with both hands and began to put my soft lips on this appendage, swelling even further as my tongue worked its way down and around the tip and the shaft of his hairy dick.

He held my head with both his hands and began to caress my head and my hair. Then he began to reach down my back and toward my hole. I got up off my knees, turned around, and placed my hands on the wall. 

He spit into one of his hands and roughly began to line my hole with his fluids. Then he did the same with the bulging ball of his cock. Then he placed himself onto my tight pink opening and began to ever so slightly and gently nudge himself inside of me. 

I wish I could see him as he was doing this. I wish I could see the look in his eyes as he figured out the secrets of my body. It seemed like such a waste that this man, whom I had idolized, was now fucking me just as so many others had inside this steam room. 

He worked his way into me, being ever so slow and careful as not to hurt my hole. I could hear the sound of him spitting again onto his hand to ease the friction and open me up even further with his dick. Even in the sleazy anonymous walls of this sauna bathhouse, he was treating the hot gay foreplay like the main course, but I was hungry, yet patient for even more to gorge on.

Once he had worked his way inside, I felt the hard tip of his dick expand my ass even more, with only a little bit of pain that soon turned into the first moments of pleasure that comes with anal sex. I could tell he was enjoying the feeling of the slippery sides of my hole softly wrapping his veiny organ.

Soon, his thrusts got more and more intense, and I could tell he now knew I was all warmed up and he could fuck me harder; his thrust and rhythm became more in sync with mine, and soon I was sliding on and off of his dick in a erotic trance, not thinking so much of the movement, as much as ensuring I was taking every inch of him each time he pushed his stiff dick back into me.

We continued like this, he began to slide his fingers up and down my sweaty, steamy torso, I savored his big hands grabbing onto me like he was trying to take something out of me. He stopped to catch his breath and make adjustments to his and my position. He moved my body as if it were part of his, and I followed obediently. We were both moaning in pleasure like animals, our voices echoing in the silence of this empty afternoon bathhouse. Just us alone with our pleasure, and I could feel myself getting close as I jerked my dick to the rhythm of his cock bouncing deep into me.

I soon felt the familiar speed of him getting close to cumming, his cock moving into me deeper and faster; him holding onto my shoulders to steady himself even further, using my hole like a play thing, now him moaning even louder as he let himself get lose in the erotic pleasure, feeling my tight horny hole envelop his dick.

“Shoot it!” I screamed.

In a single, violent moan, he came inside of me, his thrusts losing some momentum, but not stopping entirely. As he slowed his tempo, he reached around and grabbed my hard dick in his hand, ready to finish me off. At the touch of his hand, I came almost instantly, and I let the massive stream of jizz shoot all over, the splash of the cum hitting my feet and ankles even in the steam of the room itself.

We soon both took a seat on the tile bench in the steam room. As soon as we caught our breath, we quickly made our way to the showers. We were desperate to escape the heat. 

We showered next to each other without exchanging words. We had taken each other to different places, places we needed to visit individually, and we were coming back to earth. 

The next time I saw him was at the campus gym. I arrived with two friends. There were a few people in front of us.

One by one, each of us gave our student ID to him, and he scanned it in the same nonchalant way he always did. When my turn came, he took mine no differently than he took the rest and checked it just like he had always done in the past.

I had gotten away with it, or we had; we used each other’s bodies, ensuring the equilibrium of the outside world remained the same. No red hands, no one caught us.

“Are you okay?” my friend asked me as we walked away from the front desk and into the gym. 

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re grinning from ear to ear,” they remarked. I nodded quickly and changed the subject to something recent that happened in class.