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2013/03/22

Part 3: Best Made Plans and Bucket Lists

Miraculously, I wake up without the benefit of an alarm clock just a few moments before 6:00 am.  So far, I am averaging four hours a night, sleep-wise.  Contemplating driving five and a half hours on so little sleep gives me pause, but I have a plan laid out and want to try to hit all the items on my list.  Next up: Duluth, MN and The Duluth Family Sauna.  I sip my hotel room coffee as I throw my stuff together, shower and shave, dress, check email, before heading  on out.  I have an ad on Craigslist announcing my arrival in Duluth up and running, but so far have not had anyone that interesting respond.  Uncertain of my prospects, I head down to my car. 
I stow my stuff before hitting the free breakfast buffet.  It is now just a few minutes after 7:00 am, so I am close enough to my planned departure time to grab some grub.  Not much to pick from (there never is), but I snag two bananas, an apple, and a cinnamon bun sealed in plastic.  I consider taking a yogurt, but it has a chemical in it that I refuse to ingest.  Instead, I grab three peeled, hard-boiled eggs and down them quickly - great source of protein -and then hit the road. 
The drive is pretty basic and goes by quickly.  I find myself in a weird kind of daze where I suspect I may have on occasion shut my eyes for too long a time and possibly dropped off into sleep, but pull myself out of it in a flash.  After that, my adrenalin kicks in, I crank up the tunes, and start talking to myself out loud.   The weather is hella crazy.  One moment, blue skies and brilliant sun, the next: cloudy/foggy, the next: slushy/ucky, and the next: snow flurries/whiteout.  This weather pattern repeats itself three times before I reach Superior, a town that I hope there is more to than what I saw, because it was kind of bleak.   My GPS guides me to downtown Duluth easily and I snag a free parking spot outside the Sauna, as planned.
I have been to the Sauna before, but never had the opportunity to stay overnight there.  Thinking I would be sleeping on one of the beds in the basement, I sign on for the overnight package, a real bargain at $32.00; especially considering it includes come-and-go privileges and a free parking space.  I sign in, and then grab the gear I believe I’ll need.  Storing it all in my locked locker in the basement before heading out for some food, I hit the Coney Island, where I have a chicken salad sandwich with fries.  For some reason, I don’t find the place as charming as the last time I ate there, so I eat quickly and head back to the Sauna. 
I strip, grab my baby oil, and hit the showers.  There are about six guys milling about.  Two of them greet me right away.  I am polite, but bone tired.  At this point all I want to do is shower and then find a room in which to grab a couple hours of rest.  I coat my body with baby oil and then rinse off.  Patting myself dry, one of the dudes swings by and tells me that whatever I am doing, it sure smells good.  I smile.  Heading back to my locker, I decide to douche my ass quickly, because… hey, you never know, right? When in Rome, be prepared to be Roman.  That done, I grab my towel and seek out the tiniest bedroom, near the back of the floor.  As I pass through the television room, I see they have purchased a new flat screen T.V.  It looks nice.  Other than that – nothing has changed.  Same dingy walls.  Same beds covered in polyester fabric.  Same furniture.
The room I had in mind is empty.  I check the cover on the bed; it’s dry and I assume (and hope) that no one has been fucking on top of it, yet.  Lying down, I close my eyes and appreciate the darkness and the warmth.  Using the towel to cover the pillow, I drift into that state of sleep I refer to as ‘skimming’, where I am aware of my surroundings, and my brain is active, but my body is relaxed.  I get to enjoy this for about five minutes before one of the dudes who greeted me so nicely earlier opens the door and says hello.  I respond in kind and he begins to enter the room and remove his towel.  Okay, this is what I had in mind, but not what I have in mind.  I tell him I’m not up for playing and that I need to get some sleep.  He backs out of the room and I close the door.   As I do, I wonder: what part of a closed door makes someone think:  ‘Hey, I bet that dude would like me to pop in and suck his dick?’  When I come upon a closed door in this kind of environment I assume that it is closed for a reason and I should respect that.  Wanting to ensure that my rest is not interrupted again, I barricade the door, using the night stand and pushing the end of my bed up against it.  And it’s a good thing I do, because ten minutes later, just as I am drifting off, someone else is rattling that door knob and not taking the hint.
I sleep, I think.  Not sure.  But after an hour, I get up, brush my teeth, gargle, douche.  The dude who walked into my room earlier asks me if I have an ad on Craigslist.  I cop to that and realize he is one of the few that responded.  He sent me a body pic.  I look him over.  Something’s not right; one of these things does not match the other.  He introduces himself as “Dewey”.  He’s short, with a full head of auburn brown, semi-curly locks.  He has a boyish, Irish face, a twinkle in his eyes, and a gift for gab.  Yep, another talker.  It’s alright.  Not the picture he sent me, but passable.  However, I’m still tired, and tell him so before hitting the hay for a second time, after barricading the room.  
I drift off once more only to waken with a start:  I smell smoke.  Bleary-eyed, I push the bed away from the door and move into the hallway.  There is the an obese, pale, bearded man sitting on a futon couch smoking a cigarette, right in front of a sign that says ‘NO SMOKING’.  He’s chatting with the dude I just met named Dewey.  My eyes flash with anger. “Put it out!” I order.  Apparently my bellowing is effective, for he and Dewey scurry off like frightened children.  I return to my room and shut my eyes.  I can still smell the cigarette fumes and it pisses me off to no end.
An hour later, I emerge, fairly refreshed.  It’s now 3:30 pm or so.   Typically, I have real good luck at the Sauna.  Maybe a few of them are on the just-okay side of the scale, but I always manage to also find at least one choice bit.  Having never stayed overnight, I have no idea what to expect, but my excitement level and optimism is quite high.  I notice that at this point there are sixteen lockers booked, so I start looking around.  Walking through, I spy a number of just-okay’s; dudes that will do in a pinch if nothing else is available.  In this case they are silver-haired daddy’s whose bodies are a little thick and skin looks like it’s melting a bit.  Okay, I get the whole gravity thing – skin is going to sag: I’m experiencing it myself.  But something about every one of these guys makes me put the brakes on.  Either the energy is wrong, their approach is off, I suspect they have a tiny dick, or… I’m just not feeling like diving in yet.  Hey, I figure, it’s early – something better is bound to appear.
What does appear, by my side, as I sit on that futon couch?  Dewey.  The man comes and chats me up.  He asks a few questions, but mostly he talks about himself and stares at my dick.
Within ten minutes, I know more about Dewey than I ever cared to; trivial stuff, like where he falls in his family, where he was forbidden to go as a child, the history of Duluth,  on, and on.  Blah, blah, blah.  Of course, the entire time he’s talking to me, he’s making no secret about WHY it is he is talking to me.  He wants to get with me.  What Dewey fails to realize is that the longer he talks at me, the more things about him I notice that I do not like.  For instance: his teeth are discolored and weirdly pointed like a rat’s, his body is really thick like a barrel – including his stomach area, which makes him look like a squat doll made out of a toilet paper tube. He stares at my cock the entire time he’s talking to me, and there’s something manic about his personality that makes me horribly uncomfortable.  He has the personality of a cracked-out meth head.   Also, I suspect he’s just a cocksucking bottom, like me, and while I will play with other bottoms on occasion, Dewey will not be one of them.
At this point, I can tell Dewey is about to make his move, so I realize I need to make an excuse and get out from under his avalanche of conversational bullshit.  I tell him I have to go check my phone.  I race to my locker.  It is at this time I make the decision to walk around with a bottle of poppers in my hand – a brand new bottle.  Wanting to avoid Dewey at all costs, I make my way into the actual Sauna.  There is a rather obese, bearded gentlemen in there, who, later during my stay, takes a liking to me and shares with me his personal history at the Sauna, including theme parties they used to have (BDSM, Toy, Watersports) and the layout of the place before five of the bedrooms were added (it used to be one big orgy room). 
There is also the bearded queen who I caught smoking earlier.  He has since apologized and we bond briefly over a documentary about Dick Cheney that we both admire.  He is sitting on the upper deck, inexplicably huffing poppers while playing with his dick.  Two of the silver-haired daddy’s are also present, both trying to ignore the poppers queen.  I walk in and sit and immediately regret it.  How to get out without seeming rude?  I am clueless.  Fortunately, the bearded obese history of the Saunas dude chooses at the time to bring a hose in and spray the place with water.  This creates so much steam that it not only provides me the excuse I need to leave, but neatly covers my exit, as well.
I shower, check out the video room (which has an odd smell), and then return to my locker.  Enter Mr. Wonderful.  He’s hot.  Best thing to walk in there all day; brown hair, stash, 5’10”, in good shape (not worked out, but good shape), late 30’s/early 40’s and handsome.  A bell sounds in my brain and I am thinking – cool, my day at the Sauna begins.   I play it cool.  I say ‘hello’ and then return to the futon to wait, thinking, surely Mr. Wonderful is going to take a walk around before making a choice.  Dewey is nowhere in sight and I think, I am safe.  I bide my time, get cruised by a couple of silver-haired daddys and a pair of college-aged  things that are cute, but a bit on the tubby side.  But no Mr. Wonderful.  Okay, I figure, time for me to track him down. 
I find him in the steam room seated next to… yep, Dewey; who is talking his ear off while petting his inner thigh.  Believing I still have a shot at this, I plop my ass down next to Dewey (the only spot near Mr. Wonderful available) and play it cool.  Mr. Wonderful is telling Dewey that he is really just there to relax, but Dewey is not one to take ‘no’ for an answer.  Finally Mr. Wonderful has enough, gets up and walks out of the Sauna, followed by seventy-five percent of the guys who were also sitting in the Sauna, including Dewey. 
This is when the obese bearded history buff gets hold of my ears and I take notice of a silver-haired daddy with arms like a lumberjack.  I am smitten.  He’s not great looking, but those arms?  I could melt in those arms.  I relax and sit in a way that Mr. Lumberjack can see my dick, which I am coyly playing with all the while the obese history dude yammers on and on.  But Mr. Lumberjack is not interested in me.  He stares at the floor.  I take the hint and as soon as the obese history dude sprays down the cement again, I book out of there.  I wander around looking for Mr. Wonderful.  On my way around I see the following – the shorter, wider of the two college students is now lying face down on one of the beds with his ass in the air. 
His buddy is in the T.V. room watching some stupid reality show.  The buddy is taller than me and has a cute face, but I cannot get past the body thing which reminds me of one of those Playschool toys they have for toddlers – the one with the stackable, multi-colored doughnuts?  The dude is shaped like that with rolls of flab that get wider as you reach the base.  I’m polite, but not interested.  I look on.  I run into Dewey lying spread eagle on a bed.  He invites me in and I decline.  I decide to get a soda.  I am doing a really good job of remaining hydrated, drinking lots of water, but I decide I could use a little caffeine and sugar, as well.  I finish the soda and return to the steam room.  I would sit in the vid room, but I still think it has a weird smell, so the steam room it is.  Walking in, I see Mr. Wonderful, and - who is seated next to him?  Yep, you know it: Dewey.  Dewey is talking non-stop and getting really aggressive with the leg pawing.  Then he reaches under Mr. Wonderful’s towel and I make a swift exit. Some things I can live without seeing.  Unsurprisingly, Mr. Wonderful walks out right behind me. Well, score one for having good taste!
He goes to his locker.  I go to mine.  Everyone has now exited the Sauna, again.  I watch Mr. Wonderful as he returns to the Sauna, and I follow.  No one else is in the Sauna.  Yay.  Mr. Wonderful lies down on his back on the bench, exposing himself completely.  Now, I am not a creeper.  A creeper is someone who takes physical advantage of someone else without permission.  I am thinking a little conversation is in order before I make a move, in order to learn a little bit about Mr. Wonderful. 
Big mistake.
In walks Dewey, who literally climbs right between Mr. Wonderful’s legs and sucks his dick.  Just like that!  And Mr. Wonderful?  He lets him.  So much for having good taste.  I grab my stuff and walk out.  Again, some things I do not need to see.  I walk around and check back in, hoping that Mr. Wonderful has come to his senses, but, sadly, no.  Instead I see about ten other dudes standing around watching as Dewey and Mr. Wonderful 69 each other.  Walking out once more, I go looking for Mr. Lumberjack, who I never see again.  What I do see instead is the taller of the two college dudes lying on his back on a bed playing with his college-aged hard on.  It looks fuckable.  I stand just outside of the doorway and watch and consider walking in and lowering my ass on his stiff prick.  I could do worse.  He doesn’t look so bad lying down.  And then I remember what it all looks like in an upright position and walk away.
Going to my locker, I retrieve my phone.  Part of me wants to check messages and see if anyone has responded to my Craigslist ad, and part of me could care less.  Then I notice that my phone is dying.  I retrieve my charger and walk back to the futon to try and charge it.  The charger isn’t working.  I work it and work it, but no dice.  Taking it back my locker, I then decide: what the hell, I might as well go rock that college-aged dude’s world.  Only, by the time I get back to the room, he’s gone.  Then I hear someone talking, and realize that Dewey and Mr. Wonderful are now hooking up behind closed doors.  And that’s when I notice…
…my poppers are missing!
I search and search.  Retrace my steps and berate myself non-stop.  How could I be so stupid?  But all to no avail: not only will I probably remain stupid for the rest of my life, but the poppers are also nowhere to be found.  What the hell.  I decide I will go to The Last Place On Earth and get some new poppers and then grab a bite to eat.  The Last Place On Earth creeps me out big time, as it is full of scary-looking granola/homeless/college types waiting to buy synthetic weed.  There is NO customer service and I exit.  I go eat at The Red Dragon, or whatever it is called, just down the block.  The food is good and cheap and plentiful.  After eating half of what is on my plate, I walk back to the Sauna, figuring, hey, things have got to get better.
I run into the two college dudes, who are getting dressed to head out to a gay bar which opened up in downtown Duluth.  I casually mention my experience with The Last Place On Earth and my missing poppers, the latter of which gets a weird sideways glance going between the two college dudes.  The taller one suggests I try the dirty bookstore up the hill.  I tell him I have been there and that the man behind the counter is kind of a hateful queen (but not in those words).   The taller one walks away and the shorter of the two is locking his locker.  I glance down at the bench and there - in front of him?  A bottle of poppers.  Same brand as mine.  And the safety seal is removed the same way I remove them from all my poppers.  Coincidence?  Sure. Let’s go with that.  He smiles and explains that he just bought them up at the dirty bookstore.  I play nice and let it go. 
Maybe the universe suddenly decides to take pity on me.  For at that exact moment, in sweeps a total hunk.  He has no coat, and is wearing a t-shirt.  He’s mega short, like maybe 5’2”?  And built like a brick shit house, all muscled, huge arms bearing twin tats on his triceps.  And cute.  Handsome.  Manly.  I try not to stare and move my ass out of the room quickly.  I take a stroll around, knowing only too well that whatever that is, I gotta get me some.  Coming back into the locker room, The Hunk is nowhere to be seen.  He’s now taking a shower.  His skin is so tan that at first glance I mistake him for Hispanic.  He’s not.  But he is devilishly handsome, with a full head of semi-curly auburn hair.  I catch his eye as I stroll into the Sauna.  I think he likes what he sees.  Yay!
I wait in the Sauna for all of two minutes.  Once I realize The Hunk is not coming in, I take off in search of him. I find him right away, seated alone on the couch in the video room, with two other dudes, neither of which interest me in the slightest.  Gamely, I plop my ass right next to The Hunk and take the temperature in the room.  They are all stroking their dicks, and seeing as how The Hunk is comfortable with this, I start playing with mine as well.  I am hella nervous, but do my best to control it.  Good looking dudes do that to me, bringing all my insecurities rushing to the surface of my skin. 
Then, The Hunk does something that seals the deal and makes me, not only instantly like him, but also relax.  Like the dude in those old commercials who leans over suggestively and offers a lady a Tiparillo, The Hunk leans over and asks, “You want some poppers.”  He’d just opened them and he was offering me the first hit.  Fuck yeah.  I huff and hand them back.  Head swimming (they’re good poppers), I reach over and under The Hunk’s towel in order to grab his junk.  It’s small.  And all shaved, unlike his chest.  He reaches over and grabs my dick as well.  We play with each other and I learn immediately to be careful with The Hunk’s junk – he’s sensitive.  
Without a word more exchanged, The Hunk rises and walks out of the room.  I consider my options and realize the only card I have to play is to follow closely behind him.  Hey, it worked for Dewey.
I follow The Hunk back to the tiny bedroom I was napping in earlier that day.  The door is open.  He’s dropped his towel and is setting his lube and poppers on the night stand.  I stand just outside the doorway waiting for a formal invitation.  He notices me and sort of cocks his head, but it’s a subtle gesture and I don’t want to jump the gun, so I wait.  Finally he turns around and says, “Get your ass in here.”

Well, the man needn’t ask twice…

End of Part 3













2 comments:

Michael said...

I'm REALLY looking forward to Part 4..!!!! Very sexy and very fuckin hot..LOVED the Rock Star..grin
I started reading your blog after noticing a comment you made on a blog that I also read..
I always look forward to a new entry from you..
You talk about the good and the bad, and everything in between - which makes you, (to me) more likeable and real. Not all the bravado that are on some blogs.
Plus LOVE your profile pic..and all the hot men..and hot cocks you also have on here..
Your blog, looks like it takes more time and thought to put together than most...Thanks
so much sexy..
Michael

Upton King said...

Michael... thanks for your comments. You're right, a lot of effort goes into the writing of this blog. I envy those who throw up a pic or two with a sentence and title. I've always wanted this blog to have a bit more substance to it - egocentric as that may be. I appreciate you taking the time to read my posts. I do enjoy writing, but it takes a lot of time. So, if I don't post as frequently as others, that is why. - Uptonking from Wonderland Burlesque