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Part 4: Best Made Plans and Bucket Lists

Walking into that tiny, dark room, I have no idea what to expect, except I know it has to be better than anything that has taken place in the previous eight hours.  Eight hours is a long time to be in nookie heaven and get no nookie.  For me, a typical day at the Sauna, which usually ends after about six hours, has always been rife with sexual possibilities.  Maybe it is the fact that I am still coming down from my escapades on Friday night that, though disappointing on some levels, has left me satiated enough where I feel I can afford to remain a bit picky; which is odd, because, until recently, I did not have very many (as in any) standards. 
The Hunk more than meets my approval.  I like short, dominate dudes and in many ways he’s a bit out of my out of my league.  Inside my head, I pray that I will be worthy of his attention.  Once the door is closed, he asks, “You like your ass eaten?” 
“Fuck, yeah,” I reply, and get up on all fours on the bed and present my ass.  Handing me a bottle of poppers, he gets down on his knees, spreads my ass cheeks and goes to town, making comments the whole time about what a great hole I have.  The poppers are good, some brand I’ve never seen and, having taken a hit, I hand them back to him. 
Next thing I know, The Hunk is up on the bed with me, fingering my hole.  I roll over onto my back and he hunkers down on top of me.  We kiss.  I admire his arms and handsome face.  Nice jaw.  A little scruff.  Great head of hair.  I suspect he is in his mid-to-late thirties and he reminds me, looks-wise, of one of my current favorite television crushes: Jake M. Johnson, from ‘New Girl’.  Except The Hunk’s nose is actually quite petite and picture perfect.  He also has the same kind of charm and energy that actor exhibits.  There’s something a tad manic about The Hunk, but his masculinity keeps it in check.
Here’s what I learn, in short order, throughout my upcoming evening in The Hunk’s company:

 - The first time he fucked around with a guy was when he was twenty-seven, and the dude was a priest.  Before that, he fucked a lot of woman.

 - He is highly sexual, but he is not a slut.  In fact, he has not had sex with anyone for several weeks before coming to the Sauna tonight.  And don’t call him a whore, because apparently that word has negative connotations and he does not want to be confused for one.

 - He is not a sex addict.

 - He doesn’t do drugs (except for poppers), and he doesn’t drink alcohol.

 - When at the gym, he does not cruise other dudes and if they cruise him, he hasn’t notice, because he doesn’t pay attention to such things.

 - He’s lived in Duluth his whole life (which explains a lot of the above).
Oh, and most importantly… he’s primarily a bottom!
I figure out this last fact once we are face to face on the bed, grinding uglies.  His balls are real sensitive, so he is fairly protective of how they are handled.  And then he tells me about some of the items on his sexual bucket list – a total surprise to me, because, if you recall, that is what my somewhat aborted gang bang the previous night in Madison had been all about for me – my bucket list. 
Turns out The Hunk would like to be: fisted, double fucked, and pissed in while someone is fucking him.  Well, I am certain I will not be able to help him with the latter two requests, but for some reason I contemplate the idea of fisting him – something I have never done before.  But first, my dick is hard as a bat and needs some attention, which The Hunk is only too happy to supply in the form of his sweet, charming mouth gliding up and down it.  He likes my dick and I settle into the idea of being a dom top, even though I had planned on being a total bottom pig slut.
After he slurps on my monster for a bit, I get up behind him and tease his hole with the head of my dick and a finger.  Taking in his magnificently sculpted little body – a real man’s body, with a perfect ‘V’ shape chest tapering to a tiny waist, shoulders and arms to die for, great thighs and calves, and a muscled ass that my tongue longs to abuse, I contemplate my attack.  I decide to indulge my tongue’s desires first.  And I do.  Eating him expertly, like his hole is a pussy and I’m a big old ‘vadge’ hound. 
Seems I have gotten over whatever reluctance I may have once possessed in relation to eating hole.  If you have ever bothered to read my Acquired Taste entry regarding rimming (which I plan on updating someday soon), just let me say, the reluctant, prissy dude that wrote that post no longer exists; when it comes to eating ass, I am far from squeamish.  In fact, I take it as a personal challenge to be as good at eating ass as I am at deepthroating dick. 
Lavishing all sorts of attention on this dude’s pucker is a total pleasure.  Hitting the poppers like a true poppers whore, he lets me have my way, letting me know full well every time I hit a sweet spot.  My dick is still hard, despite the performance anxiety that is starting to take root in my brain, and I am playing with myself the entire time, keeping it up for what I know must  be my eventual and ultimate duty.
After sucking ass until my jaw and tongue are plumb tuckered out, I pull back and again admire The Hunk’s form.  Fingering his ass, he encourages me to do much more.  Surprising myself, I decide, what the fuck, why not go for it?  The Hunk hands me a bottle of lube and I liberally apply some to his well-eaten hole.  His hole is sweet-looking and unblemished; tight as an eighteen year old virgin’s.  I start slow, with one finger and work my way up to three.  We are in constant communication with one another throughout, checking in with one another, so I know just how far to take it.  Folding my hand in a bit, I am able to get the fourth finger in there and I work that in and out, up to the knuckles.  The Hunk is sucking down the poppers the entire time, telling me how much he is enjoying all this. 
A while ago, I researched and wrote an Acquire Taste entry about fisting, and that information serves me well on this night.  No, I do not have a rubber glove on, which I guiltily keep in mind the entire time as I open him up, as wearing one is a definite safety must.  I did just clip my fingernails down to the quick, so, while I don’t think I am in danger of scraping him with them, I am still conscious of the damage one false move could possibly do.  Reminding myself constantly to be patient, my hand forms the bird beak suggested by the experts and soon my thumb joins its brethren inside this dude’s anal canal.  My hand is in there up to the knuckles and it’s here where I get totally stumped.
Some hands are simply too big to fist first timers.  Is that the case here?  I don’t know.  I’ve never done this before and never intended to, ever.  The Hunk is assuring me that everything feels great and is giving me the go ahead.  He really wants to cross this off his bucket list.  It’s at this point that I realize that we have been doing all of this with a minimal amount of lube.  The Hunk requests more lube.  I reach down to retrieve the bottle from the bed and… it’s empty!
WTF?  Turns out, The Hunk passed me a full bottle of brand new lube minus the cap.  I assumed it was one of those squeeze bottles - it was not.  The entire bottle of lube is now coating the polyester cover on the bed.  So, with no other lube in sight, you think that two dudes with no previous fisting experience would call it a night and move onto something else, right?  Oh, no.  The Hunk will not have it.  We are plowing forward, lube or no lube. 
Back on the bed, I quickly pick up where we left off.  The resistance that I am feeling suggests that this is an issue about rear pelvic bone placement and that there is no way I am going to get my hand beyond the knuckles past this certain point.  I enter bird beak style and then curl my fingers down, over my thumb – this keeps my hand as narrow as possible, while ensuring that my finger nails can do no damage.
Something about this reminds me of pulling a calf out of a cow on the farm.  Not to belabor this, but when a calf is turned the wrong way, sometimes you have no option but to reach in and help correct the situation.  It pays to be very brave in that situation and feel your way through the process.  Well, those same sensory skills kind of apply here; that along with lots of patience.  And that is exactly how I proceed.
At this point, The Hunk says to me “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”  There is a touch of panic in his voice and I consider pulling the plug on this whole thing.  I suggest just that, but he insists he wants to continue.  And we do.  Very slowly.  But I reach a point where, I’m not seeing any other way for this to go.  That’s when The Hunk starts bearing down and I start pushing in.  I’m not going to lie, the entire time I am thinking – this all might be huge mistake.
But the universe, or our guardian angels, or whatever, decide otherwise and suddenly those bones part and my hand slips in up to the wrist.  The stress and pressure felt insurmountable, but somehow, I make it through.  Now, keep in mind that The Hunk is a little guy.  I do, and know that my wrist is about as far up as I am willing to go.  That said, I have fun in there, and The Hunk, who has sucked down a ton of poppers, is loving it.  I play with expanding my fist, pushing in just slightly, pulling back just slightly, and twisting my fist.  This last move has The Hunk telling me exactly what works for him and what does not.  Then The Hunk decides to try sitting on my fist, a little problematic given our height differences, but he manages some, though, again, I never allow him to push beyond my wrist.  The idea of wearing The Hunk like a sock puppet kind of appeals to me and I find my dick revving up again.  And just in time, too.
The Hunk is now ready to move on to the main course.  Carefully and slowly, I reverse the process and remove my fist from his hole.  No blood, no foul, no injury.  We are truly lucky first timers.   Stupid, yes, but lucky all the same.  The Hunk is grateful.  He loved it and can now cross it off his bucket list.  I tell him that was my first time, too - and he refuses to believe me.  Again... we were just damn lucky nothing bad happened.

Wasting no more time, I pull his ass to the end of the bed, stand on the floor, and, bending slightly at the knees, proceed to fuck him royally.  I vary the tempo and intensity, but treat him like the bitch whore I believe he wants to be.  Smacking his ass is something this dude definitely does not object to, and I find myself really getting off on the controlling dominant aspects of our play.  Also, his muscled bubble but looks fucking awesome getting spanked repeatedly: real hard. 
Now, keep in mind, that at this point in my life, I am a total bottom.  But I manage to pull being a top off for a full fifteen minutes of prime ramming and jamming before ultimately jamming all over the insides of this man’s fine ass. He’s appreciative for sure, but greedy, too.  He immediately asks me if I’m ready to piss in him.  This is something I have had requests for in the past.  It is not something that I, being somewhat pee shy, am capable of doing, so I beg off with a laugh.   He’s cool.  We assess the mess of lube that is soaking into the top of the polyester on top of the bed, and he informs me I owe him a bottle of lube.  Fine, I tell him I happen to have an extra tube of lube – medical grade – that he can have.  This morphs into a discussion regarding the various merits of certain lubes, as we grab out towels and hit the showers. 
I can’t get over just what a little muscle hunk he is, or get over the darkness of his tan.  It’s a pity that his dick is small, doesn’t seem to get all that hard, and that he has no interest in being a top, for I would love for him to dom me.  Much to my surprise, because at this point I assume him to be one of those ‘one-is-never-enough’ dudes, there to get fucked, not make friends, The Hunk ends up engaging me in actual conversation and becomes my guide to life after hours at The Duluth Family Sauna.
Turns out I was wrong about sleeping in the basement.  After 10:00 pm, the dudes in the basement have free run of the facility, including the rooms on the main floor.  It’s now well after 11:00 pm.  That means The Hunk and I played for an hour and a half.   The Hunk takes me upstairs and gives me the full tour.  He points out the best room in the place and tells me I should take it.  This surprises me, for if it is indeed the best room in the place, why would he not want it for himself?   Because, guess what?  The Hunk is a REALLY nice guy.  Of course, I don’t know this quite yet.  He tells me he will sit in the room until I go grab my stuff from my locker downstairs.  Sweet, right?  I do as he suggests.
So, here are the special features of the rooms upstairs at the Duluth Family Sauna:

- Large Television with free cable, plenty to watch.
 A VCR/DVD player, if you have something you’d like to watch.
- A CD/Radio/Tape player.
 Nice, wood paneled walls (at least my room).
A double bed (at least my room)
A vanity with large rounded mirror (think 1940’s) at the end of the bed for perfect, playtime viewing.
- A door with a lock on it (though no key, so it can only be locked from the inside).
- A chair (at least in my room).
 And… best of all, YOUR OWN PRIVATE SAUNA with shower!
You have to share the bathrooms with the other rooms, kind of like a boarding house.  But for $32.00 a night, with a free parking space?  In downtown Duluth?  You could do a lot worse (no, really you could, because there are some whore hotels downtown Duluth filled with meth heads that make this deal look pretty sweet).
I would also like to point out that there is free coffee and chocolate chip cookies in the lobby on this night.  And later that evening/morning, free doughnuts and coffee as well.  Also, they sell bags of chips and bottled water for a mere fifty cents apiece.  The night duty guy, a dark bearded dude with a quick smile, is helpful, friendly, and rather sweet.  So sweet, at one point I consider seeing if he ever fools around with the guests, but then decide (wisely) not to go there. 
I thank The Hunk profusely, and he wanders off.  It takes me awhile to get my logistics down – valuables, keys, and sex supplies still need to be secured in my locker in the basement, but everything else can be kept in my room.  I lay out my clothes for the next day.  At this point, having lost my load, I believe that my night is over.  I sit on the end of my bed and channel surf for a bit, contemplating my options.  Is this really all I came for Duluth for?  Granted, I had a kick-ass time with The Hunk, but is there something more to be had here?  After all, I have never done an overnight at the Sauna. So, other than the nice bed, what is the advantage of staying here? 
The Hunk suddenly pokes his head into my room, he asks how I’m doing.  I’m fine. He smiles and takes off.  What is he up to?  It’s at that moment that I realize that The Hunk gave me the best room in the place because… The Hunk has no intention of going to sleep!
This piques my curiosity. Checking the clock, I see it is only midnight.  I decide I simply must return to the netherworlds of this place and discover exactly what a night at the Sauna might entail.  I do so with the full knowledge that I have one last trick up my sleeve.  Something that I purposely sought out for this trip.  Something that I had hoped I would not need.  Something that can be a total disappointment or a total game changer.  Something whose success hinges on not just being physically prepared, but also being psychologically confident.  Yep, I’m talking about a little blue pill, called…
End Part 4

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