Gay Erotic Stories

It was in the week after Mr. Goldenrocks had us over to watch that private video that he invited Mike and me to go to Beverly Hills in California to visit an ultra private “spa,” as his guests. The multi-millionaire explained that he had been kind of pressured into buying a membership in a separate deal that netted him a big pot of cash that he could hide from the IRS and he felt he should at least try the place out.

You can understand that I cannot give a name to this place but I will refer to it as the spa. You can judge for you if that little word describes the place we visited that next week-end in Beverly Hills.

Mr. G’s membership included five guest passes a year but we were the first to use them. Those passes and Mr. G’s membership were labeled, Platinum or the highest grade. According to the gentleman who talked Mr. G into buying the membership, we would have keys to open any door in the building or on the grounds even if the room was in use by lesser members but not if it was in use by another Platinum member. Platinum members could lock the doors from the inside for complete privacy. Once in a room, we could watch any activities going on behind otherwise closed doors or the occupants could always quit and leave the room.

As an inducement to join, the man sponsoring Mr. G had told him about opening a door one visit and finding a well known black football player being anally penetrated by a young white college boy who works for the spa. These young men, all over 18 years old, are paid a little more than minimum wages but can receive tips that would pay their rent for weeks or months. Much of the tips can be hidden from the tax people so that is like getting a double tip.

I will wait until we get to the spa to tell you more about the privileges the Platinum membership offers. I kind of hinted that I would like to know how much such a membership costs and Mr. G laughed and said he could have got a new Mercedes and a banjo for what he paid for a lifetime membership. The yearly dues are just over a two thousand dollars but for that Mr. G gets five hundred dollars in “tip coins” that he can give to spa employees that treat him in such a way that he wants to tip them. Each coin is worth five dollars to the one who receives it.

As I remember it, the day we were to leave on the trip was about eight days from the day we were invited to join Mr. G. A clean bill of health would be required at the admission desk and it had to be certified no more than two days before the visit. I made an appointment with my good Doctor J. B. and I told him I may need either Viagra or his special tonic or both for the visit and the Doctor said he envied me the opportunity. A good part of the Doctor’s practice is keeping the active boys like me in good condition to be active and his special fee is to get an occasional treatment from his many patients which kind of goes to show that he trusts his treatments are keeping us all in good health. If Doctor J. B.’s wife knew how many men were familiar with the good doctor’s penis she would have grounds for a good hundred alienation of affection suits. The special fee this time was a prostate exam not using his fingers.

Completely unlike the trip to Santa Barbara I took with Joe’s frat brothers, on this trip to Beverly Hills in Mr. G’s big Mercedes sedan there was no sex and only the conversation about what to expect at the spa had any mention of sex. Mike did the few hours of driving and we did not stop in Barstow for a snack as Mr. G said he had been told the snack bar at the spa was sensational and we should not spoil our appetites with ordinary hamburgers. Oh, we did have some snacks in the car and Mr. G even gave Mike a glass of Champaign while Mr. G and I sat in the back with more bubbly and some imported cheese crackers and some very good small sardines from one of Mr. G’s companies in Norway.

One of the rules of the spa is that members do not park close to the building. Mr. G had Mike park at the home of a friend of his some mile away from the spa. Mr. G’s friend was in New York at the time but his houseboy knew how to treat us and we changed into leisure clothes before taking a taxi to the spa.

The spa, and I have to be careful not to give out clues to it’s location, is really three old mansions but only the center one is the entrance. The houses on each side of the spa seemed to be occupied by regular people but it is just for show and to eliminate any complaints from neighbors. From the back of the spa, the other houses can be reached without anyone knowing that there is traffic between the three houses.

The cab driver was curious about what went on at that address and we told him that we were college guys and there was a good library there. I don’t think that fooled him but the driver must have realized it was not of his business and the he should not have been asking the question.

We were greeted at the door by an African American dressed as for street and he took us to the office where we showed our certificates of good health and Mr. G paid a visitation fee of one hundred dollars for each of us plus room rent for each of us which I did not get to see how much that was as our host put it on a credit card. The desk clerk gave each of us three keys on a gold chain. The clerk explained that one key was to our room and it was a room with a private bath furnished with a 60 inch TV and a VCR and a DVD player and it would have been acceptable as a first class hotel room. The other two keys would, between them, open any room in the three houses that was used in the operation of the spa for its clients except the private sleeping rooms for overnight guests such as our party.

With the compliments of the spa, we were given white cotton robes and new cotton slip on shoes to wear but we were told we could move about naked if we wished as long as we were beyond the reception area of the middle house. Members of lower rank than Platinum were issued light blue robes. While wearing their robe, members were not to be accosted for sex by other members or spa boys unless the robe was left open and the member’s sex organs were on display.

A high fence was around the back yard of the center mansion for a sunbath and swimming pool area and most visitors to the spa would be naked outdoors there. As platinum members we wore a diamond shaped and platinum colored dog tag around our necks. Other day members wore different colored tags, red for tops, blue for bottoms and yellow for versatile. The young men, walking about naked, working for the spa wore headbands with similar colors so that members could engage them to fill the member’s desire for sex. Other than straight fucking or cocksucking, which it was their duty to perform either active or passive, the spa boys could accept or refuse other kinky sex playing. The tips for engaging in the kinky stuff were a definite encouraging factor in the decision to join in and enjoy the kink. As identification, each spa boy had a tag with his number on a neck chain.

The primary rules of the spa were that the only violence permitted was in one of the three dungeons and it had to be with the written permission of the person receiving the violent treatment and no anal intercourse was allowed without the use of the special high grade condoms provided by the spa. When we were clear on the rules, each of us were given a spa boy for the purpose of showing us to our rooms. Mr. G had ordered in advance that our rooms would be in the same section and as we moved through the building, my spa boy showed me the different steam rooms, saunas, orgy rooms (called gathering pods) and the rooms my key would open even if occupied by non-Platinum men in sex. We passed the snack bar and it was like a high class cafeteria and was full of men of all ages, shapes and sizes mostly naked eating from white plates and groping passersby with abandon. Mr. G told us to come back to the snack bar as soon as we had undressed in our rooms.

When I got back to the snack bar it was late afternoon, Mr.G and Mike were at a table and they had ordered me an excellent seafood salad and an imported beer. We were among the few who wore a towel around our waists as we were not yet into the freedom of the place. At the table next to ours, a member had signaled a spa boy over and the youth was on his knees with his mouth on the members cock and balls while the member was eating a pastrami sandwich and drinking a Bud. The three of us had erections just from watching that show.

Mr. G told Mike and me that we should get the number of any spa boy that did us a good service and we could tip him later from the five hundred dollars in tip coins he had in his room.

When we were ready to start cruising the spa, Mr. G was met by a friend who had his son with him as a present for his nineteenth birthday. Both the friend and his son were unashamedly naked and the son was really a hot looking boy. Mr. G told Mike and me to go ahead as he wanted to talk to his friend about another project.

Mike and I walked around for ten or fifteen minutes and Mike wanted to test his key so we opened several rooms but the first few were empty. In the fourth room we found a middle-aged man riding the ass of one of the spa boys and he accepted our presence without surprise. When it became clear that the sex act was going to last a long time, we said a few words of appreciation for the show and left. Mike said he would have liked to been riding that spa boy and he was sure the boy would have been having more fun if it had been him instead of the other man. I agreed politely but I thought that the big cock on Mike would have been a lot for the spa boy to handle and the small prick on the man doing the fucking was probably easier on the spa boy who had more clients to care for.

We came into a large room, dimly lighted, where there were box-like separations on the floor about fifteen inches high, wide enough for a man to lie down in one and over each of the boxes there were a row of benches with holes like the old fashioned out houses used by country people years ago. In a few of the twelve boxes there were men who were rimming other men who were sitting on the benches with their butt holes handy for the rimmers who were on their backs and jerking off as they tongued out the asshole of the lucky men being rimmed. Mike immediately took one of the seats where there was a man waiting and I left him being rimmed and he had a great smile on his face and his big hard cock was being slowly stroked.

I stopped at a few open doors to watch men enjoying all sorts of sexual freedoms until I felt a hand grip my arm. I turned and found standing next to me my partner in that porno flick, “Rescue on Poontang Island,” Carl, the boy from Minnesota. Carl had a yellow headband which indicated he was a spa boy who was versatile. When my friend saw I had a Platinum dog tag, he dropped to his knees and began sucking on my semi-hard joy stick. As soon as I got over the surprise at our unexpected meeting, I told Carl to get up and to take us to a private room.

Once in the private room, Carl and I did a friendly bit of mutual cocksucking and then we stopped for a chat about why we were where we were. My story was simple and Carl’s a little more complicated. Carl had left his family’s farm in Minnesota after he had had a little experience in high school plays and some work in a small local television station. After working at several dead-end jobs in towns across the country, he arrived in Los Angeles a much different boy than the one who had left North Overshoe, MN or whatever the hamlet was named. The problem of filling his stomach was too often solved by having a man fill his anal cavity or his oral cavity with a piece of meat he could not digest in his stomach. As Carl put it, his farm fresh virginity was long gone by the time he crossed the wide Missouri River.

Once in Los Angeles he found his farm boy looks and rather large cock got him roles in several porn flicks and then a man who had used him as a paid whore suggested that he try out for the spa boy job to augment his porn jobs which were not as sure to be there when needed.

“Freddy,” Carl said to me as he got ready to return to his duties of pleasing the men in the spa, “I would have loved to cum in you and had you cum in me but you are just beginning to enjoy your visit and I am still a long ways from ending my day. It was sure a nice change to suck a cock like yours and not one on some old fat fart that has bad breath but thinks he is the Brad Pitt of this place.” I assured Carl we would get together later for more talk. “Oh!,” Carl exclaimed before we parted, “Your friend, Jock Rockhard, better known to you as Peter Pular, is also a spa boy and a couple more guys you met at that shooting are on the spa boy staff.” As Carl left me he got a signal from a middle-aged Mexican man and they were off to the same private room we had just vacated.

It was still early in the evening and as I walked about, several spa boys asked me if I needed anything done. My standard reply was “Not now, thanks but a little later you should ask me.”

I stopped in at one of the steam rooms and watched two day members. (.those who pay a daily membership fee of $45.00 and have no extra privileges except the right to use spa boys in certain restricted ways) who were putting on a show for a few other day members. One guy had climbed up on the top shelf in the seating area with his butt pointing out and the other was fucking him so the onlookers could watch the cock going in and out of the fuckee’s well shaved fuck hole. The real source of the amusement was that the fucker was a black man and the fuckee was apparently white. The black guy, with not a really large prick, was keeping up a monologue degrading the white guy. Each time the black made a really stinging remark; the black would almost withdraw and then jam back into the recess of the white guy’s colon to emphasize his disdain. I was invited to suck two cocks but I declined, but I let one older man suck on me for his pleasure more than mine.

The pair putting on the erotic exhibition finally concluded their game when the black pulled out, told the white to turn around and, after stripping off the condom, had his ejaculation in the white guy’s mouth. It was plain to see that the white guy had climaxed at least once by the way cum was dripping from the head of his cock. The older man, who had been mouthing my dick, quickly grabbed the white guy’s cock and sucked it clean. Not at all satisfied, I left.

As I started to cruise again, Mr. G and Mike appeared and they told me that we had been invited a party in a motor home parked in the sunbath area.