The Hardest Thing

going to get some steam?” He nodded toward a glass door at the end of the room.
    “Sure.”
    “At least it’s private.” He held the door for me.
    The steam room was probably once a mop cupboard, converted with a couple of benches and a vaporizer so that the gym could add the word “spa” to its title. It smelled of eucalyptus oil and wasn’t so much steamy as humid, but I didn’t care. The only feature that really interested me was the door.
    He closed it behind him. What with him and me and his dick makes three, there wasn’t much room to turn around. That suited us just fine. He stepped up behind me, put one arm around my waist and the other around my chest, and pulled me in. His left hand found my right tit, his right hand found my cock, and that third leg pressed right up against my ass. Jesus, I thought, feeling the size of it, I may not be walking out of here. But at that moment, mobility seemed a small price to pay.
    “You want me to fuck you, boy?”
    In answer I shoved backward. He kissed my neck and I twisted my face around to meet him. He kept pinching and jerking as our tongues touched. His arms were strong around me, turning me to face him, our dicks jousting below the waistline. I was stubbly as hell, which didn’t seem to be a problem. His hands shifted, one to the back of my head, the other to my ass. I’m surprised that it didn’t get sucked in; I felt like I had a vacuum cleaner inside me, and someone
had just switched it on to max. He broke the kiss, moved back half a pace and took both our cocks in his hand, stretching thumb and forefingers to press them together, shaft to shaft, side to side. I looked down, saw his dwarfing mine, half as big again, maybe more. I’m not one of those men who judges everything by size, but I’m kind of used to being the larger party. Now, I felt small. And you know what? I liked it. The contrast turned me on. I wished, for the first time in my life, that my dick was smaller. I wanted to be completely in his power.
    He jerked the two of us in unison. “Think you can take it?”
    This was no time for boasting. “I’m not sure. It’s been a long time since…you know.”
    “Okay. We’ll start easy.” He sat on the bench and patted his thigh. “Sit down, Dan.” I did as I was told, and he put an arm around my shoulders. “Now lean back and relax.”
    My back was half against his chest, half against the wooden wall of the steam room. He ran a hand up and down my wet, furry torso, digging his fingers into my bush, then leaned down and took a mouthful of tit, sucking and gently biting. I sighed and shuddered, and I felt my dick ooze. His cock was pressed between my hip and his stomach.
    He put one hand under my thigh and pulled my leg into a bent position, then scooped up my balls and lifted them. “Hold these,” he said, as if he was asking me to look after the luggage on a train journey. Well, the train was about to enter the tunnel, that’s for sure.

    I held on to my balls as he spat on his fingers and worked them around my asshole.
    “Take it easy, man,” I said.
    He kissed me on the mouth and pushed one finger inside me, just to the first knuckle. It felt weird at first, like I was taking a shit—but he knew what he was doing and gave me enough time to get used to it. Then a little further, feeling the resistance giving way, checking that I was still hard—yeah, he was an expert. All the stuff I do when I’m breaking a guy in.
    “Good boy.”
    All the old lines—the lines I’ve used—but the roles were reversed. I was the boy, he was the daddy, the boss, the master. Half an hour ago—twenty minutes—I was a battle-scarred ex-marine who thought he’d seen it all. Well, I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks. When a second finger entered me I grunted, shifted around on his lap and opened up to take it. My dick seemed to get harder. I felt as if I was starting to come, but it was a different sensation—relocated, it seemed, to somewhere deep inside me.
    Those two fingers slid in and out, in and out, as he held me with one arm around my shoulders, my head thrown back, my throat exposed, his lips kissing the bristly skin. His fingertips found my prostate gland—no-man’s-land for so long I sometimes wondered if it was still there—and started pressing.
    I kind of…passed out. Zoned out. I don’t know what to call it. New territory. Evaluate. Assess.
    Time passed.
    “You’re ready.”
    “Huh?” I was incapable of