Gay Bathhouse In Las Vegas Novels & Stories

What if he didn't want me? What if he decided that he didn't want to bother with a mute runt after all? ..... I walked into the bathhouse, fear and uncertainty gripping me tightly. Heat wrapped around me, thick and heavy with steam, carrying the scent of cedarwood and musk. The walls were made of dark marble, flickering with the glow of lanterns, and at the center of the vast room was a massive steaming pool, carved directly into the stone. Smooth black rocks protruded from the water, making it impossible to see the full depth of the bath, but the size of it—it could have fit a hundred people with ease.

The guard shoved the door open with a grunt, and Rey groaned softly when her bare feet came in contact with the freezing cold floor. Her teeth chattered as her eyes swept over the room; it was huge, with tiny white square tiles lining the walls and brownish grime stuck to the edges. Rows and rows of shower heads were placed high up on the walls as far as her eyes could see. It was some kind of a bathhouse, she realised grimly, but there were no stalls or curtains separating each shower space from the other. "The hose," the guard barked to his second before he shoved her against the grimy wall of one of the shower spaces.

La Debauché seems to be an exclusive gay club that has an ad running on the gay side of p**n hub and they prioritise customer’s privacy more than anything else based on demand. “Book a session” stares back at me in the face. I don't even know the fucking location. I bite my lip. One exploration won't hurt right? Since I don't want Rutledge to have that type of power over me, how about I give the reins to a stranger while I stay under a mask. I wouldn't even mind a blindfold. Or a gag. Or ropes. Whatever. Enough confusion for the day. No. Okay, I should book one. My eyes squint as I tap on “Book a session” which leads me to another site entirely.

The bathhouse didn't have a sign. Just a red light above a black door and stairs going down into the dark. Soren had been here twice before. Both times he'd chickened out—let some stranger jerk him off in a corner and left with his heart pounding. Not tonight. Three weeks since his breakup. Three weeks of his own hand and his own thoughts and his own apartment closing in on him. Tonight he needed skin. He needed heat. He needed to be touched by someone who wasn't himself.

“You seem shocked.” I blinked. Closed my mouth. “I… no. I’m fine.” She stepped closer. “Don’t act stupid. Even if you are. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I smiled quick. “No problem. You’re all beautiful girls. I’m just wondering if there’s a lesbian-only strip club.” Angel chuckled. Deep. Throaty. “We do everything here. Down to orgies. Threesomes. We have a BDSM room in the basement. Chains. Whips. Private shows. Whatever pays.”

Still, they get in. John drives. “We’re heading to a club by the Abbey,” he says casually. “Oh, I love the Abbey,” the redhead replies. “They always have great music and great dancing.” As they drive, conversation starts to drift, until the man laughs and says, “Have you ever heard of a Gaycation?” John glances at him. “A what?” “A Gaycation. It's when straight guys go somewhere on vacation to a highend secluded place, with other men and try things that gay men would do with other gay men sexually and there's no questions asked. Kind of like a hall pass.”

He still couldn't believe how hard she made him while he told himself that he was going to have her sooner than later. Gage Huxley, the new owner of Babes was nothing like the previous Russian mob. When they decided to sell because the authority was closing in on their human trafficking business, Gage buy them out and made the club legal. He turned it upside down and made all the girls get their permits, there is no more prostitution in the club. Gage Huxley is a businessman who buys all his liquors from certified vendors.

"What have you been doing for the past three days?" "Using the bathroom downstairs." Which was disgusting, barely functional, definitely not somewhere I wanted to wash my entire body. "That's not showering. That's just existing in filth." He pulled out a small towel from his bag, tossed it to me. "Bathhouse opens at six. Women's section is separate. Bring soap." I caught the towel, surprised. "Why are you telling me this?" "Because I don't want to smell you from across the rooftop." But his tone was less harsh than his words. Almost helpful.

After another short session in her bathroom, Latifah walked out into her room, feeling clean but still fucking horny. She was not nearly satisfied even after fucking herself in the bathroom, her pussy still quacked and clenched. With a final resolve and resolution in her heart, Latifah picked up her laptop and booked her flight to Las Vegas.

Gav grabbed a loofah, doused some shampoo in his hand, and began lathering my hair. We spent a great deal of time in the shower. Mostly because Gav had gotten distracted while scrubbing my tits and we ended up fucking like horny rabbits before having an actual bath. I got dressed in one of his shirts and he gave me a tour of the penthouse. It was so lovely. He had the entire floor as his and had converted them into one huge apartment. There was a study and he had an entrance that led to the roof, where he could park his private jet.