The Turkish Baths (When Straight Guys Go Gay) (4 page)

Wandering back along the narrow corridor to the changing room, Steve suddenly found himself awash with questions, none of which he could summon up the immediate courage to ask out loud. A hue of embarrassment and guilt gradually descended as he and Mehmet silently dressed until the genial barman, once again, breached the uneasy silence. “”Well, my friend, you feel good now?” he asked with a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

“Well, yeah…I guess so, it’s just…well…I dunno…” Steve spluttered incoherently.

“It is OK,” Mehmet said in a reassuring tone, “I understand. Come, let us have one more beer at my bar before you go back to your wife.”

Steve shuddered slightly at the mention of Barbara before gratefully accepting Mehmet’s welcome suggestion. Perhaps, he thought, a beer in the quiet bar might be the ideal situation in which to ask the myriad of questions that were still flooding through his mind. As they strolled in silence, along the almost deserted cobbled streets, a sense of guilt and betrayal overcame the confused squaddie as his conscience attempted to reconcile the events of the afternoon. Had he been unfaithful? Had he abused Emra? Was it wrong to have enjoyed the experience in the way he, undeniably, had? Did this mean he was gay, or bisexual? There were more questions than answers as he and Mehmet finally settled down, across the bar from each other, both nursing a much needed glass of ice cold beer.

“So, my friend, did you enjoy Hamam?” the barman asked cheekily.

“Well, yes, I think so, but, well, erm, I …”

Steve’s spluttered answer was interrupted by the seemingly understanding barman. “Let me guess…you feel guilty about cheating on your wife, yes?”

“I guess so,” Steve replied with a hint of regret in his voice.

“Let me tell you, Steve, of old traditional Turkish saying,” the barman said. “Choose women to make children, choose boys to make fun.” Steve laughed as Mehmet continued, “The boys have special skills that women do not possess, you agree?”

“Well, I’ve never experienced anything quite so intense before,” Steve conceded, “but tell me Mehmet, do the boys enjoy doing that or are they, well, you know, forced into it?”

“Did you not see…they too were excited!” Mehmet said with incredulity.

“I did notice that,” Steve continued, “it’s just, well, it did seem like we just sort of used them for our own pleasure.”

“Nonsense, my friend,” Mehmet reassured him, “I can promise you, the boys are picked specially. It is their chosen work.”

“Except that we didn’t pay them any money,” Steve said, contemplating the idea that he had indulged in something verging on blatant prostitution.

“Rest assured, the boys are well looked after. My uncle, he see to that,” Mehmet replied nonchalantly, before adding, “He has very wealthy clients. Few clients…but very rich. They pay good money for good service.”

Steve nodded, at least partially reassured by Mehmet’s frank answer to his question. They continued drinking their beer in silence before Steve glanced up at the clock behind the bar and said, “I had better go Mehmet, my wife is expecting me.”

“No worries, my friend. I go to Hamam again on Friday afternoon. You are most welcome to join me.”

Steve thanked the barman profusely for his kind offer, careful not to commit himself to a return visit. There were lots of things he knew he had to get straight in his head before he could decide whether it would be right for him to indulge in a repeat performance. Leaving a much larger tip than his drinks bill required, Steve said his goodbyes and headed back out in to the bright afternoon sunshine.

**********

Dinner that evening was a strange affair; outwardly attentive, and listening with apparent interest to Barbara’s tales of retail indulgence, Steve could not help but allow his mind to drift back to the events of earlier that afternoon. As he looked at his wife across the candle-lit table images of the fresh-faced Emra, his mouth stuffed full of erect cock, taunted him through the flickering flame. Desperately trying to maintain his interest in the increasingly mundane conversation, Steve fought hard to resist the powerful urges that his unrelenting recollection inspired. On more than one occasion his cock lurched at a specific memory, causing him to check his thoughts and drag himself, albeit reluctantly, back to his banal reality.

“Let’s have an early night,” he said impishly, taking Barbara somewhat by surprise.

“Ooh, darling, that sounds like a great idea,” she cooed with unmistakeable enthusiasm. They both finished their drinks with undisguised haste before purposefully strolling, hand in hand, through the brightly lit hotel lobby. Hugging as they walked, they propelled each other with vigour towards the sanctuary of their hotel room, giggling like schoolchildren on a first date, each seemingly relishing the sudden surge of sexual energy between them.

As they frolicked with abandon on the neatly made king-size bed, Steve temporarily managed to dispel the recurring metal images of the afternoon’s events. The smell of Barbara’s perfume, the softness of her skin, the tenderness of her touch all serving to remind him that he was a man; a man who loved women; a man devoted to his wife. The silkiness of her skin, as she gently slid her body against his, caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end as her ruby red lips moved slowly down his body towards his stiffening cock.

“Mmmm, that’s nice honey,” he cooed, relaxing deeply into the luxurious duvet as Barbara’s lips gently kissed the tip of his excited tool. When her warm mouth finally engulfed the bulbous head of his cock he breathed deeply, closed his eyes and luxuriated in his second blowjob of the day. Even though he knew it was Barbara, Steve struggled to rid himself of the mental image of the fresh-faced Emra worshipping his tool. Opening his eyes, he glanced down to see his wife’s long hair draped across his thighs as his cock tingled with the affectionate attention she gave, but as soon as he closed his eyes again all he could visualise was the teenage Turk’s tight mouth wrapped around his throbbing meat. Tormented by the conflicting images, Steve desperately tried to clear his mind of earlier events but, try as he might, thoughts of the Turkish youth greedily swallowing his length continued to prevail.

“I wanna fuck you, honey,” he said forcefully, gently extricating himself from Barbara’s oral grip.

“Ooh, darling!” she cooed, “It’s not like you to be so masterful.”

“I love you, honey, and I want to fuck you…right now!” Steve continued, forcefully rolling his wife onto her back and pushing himself roughly against her exposed sex.

“Ooh yes, darling, do it to me,” she moaned, moistened by her husband’s unexpected display of dominance. Penetrating his wife with ferocity, Steve rode her deeper and harder than he ever had before; each thrust serving to dilute further the memory of earlier that day; every pleasurable gasp she made pushing the Turkish teenager further from his thoughts. As he stared into her deep blue eyes, and caressed her long curly hair, he fought to purge his mind of the earlier unplanned transgression.

When the unmistakeable rising feeling of pending orgasm finally began to take over Steve thrust deep into his wife and closed his eyes. Instantly, he was haunted by the crystal clear image of the olive-skinned Emra fully engulfing his throbbing, pulsing cock. As he began to climax he quickly opened his eyes to see Barbara gasping in silent delight. He closed his eyes again; Emra. Opened them again; Barbara. Closed them; Emra. He kept his eyes scrunched closed as his orgasm peaked and passed, the vision of the youthful male beauty conflicting and contrasting with the touch of Barbara’s fleshy soft bosom on his cheeks.

They lay silently, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, before Barbara nuzzled in close to his ear and whispered, “Darling, that was amazing! You were liked a man possessed.”

Steve kissed her gently on the cheek. Possessed, he mused, maybe…but by whom?

**********

He awoke the following morning to the feel of Barbara gently stroking the top of his head. “Morning, darling,” she murmured softly as he slowly opened his eyes.

“Morning babe,” he smiled back, tenderly touching her smooth white cheek.

“You know, you were absolutely fantastic last night,” she cooed lovingly, burying her face into his smooth suntanned chest.

“You too, honey,” he replied with sincerity.

“Why don’t we have an ‘us’ day today darling, just me and you, no shopping, no ancient ruins,” she whispered suggestively, “just us spending some time together?”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve said, “a day by the pool, a few drinks…another early night?”

“Definitely,” she replied, smiling.

**********

‘Did it really count as cheating?’ Steve pondered as they sat silently around the heart-shaped hotel pool. Barbara’s turquoise blue sarong flapped slightly in the ever present, light, warm mid-afternoon breeze as the perplexed squaddie, for the umpteenth time that day, recalled the events of the previous afternoon. It was wrong. Of course it was wrong. How could what happened be anything but wrong? Was it queer? Sick? Fucked up? He toyed with all the adjectives he could conjure, but kept being drawn back to one. Good. For everything else it undoubtedly was, it had felt undeniably good. As he stared at his wife, snoozing peacefully in the afternoon sun, Steve closed his eyes and allowed himself to wallow in the recollection of Emra’s sensual touch, the warmth of his talented mouth and the apparent enthusiasm with which the wide-eyed youth had consumed his juice. The beginnings of a tell-tale bulge in his tight blue speedos caused him to swiftly roll over on to his stomach. Drifting peacefully into a relaxing afternoon sleep, he made himself a promise. A promise he was determined to keep. He would, he silently vowed, visit the Hamam one more time.

**********

To Steve’s barely concealed delight, day thirteen, the penultimate day of their holiday, saw normal service resumed with Barbara breezily announcing her intention to undertake one more shopping expedition. “I simply must get the girls in the office one of those beautiful sarongs,” she said chirpily as she reached for her purse.

“No worries, there’s a place in the old town I want to visit again before we leave,” Steve replied encouragingly, almost willing Barbara to get a move on.

“Oh, that’s good, honey,” she enthused, “Usual time for dinner?”

“You bet,” Steve said, “Have fun babe!”

“You too, honey,” she replied, blowing him a kiss as she exited the room.

‘Damn right I will’ Steve thought to himself, an excited tingle momentarily passing across his shorts-clad groin.

Throughout the short bus ride, Steve asked himself the same questions over and over again. Did he really want to do this? Was he sure? Could he cope with the guilt? The resounding response of ‘yes’, ‘yes’, and ‘hopefully’ reinforced what he already knew was a good decision and it was a more confident and emboldened Steve that, for the third time, sauntered into the cool, dark, deserted bar.

“Hello again, my friend,” Mehmet’s familiar voice boomed excitedly from behind the bar.

“Hello Mehmet, good to see you again,” Steve replied, smiling warmly.

The two shook hands heartily before Mehmet produced the customary frozen glasses from beneath the bar. “We have time for beer or two before Hamam,” he announced, not waiting for a reply from the seated squaddie.

The two drank together in silence for a few moments before Steve asked nonchalantly, “How often do you go to the Hamam, Mehmet?”

“Two, maybe three times a week,” he replied, “sometimes more when my wife not like me very much!” he continued, laughing.

Steve nodded and laughed, feeling more relaxed by the second. “And does your wife know?”

“We not talk about it,” Mehmet replied earnestly, leaving Steve confused as to whether the barman was referring to his wife or their current conversation.

After rapidly consuming their second beer the two headed, once again, along the narrow cobbled street, constantly engaging in alcohol fuelled irreverent chatter. Steve recalled the same journey two days earlier, somewhat surprised by his apparent lack of nerves this time around, and felt his cock beginning to react even before they had reached the innocuous wooden door.