Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Animal Kingdom

In the darkness of bathhouses, there’s a strict feeding hierarchy. There are top-feeders and bottom-feeders, and I’m not just referring to a preferred sexual role. The former are usually the ones who either have The Face or The Body. The latter are depressing creatures cursed with unprepossessing features (got that phrase from “Wicked,” hehehe!) or are either over- or underweight. Top-feeders tend to stick to their own kind (unless they’re in a very generous or slumming mood), while bottom-feeders tend to annoy the former by daring to even dream of hooking up with them by either: [1] pausing beside them and staring at them too long and too longingly that it borders on pathetic; or [2] brushing against them as they pass by. Then there’s the bigger The Rest Of Us group; however, the chances of a TROU hooking up with a Top-feeder is still greater than a Bottom-feeder hooking up with a TROU. So Bottom-feeders usually end up with their own kind or with nada.

(Those who have both Face and Body are in a class all by themselves—they’re Olympian Gods come down to the bathhouse to wreck the lives of us mortals.)

Once in a while this hierarchy is disturbed top-to-bottom. Often it involves an orgy. Let me explain via an actual example.

One Thursday evening while I was in the bathhouse, a power failure occurred, plunging the whole place in darkness. Unfortunately they only had two emergency lights, both stationed near the gym area and the stairway leading to the exit. The rest of the place, especially the cubicles on the second floor, was in total darkness.

Before the blackout occurred I noticed three top-feeders traveling in a pack; obviously they came there as a group. They were eyeing a couple of solo top-feeders roaming the place. The bottom-feeders and TROUs were eyeing all of them hungrily, but it was still too early for anyone to embarrass himself by doing something pathetic. So the hunt continued as expected.

But when the blackout occurred, something happened. It seemed the loss of light also meant the loss of inhibitions and snobbery—the former for the bottom-feeders and TROUs, the latter for the top-feeders. I guess the top-feeders decided to mingle with any and everyone who cared to mingle, and transformed the corridor into a class-free free-for-all. The hallway became one big tangle of limbs; moans, groans, slurping, ohh-ing and ahhh-ing filled the air. The feeding frenzy immediately attracted everyone on the floor. With the aircon out, the heat rose so rapidly a thick curtain of sweat blanketed the area—approaching it felt like bumping into a wet mattress.

I stumbled into the middle of the feeding frenzy just when it was starting. Rounding a corner I bumped into someone, mumbled “Sorry,” and then realized there were others all around me. Hands were all over the place; I felt one explore my back, while another searched hungrily towards my crotch area. Blindly I felt around; I realized the one I bumped into was one of the top-feeders! He was already fondling me under my towel; I returned the compliment by pretending his well-defined chest and abs were Braille, and I was Helen Keller. Oooh! Pretty soon ten fingers were not enough, so I added my tongue into the fray. I tell you, reading Braille is so much fun.

The more people joined in, the more frantic the feeding frenzy became. Became? Heck, everyone was becoming.

I saw, I conquered, I came. Afterwards I disentangled myself, careful not to step on someone’s toes or hands or any other extremity. When I left the place, the power was still down, ensuring a longer feeding frenzy for the night.

At least for one Thursday evening, world hunger was lessened somewhat.

(Art work above by David Piland)

i find it funny that the way you wrote about bathhouse sex [and the description of the Feeders] is something comparable to National Geographic or Discovery Channel [with Braille thrown in for good measure]. ;-)
That's the effect of watching too many National Geographic and Discovery Channel. Then again, I wouldn't mind doing it with Jeff Corwin (yummy!) or Steve Irwin (if only to shut him up for a few minutes). That'll be their pecking (ahem! ahem!) order, hehehe.
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