Sauna Surprise

I went swimming this morning at my £96 per month gym. I’m not showing off. I didn’t pay for my membership (it was a gift from concerned parents. My concerned parents) and I only swum 50 lengths (in a 20 metre pool) because my childhood asthma is coming back/ I need to give up smoking. I’m 31 for Christ’s sake and should bloody know better. I will give up. At some point in my life I will give up. In the new year perhaps. That’s quite close actually. When I land a full time job I might give up unless it is very stressful.

Anyway. Swum. Swim done. Lumbered out, chest tight earplugs out goggles off into sauna.

Penis.

PENIS draped on ball sack muffled around with dark sweated pubic curls.

‘Sorry’, said its owner. Towel closed back over.

I sat on the lower bench. He and it rather dominated my usual top shelf sweat-spot. Eyes averted. My bench embarrassingly creaking.

'It’ll make that noise even if you yawn’, he said (smiling. I imagine. Though I am still not looking). ‘It won’t break’, reassuring smile this time. Probably.

I took a glance to acknowledge. The towel had crept back. The tip was tucked away - shaft visible - with all the modesty of a nipple tassel but not a spit of the spangled sex appeal.

He feels sorry for me and my cumbersome creaking and sporadic coughing. I feel sorry for him and his hardly hidden head. Perhaps we have reached an accord. A very unsexy not to be repeated hope I get that image out of my head (I’m really not that heavy it’s just the bench) accord.