When twenty-six-year-old Peter moves to Berlin, he begins to explore his long-hidden slutty side. In the darkness of a Berlin sauna, he meets Karl, a young German married to Tomas, an older man and powerful newspaper editor who, despite his dominant nature, is locked in chastity. It’s not long before Peter is drawn into Tomas and Karl’s marriage to fulfil their cuck fantasies as he wonders about the secrets behind Tomas’ caging.
The Berlin Tales are a collection of short erotic fantasies centered on the gay men who populate Berlin, the capital of kink.
The Chastity Cuck of Kreuzberg is an 8,000-word short story.
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Excerpt
I was a few steps behind, but he led me to a part of the sauna I hadn’t discovered yet, and wasn’t sure I would’ve found on my own. The dry sauna was near the showers, and the sandy heat wasn’t my thing. But he led me down a dark corridor that turned into a surprising six-man shower block, then a translucent door to the steam room. The twink hung up his towel outside and slipped in, watching me as I hung my towel up too. Unsure of whether to fully commit (the story of my life), I hung my own towel up and stayed under a cool shower for a good few minutes, trying hard to let the apprehension wash away.
Surprisingly, the steam room was empty. I wondered if the twink had evaporated, but then I noticed a dark door inside the steam room itself. I went into a stifling hot, pitch black room. It seemed to be an open space rather than a maze, but I staggered with my hands out just to be sure. Yet my eyes were useless in the hot steam and thick blackness. I had to listen, to taste the air. Without a doubt there was more than just the twink and I in this hidden place. In fact, it seemed to be the reason why the men I passed by in the corridors before disappeared into nothing. They were all here.
I felt a body next to me, large and hairy. My eyes adjusted to the man standing with his back to the steamy wall. He had his towel around him and was doing nothing. Deeper in I could hear the sounds of cocksucking. There was someone on their knees, and someone else jerking off into their mouth. Then I hit the back wall with a bench. It was too hot to sit, but through the steam I picked out another man, long armed and long legged, sitting on the bench.
I didn’t make it to the other side of the dark steam room from where groaning sounds and growing sights were also coming, because the tall man reached out a long hand and grabbed my cock. In the darkness there was no need for permission, and no chance to be rejected. He smacked my balls like a cat pawing string as I discovered the outline of his large dick laying against his thigh. I’d found what I never knew I wanted.
Passion overcame me. And the thrill of being alone and utterly unseen. Dropping to my knees on the hot floor, I tongued the tip of his cock, salty and thick, exploring the shaft with my wet lips and having him moan out loud as I did. Maybe this was a signal to however many others were here, the twink included, because as I worked his cock, the heat coalesced around me, as if the men were moving to the back corner of the steam room.
But I concentrated on sucking this ever-expanding cock. His balls were so heavy they rested on the hot tiles themselves, and it took both hands to twist and play with them. He liked that, lifting a heavy leg over my shoulder to draw me in closer. With his hand pushing the back of my head almost to the base of his cock, wiry pubes scratched my nose and it was getting harder to breathe. Eventually I had to retreat from his cock, the hot, wet air reflating my lungs. But he wasn’t letting me go.
I had to stand and stretch my back and click my sore knees, so his hand found my ass. He squeezed and slapped it, ringing the bell out to the men around who I sensed were nearer. I saw the door at the other end of the dark room, the crushed light flicking in the moving shadows of naked bodies. More seemed to be coming in than going out.
He was sitting forward now, jerking his cock as two thick fingers explored my hole. Perhaps he was content to do just that, but I had not come this far, over seas and mountains, carrying luggage and drinking from strange water bottles, to not take what I’d come for. Maybe tomorrow I would wake up feeling different. Maybe I would retreat back to my own world, but I couldn’t come all this way, come to Berlin to have sex, and run away the second it presented itself.