Yeah, there’s going to be a fourth. Besides saunas being (99 percent of the time) a great relaxing day, they can be (1 percent of the time) hysterical … to me, and hopefully to you.
While I’ve had some rocking days here at Hadafewbeers.com where there were TONS of daily hits, the blogs about being naked in a German sauna gets a lot of hits every damn day. While ‘Merica, F’yah generated a lot of hits, the sauna stories continually get hits albeit in smaller numbers . On days, hell weeks, I don’t post … in the search terms that WordPress provides on the stats page, German sauna is still the strongest, all around, hit generator.
Which leads me to believe there’s a lot of perverts reading this. Awesome.
Last time I posted on the topic I promised the following in this update.
Gay man hits on me in the sauna and the same gay man hits on me later story follow up.
What happens exactly when the whole place goes nude.
Yes, Dagmar, OK, I was looking at those girls cause they were hot
The Pee-Pee Patrol
Sailor man’s penis
We’ll get to the first three this time and the last four next time … I’ll even add in a bonus, what happens when you meet a fellow American at the sauna.
Finally, Dagmar and I have gone to the sauna a few hundred times and these experiences I’m about to share are the exception, not the rule. If you’re ever in Europe and are thinking of hitting a traditional European sauna, nothing like this will happen to you, but if it does tell me all about it.
So here we go.
Gay man hits on me in the sauna and the same gay man hits on me later story follow-up.
This is the funniest trip to the sauna and also it’s the one that makes Dagmar cry with laughter whenever it comes up in conversation. Gay men have from time to time, since I was like 13 or some shit, hit on me. Dagmar finds every single instance extremely funny and I hate her for it.
Fuck you, Dagmar it’s NOT funny!
OK, it’s pretty funny.
As I think I explained in a previous post, at most big saunas there are sauna meisters and they, every half hour or so, run a special sauna where you rub honey on your naked flesh, rub salt on your naked flesh or, for all I know, somewhere in northern Germany there is a “smack yourself in the face with a dead fish” sauna. Point is, there are special saunas and you have to get there early because they get VERY, in a way that capital letters cannot convey, crowded.
By the time the sauna doors close you are packed in like naked sardines and I don’t know of any other kind. Literally, you are squeezed into your space on the sauna bleachers desperately trying not to make skin to skin contact with anyone to whom you aren’t married.
This particular sauna was a salt sauna, where you sweat your balls off and then rub salt all over your skin because according to Germany, evolution didn’t allow us to shed dead skin cells effectively enough and we need the help of salt. Alternatively, my skin feels really smooth and soft after this particular sauna which is why dudes think I’m gay a lot. It’s a lose/lose situation.
“Get to the fucking point,” I can hear you all saying and “FUCK you” is my reply. You get hit on by a gay man while you’re nude with your WIFE glued to your side and we’ll see how easily you segue into the story.
OK, so during this salt sauna, when you’re vigorously rubbing rock salt all over your body, you need some help rubbing the salt on your back. That’s OK, though, because I have Dagmar to do mine and I do hers.
Then it happened.
I speak enough German to order a beer and to prove I don’t speak German. What I mean is, I don’t speak German.
The man next to me wanted me to rub the rock salt on his back. I was naive enough, at the time, to rationalize this in my head.
There are, I assumed, plenty of gay saunas in Germany. My thinking was anyone looking for gay sex would never come to these huge, mixed-gender saunas looking for gay sex. At this point in my then-3 years in Germany, I knew the Germans to be fanatical rule followers and I honestly assumed this was another German dedicated to the health benefits of the sauna.
Still, though, there was the twinkle in his eye. Never ignore a fucking twinkle folks, never.
I rubbed that salt into his back with the vigor of a German. “Do a good job,” I told myself. “Work that upper back, scrub the middle back and, damn it son, don’t skimp on the salt. Use some of yours if you have too.”
I introduced him to Dagmar shortly thereafter because even I, with the gaydar of a dead raccoon, am starting to get it. It was at this point, I believe, when he told Dagmar, “You are married to a beautiful man.”
Dagmar laughed her exposed boobs off the entire time.
The sauna ends and I think nothing of this episode other than I’m glad that’s over. She and I exit and shower. She now has wonderfully smooth skin. I now have wonderfully smooth skin and a wife that is in hysterics laughing at me.
Outside of the main sauna area there are, in the summertime, numerous lounge chairs. I mean we all love a cancerous tan right? I do.
As Dagmar and I sunned ourselves, au naturale, mister “You are a beautiful man” came back to assure Dagmar that she was still married to a beautiful man.
What happens exactly when the whole place goes nude.
What happens when the whole place goes nude is the best, if only, transition to three erections.
Remember that, on most days, from the time the sauna opens until it closes, there is a clothed side that consists of fun slides, wave pools, mineral baths, and then there is the nude side that has, in addition to the saunas, a large heated pool and a few other things like a massage area and a bar. These are separated by an imaginary line on the floor. Beyond that line invisible line, everyone is naked, except when they are not. Which is usually. Outside of being in the sauna or the pool most everyone wears a towel or a robe.
Yeah, there’s always some naked dude or 80-year-old woman who’s just said, “Fuck it, no one is checking me out anyway,” and they wander around sans clothes during their entire visit, but generally, everyone wears something.
At approximately 6:55 p.m. though, on the clothed side there’s an announcement over the intercom that I think says “Hey clothed people, the naked weirdos are about to come over to the clothed side of the place so flee if you want to,” or something like that. And then it just sort of happens, some people leave, some strip, others stray in from the naked side and by 7:15 it’s a done deal.
Not that exciting, except it leads directly to three erections which, I at least, found hysterical.
Again, even after 7 p.m. most of the people who are still there remain wrapped in a towel or robe when not swimming or laying in the sun.
I don’t remember the exact time of day, but it was just after the whole place went nude. While having a cigarette during one of our trips I noticed three 15- or 16-year-old males seated at a small circular table yelling at each other and apparently fondling themselves. Yeah.
Before you close your browser and draft an email where you call a disgusting liar, hear me out. The boys were seated at the table in such a way that they couldn’t see what the other was doing, though it was painfully obvious, and they were yelling at each other. It was like a train wreck that I could not turn away from.
I should have stamped my cigarette out, fled the German sauna world forever and immediately entered therapy, but I was baffled and wanted to see what the fuck they were going to do.
Besides the obvious, I mean.
And the yelling? It seemed like encouragement, but I have no clue what they were saying because I don’t speak German, but who the HELL encourages their other friends while they are … I know, I know get to the point.
And then it all became clear what these three adolescent masterminds had up their sleeves. At a certain point in this circle jerk they stood up, boner all a-poppin, and marched directly through main area in what I guess was an attempt to scandalize the masses and or get a “rise” out of my gay friend in the salt sauna. Prank wise I think it’s a four out of 10. Balls though? You bet.