Cocktail at the Hammam

In the dense water vapor of the Turkish bath you could see only the bodies outlines, nothing else.
The one leaned on the gray tiles could be male and female. The arms were up as if to support the wall; long hair blacks, wet, down on the back and covering left profile; the chest was crushed on the tiles, and only from the pelvis down, carved buttocks and long spindly legs stuck out and were offered.
I noticed, from a distance, a focus of visitors to that point of the room. I approached and I found that in turn, each of them approached the holding body and fucked it in an almost mechanical ritual, with no involvement other than a cold up and down of the dock until orgasm. It was as if that body, rather that ass, was there to welcome the dicks of those who need to vent their excitement triggered by the condition of the place.
I went even further and waited my turn.
Who was ahead of me was a small and peeled man and he had to pry on his toes to bugger the creature resting on tiles; a clear risk that the cock slips out and it was hard to put it back in didn’t exist given the total expansion of the open hole at all.
When the little man came off, I had the confirmation of that and my excitement was at its height. I took my cock with my right hand and began to masturbate. It was a moment and splashed on the buttocks carved adding my mood at that cocktail.
I showered currying my body with the sponge. Just a thought I couldn’t wipe out: was I maybe disappointing to the creature?