I’d let my fitness slide hard. Years of volleyball, team showers, no big deal. Then nothing. Nine flights up to my apartment? Gasping like a bitch. Scared me straight. Joined a gym. First workouts? Cardio grind, weights, rinse off. Routine.
Fifth or sixth session. First time afternoon. Around 3 PM. Gym dead quiet. Hit the showers. Men’s side, open plan. Eight heads, square room. Four along one wall, four opposite. Low dividers start at ankle height, stop at shoulder. See straight across, not beside.
The Awakening
One guy there. Thirties, fit. Alone under the spray. I pick the shower dead opposite. No thought. Soap up chest, arms. Turn for water on my soapy back. Glance over. He’s staring. Hard.
Eyes drop. His right hand slides slow on his cock. Thick shaft, heavy hang. Not even full mast yet, but longer, girthier than my max effort. Fuck. Heart slams. Never eyed dick like this. Team locker rooms? Plenty. Zero pull. But this… hypnotic. Veins pulsing. Head swelling.
My cock betrays me. Twitches. Blood rushes. Hard as steel in seconds. Gland pops free, purple-red, throbbing up horizontal. Shocked at the speed. Usually takes coaxing. His eyes lock on it. Smirks faint. Strokes deliberate. Grows monstrous. Nearly shaved, just a bush tuft above. Hand dwarfs on that base. Perfect fucking cock. Envy hits like a gut punch.
No words. Tension crackles. My hand drifts down. Grips my shaft. Mirrors his rhythm. Slow pumps. Eyes glued to his meat. Flick up–he’s devouring mine. Breath quickens. Mine matches. Showers click off. Timers. Don’t care. Risk amps it. Door could swing any second. Another dude walks in. Busts us cock-out, stroking like pervs.
The Raw Release
Lean in. Thrust hips. Cocks jut forward, inches from jets. Pace quickens. Force slow. Edge it. His fist glides smooth, foreskin rolls perfect. Girth strains skin taut. Precum beads, washes off. Mine leaks too. Belly tightens. Balls draw. That dick owns my stare. Bigger. Bolder. Wish it mine. Heat builds savage.
His rhythm syncs. Grunts low. I bite lip. Hold roar. First rope blasts. Thick white jets splatter tile, snake down wall. Knees weak. He erupts seconds later. Massive spurts arc wild. Groan echoes faint. We milk dry. Panting.
Snap back. Rinse quick. Head spins. Avoid eyes. Soap face, walls. Heart still races. Out to lockers. Dry off fast. He’s there seconds later. Towel low.
“Didn’t notice the ring,” he says. Cool opener. No band on him. Chat flows. Olivier. Gay only. Eyes spark. “Wanna amp it up? Girlfriend shares my kink. You might fit perfect.”
Curiosity burns. What fantasy? That’s another tale. But damn. Crossed a line. Tasted forbidden. Secret rush lingers. Crave more.