This story is intended for adults only. If you are under 18, or 21 depending on the state, then you should not read this story. I contains adult situations near the end.
It is the true story of how I met the man of my dreams, and I hope y'all drool with jealously as you read it :P
A bit of background information about me first.
My name is Mike. I work in the local school system as a "related service provider". What that means is that I provide a specific type of service to a few students, but I don't actually teach the class. Typically, my services are provided in the classroom, even while the teacher is up teaching.
I am a 6 foot tall, 30 year old man with dark hair, blue eyes and a lean, though not terribly muscular body, with a hairy chest. I have a major underwear fetish, but only for the classics :D (i.e. boxers, briefs, or boxerbriefs), and frankly, since it's a fetish, I feel I can be picky as to what underwear looks good on what body type LOL. (I figured out it was a fetish when I realized one day that there are times I get more turned on seeing a man in his underwear than I do seeing him fully naked :D ) I am a fairly confident man when it comes to my personality, but I've always felt I should work out more to become more muscular. Muscular guys turn me on, and I want to look like that. My problem has always been that I lack the personal motivation to stay consistent at the gym. So I'm fit, but I have a little flab here and there.
Oh, and most people don't know I'm gay. I don't advertise it (though not exactly in the closet), but living in the South (which is coming around BTW) most people still don't find it their business to be told about your sexuality. That and I don't behave very femininely. I'm not really into sports. Most of my TV watching is on the geeky side: Big Bang Theory, Star Trek, Doctor Who, etc.
Okay, enough of the background. To the story.
One school year the student with whom I was working changed schools. At the beginning of the year, before the students reported, I went to the school to meet the teachers with whom I would be working and explain what it is I do in the classroom. I arrived at the school to find that I would be working with only 2 teachers, which meant that I would be stuck with the same group of students all day and that I would be with each teacher for nearly half the day.
I walked into the first room and was stunned. There before me was this...hunk. He has dark red hair, a ruddy complexion, full mustache and beard kept closely cropped, and short, well-kept hair. He is about 6' 1" and shows obvious signs of having been an athlete in school, but grading papers has padded his muscles a little bit. I found out a little later that he was about 26 at the time (a year younger than me). Given the class was a history class, I was a little surprised to see someone like him teaching it. But as it turned out, he genuinely has a passion for history and learning from it. He wore well pressed khaki slacks, an untucked short-sleeved plaid shirt, and a white undershirt. His forearms showed some light, red hair, leaving me to speculate that he probably had a lightly to mediumly hairy chest. I was enthralled. Oh, and after a second I noticed something else...a perfectly shaped bubble-butt!
I had to fight to get the moisture back in my mouth. I stepped forward, put out my hand, and introduced myself. "Hi, I'm Mike Davison. I'm here to work with a couple of the students in your class this year."
He took my hand with a firm, manly grip, and with a broad, genuine smile, he looked me right in the eye with these piercing green eyes. "Chris Boatman. Nice to meet you. Yeah, they told me you would be coming. What is it exactly you will be doing?" I went on to explain to him the services I provide. The whole time, I fought against my knees wanting to weaken as he listened with all sincere interest. He also explained that this year, they were experimenting with single-gendered classes, and he had requested the all-boys class.
As a few weeks passed, I watched him teach his class. Every day I looked forward to going into his class, just because he was there. His passion for teaching was real. I also learned, through his adorable Georgian accent, that he was a bit of a mama's boy. She taught him well, too. He was always polite, showed honest respect and interest in everyone. The class, being all boys, would get really stupid sometimes, and sometimes would make broad comments about girls, or about certain activities being girly or "gay". Every time he heard comments like that, he would get mad and fuss at them for it. It became clear that, despite being the Southern definition of a "good ol' country boy" he hated any gender stereotyping.
The more I got to know him, through working with him and through chatting before and after class, I just kept thinking, "soft hearted, Paul Bunyan." That's what came to mind every day. He looked like he should have been out in the woods with his blue ox and an axe, felling trees with one whack. He definitely enjoyed his sports. I'd hear him excitedly talk sports with other men at the school. But one day, in conversation, I mentioned that I just happened to be one of few guys not that into sports. He shrugged it off, and never brought up sports with me. Eventually, though, I found out that he loves all things Lord of the Rings. Seriously? Could this guy be more perfect? He has a geeky side too? Then I found out he laughed at The Big Bang Theory, and a couple other shows I liked. So we were totally able to find topics of conversation we both enjoyed without me being bored to tears on sports statistics.
Every now and then, he and his team teacher would agree to take the boys outside to get a little energy out. Sometimes he was willing to throw a football around with them. I loved the moments when he would jump high and reach to catch it, and his lightly hairy belly would be exposed for a second.
One day, he leaned over to pick the ball up, and the most obvious trunk briefs lines showed through his pants. Talk about dick twitch. This was the first time I'd ever gotten any hint as to what kind of underwear he wore. Trunks! I couldn't imagine anything more perfect for this guy! Oh, if there was ever any doubt of my crush on him before, it was ALL gone now. That night I went straight home and jerked off like nobody's business at the memory of those trunk lines. I knew I had to make it my goal to see this guy in just his underwear. (Later on, I found out from the team teacher that he always wears plaid shirts because he's slightly embarrassed about the padded stomach he'd developed over the last couple of years. I didn't care. That proved he wasn't arrogant and made me crush on him even more).
It dawned on me one day to see what the odds of getting him in a gym lockerroom with me were. The odds weren't exactly in my favor. We hadn't talked about working out much; he was slightly embarrassed about his body; and even on social media, there were no shirtless pics of this guy. So he was obviously pretty modest. But I had to try.
One day while chatting, I brought it into the conversation that I wished I could get myself to work out more often. 'Yeah," he said, "but it's not always easy to find the time. I wouldn't mind working out a bit more too." He patted his tummy as he said it making an obvious indication as to why he wanted to work out.
I added, "Yeah, that and it's not easy to go to the gym alone. There's something about having a workout buddy that gives you that little extra motivation. Know what I mean?"
"That's true." He said.
I went for it. "Maybe we could be each other's gym buddy some time." He looked interested. I went on, "You could work on whatever you feel you need to work on, and I could work on my stuff. We wouldn't have to be tied together. But if we agree on a time to meet, then keeping that time might keep us motivated to go."
He thought about it and nodded. "That's not a bad idea. Where do you live?" I told him. "That's not too far from me. We could carpool too." This was better than I had expected.
"Yeah, having someone actually show up to get you does make it a little harder to resist," I said with a laugh, and he laughed with me. "When can you start?" I asked.
"Ummm, how about this Saturday?"
"Sure," I said eagerly (I feared almost too eagerly, but I doubt he knew why). "We can set up a schedule from there."
"Sure," he said, and we parted to take up our spots in the room as the students came in.
Three days until we were to go to the gym. The three longest days of my life. I didn't care about anything else but seeing him in that locker room. Literally. Sometimes I thought about him stripping right in front of me. Other times I feared he'd show up at my house to get me already in his workout clothes. It was hard for me to do my job during the day.
The day finally came. He arrived at my house in his red mustang. Even though this was totally plutonic, I loved that a guy had come over to pick me up (I hadn't dated in a while).
I walked out, got in the car, and...he was NOT in his gym clothes! The excitement started to rise.
"Hey, man. How's it going?" I said.
"Good morning." (I told you he was polite). He backed out of the drive way, and off we went. For a little ways, neither of us said much. He already was a fairly quiet guy, and I'm a talker. So it was starting to get a bit awkward for me (though probably not for him).
"How was your Friday night?" I finally asked.
"Pretty good, I guess." He said.
"You guess? What did you do last night?"
"I had to finish grading some papers. Then I went over to my parents for dinner. That part was nice," he said.
"Cool. You seem to like heading over to your parents. A lot of guys our age kind of avoid their parents. Haven't been out of the house very long, sorta thing," I ventured to say.
He smiled. "My mom cooks amazing food. And my dad and I like to watch football together."
"Cool," was all I could think to say for a minute. "I don't live anywhere near my parents. They're about 4 hours away. If I want to visit them, it takes a couple days."
We pulled into the parking lot. The highly unlikely moment was getting closer, and it was taking every fiber of my being to be totally nonchalant.
We walked in the building. It turns out, both of us were already members of the same place (I figured he might have to sign up or something). We showed our membership cards and headed to the lockerroom.
We walked in. To look like I wasn't exactly following him, I stepped ahead just quick enough to grab a locker before him. He picked one right next time mine. I set my bag down and proceeded to untie my shoes.
He, on the other hand, reached for the top button of his plaid shirt. I didn't know what I was doing by that point other than watching each button come undone. Off slid the shirt. I think I was still untying my shoes at that point, but who the hell knows. There he was in his white undershirt and a pair of khaki shorts. Then he reached down.
Off slid one shoe.
Off slid the other shoe.
Off came the right sock.
Off came the left sock.
He unbuckled his belt.
He unbuttoned his pants
He unzipped his pants
His arms crossed at the base of his undershirt, and he pulled it up over his head.
The only thing moving on me was my dick. There was no stopping the hard-on. In fact, by the time that undershirt cleared his head, my cock was rigid. I couldn't believe it. It was going just as I had dreamed.
Next, his thumbs tucked behind the waistband of his shorts, and down they slid. I don't even know if they hit the floor. I didn't even know I was staring.
Here was the man of my dreams, FINALLY, standing next to me in just a pair of white Calvin Klein trunk briefs. His chest was lightly hairy with that same dark red hair that crowned his head and lined his jaw. His pecs already had a little shape to them. His nipples weren't too big or too small. His stomach bulged a teeny bit, and honestly, I hoped it would never flatten. This guy was a cub if ever there was one, and I was fascinated.
"You gonna change clothes, man?" came the question that snapped me out of it.
"Uh, yeah. I was just getting my shoes off." He laughed, and I realized I had had them off most of the time he was undressing. I real quick pealed my shirt off. "I think I have a little more work to do than you," I ventured to say.
He looked at me. I don't mean my eyes. I mean he looked at my chest. "Eh, you're pretty fit. I can show you some tips for your pecs there, if you're interested, though," he said. Seriously, what's not to love about this guy?
Oh, did I mention that ass?! His bubble ass in just trunk briefs. Seriously, I was too afraid to take my pants off. There was no hiding the boner once I stripped to my boxerbriefs. I decided to reach for my gym shirt first and put it on. Maybe those 2 seconds will reverse the blood flow (right? Lol). By this time, he had put his gym shirt on and was sliding into his gym shorts. As he sat down to put his shoes back on, I figured while he was distracted was the perfect time for me to drop my pants and put my gym shorts on.
He finished just before me and said he'd meet me on the treadmills. I agreed. I hadn't planned on using the treadmills, but when the man you're enthralled with says you meet him on the treadmills, you meet him on the treadmills.
I tied my shoes and headed out.
While on the treadmills, we chit chatted a little here and there. I sort of followed his lead on speed and whatnot, but I wasn't going to kill myself either, so I did my own thing. He got done and headed over to the weights section. Normally I avoid the weights area because I don't want to get caught staring at the guys kissing their arms while I imagine their mouth is mine (not that it happens often, but you catch my drift). I decided to head over to the leg machine and do my own thing for a while. By this time, the image of him in his underwear was permanently seared in my brain regardless of what I did, so as I did my leg workout, I enjoyed the image fully hoping and looking forward to a repeat performance when we were finished.
We did our own thing for about 20 min or so, and then I decided to take him up on his offer to help me with my chest. I walked over to him. "Hey, Chris. You said you had some tips for me for my chest?" He set down the dumbbell in his right hand and leaned on his thighs. (His shorts were baggy, but I had seen his awesome thighs. At that moment, anytime I saw him, in my mind, he never had clothes on). He wiped sweat from his forehead with his shirt.
"Yeah, give me a second to finish my set on the other arm and I'll be right there." He said.
I stood and watched him curl 70 lbs with his left arm. (I think I can curl 20, maybe 25 LOL). There was no moisture in my mouth, and my sweat was not entirely due to the energy I was spending working out.
He finished and stood up and walked over to me. "Come here." He led me to the weights. "Grab a couple that aren"t too heavy but aren't too light." I hated to do it in front of him, but I reached for the 15 pounders. He didn't flinch. "Alright, come here." He turned me around in front of himself and took my arms in his hands. "Just let them hang for a second." I did. I could smell his sweat (and wasn't complaining). With his hands under mine, he guided them upward and outward. "Okay, now bring your hands almost together in front of you, but don't let them touch." I did. "Now do that for about 3 sets of 12." He stayed behind me while I did the first set, making sure I did it right. While he wasn't pressed right up against me, he might as well have been. I was in heaven. After the first set, though, he said, "I think you've got it. I'm going to go over here," and he left me to it. I thanked him and finished my other 2 sets.
I kept an eye on him most of the rest of the time, mostly to see when he was ready to go back to the locker room, but we didn't really work out much together the rest of the time. A little after I was beginning to tire, but wasn't about to show it, he came walking over to me. He lifted the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his sweat off his forehead. I love it when straight guys do that! He propped himself against the machine I was using and sighed. "Well, I guess I'm done," he said.
"Alright, let me finish this up and I'll be done too." I genuinely figured he would head on to the locker room without me, but he didn't. He stood and waited. I got up. Looked at him and nodded, and we headed back to the locker room.
I knew I had to be more discreet this time, but I wasn't sure how easily I'd be able to carry it off. I just knew that one of the first things I had to change was my shorts before I had the chance to get hard again. As soon as I opened my locker, my gym shorts dropped and my regular shorts came up.
Chris, on the other hand, followed the same undress routine as before. Off came the shoes. The gym shirt came off, and then down came the gym shorts. I was trying not to stare. Then he reached into his locker and took out a towel. I thought he was going to the shower, but he just patted his head dry (which I didn't mind. I could see him drying his forehead, but there's no way to discreetly watch a guy in an individual shower stall LOL).
"See something you like?" I heard him say, and I nearly panicked. I'm sure the color drained from my face.
"What?!" I tried to feign surprise.
He smiled. "I'm just joking. You keep looking my direction," he said.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize," I lied.
He shrugged it off. "No problem. Just didn't know if you were trying to figure out what this fat thing in front of you was," he said with a chuckle. I wasn't sure what to think. Was he fishing for compliments? Okay, I'll take the bait.
"You're not fat," I said.
He smiled. "Well thank you," he said with a genuinely smile. What was going on?
He reached in and took out another white undershirt and put it on (so just undershirt and underwear. SCORE!) Then he reached in and took out his shorts. He had to take an extra second to turn them right side out, and I didn't mind. He brought them up, buckled his belt, and sat down to put his shoes on.
By this point, I had managed to get dressed much faster, so I was putting my shoes on too.
We headed back to his car and headed back to my place. He pulled up in my driveway, put the car in park and turned the engine off. I wondered what was up since I figured I'd just hop out, he'd pull off, and I'd go rub out the best orgasm of my life. Instead, he turned and looked at me. "Seriously, though, you looked like you were staring at me," he blurted out. He didn't look mad. He didn't seem upset. I wasn't sure what was going on.
"Did I?" I said. "I didn't mean to."
"You mean you meant to hide it better?" he said.
Oh, I was white as a sheet at this point, I'm sure. I stammered. I didn't know what to say. I was caught red-handed and probably about to get my ass handed to me while having to putting up with the most awkward school year of my career.
He smiled. "You look scared," he said.
A lump started to form in my throat. There was no way I wanted to cry in front of this guy. I've been doing my damnedest to act straight around this guy, and now I'm fighting tears? One leaked out. "I'm sorry, man. I...I?"
"It's okay," he said in the most shockingly reassuring tone.
I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. "What?" was all that came out.
"It's okay. He said. It doesn't bother me." He shrugged. "I'm flattered, I guess. I've never had another guy show interest in me before." I just stared at him in disbelief. "That and ever since I put on a little, I haven't been very comfortable with my body," he said as he rubbed his belly.
I brought myself around. "But you're not...you're not..."
"Gay?"
"Are you?"
This seemed to be a tough question. "I've only been interested in girls before. But you've been pretty awesome to hang out with. I've known you liked me for a while. I figured the locker room would be the test."
I blushed. "Ummmm...yeah, I walked right into that one."
He smiled teasingly. "You were hoping for it, weren't you?"
I nodded sheepishly.
He put his arm up on the door and played with him beard as he thought. "The truth is," he said without looking at me, "I started realizing you aren't exactly unattractive either."
I blushed again. "Ummm...thanks, I guess."
"And I meant saying that you were pretty fit as a compliment," he said.
"Really?" I said (suddenly feeling like a 12 year old lol).
He shrugged. "I don't know, man. I'm not saying anything's going to happen or anything."
"No no no. Chris, I never expected even this conversation. We can just stay gym buddies if you want. Seriously!"
Again, he didn't look at me, "Well, I think for right now that's best. I just...I just don't know, man. I've never felt this way about a dude before," he said.
I didn't mean to ask, but it came out, "What way?"
It was his turn to blush and he smiled sheepishly, all the while avoiding eye contact. "This way," is all he would say.
I sat in silence for a second. "Do you want to come in for a second? Use the bathroom maybe?" I was just trying to break the silence.
"No, I better go. I'll see you Monday at work. We can go to the gym together after that."
"Alright," I said, and stuck out my hand (who knows why). He reached out and shook it, and I was off.
I had planned to jack off that night (even though I knew I'd pop quickly, it would have been glorious). But I couldn't. I ended up in bed fairly early thinking about what he was going through. I felt bad for the guy (but excited for me of course). He was 26 years old, and for the first time he was confused about his sexuality. It couldn't be easy (I knew from the day I hit puberty and realized muscles did more for me than tits).
Time went on and we didn't really talk about it again. We went to the gym regularly while never really discussing the fact that he let me enjoy looking at him. The closest we got one time to acknowledging that I looked at him was when I quit caring about hiding my boner in front of him and he noticed. He just looked at me with a wry grin and winked.
Then, one day, we were in the gym. He stepped away to go to the toilet, and another hot guy came in. Before I realized it, I was staring at him while he slid his pants down to reveal some pretty nice looking white Hanes briefs. The next thing I knew, I hear this angry voice, "What are you looking at, fag!?" I looked up to see I was caught, and this guy was not happy. He turned and started toward me, his fist was rearing back, ready to connect with my face. I was terrified.
The next thing I knew, Chris had him from behind and pulled him back. He got in between us and looked at the guy. "What the hell is your problem, man?" he asked.
"This faggot here was staring at me!" he said angrily.
"So what?!" Chris said. "Did he touch you?"
"Fuck no! I'd never let him get within 10 inches of me."
Chris got in his face. "Listen, man. This guy is a friend of mine. If you don't calm down and show him a little more respect, and stop calling him a fag, we'll take care of this RIGHT now." Chris was MAD! I was stunned.
The guy backed down a bit. "Friend of yours, huh?" He said sarcastically, "You suck each others' dicks do you?" Chris's fist popped the guy in the mouth faster than I could blink.
"What did I tell you?!" he yelled.
The guy got up. He was stunned. I just knew we were all about to get arrested. He wiped his mouth with his arm to check for blood, but there wasn't any. I was surprised the manager hadn't come in yet, or something, but no one else was in the locker room at the time, and apparently the sound proofing was pretty good.
The guy stared Chris down but headed back to his locker and decided to ignore us.
I stared at Chris. We got dressed (street clothes) in silence and headed to the car.
It had been my turn to drive, so I drove him over to his house. I parked, and he got out before I could shut the engine off, but I couldn't stop myself. I got out, grabbed him, and threw my arms around him (though I tried for a "manly" hug lol). His arms came up around me. "I was so scared!" I said.
"I know," he said. "So was I."
We just stood and held each other for a second. I back up and looked at him. "I'm sorry, man, but I love you!" I said.
He put my head back on his shoulder with a smile and whispered, "I love you, too!"
We didn't kiss that night. In fact, for many, the dating the process went pretty slow. He was still working through accepting himself as being into a guy. I didn't want to rush him. I just enjoyed every minute I got with him. It took several dates, in fact, spread out over several weeks, before I leaned in for a peck on the mouth, and he let me. I asked him if he wanted to stay the night.
He got this slightly panicked look and I said with a grin, "I have more than one bed." The panic disappeared. "One rule though," I said.
"What?" he asked, again a little nervous.
"Underwear only in the house?" I asked.
He smiled this big smile. "Sure!"
That night we ended up sharing a bed after all, but just to spoon. I didn't care. My dick was hard, and the next morning, my underwear was wet with jizz. So obviously, I had a nice dream :D
After that, he stayed over several times a week. I even stayed at his place a few times. Oddly enough, we had our first fight before we ever had any sexual contact (beyond cuddling). I mean we were pissed at each other! But neither of us left the house. We slept in separate beds that night, and we apologized to each other in the morning, but we both could have easily walked out.
One day, I went over to pick him up to go to the gym, but he was sick. I stayed and took care of him.
Then, one night, we were at his place. He came over to me in his trunk briefs, stood in front of me, and slid them down. I swallowed hard as his semi-hard dick stood in front of me. I looked up at him. "Are you sure?" I asked.
"No butt stuff, just suck it," he said. I smiled, reached out and wrapped my hand around him and slipped it in my mouth. I was so hard. I sucked on that glorious cock. I enjoyed it so much, my eyes were clamped shut. I barely noticed when his hand came around behind my head to guide me. I could hear him moan. I had already cum in my underwear but wasn't about to stop.
He moaned some more. After what seemed like the longest (in an awesome way) time, I heard, "Here it comes," and before the words were done, his load shot down my throat. He moaned so loud it was almost a scream. I kept sucking for a second until he begged me to stop. I pulled back and wiped my mouth. (Looking at the clock, it had only been about 5 min or so since I had started LOL)
He fell on the couch. He was red all over his body (it was adorable). "Was that good for you?" I asked.
He laughed and put his arm around me and pulled me over to lay on his chest. "Yes." He said.
It was another couple of weeks before I felt him pull me onto my back in bed one night, and in the dark he started pulling my underwear off. Gently taking my cock into his hand, he leaned in and started sucking on it. He needed a little practice, but I was so thrilled that he was finally comfortable enough to suck me off, that it was the best head I had ever gotten in my life. Not knowing how he would feel about swallowing another guy's load, I gave him more warning than he'd given me a couple weeks ago, and he did pull off. In fact, he stopped. I guess he thought I was about to blow. I grabbed his hand real quick and put it back on my dick. He started jacking me off, and within just a couple seconds, I blew my load on my and his chest.
In silence, he crawled back behind me in bed, wrapped his arms around me, and whispered in my ear, "How was I?" he asked.
I smiled. "Pretty good," I said. And we fell asleep.
The next morning was like shear bliss for both of us. We just enjoyed the moment over breakfast, but as we were getting dressed for work. I decided to reassure him. "By the way," I said. "If you're still worried, I'm not really into butt stuff either." (which honestly I'm not.)
He looked relieved, which was funny because he didn't look tense to start with. "Oh," he said. "Yeah, I was still trying to work myself up to that one."
I smiled. "No worries. If we never do, that'll be perfectly fine with me. Handjobs and blowjobs are awesome enough for me." He smiled.
"Okay then."
We've been living together, now, for a year. Yes he watches sports on TV sometimes, but even though I don't like them, I love him. So I don't mind. He has his friends over to watch games every now and then. For a party, I'll get into the game too. On the other hand, we've fallen asleep holding each other before while watching Star Trek on Netflix. LOL. We've had our fights (usually over stupid stuff, but that's how committed relationships work), and I couldn't love this man any less than I do now, and I know I will only love him more over time.
My hero, Chris Boatman.
If you like this story of how my "husband" (gay marriage is still about hinky in GA) and I met, e-mail me at mattsmith435@yahoo.com and let me know (BTW, Matt Smith is my favorite Doctor, hence the e-mail address ;)
-Mike