Author's Note: the following contains sexual acts involving two men, and a lot of steam. If this isn't your idea of a good time (how could it be bad?), then you are free to leave and never come back. If the opposite applies, then read and enjoy...
FEEDBACK always welcome to: nwc_lambda@yahoo.com
Just Another Locker Room Fantasy Copyright MMV T.N.S.
I stood just outside the fitness center's main doors, trying to smoke as quickly as possible. The sweat was already starting to freeze the tips of my ears, and my thin workout clothes did little to protect me from Winter's unforgiving chill. Looking up through a haze of smoke and blowing snow, I watched as people hurried from their parked cars through the blizzard and through the automatic doors, letting out a rush of warm air every time they opened. It was the first snow of the season, and it had been accompanied by a blast of arctic Canadian air.
With one long, last drag I ashed the cigarette to the filter, threw it into a waste bin and turned, shuddering, to reenter the building. My head, still sweaty from a hard workout, was chilled and aching. I supposed I could have gone directly from the aerobics area to the locker room, but I had decided to get a quick smoke in before cleaning up.
Walking back to the lobby I turned right instead of going left and up a set of stairs. That would have led me back up to the weights and aerobic areas, the place from which I had just come. My legs felt rubbery, the muscles stretched and overworked. The sauna would feel especially nice tonight.
I stopped to relieve myself before I got to my locker, then continued to the back of the locker room. It smelled faintly of chlorine, antiseptic and the mingled smells of males of all ages. I punched my code number into the door number 160 (my lucky number), heard the beep and pulled it open. As I undressed I glanced around me: most of the people at my gym are either young and gung-ho about being beautiful and fit, or old and trying to undo what bad eating and heart attacks had already done. College athletes and beer-bellied lawyers and wrinkly old men...not the best selection, you would think, but I don't mix business and pleasure. And I consider my fitness very serious business.
My jock strap came off and I walked over to a cabinet to retrieve a towel for the sauna, catching a glimpse of my body in the wall-length mirror. I knew I was getting stared at, but by now ignoring it has become pretty much second-nature. Standing six-foot-four and weighing 285 pounds-all muscle-it's hard not to get noticed when you're nude among males, even if they are straight...mostly. I let `em look, if they want to. I am a bodybuilder, and have honed my purebred German body to its maximum potential. My broad shoulders and bulky arms taper down to slim, rock-hard abs, just above my massive thighs and calves. Tendons and veins show up easily through my unusually dark skin...even the veins in my cock, which happens to be my most valuable endowment.
Dark yellow eyes gleamed back at me through the mirror, and the hard fluorescent lights made the diamond stud in my left ear glitter a small spectrum of color. There were little beads of frost in my dirty blond hair, and I shook myself hard, showering the immediate vicinity with a mist of perspiration. Slicking my hair back, I wrapped the towel around my waist and paced down the short hallway to the sauna.
It was as if I had walked onto the surface of the sun. Immediately, my eyes started to water and my skin tingled from the sudden change in temperature. There were two other guys in the hot room, both on the second-tier wooden bench reading a newspaper. I crawled my way up to the corner, where it was hottest, and sat down with a heavy, wet sigh.
The man to my right was young, about eighteen, with a skinny "trying to get some muscle" build. Like most of the other younger gym-goers, he wore his swimsuit into the sauna and spa. For some reason, all the good-looking ones want to cover up while all the old fat guys have no problem baring it all and parading around the locker room. Maybe they're trying to hide something inadequate. With what I carry between my legs, it's no wonder. I don't brag; sometimes it's more of a curse than a blessing.
My other neighbor, to the left, was older and bigger, soaking wet and looking thoroughly worked over. He seemed to be around forty, but he could have passed for five years younger. He sat, stooped over, his towel laid out underneath him, scratching his balls unselfconsciously. Salt-and-pepper hair flowed in Caesar's-crown around his thinning top, and was all but plastered to the sides of his head. A belly that told of too many beers as of late protruded from his slumped posture. In fact, he was bigger all around. Solid, yes, but undefined and pudgy, the typical middle-aged body type. Studying the paper carefully, he made no move to hide himself.
I unwrapped myself and leaned against the hot wood, wiping a wet hand over my head and closing my eyes. My groin was the only thing left unexposed; usually when I share a sauna I tend to respect the modesty of others and keep myself covered, but only as much as necessary. The only sounds were some heavy breathing, the occasional shifting of cloth from the thin guy and the flaccid rustling of newspaper. My heart beat in my temples like a racing engine; I was giving myself a workout just sitting there in that heat!
Eventually the swimmer, obviously overheating, stood and padded out of the room, leaving myself and the chubby fellow. An air of tension seemed to evaporate after the door closed, and he put the newspaper down.
Maybe it was because the other guy had been wearing a suit, and he didn't want be too familiar, but I heard the scratching again^Åa soft, wet sound. I knew the man was readjusting himself. He let out an audible sigh, and through my closed eyes I could envision his belly becoming bigger with air, and then collapsing again as he let it out. I smiled slightly, squeegeed my forehead again with a hand, and spread my legs over the "L" made by the corner of the sauna. The hot air hit my groin and crept up from below to caress my anus, and it was a very comfortable feeling. So comfortable, in fact, that I felt myself hardening and had to force it back down. Unsheathing in front of this burly-looking guy would not be the most proper thing to do.
I heard him pick up another section of paper and begin reading again, adjusting himself a third time. I decided since he was obviously uninhibited when it came to nudity, he wouldn't mind me airing out my male bits. Letting the hot air invade my lungs, I had to keep my mouth open and pant away some of the excess heat. Soon my mind began to wander to thoughts of a naughty nature and I had to keep detouring to something else...thoughts of my mother. Those are guaranteed to stem even the strongest erections.
A flush overcame me and I started to feel that I may have switched temperatures too soon for my body to accommodate. I could feel the blood in my face and ears; it practically roared around me. Little dots of light danced in front of my eyes, and I gripped the shelf and waited for it to pass, almost ready to leave and take a cool shower...
And that's when it got interesting.
The roaring passed quickly enough, but the little dots remained. I blinked my eyes open and stared straight ahead, and a familiar sound came to my ears. It was that same slick, flesh-on-flesh sound of the big man adjusting himself...but it had taken on a different, even more familiar quality: it had become regulated, like a metronome counting time. I knew what it was before I thought to look to my left, and I knew what I would see before I saw it.
I wiped my forehead again, water and sweat dripping onto my already soaked chest. I took advantage of the movement to narrow my eyes and shoot a glance over at him, and my suspicions were confirmed: he sat straight up, eyes locked on me (well, one part of me, at least), his hand gliding over his now-hardening penis. His other hand held the newspaper at an angle so as to block outsiders from becoming unwitting voyeurs. I reclosed my eyes, pretending to not have noticed my companion's new intentions.
Suddenly something occurred to me: my heart had just jumped a couple notches closer to my throat, and I found myself actually nervous. Sure, this was a public place, where decent people came with their families and friends to keep fit and maintain healthy lifestyles, a place far removed from the YMCAs of yesteryear where you were more apt to find a good fuck more often than a good workout. But now here I was, only a couple of feet from a man in the sauna who was every bit the pervert parents warn their children about.
But the fact was, he didn't look the part. He was overweight, middle-aged, and probably ten times as nervous as I could possibly be. I wondered how many evenings, how many countless hours he had spent in this very sauna, playing a risky game of low-level sexual tension, just waiting for someone to reciprocate by not leaving disgusted or reporting him to security. He didn't seem to be the predatory type...just a lonely guy looking for other lonely guys to have a little fun with. Hell, he probably wasn't even gay! I felt a little sorry for him, actually...and I had an idea.
If he wanted some action, I supposed it wasn't any skin off my back to play a little game with him. Being the current object of his jack-off fantasy, I would be the one in control, and it made me feel better and my heart slow back towards normal.
As nonchalantly as I could, I spread my legs just a little wider, and to my unexpected pleasure my towel slipped from my leg and dropped to the bench below. A muffled "mmmm..." rewarded me for my efforts. I rubbed my head with one hand; the other braced me against the wall. I cast another incognito glance to the left; his cock was fully up and receiving quite the workout. Just looking at it made my own member want to escape, and this time I did not try to stop it.
Now, it's no secret to those who know me that I have a very active sex life. When you have a cock like mine, you tend to get noticed. My dad used to tell me back when we played sports together that I had a gift. He wasn't a perv or anything, but when we changed after each activity he would always comment on how big I was getting "down there." He said the girls would be all over me, and warned me to play it safe. It was guy talk that made me feel like I was more on his level. I have to admit he was disappointed when I came out to him, but all he did was tell me that I would be beating away pretty near everyone with a stick.
I don't tend to refuse many people; I like sex and I like having it. As long as I get off I'm not picky as to who does it. It's amazing the people you attract when you're known for having a foot-long cock the width of a beer can. The attention is great, yeah, but I've only actually fucked guys twice, and finished with only one. There is such a thing as too big.
But for this particular occasion, a simple exhibition would do. Smiling sultrily, I shifted my hips about and angled myself just a bit so that the guy had a better view of me. By now, he had realized that I was privy to his manual labor and didn't mind...in fact, I welcomed the attention. So did my cock, whose tip was just now showing itself to the world. He saw it and let out a ragged breath. Droplets shook from his head as his fist worked between his chubby legs.
I started thinking about past guys I'd had, and memories of the things I'd done with them. There was my first blowjob, which had taken place in my Aunt's Lexus in the parking lot of an IHOP in the dead of night...a college study session with one of my straight friends that had ended up with us jacking each other off...and, of course, the time I had paid a surprise visit to a pen pal's house on his eighteenth birthday. That little kid hugged me so tight; we talked for so long about a lot of things before he climbed into my lap and begged me to tail him. I had objected at first, but my cock had said differently.
I could still remember how the leather harness and ball gag blended so well with his curly hair...
My fantasies evaporated as I realized how good of a job they had done. Looking down, my foreskin withdrew from each inch of flesh as it emerged from my body by itself. There was a good six inches now laying on my lower belly, leaving the skin it touched sticky. Just inside the hood it looked like I was growing a baseball bat, and as sensuously as I could I took both thumbs and index fingers and pulled the skin down over the bulge. I had to stretch pretty far and winced at the sudden pain, but as the last of my cock came into the open I sighed at the heat on me.
"Oooohhh...nice, big, cock..." came from the man in a low utterance of awe. I tensed my groin, making my member lift almost perpendicular to my chest and fall again, and the big male's hand lost its momentum. I was now certain I had his undivided attention. The hand that was holding the newspaper upright faltered a little, and he had to struggle to keep it raised while jerking himself to me at the same time.
Blurry figures walked past the sauna windows, on their way to the steam room or the pool. Four men sat in the hot tub just outside of the room, in plain view save for the paper. It occurred to me that we were not making much of an effort to remain hidden, but from what I could see anyone looking in would be hard-pressed to guess our illicit actions. Actually, we could have switched to the lower bench and been completely hidden, but I didn't want to move and spoil the moment.
My new friend, on the other hand, had no trouble moving. I swiped my forehead again, and practically yelped when I felt my cock being stroked. I stiffened visibly, in both senses of the word, my eyes watching the hand moving up and down, trembling over my length. It seemed he couldn't contain his lust and just helped himself to me. Before I could control myself, I thrust lewdly into his hand, felt the sharp twinges of climax and a warm spray in my face as I let fly the first of my prolific precum. With a big cock comes a lot of cum, and anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a leaker.
"Fuck, that was hot," he muttered, reluctantly removing his hand from my member and milking his own, letting a fairly large drop of pre fall onto the bench under him. It was lit from behind by the light of the locker room, and to me it was very erotic indeed. Smiling now, and enjoying myself watching his reaction, I decided to give him more of the same. With one hand holding up my left side, my other hand went to my now aching erection, first gripping it by the base and slowly running my fingers over all twelve inches. It was hard to keep from closing my eyes like I do when I'm masturbating, but it felt indescribably good to be sharing myself with another man like this. The pads on my fingers were warm and smooth, tracing a line along the underside over the veins and the urethra, feeling the swelling where countless sperm traveled to their doom each day. I squeezed and pulled up, holding shut and then pushed at the last moment to get the desired effect. Once again, beads of thin pre coated my neck and nose and I heard a muttered curse. He would never know how much practice had gone into perfecting that little trick.
I locked my gaze on the other guy's, which switched constantly from my face to my crotch and back. His mouth was open, unsmiling, the teeth within licked by his roving tongue. He would use his whole hand to make long, hard strokes over his entire length, making its tapered shape shake and swell. I continued to stroke myself, each time gaining shots of pre on my neck, chest and abdomen. All too soon I ran out of fluid, and I pushed forward on my cock so it stood straight up and swelled with fresh blood.
Suddenly the man jerked his head away, casting a worried glance out the sauna window. His eyes were everywhere, looking for any way someone could see. I looked too, but there was no one outside beside those in the hot tub. He turned back to me and the newspaper went to his side. He leaned over, and I was perfectly ready for him to grab me and use me like a joystick again, but this time his hand served only to steady my cock as he opened his maw and swallowed half of me.
This time I couldn't help as a stunned moan escaped my lips. My hands automatically went to the back of his shaggy head to help guide his already talented mouth. There were no teeth and no smooth tongue, only his lips as they sucked hungrily on my meat. After only a few seconds though, he came back up with a wet pop, leaving a little trail of saliva from my tapered head to his canines. He licked his lips, looked furtively out the windows again and went back to his own cock. Now I followed suit; I didn't care about leading him on any longer. I played with my balls as I tried to bring myself over for a mutual climax.
"Mmmmm, tastes so good," the man of few words said, laying back against the wall and unabashedly speeding up. "Getting close." His eyes were fixed on me. My hand glided easily over my red flesh, soaked in spit and precum, and getting wetter with every stroke.
He sat stiffly on the bench, bent on the achievement of one thing and one thing only. The muscles on his legs stood in relief beneath his pale, hairy skin; his feet flexed, trying to give him that last little push. He was so involved that he didn't notice my foot edging closer to his along the lower bench. I lifted it over his and set it down, pushing my toes in between his, using my nails to scratch along the insides of them.
He sucked in a chestful of air and stared at the ceiling in wide-eyed disbelief. A series of whimpers accompanied the bucking of his hips as he gave in to orgasm. He stroked faster, cupping his left hand under the head of his cock. A deep baritone rumbled satisfaction; I could feel his toes curl and dig into the wood. His face looked like a fish needing water, but I was watching his hand filling up rapidly with white seed. There was plenty of it, but miraculously none leaked out as evidence on the floor. I watched the windows while he finished coating his hand and shook the last drops out, finally letting his shrinking member go.
I patted one thick thigh and shifted back into the corner, realizing I was losing my hardon too, even though I hadn't come yet. I decided that my neighbor had done enough for both of us, and it wouldn't take anything at all to finish the job at home. My heart still raced from the heat.
"I'm gonna hit the showers," I said, aloof, as if nothing had happened at all. Wiping his hand on his towel, he wrapped himself up quickly. It was clear that the post-handjob letdown had made it known how precarious a situation we had been in. He made to say something, but I got up too fast and pushed the door open, letting in a rush of relatively chilly air.
I made quick use of the shower, turning the water on cool to quell the rest of my erection into submission. After a quick soapdown and rinse, I exited nude and dripping to pick up a fresh towel. Punching my code into the locker again, I noticed the big guy across the room from me, toweling himself into a human fluff and avoiding my glances.
It was clear that he was still watching me, and I felt like I was part of some peep show. I dried off and dressed slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to watch me as I moved. Out of the corner of my vision I saw his eyes darting quickly over my body, trying not to look obvious. He was so nervous and looked so guilty that I had to suppress an urge to roll my eyes.
Shouldering my duffel bag, I strode over to his locker and leaned back against the wall across from him, one leg propped up. As he pulled a very middle-aged looking cardigan sweater over his head, I said, "Well...that was fun." I did not look at him.
"Heh, yeah. Yeah, it was. So, uh, when do you usually work out around here?" I knew immediately where this was headed, but something I had seen earlier prevented me from being as friendly as I otherwise would have been. After all, having fun is quite different from having an affair. I had to nip this in the bud.
I stepped over to him, and he surprised me into a gasp by blatantly swiping a hand over my groin, cupping my equipment beneath the thin fabric of my jogging pants. I grabbed him by the wrist and held the hand at eye level, saying, "You're a nice guy. Really. You're candid, cute, and-" I leaned a bit closer- "you have a very nice cock. But I don't think your family would approve of me, no matter how much they love you." I held up his hand for him to see and he flinched upon seeing the gold band that had been conveniently forgotten during our interlude.
"I...um, I'm not^Åshit," he started, but I shushed him by raising a finger. He looked like a little kid who had been caught experimenting with the family pet.
"Do you at least feel better?"
He nodded, looking at his feet.
"Everybody gets one," I said, smiling, "but you're out of luck when it comes to next time. Now go home and love your wife like she's never been loved before." At first, the man looked offended, and anger flashed momentarily behind his eyes. Then he understood what I was saying, and resolve made him stand up straight...so did a certain part between his legs.
"I'm sorry, I was desperate."
"Don't apologize; I'm sure that, whatever the reason, you needed it. You're allowed."
"Okay. Yeah, that was fun. Thanks...a lot."
I patted him on the cheek, thinking how funny it was to look at a middle-aged man acting like a once-bitten-twice-shy teenager. "Good boy." I left him to gather his things and made my way quickly to the front door.
My cock pressed needfully against my thin pants, and I had to walk stooped to keep it from being seen. I knew exactly what I was going to do the minute I got home. I replayed the scene in my head, adding an erotic variety of new twists and outcomes. Yeah, it wouldn't take any time at all to spray a load all over myself.
Before I got in my car, I pulled a well-used pack of cigarettes from my back pocket and lit one, savoring the first drag and blowing smoke up into the cold winter air. Maybe, just maybe if I caught up with him again I would let him look but not touch...just watching seemed to satisfy him plenty.
There's nothing wrong with wanting to put on a good show, is there?