Archive for April, 2008
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I stepped into the tub as Art fiddled with controls. No sooner had I sunk
in than fingers of water started rushing over my body. Art showed me how to
move the jets around to massage sore muscles. I did, I thanked him with a
groan, and we settled in to chat and relax. The combination of the rushing,
hot water and the exercise made me feel drunk, and as we talked, I studied
the contours of Art's body. We talked about the economy, and I traced the
line from his chin to his shoulder, down the center of his chest...Art
squirmed in his seat a little, and I realized I wasn't being very careful
about where I stared. I quickly shifted my gaze to Art's face, and realized
that he was looking in my eyes the whole time. He knew I was studying him.
Ah, well. Looking like he did, he was probably used to it.
We talked a little more, I studied more discreetly, and soon Art
announced that he'd have to get home to his wife soon. I stood up, and felt
compelled to politely wait for Art. He looked up at me and seemed a little
rattled, then stood up very quickly and turned away from me. As he swung
around, I caught a glimpse of Art's semi-erect cock. He headed for the
showers while I stood and puzzled over that for a moment. Then I took off
for a shower of my own.
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Brian showed
me to the bike first, and that's when I realized that this wasn't going to
be like working out on the Sears KoreaCycle. This bike had a television in
front, headphones and a pulse rate monitor. As I pedaled, the forest path
scene on the TV kept pace, and the headphones murmured with rustling leaves
and bird calls. After what seemed like seconds, Brian's hand was on my
shoulder. I peeled off the headphones and followed him to the next station.
All of the equipment was similarly state-of-the-art, and before long, I had
exhausted myself.
Brian commended me on my performance (I'm sure he said that to all the
first-timers), gently reminded me that only regular visits can bring you
real fitness, and sent me off to the showers. My tight muscles ached
deliciously as I padded over the carpeted floor to my locker. When my
shorts came off, the air conditioning whirled around my steaming thighs and
crotch. I closed my eyes for a moment and leaned back, propping myself up
by the elbows on the wooden bench, drooping my legs over either side to let
the cool air circulate.
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I still wasn't tuned in to knowing what sexual pleasure was. I did find
myself dreaming, more than once, that Andy would ask me over to his house
after gym class. We'd go up to his room, close the door, and play strip
poker until we were both in our underwear. We'd make that last deal to show
all, and there he'd be, that pretty boy, showing a stiff dick even bigger
than mine. I attached no emotion to this dream, and didn't even make the
connection that it was a sex fantasy.
I squeezed my eyelids tight to bring myself back from my reverie. The
shimmering shower tiles came back into focus. I sighed, and headed with my
bag to my corner locker.
A few minutes later, I emerged in full battle dress, ready to get with
the program. The membership included a few hours with a trainer, and I had
one to myself. Brian was a nice enough guy, with biceps the diameter of my
skull, and he was patient and understanding. "I know you haven't worked out
before," he intoned, "so we'll start you off easy. You'll build some
endurance on the bike, the rower and the climber--use whatever's free, but
don't push yourself." I snickered to myself as I realized I was now paying
to use the same gear I sold in my driveway over the past year.
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We paid our dues, picked up locks for our lockers, and trundled off to
the locker room. What a layout! Sauna, whirlpool, big tiled showers...
Showers. I used to hate them in school. The rest of me developed late,
but parts of me, embarassing parts, were already full-sized by the time I
was 11 or 12. Other boys would point and laugh, or snap their towels at it.
Still others would timidly approach me after gym class and ask me over to
their houses. They'd cook up some pretense, some game, that would have us
undressing in front of each other. Too young to know better, I had quite
the trade in showing curious youngsters what grown-up privates looked like.
Boys with their little pinkies would stare in wide-eyed amazement at this
seemingly monstrous thing. It was in the same place as theirs, but surely I
must have some disease or error of birth that made it so big. It got bigger
when people looked at it, and I worried that I might injure myself when
blood filled it until it shined (as when other boys would touch it).
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