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He
reached underneath to play with his balls, and when he squeezed his ass
tight, his cock surged and his cockhead got shiny. I knelt down on the
ground in front of Andy, taking tiny steps on my knees. The tip of his cock
appeared and disappeared inside his fist as he worked himself, and his huge
balls hung low between his legs. I wanted his dick in my mouth more than I
ever wanted anything, and the more I walked on my knees, the closer his
dick got, until it was right in front of my face. I could see hole weeping
clear fluid, which he picked up with his fingers and swirled around the
tip. I steadied myself with my hand on his thigh, and opened my mouth. I
closed my eyes so nothing could interfere with the sensation of the tip of
his huge cock cresting over my lips. Andy breathed hard as he guided
himself into my waiting mouth. My own cock suddenly burst in my hand,
gushing hot, sticky juice all over. I opened my eyes to watch Andy’s cock
slide over my tongue.

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He
scooted inside even more, pressing tighter against me, and with a quick
move I felt his leg, then his inner thigh as he stepped up, then he moved
forward. I felt an unfamiliar shape, then I realized that this man’s penis
was nestled between the cheeks of my ass! It only lasted for the merest
instant, and he was, in fact, fully by me in only two or three seconds. I
was frozen there for a moment, looking at this man standing in front of his
locker but stunned that I could still feel a soft, moist cock pressed
against my butt. I found myself with an unconcealable erection, and
suddenly I knew how Art felt. The stranger was turned slightly away from
me, but he’d look over now and then to smile at me. My face was bright red,
and I hurriedly stepped into my briefs in an attempt to get my raging hard-
on under wraps.

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I must admit that I was given to brief bouts of vanity, standing in front of my locker door. I'd towel the shower water off my body slowly, feeling new curves, highs and lows that weren't there only a few weeks before. I'd plant my foot on the bench, and run the towel up my tight calves and thighs, squeezing hard to feel the dense muscle underneath. I was no Mr. America, but I was making good progress.

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Weeks went by. I stuck with my workout regimen and eventually forgot all about Art. I studied bodies of all shapes in reflections in the chrome fixtures, even shared a jacuzzi or two with other regulars. I had become a fixture myself, and hanging out naked with these guys became second nature to me. Besides, my body was showing changes of its own, and I liked what I saw. Brian's direction was doing wonders. My belly was firm, my once mountainous love handles were reduced to tiny hills, and I was feeling good about myself for the first time in years.

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Brian left me on my own after that, and I straddled the bike. Headphones on, I made my way past meadows and pastures, all the while ruminating over this whole business with Art. I still didn't understand it, although if it had happened to someone else, I'd know just what to make of it: Art had the hots for me, I caught him indulging in a fantasy or two, and he blew a fuse. Of course, seeing that I was involved, I knew there was no way in hell this built guy would be mooning over the likes of me. There had to be some other explanation, but how could I explain that I had been counting the minutes until I could share a bath with this man again? I had to admit it: I was positively crushed that Art wasn't coming around again.

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Should I be flattered? I wrote that off--no man of his cut could see anything appealing in a jellyfish like me--and turned in for the night. I dreamed of my schoolboy idol, Andy, shut in a closet with me. A flashlight shone between us from the floor as we breathlessly fondled each other's silky young pricks. I woke up sweaty and hard, calmed myself by alternately drinking and passing water, and returned to bed. I returned to the club two days later. After working out with Brian for a while, I asked about Art. Brian cocked his head and peered at me with a strange smile. "Do you know anything about why he left?" When I said I didn't, Brian explained that Art came in the night before and turned in his membership. I shrugged, mentioned that I had only met the man once, but he seemed like a decent chap and it was too bad he wouldn't be around. I was much more disappointed than I let on, to Brian or to myself.

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The hot water released what was left of my tension, and I was glad to be rid of the salty coating I had acquired between the gym and the tub. As I lathered, I thought of asking Art if he could spare time for dinner sometime after a later workout. "Hey, Art..." I turned around to ask him, and I found him facing me, several showers away, fully lathered. But now his dick, which had been only partly erect before, was standing straight out. Art gasped and turned away from me so fast he almost lost his footing. "Yeah, um, what is it?", he stammered as he hurriedly rinsed the slippery lather from his crotch. I inquired about dinner, Art made a nervous postitive reply, and he ducked back out to the lockers. When he did, I noticed that he took his clothes from a locker that wasn't in my row. When I got home from the gym that night, I tried to do some work on the computer but found myself distracted. Why should Art be so ashamed of a silly erection? I got boners in the bath and shower all the time; I didn't think anything of it, but I suppose it would be a little embarrassing in front of someone else. No, I couldn't say I didn't think anything of it--I was surprised at being a little titillated by the sight of a handsome, muscular man with an erection. Pointed right at me, no less.

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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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Living in my hometown, you weren't a real man unless you wanted to be like Andy. Strong, handsome, kind and brilliant, he was as perfect a specimen as you could hope to find. Even self-avowed feminists, with no use for men of any kind, swooned in Andy's presence. He was just worth it. I had known him since high school, when he was the unlikely mix of scholar and athlete. I was a late bloomer myself, more interested in computers and the school paper than in doing laps or working out. So other jocks had their fun at my expense, and I generally took it in stride. I particularly remembered Andy because he came to my rescue one day. A mean- spirited oaf decided to pound me because I didn't let him copy my mid-term test (I only got an 85--he'd have done better to copy from Andy!). I had already caught one in the face when Andy's voice boomed out from the school steps. "Hey!" We both turned, and the bully swiftly averted his eyes and skulked away. Andy looked at me and shook his head, as if to say, "sorry, kid, some people are just assholes," and he walked back inside. That was as close as I ever came to knowing Andy. No one bothered me again after that. It was some years later--11, to be precise--that I finally started taking better care of myself. Maybe it was hitting that magical three-oh, seeing the obits of men buying it at 35 or 40 from heart disease. It was, for me, time to shape up or risk shipping out. I tried the rower, then the climber, then the skier, then the bike. Each time, I'd wind up holding a fitness garage sale a few weeks after the purchase. Knowing my plight, a co-worker offered to go halves with me on a buy one, get one free membership in a local health club. This normally wouldn't have been my bag, but after stepping on the scale that morning, I was ready to take another shot at being in shape. When I first stepped into the club, I was mightily impressed. Everything gleamed, including the faces of the patrons, and the solid clinks and thunks of metal-on-metal sounded like music to me. I was psyched. I had heard rumors that fitness clubs were meat markets, but that wasn't going to be the case here--the place was full, but there wasn't a woman in sight.

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Jim enjoyed the taste of Al's little orgasm and let himself cum in Al's hot mouth, forcing his big cock deeper in the guy's mouth. Ron let his cock shrivel before he reluctantly withdrew it from Al's butt hole and went to his own bed while Al frigged and kissed Jim's cock until it was steel hard again. He rolled over and guided it to his hole but Jim's prick was just too big for the little ass hole. Jim got in bed with Ron and after rolling him over guided his cock to Ron's ass hole. Jim was surprized at how well Al's little load of come lubricated his penetration and was soon pumping away while Al who had followed him over sucked at Ron's cock. After Jim and Ron came they all got in their own beds and quickly fell asleep.

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That night after lights out,Ron wanted to fuck Al's vigin ass hole but Al wouldn't let him. Finally Jim, who wanted to taste Al's little cock, got Al to agree when he suggested they suck each other off while Ron cornholed Al. Lying on their sides Al and Jim went into a sixty-nine with Al's buttocks at the edge of the bed. As soon as he had Al's hard little hairless cock in his mouth, Jim pushed up Al's leg so he could observe Ron's assault of the virgin orifice. Al grunted with pain at the initial penetration but with Jim's sucking on his penis and Ron's gentleness, Ron was soon happily buried in Al's butt. It didn't take Ron long to cum, he was so excited to be in Al, and his orgasm made Al shoot his hot little load in Jim's mouth.

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Ron lay on his back at the edge of the bed with his legs spread so Al could have access to his ass. He gently frigged his slim pecker as Al eagerly moved in and lifted up Ron's sac so he could guide his little hairless prick to Ron's brown puckered ass hole which was leaking Jim's cum. Jim enjoyed the sight of the pubescent hairless boy burying his small cock in Ron's ass while Ron mastubated himself. The sensation must have been to much for Al for after about a dozen strokes in and out, he moaned and Jim saw his little shaft spasm as he came in Ron. As soon as he withdrew his little limp penis, they made him get on his knees and suck off Ron's now hard cock. After Ron came in his mouth they said he was now a club member and cleaned up for dinner.

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