The best part of going to a 24-hour gym in the middle of the night was never having to talk to anyone. Sure, they weren't all like that. My friend Juan tried to convince me to join his gym downtown, but that place was a fucking meat-market. Even if I went there, there was no way any of those hard-bodied gym-gays were going to notice a scrawny Indian cybersecurity specialist trying desperately to put a little muscle on his chest. Despite Juan's jokes, I was here to sweat, not cruise.
Besides, at 3 AM it was usually just me, a couple insomniacs, and the occasional business-drunk trying to sweat the booze out before going home to his wife.
Well... and Anchor-Guy.
I had no idea who he was, but he was everything you'd imagine from a gym bro: tall, broad- shouldered, arms and legs with movie-star definition, and an ass that practically fought to escape his little gym shorts.
I'd spent a lot of time staring at the back of Anchor-Guy when he did free weights. It was how I noticed the little anchor tattoo on his shoulder blade half-hidden by his tanktop.
Yeah... Anchor-Guy was also a nice reason to go to the gym in the middle of the night.
Tonight though, I was running late. It was closing on 4AM by the time I managed to get on to the cable-machine. There had been an issue at work, and it had taken forever to connect with the asshole running our sister office in California. So while I had managed to convince myself to work out tonight, I only had enough energy to half-ass it.
Forty five minutes later I was sore, sweaty, and ready to call it a night. I padded back into the lockerroom, still listening to music and peeling my clothes off. I'll admit to being self-conscious in most lockerrooms, but this late at night? I usually didn't even wrap a towel around my waist to head to the showers.
Now the showers here aren't exactly communal per-se, but there were basically just dividers between the stalls. So, you aren't standing right next someone but you can still see everyone across from you. Not there was usually anyone in here with me.
I turned the corner towards the showers and heard the high metallic whine of a faucet on full blast. Huh. That was odd. I don't remember seeing anyone come in. Though I guess that one cranky bald guy could have come back in without me noticing.
Rather than deal with an aging insomniac, I tried to creep into the shower and take one stall near the door and--
Oh holy shit.
Across the room, under the steaming waterfall of the gym shower, stood Anchor-guy, facing towards the wall. His uncovered anchor tattoo had a little banner under it with the name 'Lone Warrior' in a curling font. And his ass, smooth, round and a little pink from the hot water that streamed down over it was on full goddamn display.
God, I could write a fucking ode to that ass.
I stare sometimes, and right now I couldn't take my eyes off him, just staring at the collection of water-shiny muscles across his back, the narrow perfect hips and...
An ode? That ass was worth a symphony.
As I stood there gaping, trying to figure out the proper key to my future musical work. I noticed the steady rhythm of movement in his shoulder and elbow.
Oh fuck. Is he jerking off?
Oh fuck! He is jerking off in the shower and he hasn't noticed me.
My first thought was to run. But if he heard me dashing out, and figured out it was me... well, I could basically just end my membership and never come back. No. I'm a mature adult. I had seen guys jerk off in front of me (usually on a computer screen). I was just going to take a shower, ignore Anchor-Guy, and go home and beat my dick like it owed me money until I passed out.
I turned to put my body wash on the ledge, but it slipped right off and hit the ground. The hollow echo was thunder in my ears. I saw Anchor-Guy stiffen, and his hands suddenly became very occupied massaging water into his short sandy blonde hair. I quickly replaced it, as I heard blood rushing past my ears.
I turned on the water, it was freezing. "Fuck!" it was more of a yelp than a shout.
This time he did turn, and I got a view of smooth prominent pecs and a perfect six-pack partially hidden behind a very thick cock still standing at rock-hard attention.
"S-sorry, the w-water was cold," I stammered, still getting drenched in ice. I mechanically turned around, turned up the heat, and pondered drowning myself under the showerhead.
"No problem. And---uh--- sorry. I didn't realize any one was here."
"I get that. I'll probably do that as soon as I get home." OH MY GOD WHAT DID I JUST SAY?
He chuckled, "Wish I could, but it'd probably wake up my girlfriend."
I took a few steadying breaths, I was still fresh from my workout and I think I was feeling light-headed. I turned around. Anchor-Guy was still facing me, still hard, and was just nonchalantly enjoying the heat and pressure of the locker room showers.
"Well..." I ventured, "I mean you could always ask her to give you a hand... or a mouth?"
He smiled ruefully and shook his head, "Wake her up in the middle of the night to fool around? She'd probably rip it off. Besides," he gave his cock an absent minded pull, "when you get hard you just gotta take care of it sometimes, ya know?"
"Uh... yeah. Definitely."
Anchor-Guy made eye contact with me, before he let his gaze drift downward, "Looks like you gotta take care of something yourself."
I was fully hard and pointing straight at him. I swallowed and looked away, "Uh..."
"It's alright man. I'll take it as a compliment. I mean you're gay right?"
Well, I can just die right here. "I...:"
"I've definitely seen you checking me out."
I swallowed, my mouth gone suddenly dry. Despite my intense mortification, I was still completely hard, "Well," my voice was small, "you do kind-of have a perfect ass."
He flashed a shit-eating grin, "Thanks, I'm glad that leg day is paying off." He extended a leg and flexed his thigh for a moment, I tried not to stare at how it made his loose balls swing. "So...I'm guessing you wouldn't mind if I kept going?" Despite his oh-so-casual tone, his cheeks were red, and his left foot traced little circles over the wet tile. Some guys like an audience.
"Mind? Fuck. I'd give you a hand." His eyes widened. Oh god, what had I done?
He paused for a long, loooong moment. He took a deep breath, and I winced, "I mean... if you want to..." his voice was barely audible over the faucets.
That... that was not what I expected. It took a solid second for my mind to process. Eventually, I nodded, and took a few hesitant steps across the shower. He stood there motionless. Well not quite, I could see his pecs rising and falling with short shallow breaths. Slowly, I reached out and put a hand on his chest. Despite the heat of the water I felt goosebumps.
"I'm not... I'm not gay ya know."
I nodded and ran a few fingers up his cock. His eyes fluttered and he sighed. Was this really fucking happening? Wrapping my fingers around him, I began to stroke him gently. My other hand had never left his chest. His nervous heartbeat drummed against my fingers as I jerked him slowly at first, moving my wrist to let my fingers circle him. Christ he was thick.
His hips began to rock, and I felt hot precum drip down my knuckles. He kept his eyes closed. Probably imagining a girl or something. Juan had been with a few straight guys, but this was a totally new experience for me.
As I picked up pace and pressure, I leaned in and cupped his balls with my other hand. He moaned softly, and I felt my cock jump at the sound as I played with his balls. My face practically against his chest already, I leaned in further and ran a tongue over one of his nipples. He froze.
Shit. I looked up. He seemed to study me for a moment, eyes narrowed. I felt a gentle hand on the back of my head, pushing me against his chest. As my mouth fell back over his nipple and then moved with slow kisses across his pecs, he began to twine his fingers through my hair.
My lips traced the shape of his chest and the top of his abs. Fuck, he was ripped. I really should have paid more attention to his workout routine instead of just staring at him. As I continued to work on his chest, I picked up speed on his cock. He was getting close now. His hips had begun to meet each stroke and his precum was all over my chest.
The hand on my head, moved to my shoulder, he gave me a gentle squeeze before he pushed down. Oh. Well... that was unexpected.
I sank to my knees on the warm wet tile. In the midst of my jerking him off, we had stumbled mostly out of the shower stream, but the water still ran hot against my shins. I pulled away from his cock for a moment to watch it tick with his pulse. He was close. But, I wasn't going to let him go that easily.
I ran a tongue over his cock, tasting the salt of him. I shivered. I pulled away again, and left a few kisses on his hips. I listened as his breathing slowed, and then I took his cock into my mouth, and slowly took him down inch by inch. It had been a while, and I wanted to savor it. Plus, he really was fucking thick, and my jaw need a moment to relax. As I moved down, I began to work his balls again and was rewarded with another moan when I gave them a slight pull.
My nose touched his trimmed pubic hair, and remained there for a moment, trying not gag. I could feel more precum run down my throat.
"F-f-fuck," his voice was a harsh whisper, "nobody has ever..." I pulled back and fell into a rhythm, his train of thought interrupted with a groan.
After a few gliding movements, my throat had relaxed and I was able to deep throat him with ease. With each stroke I worked my tongue over him. My free hand reached around and began to kneed his ass.
As his hips moved into me, my fingers found his hole, and I began to tease it with my finger, still slick with precum and spit. His hips bucked backwards, and he sank down onto my finger past the first two knuckles.
I had hoped to get to play with his ass a bit more, but that was apparently enough. He shouted, "OH FUCK!" and semen began to shoot down my throat.
I tried swallowing as much as I could, but my mouth filled and I felt it run down my chin. His hands held my head on his cock, and I felt it pulse and shoot, for what seemed like an eternity. I was starting to worry I might drown.
Eh. There are worse ways to go.
He wilted against me gasping, and I had a chance to breath. "That was..." his voice was breathless. I sighed contentedly, feeling lightheaded.
But, before I could really catch my breath, I felt hard fingers on my shoulders, as he practically lifted me up off the floor. Utter terror blossomed in my stomach. Oh god, he regrets it and he's going to--
I was pulled into a very rough kiss. He just held me there for a moment, face grinding into mine. My mouth was open with shock and I felt his tongue slide against mine, still sticky with his cum.
He shifted his grip, to crush me against him with one muscular arm as he continued to kiss me. The feeling of need was intense, and I just melted into his arm. What the fuck?
Before my brain could entirely process what was happening, I felt a hand slick with cum, wrap around my cock. His strokes were fast, no-nonsense, and utterly fucking wonderful.
In less than a minute, I was shooting all over his chest and abs. If my mouth wasn't still firmly locked on his, I probably would have screamed. As it was, I shook and moaned, until I could barely stand.
He guided my almost limp body under the shower, and held me there against him. I had no fucking clue what to say. We just stood there gasping.
Finally he let me go, and just sort of stared at me.
"We... we need to do that again sometime." He said quietly. A ghost of a smile played on his lips. He grabbed, his towel and strode out. I just sort of sank down onto the floor, letting now-lukewarm water wash over my face.
What the actual flying fuck?
Well that was definitely... something.
OK so, maybe there were other upsides to a 24-hour gym.