I met Barry at the gym. I had started a new workout program with heavy weights to increase upper body strength. Barry, from out of no where, volunteered to be my spotter, one who stood at the end of the bench as a safety to help me put the bar and weights back on the rack if I ran out of steam. I did the same for him, though he lifted such heavy weight I would have had to scream for help if he ever floundered. He never did. His strength was awesome.
His strength and power was not evident in the way of typical photos in muscle magazines. No clusters of definition like huge boils ready to pop. His muscle development was more like slabs of meat, large and small, that covered his frame. His bellly had the shape of a shallow vertical slice of a barrel. His legs were as solid as oak trees. His shoulders and arms looked like they could pull an oak tree from the ground. These impressions formed for me by occasional glimpses in the shower room. He wore sweat shirt and pants on the floor.
Barry was as easy going as he was strong. One of those nice guys by nature, with no self serving manners at all. We fell into friendship on the benches, and by calling to confirm gym schedules we did enough chat to get to know each other. Sometimes his wife Betty, and their two lively young daughters came to the gym, and I was much taken by them in the juice bar after work out. They were the picture of a happy family, and that was something that had been provoking me for the past two years or more - finding my mate and having children of my own. I had women friends in great variety, and all the sexual relief I needed, but my "biological clock" was marching to the time of choosing a mate, a wife, permanent lover to cherish and adore, and create a family. If only I could find the right one.
Barry had no sexual attraction for me at all... until one night...
I was on my back on the bench and he stood at the end, ever ready to assist. I gripped the bar, flexing my fingers, focusing on the moment of exertion. My eyes strayed in the moment, and I saw, from upside down, or vice versa, his cock clearly outlined under the gray cotton pants. Why? Why then? It had always been there. Why was the outline so clear and prominent that night? My eyes lingered until I became aware and panicked that he might also be aware of my lingering eyes. I looked up at him and he was smiling down at me with benevolence and a fixed intensity too. That flicker of exchange passed and went somewhere, and was left alone.
I thought about it the next day, though. The more I thought, the outline became so clear I could see the flare ridge of the head under the fabric. Did Barry see that while smiling down on me? Did I expose myself in that helpless moment? Naw. It was too swift, too fleeting. Still, the next day I had the strongest cock fantasy in six years since Bryan. And that was out of character for me. My sex with Andy and Bryan began with a kiss. That was the turn on switch of my bisexual desire. A man so beautiful and physically attractive my first urge was to kiss him. Did I want to kiss Barry? An interesting question.
I did a mental inventory of his face. He was definitely not a pretty boy. But he was definitely handsome, in an ordinary way, I supposed. Pleasing facial structure, nice shaped nose, chin. Very warm and friendly eyes. Generous smile. Lips that... I couldn't create a clear image of his lips. I couldn't produce an image of me holding his face in my hands and kissing him, making him mine. But the remembered outline of his cock under the gym pants made my lips purse. My bisexual side had definitely awakened, after a six year sleep, with a single glance at Barry's cock under gym pants. Who can predict these things? Moreover, was he not wearing a jock strap? Deliberately not wearing one?
