When I was in my late 20's, I worked at an office that had an on-sight gym. It wasn't fancy, but it was cheap, and being right there, kept me from making the usual excuses not to go. I'd come to work 90 minutes early, work out, shower and be ready for the day. I was in great shape back then -- 28 inch waist, 8 percent BMI. My abs were starting to show the results of daily crunches.
I was always the first one in, and the first one to the showers. They were three walls of square, with nozzles every five feet, with an open front. There was zero privacy. I preferred showering alone because the rush after a workout tended to get me hard, and I didn't want anyone in there to get the wrong impression (even though it was the right impression).
There was one guy who would arrive about 20 minutes after I started my workout. I should really say "man." His name was George, and he was an executive in another department. He was late 40's, maybe early 50's, with black hair starting to show some steel on the sides. I could tell he was built, even through the loose t-shirts he wore. His tight bike pants showed off powerful legs and a nice package. I avoided looking at him too much for fear I'd get a hardon I couldn't hide. Sometimes, though, I'd swear he was looking at me.
After about two weeks of these silent workouts, I hit the shower as usual. I had just gotten the water warm when George walked in and turned on the nozzle directly across from me. I couldn't help it, I took a quick peek. I was right about him being built. His chest was solid and muscular, without being too "body builder." His abs, too, were tight, but not overly developed. He was simply a manly man. His soft cock was about 4 inches, and fat. I imagined it grew impressively.
I had closed my eyes as I rinsed off the shampoo. When I opened them, George was staring directly at me. I said a polite good morning, which he didn't return. He continued staring, then threw a washcloth at me. It hit my chest and fell to the floor. "Wash your ass," he said.
"Excuse me?" I stammered.
"I said, 'Wash your ass.'"
I just looked at him, dumbfounded.
"I don't fuck a dirty ass." Intrigued, nervous, and turned on, I bent down to pick up the washcloth. My cock started to stiffen as I lathered up the cloth and worked it back between my cheeks. I rinsed off the soap and turned around to face him. "Now wash my cock." I walked over to him, cloth in hand. I reached toward his cock and he slapped the cloth out of my hands. "Not with the cloth, boy." I looked at him, not quite getting it. He put a hand on my shoulder and started pushing down.
I got on my knees and started to bath his soft cock with my tongue. As I suspected, it grew to a fat 8", his sleek head slightly smaller than the shaft. My own cock was rock hard as I licked his, dipping down to suck on his balls while working the shaft with my hand. After a couple of minutes, George grabbed me by the hair and raised my head up. He held his cock straight out. "Open." He snarled. I opened my mouth as he pulled me closer by the hair, his meat forcing its way in. He didn't give me time to adjust and I started to gag. He pulled out quickly and turned my head up to look at him. "Do it right, boy." He pushed his dick back into my throat and held it there a moment, allowing me to relax and accommodate him. Still holding me by the hair, he pulled me down on his cock and pushed me off. He wasn't fucking my face so much as using my mouth to masturbate with.
He used me like that for about five minutes. The hard tile floor made my knees hurt, and I was afraid that someone would walk in and see what George was doing to me, but I was turned on like never before, my own hard cock dripping precum and swaying each time George moved my head.
George pulled me off his cock and tugged upward on my hair. I stood and he turned me to face the wall, pulling back on my hips. He squatted behind me and spread my cheeks, spitting into my puckered hole. He stood and spit into his hand, using it to lube himself. He took my ass like he had taken my mouth -- no fingers or tongue to loosen me up, just his slick meat pushing all the way in without stopping. I gasped from the pain, but gradually loosened up as George began to work his 8 inches in and out my chute. I reached down to jack my cock, but he slapped my hand away. "This isn't about you," he hissed in my ear. "You cum when I say you cum." His thrust grew harder and faster, banging against my prostate, making every nerve in my ass sing. I wanted desperately to cum, his raw fucking of me kept me right on the edge. If I could just touch my cock, even a little, I knew it would erupt. I started to reach for it again. George drove hard into me, pushing me up against the tile wall. "What did I tell you, boy?" He demanded.
"Not to...not to cum until you..." I stammered.
"Until I what?" He ground his cock even deeper.
"Until you say so."
"Until I say so what?" He began hammering my ass with short strokes.
