I was sitting alone in the sauna, chilling after a mediocre workout when suddenly Mark walked in. He glanced at me, said hi, and sat down closer to the entrance, next to the hot stone stove.
My heart skipped a beat for a moment, and if I weren't in the sauna, I'd probably have broken out in a cold sweat. Mark made such an impression on me, and honestly, for some reason, I felt uneasy when he was around.
Mark was the most incredibly built guy I'd ever seen in my life, undoubtedly the biggest dude in our entire gym. He was extremely ripped and sculpted, definitely had to be a professional bodybuilder. There was no other option. It was hard to imagine someone building that kind of musculature just for a hobby without making a living from it.
Not gonna lie, this guy was... my gym idol? That's how I'd put it. Though someone on the outside might say Mark was my gym crush. But I wasn't gay. Sure, I could admit that Mark fascinated me, and he was damn good-looking with those muscles, a real life Giga Chad, but I didn't think there was anything gay about it. Did acknowledging that, say, Henry Cavill or Brad Pitt were insanely handsome make a straight guy gay? Probably not. It's a matter of recognizing their and your place on the attractiveness scale, at least that's how it seemed to me.
But I wouldn't deny that he fascinated me, and I often watched him in the gym. I mean, who wouldn't look at a guy doing bicep curls with weights that others were benching? And what he was benching, others probably couldn't deadlift. And when he did deadlifts, he was gathering plates from the entire gym, and the barbell was fighting for its life, bending under the weight. He was a beast in terms of raw power and strength.
And his silhouette... He must have weighed close to 260 pounds, yet his body was practically fat-free. Mark had the best shoulder-to-waist ratio imaginable. The perfect V-taper. His arms were huge, and his biceps stretched the sleeves of the oversized shirts he wore. His chest was gigantic, sticking out forward, and he could put something on it like on a shelf. Someone could sit on top of his pecs.
I saw him a few times shirtless and just in briefs in the locker room, and his abs and legs were as epic as they could be. The straight muscles were like cobblestones, protruding forward by a good inch. The obliques, on the other hand, were heavily sculpted and slanted in a way that accentuated his perfectly narrow waist. His thighs widened his frame again, looking like two pillars of super-hard muscles. In fact, his legs made his silhouette more resemble the letter X than V, if you know what I mean.
I was into bodybuilding, but mostly in theory. I was more of a fan than a practitioner; with my puny muscles, I couldn't pass for a bodybuilder in even the lightest weight class. I was short, and slim, weighing 145 pounds. I worked out, but with my student diet and average commitment, I couldn't expect significant gains.
In a showdown of physiques with Mark, even my most developed muscle, probably my thigh, would most likely lose to his... forearm.
Mark was an absolute specimen of manhood. I didn't know anything about him except his name, though he probably didn't know mine. We never talked beyond exchanging greetings or asking about weights. Just regular gym etiquette. Although, of course, he was always the one asking if he could use the weights next to me. I could only ask if I could continue to exist in his presence.
Um, that sounded pretty gay. But if someone held a gun to my head, I'd admit that Mark made me question my sexual orientation. Maybe I was a little bi? But I'd never been interested in other guys before. Was it Mark who made me feel that way? Hell if I knew, but I couldn't stop thinking about him.
There was another factor that pushed me in this direction. Did I mention that I saw Mark in the locker room a couple of times wearing only briefs?
Well, as if his muscles and GigaChad's face weren't enough to accentuate his masculinity, all indications were that Mark also had a huge cock.
Yes, his bulge was massive, spherical, and pushed the front of his boxers apart, hanging heavy. Once I saw him walking to the showers in just his underwear and his bulge swayed menacingly with every step he took. It was so big you might have thought he was stuffing it with something, but a closer look dispelled any illusions. Even through the fabric, the outline of the massive head of his dick was visible. It had to be, a guy like Mark had to have a huge dick. It couldn't have been otherwise.
And now I was sitting with him in a small, cramped room and we were completely naked except for the towels around our waists.
I peeked at his powerful muscles, even bigger than normal because they were pumped up after a workout. His chest was swollen, red, and just gigantic. He could squeeze my hand between his pecs if he flexed them.
I was having trouble breathing, but not because of the heated air in the sauna, although that probably didn't help. Even though there wasn't any reason for it, there was this palpable tension, at least I felt it in every fiber of my being. Mark sat there calmly, just chilling, while I was a bundle of nerves.
The silence between us was getting more and more awkward for me, and I was frantically thinking about what I could say to him that would sound natural. Unfortunately, I sucked at small talk and pretty much any interaction with other people, let alone with a god-like figure like Mark.
To my surprise, he broke the silence! He looked at me and said, "You're Tony, right?"
Wow! Did he know my name? But why? For what? Uh...
"Yeah, that's me," I replied like a dork and nervously chuckled.
Mark smiled like a movie star and nodded. He probably thought I was some airhead. Damn, shit, fuck, why did he have this effect on me?
"I see you've been spending a lot of time at the gym lately," he said casually.
He glanced at me meaningfully, or at least that's how it seemed to me. Definitely seemed like it. Or maybe not? Definitely didn't seem like it! Maybe he was suggesting that I was at the gym as much as he was? Because... shameful to admit, but it was true. I'd been at the gym for as long as Mark had his workout, secretly watching him and practically pretending to do my exercises. Did he notice? Oh, fuck, he definitely noticed.
"Um... yeah, I've been spending some time there. Got a lot of free time lately since I have fewer classes at college." That was partly true, so it came out pretty smoothly.
"What are you studying?" he asked in his low voice. Did I mention his voice was like an absolute boss? Yeah, how could it be anything else?
"Physical therapy. Senior year," I added, not sure why, maybe to avoid sounding like some whelp. Although I didn't think Mark was significantly older than me; in my opinion, he hadn't hit thirty yet.
"Oh! That's interesting. So, you know about massages and stuff?"
"Yeah, I'll admit, I'm pretty decent at it already," I replied, feeling somewhat confident in the conversation for the first time.
"Fuck, could use a massage. How much do you charge per session?" he asked with a slightly amused smile. "Or maybe you'll do it for free for a gym buddy? You know, for gaining some practice?"
He smiled, and everything indicated that he was joking, but with my neurotic spider-sense, I sensed some undertone in it.
"Hah, I'm not working as a masseur yet, but we can arrange something if you need massages."
Fuck. Did I seriously just say that? What got into me?
"Are you sure your boyfriend won't mind?" Mark asked, tilting his head slightly.
That question hit me like a slap in the face, along with a gust of hot air. Fuck! He thought I was gay. But I wasn't. I just... was incredibly fascinated by this insanely muscular guy and just offered him free massages...
