Okay, so it wasn't exactly what my wife had in mind when she bought me a membership at a local gym for Christmas. At forty, I wasn't exactly out of shape but after a few years of sitting at a desk all day and staring at a computer screen, the muscle tone on my 6'-2" body had pretty much gone to hell. So, in no small part because it was a gift from her, I trudged obligingly off to the gym every night after work.
While I never did quite understand the benefit and allure of sweating and gasping like a dying man while subjecting myself to a stair-stepper or treadmill, I did fully appreciate the sight of so many of the tight young female bodies that seemed to frequent the place at that time of day. But what shocked me even more was my reaction to being in a men's locker room for the first time since high school. While I had never been attracted to other guys, I found myself lingering longer and longer in the shower room, covertly sneaking peeks of guys soaping up there firm bodies and cocks.
At first, I told myself it was just a guy thing β comparing my own body and equipment to everyone else's. But then, during the day, I found myself thinking more and more about some dangling young cock I'd seen during the past week, a thought that both shocked me and gave me a hard-on at the same time. I finally justified it by telling myself that I'd never really do anything with another guy, that with sex at home becoming more and more infrequent due to the long work days we both had, it was just an image to stimulate myself with while I jerked off at home when my wife was gone.
So it was on a Friday night that I found myself standing in the locker room shower, pretending to let the hot water soothe my muscles, eyes half-closed, but watching a 20-something guy standing under a shower head on the opposite wall, slowly lathering his cock and ass. It took my breath away. Soft, his cock hung down a good six or seven inches, and was as thick as any I'd seen in person over the past six months. His dick slithered between his fingers as he soaped his crotch, and his cock grew a bit stiffer. I stood there, hot water pouring down my back, eyes partially closed, and wondering what it would be like to be kneeling in front of him as he fucked his meat into my mouth.
"Hey! What are you looking at, faggot?"
My eyes snapped open wide and my heart began pounding, and I suddenly realized that my own six-inch cock was now semi-hard from my daydream.
"Uh, me? I...uh...nothing...I mean...what are you talking about?"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about you little queer! You've been eyeing my cock ever since I stepped in here."
"No, I...you've got it all wrong...I'm just showering...you know, the hot water feels so good," I babbled, grateful that we were the only two people in the shower room at the time.
"Bullshit!" he spat out as he walked toward me. "I ever catch you staring at me or anyone else in here again, I'll personally kick your ass, you hear me?" he asked, poking a finger in my chest.
My hard-on had shriveled, and for a moment I thought he was going to hit me. And at about six feet and a 175 pounds of solid muscle, I figured it was going to hurt. But instead of hitting me, he angrily spit on my foot and stormed out of the shower. "Fucking dick-lover! They ought to throw your ass out of the club."
My heart was still pounding. What the hell had I been thinking? A forty year old man acting like an idiot, and caught in the act. I stood alone in the shower for another ten minutes, my toes and fingers starting to shrivel, when I finally got the nerve to slowly venture back into the locker-room area. Fortunately, he was gone. I quickly dressed, vowing that this was the last time I'd be showing my face in this gym, and wondering what I'd do with myself every night until my membership ran out and I could just go home after work. After quickly toweling myself off and dressing, I quickly cleaned out my small locker and headed toward the front door, thinking irrationally that every eye in the place was on me as I finally reached the exit and headed out to the safety of the parking lot. Or so I thought.
"Hey, faggot!" he yelled as he stepped out from the shadows where he'd been waiting for me. People walking across the parking lot toward the gym stopped to see who had shouted and who was the target of his ire. My heart came into my throat as people stared, and I prayed there wasn't anyone around who actually knew me.
"Yeah, you," he said loudly as he strode toward me. "You a full-blown queer? You get off watching cock in the shower room?"
"Look," I replied hastily, scanning the parking lot again, "this is just a misunderstanding. I was just taking aβ"
"Misunderstanding my ass. I saw you watching me. You like the show, huh? Like a little cock on the side? Does your wife know?" he asked, spotting my wedding ring.
"I'm not... Please, not so loud, this is just a misunderstanding, I wasn't staring at you."
"What's the matter? You don't like admitting you're a fag?"
"No, I'm not. I'm married, I've got a son in high school, I don'tβ"
"Oh, that's great," he bellowed. "Your kid know you like to suck dick?"
More people stared as they heard his question. I turned an even deeper shade of crimson.
"Please, could you keep your voice down? People are staring, and it's not what you think. Can we go somewhere private, I can explain."
He eyed me for a minute. "Fucking fag. Yeah, I guess so, my car's right over there. I can't wait to here this limp-wrist excuse."
He led me toward a car parked nearby, and I crawled into the passenger seat, relieved that we didn't have to continue the conversation within the earshot of the other people entering and leaving the gym. He crawled into the passenger seat, his short gym shorts riding high up on his legs as he plopped into the seat.