I'm retired and not what I was, but I try to keep fit. Not 6'2 & 210 lbs anymore, now I'm 175 lbs and about an inch shorter. Swimming is what I do for exercise. It's good that I learned 20 years ago how to swim when I had to rehab my shoulder by doing laps for a couple of years. Learning years before had taught me the rhythm of strokes and how to breathe, so a old guy like me could swim for 45 minutes, three times a week in retirement.
It was busy at the Y. Twelve people in six lanes. Pat was sharing a lane with me, which was not unusual. Just out of High School, Pat worked the front desk here at the YMCA, so we sometimes talked when I checked in or out. About the same height as me, perhaps 15 lbs less, Pat was a shy and gentle person. longish hair, soft features, fit wiry muscles, and he shaved his pale skin body like he did when he was on the swim team which gave him his good looking androgynous look. He was a good swimmer and would pair up with me even before all the lanes filled up. As I swam on one side of the lane and he on the other side, we would casually rub against each other as we swam past each other in the lane. Slippery skin touching when we made turns at the same time or rested at the edge of the pool. Sometimes making brief eye contact under water thru our googles.
It was a Sunday, so the pool closed an hour before the main gym did. One by one the other swimmers left the pool and then Pat got out. I was the last one in the pool, and I could see through the pool windows as I swam that the main gym was deserted. It's nice to be alone in the water and I swam a couple of more laps before hauling myself out. Waving to and thanking the bored lifeguard, I entered the showers, pulling off my swimsuit. Naked and squeezing water from my swimsuit, I turned the corner into the showers and saw Pat naked, cornered in the handicap shower stall, with three muscled gym jocks shoving him to each other, pawing and laughing as they manhandled him. Pinching and shoving him between them, taunting him. Pat seemed to let them, neither protesting nor resisting, but clearly not happy. I also noticed his cock was hard.
"Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing" I said, announcing my presence, my feet slipping on the old wet tiled floor as I walked quickly towards them.
In my minds eye I was 30 years younger and 35 pounds stronger, ready to fix this mess. To the gym jocks I was an old fool and the one closest to me was a younger, bigger and stronger version of my old self. He grabbed my arms and spun me into the shower stall, bouncing me off the wall, ricocheting me into Pat, before I slid down his body on my way to the floor,
I ended up on my back, looking up at Pat. The handicap shower stall was small, and Pat stood astride me, his cock hard, his tiny nut sack pulled up tight to his body. His cock was skinny like a hot dog wiener, his cock head like a pink flower bud on the end of its 4" length. He didn't look scared but did look ashamed, looking down at me panting, his rigid cock jutting out, pointing at me.
I looked back to the muscle jocks, who were blocking the opening to the stall. They all were wearing tank top tees, showing off their broad shoulders and flat abs. Loose mid-thigh shorts with a netted crotch. I could look up their their shorts, seeing their cocks and balls exposed and hanging loosely against the netting. I felt my cock, that the cold pool water had shriveled, throb and twitch.
"We are just doing what Patty likes" said the handsome Latino jock. Shorter than the other two, his muscles big and more defined, glistened. "This is what Patty likes, standing in the showers, hoping to jack off with guys he meets. It's what he did when he was on the swim team'"
.
"Patty likes the attention", said the one who threw me into Pat. "He only got hard after we started putting our hands on him, pushing him around. Hell, it made him really hot when you slid down his body rubbing his cock with your body."
Turning back to Pat, seeing his cock throb harder with each rapid heartbeat, his need and excitement were obvious, slowly arching his back, thrusting his arched cock forward, showing everyone his need.
I groaned. I was on my back, head in the corner, half in and half out of the stall. My ass was stuck on the rusty iron drain cover, left elbow ached, scraped and bloodied from sliding down the wall. Luckily, my head hit the wall to cushion my fall also. Pat and the goons looked down at me as I struggled to maneuver myself up. I felt my cock thickening, sliding down my thigh.
"Come on" the short muscular guy said. "Let's get out of here and let these faggots jack off". They laughed as they walked off, joking, their voices fading as the metal door thudded shut as they left the locker room.
"Help me up Pat" I said. I felt my heart beating hard from the adrenaline, the pain, and strangely, from arousal, and put my arm up to him.
