A few years ago, I'd gotten a job at the local city college teaching martial arts.
It wasn't for the money, because there wasn't much. It was mostly to get me out of the house a few times a week. I'd been retired for four years and realized I was bored senseless. The gig kept me occupied, kept me from getting too soft in the belly, and was honestly kind of fun.
So, three days a week I'd go down to the college and spend four or five hours teaching people how to punch, or make 'em suffer through horse-stance training. I felt pretty good about giving something back to the community.
That day was a Tuesday, and somehow I had arrived twenty minutes early. There was a general office for PE instructors in the locker room, but it wasn't much more than a couple of desks and a mini-fridge. Still, it was a place to sit down and there wasn't anybody around after four, let alone on a Tuesday. I flumped into a chair and put my feet up and wondered what to do with myself with the extra time I had.
Sure, I could have put the mats out. I could have drawn up a training plan. There were a lot of responsible ways I could have used that extra time. I decided to jerk off instead.
Don't judge me. I'm not the only guy who's spanked off a quick one at the job. In the old days, I mused, I'd have had to stash a porn mag or two in my duffel bag, but these were modern times. My phone had plenty of great porn ready for the taking and my dick was liking the idea more and more.
I started getting into it, and I must have lost track of the time. I had been smart enough to keep the sound off, but I was definitely making those wet stroking noises a man makes when he's jerking off properly. My hand was slick with spit and pre-cum was starting to flow, keeping things nice and slippery. My balls were feeling heavy, and I was looking forward to blasting off a fat load before class.
I get startled out of my porn trance by the sound of footsteps approaching the office. The way the place was laid out, there were two entrances to the gym from the locker room. The most direct route took you on the other side of a row of lockers, but the long route took you right past the office door. Most people took the faster route, but today, someone was definitely coming this way. I had about five seconds until they'd have a perfect view of me sitting there with my waistband pulled beneath my balls and my dick dripping on the floor.
I hastily shoved my aching penis back in my pants, cursing myself for being so careless. I paused the porn on my phone, slammed it face-down on the desk and managed a casual look as Jason walked around the bend and into the office.
Okay, so, let me tell you about this guy Jason.
He'd first come to my class a couple of years ago, and I barely noticed him. It wasn't personal. I get something like twenty-five people signing up at the beginning of a class, but by the end I'd be down to six or seven. It was just the way it went, and I figured he'd be one of the dropouts.
I'm not gonna lie, it was his hair that made me think that. It was really long, and he wore it in a ponytail. It's not like I haven't seen guys with long hair before. I remember the 80's. But it just wasn't a style you saw anymore, and I figured him for a pretty boy who lifted weights for the mirror and was taking this class to show off for someone.
And, like, he obviously lifted weights. He wore really tight shirts and tight jeans and his chest and abs were visible, even under his clothes. He wore this casual beard, sometimes in need of a trim. I don't think he was one of those meatheads who lifted every day, but he definitely groomed and kept himself trim. I must admit, after the third semester of him showing up, class after class, he began to stand out.
Eventually we became friends, and I was stunned when he told me he was in his thirties, because he looked somewhere in his mid-twenties. He'd moved into the city back during the early Internet start-up days and, like a lot of people from that time, had eventually ran out of paying work. He was back in school for a career change and was one of those students that knew the value of an education.
He took the classes seriously, absorbed everything I had to show him, and turned out to be a really friendly guy. I noticed that he quickly advanced in his training, eventually helping the beginning students himself. I definitely noticed that he got really buffed up over the years.
Like, no joke. This guy had started with me kinda stocky but by the time he'd graduated, his shoulders had become ridiculously wide and his horse stance had given him thighs like tree trunks. I went to his graduation with a bunch of other guys from the advanced classes and wished him well.
Then I'd taken a bad fall, and my knee had never been the same.
I knew my old football days hadn't been kind to my joints, but I just couldn't keep up with the classes the same way after the accident. Jason and I were still in touch, and he'd volunteered to come and help me with the beginners classes so I could sit down and take it easy when I needed to.
So, like, there were a million people who would have been worse than Jason to come around that corner and almost catch me rubbing one out. It was almost a relief to see him, truthfully. But my nerves were still jangling and, dammit, I was way too erect to be at all decent in my gym shorts. But still, better it was him than, say, my boss.
"Hey, Sheldon." He said, casually. That was me. I'm Sheldon. But not too many people call me that. He gets to though. Some things are earned. "You need a hand getting your gear upstairs?"
I'll be honest, I really didn't want to carry my bag of gym equipment, now that he'd mentioned it. Jason was the kind of guy who'd always check if someone needed help, so I nodded and said I'd be grateful if he'd carry my bag.
I honestly have no idea how he managed to fall like he did.
Have you ever seen someone almost trip, but then almost catch themselves, then almost trip again? You know that stuttering, flailing, half-walk they manage when they have no idea if they're going to make it or not? He did that all the way across the office until he got tangled up in the very bag he'd been coming in to grab. Then he fell, face-first, into my lap.
Don't look at me like that. You weren't there. That's what happened, hand to God.
There I was, with this really pretty guy's face planted in my crotch. I was horrified to see that my cock had been leaking pre-cum through my shorts. The wet spot was an inch from Jason's left eye.
