I had been going to Gabe and Steve's Gym for a couple of months, and I was quite pleased with the results. I could tell that Gabe and Steve were pleased too, as they'd both been giving me the eye when I was in the shower. I didn't mind all that much; it was a free world and looks didn't cost me anything—or so I thought at the time. I knew that Gabe and Steve were a couple, but that didn't mean much to me either. Somewhat of an odd couple. Both were handsome and well built, to be sure, but Gabe was a bulging Nordic god, while Steve was the lithe and hirsute Mediterranean type.
Everything was going fine until that evening when I'd worked late and didn't arrive at the gym until near closing. No problem, Gabe had said. I could continue working out after they closed, as Steve had to do some paperwork anyway. Gabe could spot me, if I liked for my barbell set. While he was talking to me, he stripped off his shirt. His bulging chest muscles tapering down to washboard abs and strong stomach muscles were an inspiration for me to work harder on my own routines. He was well tanned and hairless; I knew that he shaved all over regularly, as he appeared in many local bodybuilding contests.
When I got around to doing my barbell lifts, I started to settle on my usual bench, when Gabe suggested I try the new bench in the back room. It was a strange contraption, raised higher than the normal bench off the ground and with stirrups for the feet. Gabe told me this was an improvement in two ways, as it prevented the lifter from using his feet so much for traction and put the barbells at a better height for the spotter to work with. I knew little about such things, so I didn't ask any questions and jumped up on the bench and flopped down on my back.
Gabe called Steve in from the office and asked him to help get me settled on the bench. Steve must have been on his way to the showers when Gabe called, because when he entered the room, all he had around him was a skimpy towel that veed in front to below his waistline. Incongruously, though, he was carrying a big pair of scissors. He was deeply tanned and covered in curly black hair that spiraled down the front of him to where the towel was knotted. His muscles didn't bulge like Gabe's, but he was still well muscled and lean, a regular Apollo. He sauntered over to us, gave me a big toothy smile and, flipping my right foot out of my sneaker, began strapping my foot into one of the stirrups. When I was lying flat on the bench, my legs didn't reach the ground, but the stirrups, which were attached to the bench by long leather straps could be adjusted to my leg length. They really were quite comfortable when Steve had gotten my feet strapped into them.
Gabe put a set of bells on the stand, and I took hold of the bar. He wrapped his big fists around mine, but let me provide all of the power in the lifts. I had done a couple of lifts before I even noticed that Steve had his hands on my knees, and I probably wouldn't have noticed even then if he hadn't been working his hands up my thighs.
"What?" I said as I looked up sharply. Steve was still smiling that smile, but he had lost the towel and his prick was standing at attention. I started to lurch up, but Gabe swiftly tied my hands to the ends of the barbell rack with leather straps I hadn't noticed being there before.
Steve's hand went up into the legs of my shorts and stroked my dong through my jock strap. I started to curse them both in a loud voice, but Gabe just laughed and told me to go ahead and yell. No one would hear. I looked back down at Steve, whose hands had withdrawn from my shorts, and my eyes opened wide as I saw him coming at me with that pair of scissors.
