Rec Centre Showers

If things had kept up, I could have been on a "Top 30 Under 30" list. At 29 I had an MBA, a job at a start-up finance firm and a burgeoning social life that kept me in the upper echelon of young gay professionals. When I wasn't chasing down a 10 in the clubs, and topping pretty waiters, I spent most of my time in the gym, maintaining a svelte, finely muscled physique and trading business secrets with my peers.

That's when I was Geoffrey.

I'm Geoff now.

Geoffrey's life got all fucked up, sending me miles away from the city, and making my life- Geoff's life- as unrecognizable as possible.

Did I mention I'm Geoff now? Sorry. I know I keep bringing that up. It's just that I can't get over how far my life has changed, and nothing reminds me of that more than the fact I wear a name tag now.

I used to run in fast circles, now soccer mom's squint at my chest and say to me:

"Excuse me- Geoff, but someone puked in the family change room. Thought you might like to know,"

I swear to god, days like that make me wish I was digging ditches or stocking shelves.

As it was, my fall from grace could have been worse. I was an assistant manager of a city owned recreation facility in an unremarkable post-war suburb. The only upgrade to the town since the seventies had been a handful of big box stores and a failed attempt at a reinvigorated downtown strip that brought in a crosswalk.

The long and short of things for me, good ol' Geoff, was that the start up firm I worked in wasn't entirely on the up and up. I could tell you that this came as a huge shock to me but I'd be lying. Granted, that's what I told the authorities before my life crumbled, which was how I was able to get out of town with my freedom.

Everything else though, the men, the money and condo- gone. Nobody wanted to touch Geoffrey with a ten inch pole or a two inch dick. As soon as word got around about the company, I was radioactive to one and all. I threw what was left of my savings into legal representation and found myself looking for work and a shabby apartment beyond city limits.

Which is where Geoff finds himself mopping up puke in a pool change room, and wondering if things will ever get any better.

If there was one bright spot about my current situation though, it was that the facility I worked at had a decent sized gym, so I could pour all my time into working out. That being said, I was starting to feel the battle of the bulge as I approached 30, and started day drinking. As if my current situation wasn't embarrassing enough, I could only imagine the gossip back in the city if folks could see my body in its less-than-sculpted state. So while I indulged during the day, I worked a hard circuit in the late evening when the gym was less busy. It seemed as though I was the only gay in town, with the men on apps hours away- so I didn't have much of a life outside of the rec centre. Hadn't even gotten laid or had my dick sucked since I left the city.

That changed my first winter in the burbs though. And before I continue this story, I want you to understand just how hard up I was, okay? Please don't judge me.

Alright.

So, I moved into town in the late spring, grabbing an apartment a block away from the rec centre and helping set up all the outdoor programs for the kids. The facility was built back in the sixties and perpetually felt dark and dingy. No matter how well cleaned the place was, you couldn't kill the mood from the dark stone, and grimy looking tile. It was hard to imagine that decades prior, anyone thought that "basement grotto" mixed with brutalist concrete would have been a modern look for the ages. Even when the sun poured in through the lobby skylights, the centre felt like you were at the bottom of a swamp.

Winter brought about cold, harsh weather and I got to see first hand how the rec centre switched from outdoor to indoor activities. The most noticeable part was when I found the gym busier than usual during my workout routines.

Normally -in the city- a busy gym would be a cruisy gym, and nobody had a problem with it. To look and be looked at, to watch and be watched was the common mentality at my old gym. Nobody looked twice at how many feet gathered below a shower curtain, or batted an eye at activities in the steam room. But that was in my old life, where you worked out with other attractive gays.

Here in nowheresville, my fellow gym goers were men forty and up- and when I say up, I mean seventies. There was one older man, Maurice who I knew to be close to 80, because I had the misfortune of renewing his membership one day. He barely looked me in the eye, or spoke more than a word to me during the exchange. Snatching his card and toddling off at his first opportunity. Maurice was a regular, and an example of the camaraderie at the gym. For the most part, I was fine as a black sheep, but as the winter crowds filled the gym and change rooms I took pride in being the best body of the bunch. When the other men looked at me sneeringly, I just figured they were studying my perfect technique and jealously admiring my form. Oh to be young again. LOL.

Then one night, something broke.

Both back in the change room, and in me. And it changed everything.

My usual routine was to do my regular circuit, then hit the private showers before walking home and grabbing a beer. The private showers weren't anything fancy, just a couple stalls at one end of the change room that had curtains on them. They had been a recent addition to the facility, and had been awkwardly distanced from the open group showers, steam room and dry sauna on the other side of the lockers. I had finished my routine one Tuesday when I returned to the change room and remembered the maintenance call I'd made earlier in the day. The pipes in the private showers were in an exterior wall and poorly insulated- so one of them burst, and we had to put them out of commission for awhile. I silently cursed as I walked past them to get to my locker, but thought nothing of it as I swung the dial around and prepared to wash up. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Maurice at a distance, grimacing in his towel as he sat on a bench drinking water from a paper cup. He glared over in my direction as I peeled off my gear. For whatever reason, I felt a little self conscious and wrapped a towel around me before reaching underneath and removing my briefs. Maurice looked on. I glared back and slammed my locker shut.

The group shower room was huge and dark, covered in large burgundy tiles that made the place feel like a slaughter house. It had shower heads along the perimeter as well as a series of standing pipes in the middle of the room. There were a couple men standing about near the front, idly chatting as I passed. I hung my towel up on the rack and walked towards the back. It felt safer going further in, which was possibly my second mistake after choosing the group shower in the first place. I turned on the water and let its full blast spray my naked body, the hot water relaxing my tired muscles. I pushed my face under the nozzle and absentmindedly pulled at my cock. With my eyes shut, and hearing nothing beyond the water in my ears I began to feel a strange presence in my midst. There was even a brief "Danger! Danger!" That went off in my brain, as I pulled away from the stream. I wiped my face and turned slightly to see who was in my space. It was a tall older man, a regular who's name I think was George. I would have nodded or acknowledged his presence verbally if it wasn't for the fact that George was clear cut looking at my dick.

"Sorry, I thought these were the men's showers here," He snickered and turned his face into the water before I could respond.

But really, how could I? What the fuck could I even say to that?" My whole body blushed and I fought the urge to run to the exit and grab my towel. I- I was a FINE size for fucks sake. I've topped a hundred hot guys back in the city, what was he saying about my cock? I tried to concentrate on my own business, squirting some body wash into my hand from the wall dispenser and soaping up. Purposely, I turned away from George- both hiding my self and showing him my fantastic ass in the process. I was still too stunned to think straight. I continued to wash until my soapy hand was gripping my cock, then my brain changed gears and started to massage some life into it. I'd been a 10 in the city, maybe falling to an 8-9 out in the sticks here- but like, I was beyond ten compared to an old fuck like George.

To me, George was ugly. He may have been a couple inches taller than my 5'10" frame, but he was old, balding and sloppy looking. His shoulders drooped and his chest hair couldn't hide the lifetime of sun he'd enjoyed. While he wasn't exactly fat, he had a belly and absolutely no definition anywhere. He looked like a five-term congressman from a town you'd never heard of, he was someones dad or grandpa, just a run of the mill loser. I'd been thinking exactly this as I turned my body towards him, semi-erect cock in hand. Fuck him, here's my cock bitch.

Unwittingly, this had turned into a gun fight, and I was about to lose.

Facing George while rubbing myself was a big mistake, for in all my moves and embarrassment the older man had gotten himself hard and was now pointing what looked like a good 9" at me. My own dick paled in comparison, just couching the 5" mark. But the worst part of losing the duel was that I had just demonstrated some interest in this old ugly guy.

I had taken his words as a challenge, practically twirled for his benefit and now gotten myself hard in his presence. Whatever protestations I could have offered would have fallen on deaf ears. I was naked in the change room shower, rubbing my cock for this gross dude. And now I has a completely new sensation take hold.

Staring at George's impressive cock, rubbing myself I felt my heart sink as I realized the depths I had reached. My entire life up to this point was a complete fraud, every superficial thing I once cherished had fallen away. I knew I was on the downslope because on top of everything else, I had just lost this cock slinging contest to a rube, I'd been belitteled, and in my heart of hearts I desperately wanted him in my mouth.

I hadn't had sex in months, ANY sex with ANYONE. I'd been jerking myself raw, getting drunk and penetrating myself with my own fingers. I'd bought toys on the internet to fill my ass and make me feel something more, and now I was being presented with a strangers massive cock.

Our bodies began to get closer as I stepped into the spray of George's shower like a dead eyed zombie. I winced as he kissed me, sticking his tongue into my throat and groping at my ass as his piece bumped into my hip. He crudely jammed a thumb into my ass, forcing me to disengage and drop to my knees. I gripped him with one hand, then another, staring up at him plaintively past the exposed head I couldn't cover. I was in wonderment, my eyes begging for permission. He grabbed a handful of my hair and wiped my face along his length until my nose was buried in his greying pubes. I had to have it.

I reared back and like an animal, attacked Georges cock. I bravely stabbed the back of my throat with it right away, testing its size, then pulling off and gagging. My mouth returned to action taking in a couple inches, then retreating to slobber over the shaft and pepper it with sloppy kisses. For his part, George let me do my thing, refraining from guiding me with his hand. A man of his girth likely knew the damage he could inflict if he tried to control his cocksucker. I relished the taste of his flesh mingling with the chlorine and soap, as a I gurgled across his dick, barely feeling the shower on my back. I did, on the other hand feel a shock of fear run up my spine as yet again I felt a presence around us.

Pulling off of George and wiping the water from my face, I looked up and saw Maurice and another man - in his forties I suppose- standing around jerking off. I felt trapped, but resigned to my situation. I looked up at George who offered a smarmy grin as he pulled me up. He reached for the body wash dispenser as he turned me to face the two other men. I was bent over with a lubed finger finding my hole. George wasn't here for the blow job, he was here for the fuck. The other guy -lets's call him Butch- saw the opportunity and moved towards my face, feeding me his uncut cock. It was nasty, a mix of unwashed skin, piss and precum but I'd be lying if I said it didn't turn me on. He peeled back his foreskin and I lapped him up just as I felt George reposition behind me. I was suddenly very cold as the shower no longer reached me, but I noticed that the other men had turned on enough showers in the room to create a private steam.

I screamed into Butch's dick as George jammed his cock into my ass without consideration. Tears formed in my eyes as the pain exploded in my groin. The man was relentless, clearly looking for a quick fuck before escaping. Somewhere around his twentieth thrust it began to feel good to me, as my guts felt the relief of broken celibacy. For all the years I had resisted being a bottom, I was suddenly learning how badly I needed to get fucked. My knees ached from holding my position, and I strained to keep my teeth off Butch's dick as he sawed in and out of my mouth. Even Maurice had joined in, slapping me with a sizeable unit, reminding me that I was the smallest in our group. I bucked against George, my body, my hole BEGGING for more- causing him to firmly grab my love handles and head for the finish line.

First it was Butch, shooting in my mouth then pulling out and jerking off on my face, before George quietly groaned and shot inside of me. I could feel his cock twitch with every violent spurt, his arms sharply pulling me into his groin as his orgasm tapered off. My mouth hung agape as I tried not to moan, Butch's seed dripping from my tongue.

Finally, George pulled out and let me collapse to the dingy tile, returning to his shower. Butch grabbed some body wash and began to wash his cock while I stared up at Maurice and his naked wrinkly form. I burned with regret, staring at the fetid wretch above me wagging his generous penis at me. Instinctively, I reached down to cover myself, embarrassed to have been found out like this. My cock had shrivelled up in all the activity giving me reason to try and wank myself back to respect. My fingers began to stroke until I could form a good grip, and I stared back at Maurice in disgust. He glared back, then changed his stance, tipping his cock over my face before releasing a torrent of piss on me. I sputtered and closed my eyes as the warmth covered my mouth. I kept my lips shut tight as I could feel his stream move down my chest. For whatever reason, I kept jerking off while wiping my eyes and watching Maurice empty his bladder on me. Butch and George had quietly turned back, soft cocks in hand and looked ready to aim and fire. At this point, I didn't care. I laid back fisting my dick while these older, ugly men rained down on me. Butch shifted and began to piss directly on my face, and in an act of stupid defiance, I opened my mouth and gargled with his urine- managing to keep from swallowing his tangy offering. Writhing around in pre-orgasmic frenzy, awash in piss I finally came. A single volley landing past my shoulder, before meekly covering my tiny belly in descending spurts.

The men waggled their last drops and turned away. One by one showers were turned off, and soon I was left in my own decrepitness. I would have been worried about being seen like this, as the assistant manager of the facility, naked, covered in piss with cum leaking everywhere, but I didn't fucking care.

I would have taken eight other dicks that night, in every hole. I would have let a football team cover me in jizz and piss me clean for all I cared. I just laid back on that cold tile feeling good and used, my humiliations freed.

I didn't return to the gym for awhile after that night. I didn't have any particular thought or worry about what might happen. I just- no longer felt the need for some reason. I might go back some time, but I no longer felt the rush. It wasn't.. horrible.

I went about my work as usual, maybe smiling a bit more at the mom's and dad's that came through, maybe being a bit nicer with the kids. I didn't hassle myself over a beer or take out order, I just kinda went on cruise control. I'd seen George and Butch around, but neither of them seemed to take notice of me behind the desk or in my city issued polo shirt. I hadn't even seen Maurice for awhile, which made me wonder if the old fart had gone and passed away.

I had been daydreaming at the sign in counter when he did finally reappear, shuffling up to the desk looking as pissed off and ornery as ever.

"Sir, excuse me. EXCUSE ME," he shouted, snapping me out of my daze. I blushed a little, trying to read his face while not giving anything up on mine.

"Yes Maurice how may I help you," I gave my best customer service smile and watched as he leaned in. I followed suit and suddenly felt conspiratorial.

"I was in the showers the other week," He lowered his voice into a whisper. "And you wouldn't believe the disgusting, depraved things I saw there,"

My eyes widened into saucers.

"If I ever see it again, I swear I'm going to file a report. Especially the disgusting things that happen Thursday nights,"

He narrowed his eyes in an accusatory fashion while wagging a finger in my face, then hobbled away.

I smiled and carried on with my work, trying to fully comprehend what Maurice had said. Like, was that... an invitation? Was he losing his mind, and forgot me entirely? Was he going to report me after all that? I couldn't fathom the possibilities.

But as I walked through the rec centre, passing by the gym- I couldn't help but look at the old suburban dads, the geriatrics, the men I'd never have given a second to in the city. And I wondered...

...what would they do to me, Thursday night?