Reeing at the Gym

This is a work of fiction. Nevertheless, all people mentioned in this story are over the age of 18.

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He absolutely reeked. And the fella across from him on the weight bench had noticed.

It wasn't that he didn't bathe... it's that he didn't bathe ... much.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Micah was a cocky young man--cocky, but not toxic in his masculinity--just assured and confident, but approachable.

He had just turned 28 and had basically raised himself, having lost both parents at an early age. He'd been kicked around from pillar to post, finishing high school at 17 and college by 20. Most took him for a dimwit--an aloof, stinky mess, but he was far from it. The dude was a brilliant craftsman, who's work had caught the attention of many locals in the metro area where he lived. He gravitated to manual labor where he could work with his hands, building up a lather, and not worry about how he smelled. As a tradesman who dabbled in unique wood and metal works, his usual scent was a mixture of sweat, dirt, musk, and leather. He wore tank tops in the summer, stained a bit from his artistic, but manual work, and always reeking of his body odor. But he also knew that some folks (mainly men) really got their rocks off on that scent--and that was his secret.

He was tall, and lean, but not skinny--dark as night, and as handsome as a magazine model. He was also quite hairy, not a common trait for a Black man. Hairy chest, thick, kinky coiled hair so beautiful his suitors (white and black) couldn't help but touch it and run their fingers through it. His thick full beard, and balls were so hairy, sometimes it was hard to even see them--tight, coiled, thick and super-musky. He liked it and so did his sex partners. He knew that those who got the opportunity to suck him, relished the strong, salty, woody, acrid odor his fragrant batter-makers made. It drove them crazy, and he was happy to be on the receiving end of those glorious blow jobs. Sometimes he even got off on his own funk. When he'd beat off, he'd get a whiff of them and go into overdrive, beating his dick so fast and so hard he couldn't help but bust a copious load of honey all over himself and anything (or anyone else) that happened to be in firing range. Hot, viscous, syrupy nutt that was so salty and so sweet, his partners sucked it down like human caramel.

But the prize funk-producing machines were his hairy underarms and furry, sweaty, masculine ass, which was round, high, hard, and quite muscular. He never got into the whole top or bottom debate, and honestly, if a dude wanted to rut around there with his finger and tongue, he was okay with it. And rut they did. His ass was so odorous that it drove sweat pigs wild. They would debase themselves to no end just to eat his ass for hours... much to Micah's pleasure.

So many men offered to buy his used, soiled, and highly-aromatic sweats, underwear, and socks--he wore them weeks at a time and had a thriving business on the Internet. Men paid top dollar for his worn wear. When some folks looked at him and wondered how he was able to afford a modern, small bachelor condominium in the outskirts of the city, he just smiled--they just didn't realize how much money was made in selling these sex-hungry men his used gear. His jocks never had skid marks or anything, but they were super-funky and commanded top dollar.

As each year passed, he got more and more musky... walking into his home was like walking into a high school gym locker room where hundreds of young, virile, musky males emitted their funk. It would hit your nostrils and send an electric signal first to your brain, then straight to your nuts.

He also knew that being hairy drove the select guys he fucked, wild with passion. The ones that sucked him had a textural treat as they sucked his wildly fragrant pole, and tickled their mouths with curly kinky hair from the base to the nearly the tip. It was primal, animal, and they ate that shit up.

Now, let me describe his dick. It wasn't the longest or biggest dick out there, but it was a beauty. It was a full 7.5", thick and hairy with an upward curve at the tapered, hooded end... the hair grew up the shaft almost to his frenum.

So, back to the gym ...

He wasn't immune to his own odor ... he could smell his balls through his loose-fitting basketball shorts. He also knew his print was showing. Not in a cocky way, but he didn't make a move to contain it or hide it. He just didn't feel like the pain of wearing a jockstrap or athletic underwear today, so it swung.

The guy sitting across from him had definitely taken notice--noticing his strikingly good looks, and the funk wafting in his direction. He was a young South Asian dude--maybe in his early 20s--probably from Bangladesh, Nepal, or possibly India or Pakistan so he was probably familiar with and maybe even nose-blind to male body odor. Micah had briefly worked in IT around a bunch South Asian men. He generally found them quite sexy and was even aroused by the way some of them smelled. Micah loved all guys and he didn't like to stereotype a whole group of people, but he endured a lot of of those guys not wearing deodorant. Some of his American coworkers laughed at him and couldn't understand how he could be around people that reeked like that, but he liked it ... it was a comforting, masculine smell, and those guys were really sweet and nice to him, often inviting him to go with them to lunch or on outings with them after work.

Micah wasn't good with geography, but he knew 'sexy' when he saw it. This young man had definitely taken an interest--probably from Micah's wolfen, masculine scent that Micah was emitting after doing a heavy set of squats and chest reps--and to Micah's eyes he wasn't half-bad either. Brown, lean, long hair that swept across his brows, dark eyebrows, and long eyelashes. He was seated on the pull-down row machine just ... staring. He would alternate between peeking at his phone and just ... staring ... staring directly at Micah. His look was intense ... and suggestive. Suggestive of interesting, and pleasurable things ahead.

The South Asian dude pocketed his phone and abruptly got up and made a beeline to the bathroom. Since it was nearing closing time at the gym, this wasn't unusual, nor would it cause anyone to think anything was up. It was just a few people there, mostly women, on the treadmills and stair machines, mindlessness alternating between the news on the screens above and chatting to one another--oblivious to anything around them.

Micah walked quickly to the bathroom as well and, lowered his grey sweatpants, as he took a seat in the handicapped stall. He had heard a guy pissing at one of the urinals, so he just left the door open. Micah knew all of these homos were the same, so he bet he wouldn't have a long wait while sitting on the can. He slowly fingered his dick, enjoying the precum as it lubricated his cock between strokes. Damn it felt good, and his funk was intoxicating even to himself. In fact, he was so rancid, the entire bathroom smelled like a locker room--a smell he wasn't unfamiliar with, and certainly not disagreeable to.

As if on cue, the door creaked open and in slinked the young South Asian guy. Damn, he was even sexier up close. Thin of stature and frame and Micah caught a strong ferret-like aroma coming off him. He locked the door to the stall and lowered his pants revealing a solid, hairy uncut 6.5" cock. He had huge balls covered in a light dusting of black fur. That fur seemed to be everywhere--his neck, his bony chest, and flat tummy, not to mention his sexy backside and legs which Micah was checking out.

The South Asian (Micah later learned his name was Seth and was from Nepal) was already drooling precum which was dripping to the floor in a long, syrupy string. Micah didn't waste any time and pulled him in tight for a sloppy wet kiss. He knew the gym was closing in a few minutes and that the staff would be around to check the shower and bathroom areas. The guy was warm to the touch and tasted like sweat and salt; up-close, he had an intoxicating scent--something between a ferret musk and acrid body odor--pleasing.

Seth dropped to his knees, with his shorts around his ankles and his size 11.5" sneakers splayed out behind him. He licked Micah's balls, eliciting a moan, which encouraged him to go for the main dish--that delicious black dick swaying in front of him. But before he deep throated that monster, he swirled his tongue under the head to pick up a bit of slime, a bit of smegma (not enough to gag on, but definitely enough to taste--he'd tasted his fair-share, so it was no big issue), and could smell the funk coming off Micah's balls. After cleaning out his hood, he started sucking that dick like no tomorrow. He didn't bother with hands, knowing that this guy (Micah) looked like the kind of dude that could get off without hands, and would probably prefer a no-hands blow-job.

Micah couldn't believe his luck, and could already feel his nuts churning ... ready to blast off. He knew he wouldn't last long in this condition--closing time, a dark musky bathroom, and an incredibly hot South Asian sucking his dick. He knew he'd be blasting off any minute. Seth, was kneeling in front of him, and fisting his own dick. He could also feel his nutt building as his balls had drawn up tight to the base of his dick. He knew just a few minutes more and he'd be unleashing too--not to mention the hard black dick jutting into and out of his throat, the ruttish smells emanating from both of them, was about to short him out, and result in an overload.

Micah was jerking and spasming into and out of Seth's mouth, up on his tip toes and holding onto the top of the stall walls for support. Both of them let out a scream as they unleashed their built up nutt--Micah shot directly down Seth's throat, who had the good instincts to pull back so he could taste it. And taste it he did, as it was a combination of salty, sweat--musky, and buttery--a flavor he hadn't expected from the dark Black dude. As he was getting the last dribbles of cum directly from the tap, he ejected an epic volley of South Asian seed onto the floor between Micah's legs.

As Seth stood up, and both of them regained their composure--pulling up their clothing, and giving each other a hug and a sensual kiss, they heard a knock on the stall door--"Alright fellas... the club's closing."

They knew they'd been busted, but it didn't seem like the front-desk attendant was flustered. He was so matter-of-fact in his delivery.

Micah and Seth exited the bathroom separately, as the lights to the club were ticking off in various parts of the gym. The attendant had made his way back to the check-in desk. Seth nodded to the attendant, who nodded back with a smirk. Micah followed in quick pursuit, and also nodded a good night in the direction of the attendant. The buff, bald Hispanic attendant just smirked and shook his head. As Micah looked his way, he noticed the attendant's grey sweatpants contained a noticeable spot on the front where his dick had obviously been leaking.

Had he been listening to the whole thing? Had he somehow seen what had gone on in that bathroom stall between him and the sexy South Asian?

"Oh well," he thought. Fuck it.

Now it was Micah's turn to smirk.