Sparrow Legs

Gym community issues.

Everyone has their own set of reasons for using a gym. We all know the obvious, visible ones; fitness, of course; vanity, whether you admit it to yourself or not; but there are many more, some deeply personal and psychological.

I learnt early in my use of gyms, that there were some people best avoided, even if, sometimes especially if, you found them attractive.

As someone attracted to ultra-masculine men, the gym is one of the obvious sources of eye candy and I found my first serious weight training opportunity through approaching a massive body builder I saw in the street one day. A great rarity in those days, I saw him returning to his truck and I asked him where he trained.

Gruff was a fierce hombre and though I would see him regularly at that gym over the next few years, I don't think we ever spoke again, only learning his name when others used it.

His was a competitive physique, which I admired for its mass and cut, really big but he had not become muscle bound or distorted his posture as so many do. He could move.

However, he was abrasive, and territorial in the gym, even confrontational. He would occasionally train with a few of the other really big guys but only when it suited him.

Although his face had a chiseled, masculine look, there was a cruel look in his eye and I don't think he ever cracked a smile. He had no time for those who work out in social groups, who spend more time in conversation than training, or those that have not bothered to learn about technique, nutrition, breathing, anatomy and all the other things you really need to know if you want to progress in sports training (and avoid injury) without professional coaching.

From him and his brusk manner in getting his workout done, I learned that these people are wasting my time as well as their own by taking up space and crucial equipment I'm waiting around to use. Unlike him, I was and still am, too timid to ask them to get on and train or move out of the way. I chose instead, to train when it's really quiet, which I have done ever since in whatever gym I'm using. It's better for my concentration and altogether a more efficient use of my precious training time.

My main motive for training is vanity. May as well lay it on the line. I was a fat kid, I got very self conscious as a result and when I started work I wanted to turn it around and try to take pride in my body.

Well, ingrained body dysmorphia and a constantly critical eye have resulted in my seeing a version of my own body that nobody else sees and I have had to learn to accept that I would never be satisfied, however hard I trained, however I tweaked my diet.

Decades of diet and training and I have to admit that the kind of ripped, balanced proportional muscle bod I idealised was never going to be achieved. There would always be two main stumbling blocks: a)The midriff which, would just never lose that last fatty layer. b) The short, thick body and long limbs.

Even though I do ok, the doubts remain. I have had sound, long term relationships, loads of casual sex, I get compliments and I can bank on certain aspects of the way I look to attract a particular kind of man, it never stops me doubting and that's what gets me back in the gym, working on those areas I still find unacceptable.

So the title of this piece, "Sparrow legs", what's that all about?

There's a rough and ready guide to proportion that can help make judgements about how a physique is developing. Pointed out by the same would-be pro body builder who long ago saw me doing bicep curls all wrong and who took the time to put me right on a road to understanding just how complex body building is if you want to reach specific goals. The size of the bicep should be no bigger than the calf. This simple gauge, has helped me avoid the trap into which so many fall, having a big upper body and skinny legs.

Of course this simplistic formula is nothing like a complete answer but it regulated my training of the upper body. taught me to focus on quality not just bulk and led me to "Never skip leg day". Like everyone else, it was so tempting to do chest, shoulders and arms, session after session. It gets you off, gets you noticed, gets you laid even. However, I was always a legs man and if a guy has a great upper body and a great package but skinny legs, I can't help it, I dis him totally.

Early episodes in my relationship with the gym led to formative sexual encounters, some of which I've written up in these stories but this one comes to mind in the light of the above discourse.

Struggling with sexual identity, body image, self-loathing, life was a confusing mess as I came of age but having formed an image in my head of what my ideal was, I needed to see that in others and the more I saw it the more hungry I became for it. When you're inexperience you make mistakes and looking too long at the wrong guy was obviously dangerous, given that my attention was drawn to those men who stood out as super-macho. I came into some embarrassing situations but I never got myself beaten or ridiculed publicly for my obsession and I got canny.

One particular guy I admired, was a gym owner. The first of the modern, flashy, expensive gyms I'd seen. The kind of facilities taken for granted in city centre establishments across the world these days. He was building up the business with his wife who ran the "Women-only" Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, which was a another pioneering feature of the place and enabled them to run with one locker room, one shower area etc.

He employed a coach who has featured in one of my other stories but I made no connection between the two men other than professional context until after the place had been taken over by new management and I'd moved on.

Desmond, Des to familiars, was always behind the reception counter or in the small office right behind that curved fixture. He never missed a beat there. I guess there was nobody else to stand in for him. He was tall, broad shouldered and narrow at the hip, deeply tanned (in house solarium), he shaved his head like Errol Brown and wore a thick moustache that might have become a goatee beard were he to miss shaving that deeply dimpled chin of his. It made my day to check in with him and have his welcome, which always seemed warm and sincere. I made a special point of basking in that warmth when the hostile city outside made "Oscar's" a safe place for me 3 times a week after my late shift.

A white polo shirt really showed off his tanned complexion and dark blue track-suit bottoms, loose fitting if not baggy in those days before hip hop. Who got to see that unless he moved into the office?

There are so many stories of gym encounters at closing time. I guess it must be a common experience or at least a common fantasy. This was my first such experience.

I'd been a member for just over a month and there was now a requirement to renew and sign up to a minimum of 6 months at one rate or a full year at a slightly reduced premium. Des called me to the counter as I was leaving and explained. I was in no hurry so his apology for delaying me was entirely unnecessary.

I had really enjoyed myself and though the cost of the membership was way higher, the facilities, the late hours and the location, close to my place of work, all added up to the best deal for me. I explained this to Des and added on a personal level that I really appreciated his welcome and how important it had become to my use of their establishment. It was an innocent comment, honest and direct but he seemed taken aback. Shocked, pleased, slightly embarrassed perhaps. Maybe I was reading too much into it.

Another gym user hailed Des from over my shoulder as he left, which distracted the owner for the briefest moment. This guy having been the only other man working out at this late hour.

He shook his head as if to snap out of the side-track. Des returned that handsome face fully in my direction, back to business and to my pleasure for it really was a rare moment for me when a man of this calibre looked upon me with politeness, curiosity, and sincere warmth. He treated his customers as friends, he committed most of his waking hours to them on Men's days and was prepared to be more affectionate towards them than was strictly necessary.

It was obvious that he worked hard on his body and I liked the broad plains of his pecs and the rounded power of his deltoids, the corded fore arms with their downy blond hairs that twinkled in the critical glare of the down-lighters above his reception desk, which continued to shimmer across the thick tricep disappearing under the cuff of his polo shirt, and emerged, transformed, in the tangle of light brown curls frothing at the garment's open neck. I realised that this was the only place I got to do this. In close proximity, I made no secret of the way I drank in these manly details while he came to his senses.

His response was silent to begin with he maintained his friendly smile without the slightest flicker of a disturbance, even though I made it all too clear that I was checking him out and a work-out always makes a guy horny, he must experience that. For all I knew, he'd been behind his counter almost all day just being the nice man.

He asked me if I wouldn't mind coming into the office to sign a direct debit mandate and as my eyes scanned the document, he stood alongside me not quite touching but very close, studying my face, close enough to feel the warmth of my body. I signed. lay down the pen, turned towards him and I don't know what came over me but I just knew that I was right, knew I was safe, I paused, just long enough to feel his breath. I looked at that thick bristling moustache, the stubble in the deeply dimpled cleft of his chin which together framed his appetising mouth and I kissed him full on his mouth. He lifted a hand to the side of my head and then to the nape of my neck and held me there, parting his lips and joining our tongues in the little space that was opening up.

I ran my right hand up under his white shirt, feeling the short cropped coarseness of his matted belly hair as it rode over the tense undulations of his abdominals. I found the thick slab of his left pectoral muscle group and cupped it's marvellous strength, thumbing the little nub of his nipple and he purred into our kiss.

I was considerably younger than Des. I didn't really know why he showed no surprise at how forward I was, given that I knew his wife ran the other half of the burgeoning business. This might be another way he expressed his affection for his customers, perhaps even the reason why he liked his work so much. As I've grown older, more experienced, I realised you take the chances you're offered.

My left hand slid under the waistband of his track suit bottom and warmed to the soft-haired luxury of his firm cheeks and the densely forested cleft between them. I wrestled his tongue and pushed into his welcoming mouth, sensing that this was going my way and that my left hand was moving towards a conquest of his southern territories. He reached with both hands under the waistband of my gym shorts and into the hot confines of my sweaty groin discovering the sleeping member, doubled into my jock was already wakening and hence under such tension that it burst out to greet his curious fingers. I breathed a deep deep sigh of relief as he eased down the band and expertly freed the whole package. He cupped my full bollocks and hefted the substantial weight of my prong as it thickened and lengthened and began its inevitable journey up towards my hairy belly button.

Preempting him, I dropped to one knee so as to leave my junk free from the confining waist band, I pulled down his lower garments as I went and up swung a long, circumcised cock onto which I dove like a dolphin onto a fish, swallowing it down to the root in one smooth gulp and burying my face completely in the musky warmth of his brown/blond pubic hair. I had been a willing bottom when I was younger and felt an affinity with Linda Lovelace's character in "Deep throat" as the feeling of a long, fat cock pressing repeatedly into my gullet is as good as it gets for me.

I worked my ingurgitation muscles around Des' shaft as I repeatedly pulled his body into mine and I felt him try to pull off me before I tore the seeds from his prostate but I was too hungry from pumping iron and I was pumping him for all I was worth.

"Yng! Gah!" Burst Des, as I crammed him in, trying to devour his entire groin and my reward was pumping into my waiting belly, hot and strong. I worked my throat on and off his spasming length and when I bottomed out on him I snuck my tongue out and licked at the underside of his scrotum. He was writhing in an ecstatic agony as I cruelly milked his rod and sucked hard on his swollen glans pushing my probing tongue into his piss slit.

His legs buckled and I steered him gently onto his back on the desk where my papers lay. I detached my suction pump from his cock and balls, lifted his hobbled legs high in the air like the tail of a merman bound as they were in the shiny fabric of his track suit bottom. From my kneeling position I was perfectly sited to clamp my oral processor onto his furry butt and chow down on that delightful hairy arse. If I have a favourite meal, this is it. Hairy asshole.

A continuous soundtrack of soft moaning, punctuated by gasps, sharp intakes of breath and sudden outbursts of guttural grunting, snorting and pleading whines, told me I was on the trail of something wild and my cock bobbed and dribbled below, out of sight for the time being.

I chewed my way down through the dense foliage of Des' butt hair loving the way the damp hair rasped with my late night stubble, I made it to the rosebud of his arse and ploughed right on in with my tongue. I thought I would faint with pleasure. I thought he would faint with pleasure. He uttered a strange, helpless "Unk, unk, unk!" as I tongue fucked him and wetted his insides.

There was no mistaking from the twitching of his sphincter that his cock was up and raring to go again.

Scooping up some of my pre-cum I slipped a thick finger into this hot arse and wiggled it around quite coarsely, before repeating the process with a second and feeling him squirm with the tension I was applying as well as gripping the edge of the desk with his left hand. Entirely unnecessary though, there was no way I was letting him fall off so near to consummating my lust for this man.

With a little more leaking fuck oil I got to my feet, lathered up my fat cock head and pressed it into his beautiful fuzzy butt channel. Now a lot of guys are big in the head and once that's inside it's plain sailing, some guys get thicker as you get down to the hilt. Me, I have a thick section behind the head of my cock once it's really hard, which often causes great discomfort if the fuckee is expecting relief once my head is inside him. I looked down into Des' pleading face and I gave him the head of my large cock. his eyes widened and he huffed a few big breaths, his powerful chest heaving massively as he accustomed his ring to the new tension.

The inner sphincter was yet to be breached and he was struggling. I withdrew and smothered my fingers once again using my higher angle to penetrate him with two fat digits right up inside him and really going to town on the stretching. I could see this was uncomfortable for him but his cock bobbed and twitched in its confinement, trapped under his waist band and as I found his love button and massaged it repeatedly, his eyes rolled up and back in his head and he drooled uncontrollably as he became totally lost in a swirling flood of ecstatic sensations.

With a little more lubrication from a ball of spit I poked back into the furry chasm wriggled the head into position and this time, as he was still away with the fairies in prostate euphoria, I slid the big guy in, past the heavenly gate and almost up to the buffers. he had the fattest part of my cock inside him and I just lodged it there feeling the intense heat of his rectal cavity. I cupped his delightful downy butt in two hands and looked down into that masterful, macho face, now crumpled into scowl of confusion and lust.

Parked as I was, right on his joy bulb, I rocked back and forth, each time eliciting a little whimper, a throaty growl or grunt, nothing that made any linguistic sense except in the language of brute man sex.

Beautiful though this scene was, I was bursting to give up my load. I withdrew almost entirely and slowly pushed into Des until my big hairy balls nestled up against his beautiful arse. I could stand it no longer and I let the beast join in the action. My Tee was soaked in manly sweat, perspiration formed on my forehead and my hips bucked wildly in long powerful strokes, making the desk bang loudly against the wall as I grunted with the effort of moving the big man further and further towards the wall pushing his lovely dimpled chin out of sight and his head in towards his chest somewhat constricting his breathing, I leaned down on his raised legs and humped into him.

The joy of stabbing my fat piece into that big man was unbelievable as he crumpled helplessly under my passionate onslaught. I felt his arse channel contract into orgasm and his rectal muscles sucked me off into an exquisite, ball busting orgasm. Spurts of cum appeared up Des' exposed belly as he writhed beneath me, squirting his juice into his own clothing. Every movement seemed to extract more and more from me as if my testicles were being drawn out of my body up into his.

Until that moment I'd never really taken a man in that way but I realised then that the softly gently approach is not where it's at sometimes and taking over, taking what you need and giving what he needs really is.

We'd made a mess of the office, which smelled of heated, sweating men and freshly pumped jizz.

When I let him down and he unfolded himself from his uncomfortable and cramped position, I realised

that for all his upper body strength, he had, if not skinny legs, then legs that did not match the major development of his upper body. Maybe it's a sickness but I can't ignore a thing like that, I was disappointed but if the chance came to plug him again I was going to take it. I was signing up to 12 months membership and there were going to be other opportunities at that Gym as it was approaching closing time.