Author's Note:
Thank you so much to those who are reading this story! I know the first chapter wasn't "spicy" per se, but I think this should more than make up for it. I want this story to be rooted in real queer experiences, with fleshed out characters who have honest conversations. Erotica is fantasy, but I want mine to feel grounded by reality. Hope you enjoy this one!
Chapter 2: The Locker Room
On the drive back from Dave's, my thoughts moved faster than my car. They all circled around the same question: What just happened? Although my anger subsided, I was left frustrated - emotionally and sexually.
Porn doesn't talk about the prep that goes into a hookup. There's the physical stuff - I trimmed my pubes, douched, showered, styled my hair, brushed my teeth, wore the sexiest underwear I owned. But there's the mental prep too. How long did I spend staring at myself in the mirror, wondering if he would like the way I looked? I fantasized, imagining someone staring at me, cock swelling, desperate to get his hands on my body. I wondered what it would have been like to be with Dave. Was he telling the truth about how he would focus on his wife?
What would it be like to feel like the closet was safer than being out? Before I came out, I felt like I was living a lie. Coming out meant coming into myself. At first, it was terrifying. It was like admitting that I'd been wearing a costume my whole life - I wasn't sure who I was underneath. One day, I asked my mom to take me to the mall. We tried on different clothes for hours. She was so patient. I tried everything: crop tops, blouses, tank tops, legging, hats, shoes, jewelry, skirts, cargo pants. I tried every shape, size, and colour I could find. It didn't matter whether it came from the men or women's side of the stores or even if it fit my body. I just wanted to figure out what felt the most like me.
We only bought two things. First, I got my ears pierced by a pre-teen (I blame her for the infection that followed). Second, I bought a black baseball cap with a pride flag embroidered on the front. It was simple, felt like me, but made a statement about who I was. I'm grateful to my mom every single day for the hours we spent in that mall. She gave me a safe space to explore, had great advice for what looked good on me, and never once made me feel judged. That's how things should be, right? What would Dave wear if he could have done the same? I tried to ignore the growing ache in my groin.
I decided I needed to calm my mind and drove to the gym. It was a 24-hour location and had become my comfort space over the years. I wasn't a bodybuilder or anything - I went a few times a week for the mental clarity. As an anxious person, exercise was a grounding tool for me. It gave a me place to turn my nervous energy into movement. The muscle tone that resulted from it was just a bonus.
It was nearly midnight by the time I arrived, and the gym was quiet. A pair of familiar strangers ran on the treadmills across from me while I began my stretches, earbuds in, taking deep breaths as the ritualistic movements calmed my nerves. I tried not to gawk at the handsome man lifting weights heavier than my body. As my muscles relaxed, Dave slipped from my mind, replaced with the music I loved. I focused on my immediate surroundings and everyone else disappeared from my conscious awareness. The workout was a blur. Cardio, some bicep curls, chest presses, and planks. By the end of it, I was too exhausted to think about how horny I was.
The best part of any workout is the shower at the end. I walked into the locker room, trying to ignore the pungent smell of body odours and cheap cologne. Another man - the one I'd avoided staring at before - was changing with his back to me as I passed. We were the only people there. I tried not to be a creep, but it was hard not to notice the sculpted musculature of his hairy back. And that
ass
. He seemed young - maybe in his early twenties. I walked past him, opened my locker, stripped, and willed myself not to look as he took off his clothes.
I'm not shy in the locker room. With a deep breath, I pulled down my underwear, willing myself to stay soft. My dick was average - maybe six inches hard, three inches soft. But my balls more than made up for it in size. I walked to the open showers, letting the hot water run down my face, washing the sweat from my hair with a relieved sigh. The warmth was intoxicating on my throbbing shoulders and upper back.
Footsteps approached. When I opened my eyes, the other man in the locker room was standing directly across from me, facing away. I grinned, taking a second to check him out. He was naked, water dripping down his round, voluptuous ass. His back hair was thickest along his shoulders, almost black. He was exactly my type. I started to feel a warmth in my groin and knew I was starting to get hard.
Fuck
. I turned around, trying to think of anything else to calm me down.
"Saw you working out earlier. You look like you know what you're doing. How come I haven't seen you around?" His voice was low and gruff. My dick was throbbing now. When was the last time I came? Days ago? If I turned around, the best-case scenario would be that this beautiful man would never talk to me again. At worst, I would be assaulted.
"Thanks." I squeaked. "I... usually come earlier in the day."
"Makes sense. You okay? You seem a little tense."
"Mhm?" I tried to say calmly. I'm not sure what came out of my mouth, but it sounded more like a question.
I heard footsteps. Was he walking up to me? Nerves shot through my body - I was
definitely
going to get beat up. Fuck. I started to shake.
The whisper in my ear sent chills down my spine. "I think you should turn around."
