When I was in my early thirties, I decided to join a gym. I had recently broken up with my longtime girlfriend and thought that I needed to trim up a little bit. Aware that I most likely was going to be targeting women younger than myself, I felt like I needed to look my best.
I took a tour of a local gym one afternoon. It was in a very large, two-story building with ample parking out front. If I recall correctly, it used to be a furniture store. The bottom floor of the building was now three separate lots. The largest of the three was unoccupied, while the smaller two had a tax business and a print shop. The entire second floor was the gym.
The entrance to the gym was well-marked. Inside, there was a wide hallway that led to an escalator. Once I arrived at the top of the escalator, I was deposited in the middle of a moderately busy gym. As I looked around to figure out where to go, one of the salespeople/trainers could smell “fresh blood” and hurried to my aid.
He gave me a quick tour of the facilities. The equipment looked like it was all fairly new and there was a lot of it. I managed to talk the salesman down to a six-month contract, even though he claimed that he was going to get in trouble with his manager. I was given a key card so that I could enter the front door during hours when there wasn’t staff working. Apparently, they just asked for you to display the card at the desk during normal business hours.
I returned the following day after work with my gym bag in hand. Unfortunately, it was really busy and despite the abundance of equipment, I still had to wait for machines to be freed up. Over the next couple of days, that seemed to be a common occurrence.
After deciding that I didn’t want to fight the crowd, I adjusted my schedule and went a few hours later. It was a slight inconvenience since I passed the gym on my way home from work, but it was a better option than waiting in line.
There were far fewer people in the gym at that time, and the staff had all gone home for the day. About ten guys in their twenties were working out on the weight machines, and another six were scattered around the rest of the gym. That left the vast majority of equipment unoccupied, which was what I was hoping for.
It also wasn’t nearly as loud inside. There was generic music being played that was just loud enough to “soften” some of the clanging and banging going on. Other than when the “meatheads” got revved up, it was reasonably quiet for a gym. I imagine that all of the noise being produced when the gym was busy, was the reason that the space underneath it was vacant.
It was nice that the gym was located on the second floor because there was a nice open view of the busy street out front. That gave me something to look at as I jogged.
I locked into roughly the same time frame for my workouts, at that point. I was a few days into my routine, although I had skipped one day, when something unusual happened.
An extremely effeminate guy approached the machine in front of me. I had him pegged as being in his mid-twenties. He had pale skin and messy-looking hair that was long on top. To be quite honest, he didn’t really seem like the “workout type.” He loaded himself into a treadmill and started it up at a slow jogging speed. His arms were extended to each side as he ran and his hands flapped up and down as if he was speeding down a runway and nearing takeoff.
It was quite a sight to watch, and he quickly caught everybody’s attention. He wore a tight, white tank top as well as a pair of short, snug, bright pink shorts that revealed the outline of a black jockstrap underneath. With a modest, but soft, physique and a rather plump backside, he didn’t seem to be exceptionally fit.
He may have lasted for five minutes before he turned the machine off and walked away. Curious about whether he was already done with his workout, I turned around in time to watch him head back to the locker room. I finished my workout and by that time, most of the gym had cleared out.
As I entered the locker room, there was a lot of commotion. I had learned a long time ago to mind my own business not only in the gym but especially in the locker room. Still, I was quite curious about what was going on over on the other side of the room. I casually glanced over several times, but all that I could see was the aforementioned “meatheads” gathered together while shouting and carrying on.
After several sneaky peeks, I realized what was actually going on, particularly after I heard an effeminate voice call out, “Give it to me harder!”
It became obvious that the gentleman on the treadmill was merely advertising his presence, before making himself available in the locker room.
Suddenly, all of the previous sounds made complete sense. The boys were cheering one another on as they each took a turn with their very willing and vocal “bottom.” I heard one man growl animalistically and then bark, “Huh, huh, huh!” in descending pace and volume. Then, seconds later, there was a fast, hard, slapping sound as the next participant took over.
I continued to look back periodically, not sure if they had even realized, or cared, that I was there. As I sat on the bench, I found myself getting increasingly aroused. Although I had some curiosity about other men in my late teens, it was something that I didn’t really think about often, anymore. I mostly just chalked it up to teenage hormones and the desire to explore sex in whatever way I could.
The crowd was huddled around the farthest shower stall from me. If I were to shower, I would have to approach them in my aroused state. I briefly considered joining in, as well, but I wasn’t sure if I would be welcome. Besides, I was pretty confident that there wasn’t much condom use in that cluster and didn’t feel brave enough to trade fluids with everybody.
So, I just put on my street clothes and headed out. I took one last peek as I left. The thought of spying through the cracked door even popped into my head, but I feared being caught and getting the crap beat out of me.
The next few days, I couldn’t get that scene out of my head. I was convinced that most, if not all, of the “tops” were not gay, they were just opportunistic. I regretted not joining in, or at least getting a closer look. It was obvious that everybody was enjoying themselves.
I hit the gym every single day after that night, hoping to find something crazy going on. The weightlifting jocks would show up a couple of times a week, but I didn’t see the lad with the muscle fetish or anyone else matching his description. I even stretched my workouts out longer, thinking that I may have just been mistiming my arrival.
One particularly quiet day after I finished my workout, I returned to the locker room to discover lots of moaning. I looked around to find the same horny, young man standing just inside of the last shower stall. Although he was facing me, it was obvious that he had stuck a suction-cupped dildo against the wall and was backing into it rhythmically. He was wearing the same black jockstrap that I saw the last time he was at the gym and nothing else. I could feel his eyes boring into me as he called out, “Come fuck me, Daddy!”
Somehow, I was even more nervous and surprised than I was the first time. I had never expected him to be waiting there for someone to arrive and have their way with him. In my state of shock, I didn’t respond to him and just walked to my locker.
As I stood there, I tried to psych myself up. I knew what I wanted to do. In fact, I had even stashed a few condoms in my gym bag, just in case the opportunity presented itself. But, the more that the greedy, little “bottom” taunted me, the more that I tensed up. His relentless taunts continued until I jumped at the sound of a slamming door.
There had been an older man using one of the showers and the door crashed as he exited it. He exchanged stares with both of us but said nothing. Then he hurried to dress and left the locker room.
Once he left, the taunts got increasingly frequent and descriptive. I finally turned toward him. He smiled at me and leaned forward. Then, he removed the jockstrap and tossed it across the room. To my surprise, a rather impressive, but limp, cock flopped free. I became even more intimidated because it looked to be significantly larger than mine, at least mine didn’t hang like that.
He backed up onto the dildo again, going every bit as hard as he was before. His sagging balls and limp cock slung back and forth aggressively with every repetition. I could hear his balls as they slapped against the shower wall on the backswing and his cock sometimes smacked his stomach on the upswing. It was then that I realized that although his cock looked impressive, it looked almost deflated and dormant.
Feeling emboldened, I started to remove my workout clothes. The man’s cheers and continued encouragement prompted me to fully undress. He seemed to know that he had me exactly where he wanted me when he saw how rigid my cock was.
I couldn’t hold out any longer. I reached inside my gym bag, grabbed ahold of a condom, and charged toward the shower. The man couldn’t have looked any more pleased that he had finally seduced me. He stepped forward, freeing himself of the dildo, and braced against the opposing wall of the shower. As I stared at his smooth, plump ass, I tossed the condom aside and got myself into position.
I slid my cock inside of him slowly. It had been a long time since I had last had anal sex. My last several girlfriends were not at all interested in it. I had dated an older woman many years ago, who was always game. I wasn’t so sure that she liked it either, but she was trying hard to land a man, so she was pretty much “anything goes.”
His ass felt so incredibly good, and he felt tighter than I would have expected, considering that I knew how wild he was. Better yet, he seemed to love it even more than I did. Not satisfied with my aggressiveness, he kept calling out to me to go harder and faster. Between the two instances that I had seen him, I was convinced that he was sexually insatiable.
I just got a good head of steam going when the locker room door swung open and I completely froze in my tracks. A stream of the weightlifter guys flooded into the locker room and, not surprisingly, immediately stared at the two of us.
“I see that you decided to get started without us, Cumdump. Who is your friend?” one of them asked.
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to answer, but he certainly didn’t know my name.
“I’m Rob,” I said nervously, not sure if they were going to be upset with me for stepping in.
“Alright, get him good and warmed up for us, Dude. He is in for a busy night,” he added.
I had lost all momentum. Even worse, there must have been eight guys standing around watching me as they stripped down. Shoes were kicked off onto the floor and clothes were quickly piled up on the benches. Within two minutes, I had a cluster of naked men stroking their cocks and watching me fuck this enthusiastic young man.
As they started to cheer me on, I completely tensed up. I nearly lost it, and I don’t mean that in the “release” sense. How humiliating would that have been to have gone limp and not to have been able to finish in front of the other men? There would have been no way that I could have gone to that gym ever again, at that point.
Fortunately, I was able to recover and get my “mojo” back. Whether the guys actually knew this bottom’s name or not, they seemed to only refer to him as “Cumdump.” I did wonder if they knew his name, or if these meetings were pre-planned.
They seemed to be eager for me to finish and to take their turn, so I tried to hurry my orgasm along. Cumdump was much shorter than me, so I locked my hands together in the front of his waist and lifted him off of the ground. He rocked awkwardly until he sufficiently braced himself against the wall.
I started fucking him harder than I have ever fucked anybody. Our balls collided with every powerful thrust, and his cock would sometimes slap against my hands. I pumped and pumped until I finally sprayed my load into his ass. The guys cheered me and quickly shooed me away so that they could get their turn.
As I headed back to my locker, I listened intently to the action. I grabbed a towel and jumped into one of the showers. Before I had even finished my shower, I was already rock-hard and ready to go again. I left the shower and joined the group, trying to decide if I had the nerve to take another turn.
I was not the only one with that idea. It seemed like that was the routine when Cumdump was available. The guys seemed to rotate until they either had their fill or couldn’t go anymore.
I watched as several of them took a turn. Most of them would cum inside him, but occasionally one would pull out. I think that the ones who pulled out were hoping to impress the other guys with a massive load. As I can personally attest to, that wasn’t always the case. I am sure that the individual felt like it would have been impressive, but you never know about those things.
Before I knew it, it was my turn to go again. The guys would sometimes toss in a towel to soak up some of the excess cum, but there was no place that I could touch him that someone hadn’t already “marked” at some point. I bit my lip, manned up, and slid my cock inside him, once again.
It was a completely different experience the second time. His hole was well stretched out after getting fucked about ten times. The other guys were a wide assortment of different sizes, some were impressive in one way or another, others not so much. Even more noticeable was how wet and sloppy his hole was after taking so many loads. It even sounded wet and squishy with every thrust. As I looked down, my cock was coated with cum and the base wore a “ring” of it as well.
It, somehow, felt even better the second time. I mashed Cumdump’s face against the wall and pounded him hard until he gave me the satisfaction that I demanded.
As I walked away, I felt different. I felt like an alpha for the first time in my life. It was strange, though. Strange, because it required me to have my first homosexual experience to feel like a true alpha male.
I, once again, took a shower to wash away any foreign cum. As I finished showering, I could have gone again. I could tell, though, by the change in Cumdump’s tone that he was nearing his limit.
I got dressed, and as I was ready to exit the locker room, one of the guys invited me to lift weights with them later in the week. I didn’t do much lifting, but it somehow seemed more like an invitation to the club than a workout invite.
I nodded to him and said that I would be there.