I have an eight-and-a-half-inch cock. That’s 0.2159 meters if you think metric. And thick. I tell you this right up front because I am an exhibitionist and I get my kicks out of telling people about my cock, and watching their expressions should they happen to see it.
So you’ll understand where I’m coming from when I tell you what happened yesterday at my gym. I’d just finished my workout and was taking a long, hot shower. The showers there don’t have curtains, and I often wonder who made that decision. Was this a gay thing, or a voyeur thing? Perhaps it’s the reason why I joined this particular gym. Hmmm, I hadn’t thought about that before. Maybe the owner is an exhibitionist himself; who knows?
But I digress! Back to the story.
There are six showers in the men’s change room, and three of them face the other three. Apart from the view they offer, perhaps the best thing about these showers is that they have multiple heads; one high up, and two at waist level which can be aimed exactly where you want. I was adjusting one of them when I happened to look up. I noticed a man in the shower on the opposite side who was staring at my cock. I wasn’t surprised; it’s happened before, and he was so intent that he didn’t notice that I had spotted him.
Being who I am, I decided to give him a bit of a show. With the pulsating water carefully aimed at my cock, it was already at stage two on my scale of zero to five, from limply flaccid to up-and-at-’em full erection. So I took the soap and gently worked my package into a frothy mass, moving me up to level three.
When I looked up again, I saw him quickly avert his eyes, and a minute later we were both toweling off. I thought I’d open up a quick conversation to avoid an awkward silence.
“Aren’t these great showers?” I started out. “There’s nothing I love better than a hot shower after a good workout.”
“Yup,” he mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.
“Doesn’t it feel good,” I went on, “specially with those lower shower heads getting you right where you want.”
“Yup, sure does,” he replied noncommittally.
“I wish I had one like this at home, there’s nothing better,” I stated and was surprised when he came up with a complete sentence.
“Actually there is! I’ve got a hot tub, and it’s got these jets, and that’s better than anything.”
“Oh, nice,” I replied. “But wearing a bathing suit must take away that great feeling of hot water washing over your... ”
I stopped, not wanting to embarrass him by saying anything as vulgar as ‘cock and balls.’ So I quickly inserted “testicles.”
“Oh, we don’t wear bathing suits in ours,” he blurted out. I could see he was a little uncomfortable in being so candid with a complete stranger. He quickly added his excuse for being so rash.
“Our back yard is very private.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I enthused. “I’ve never been in a hot tub.”
The man was rapidly warming up to the conversation.
“Would you like to come over? I’ll give my wife a call and see if it’s all right.”
“Sure! That’s a very kind offer. I’ve got time.”
We introduced ourselves. He was Grant and his wife was Poppy.
“I’m Jock,” I told him. (I have to admit, dear reader, that Jock is not really my name. I just use it on occasions like this because I want him to remember my name by its obvious rhyme. Jock - cock!)
A moment later I heard him talking to his wife.
“….yes, Poppy, I’ve made a new friend at the gym. His name is Cock - I mean Jock. Is it okay to invite him over to use the hot tub?”
There was some whispered talk that I couldn’t overhear, and then he hung up and smiled at me.
“Poppy is delighted. She’d be so happy to see your... I mean, you.”
It turned out that they lived nearby, so we walked, and chatting as we went I found out a few details about the two of them. He was perhaps twenty years younger than me, and his wife was five years younger than him, so she must have been practically half my age! She’d had a short career as a model but retired to become a stay at home mom. However, they didn’t have any children yet, but - he told me in a sotto voce tone - they were working on it!
I told him something of my life, how I’d been with a gorgeous, uninhibited younger woman for a long time, but now I was single.
“I can’t imagine you’ll be single for long,” he said, and when I saw him blush, I thought he’d been referring to my big attribute. But he recovered and went on, “I saw your car, a Lamborghini, so you must be doing well enough.”
I tried to answer him modestly, telling him it wasn’t the latest model, but I could tell he was impressed.
When we got to his bungalow - a typical California Cape Cod house - he ushered me in, handed me a towel and showed me a bathroom where I could get undressed.
“We’ll be outside - join us when you’re ready.”
It was a nice bathroom, very modern with mirrors everywhere. I pulled off my jeans, and as I always go commando, my cock sprung out freely. In three mirrors around the bathroom I saw it - already firming up in anticipation of meeting Poppy the ex-model, and my cock was already at a three on my erection scale. 'Oh no,' I thought to myself, 'how am I going to hide that when I put my towel down?'
'Well,' I reasoned with myself, 'Grant’s already seen me at a three, and I have yet to meet a young woman who would complain about it. She’ll be far too polite to say anything. Besides, I’ll soon be under water and no one will be any the wiser.'
And then I re-thought that. 'Who did I think I was? A shy virgin? No! I was an exhibitionist; that’s how I get my kicks. Why would I want to cover up at a time like this?'
So, wrapping my towel around my waist, but expertly making sure it was high enough to reveal the end of my cock hanging below where it could be spotted by any experienced voyeur, I opened the door to their back yard. Over on one side was the hot tub. Grant had called it a hot tub, but it looked more like a Jacuzzi to me; not a big wooden thing, but a plastic one with knobs for jets and bubbles. I could see two faces floating on top of the foamy water. Looking around I was surprised to see the neighbors’ houses were all two stories high; from any of their upstairs windows there would be clear views down into this yard. It wasn’t private at all!
'Better and better!' I thought to myself. 'An exhibitionist’s Garden of Eden!'
“Come on, Jock. Jump in! Meet Poppy.”
I smiled broadly, walked forward, dramatically threw my towel towards a nearby chair, and watched her face closely. Perfect! She gave me just what I wanted - that look of awe and surprise all at once. She kept her eyes glued to my cock as I climbed up into the tub, swung my legs over and lowered myself into the welcoming water.
“How do you do?” she asked, standing and reaching her hand towards me. This was my first chance to see her body. Perfection! Of course it was - she’d been a model. A long haired brunette with a luscious, curved waist — but forget that, and try to remain impervious to her Miss Universe face and her broad, ‘come hither’ smile. Yes, it was almost easy to forget all that because it was her tits which stood out in more ways than one. Full and round, they were, defying gravity; well, I knew she was still very young. And how lovely to see already aroused nipples on top of dark areolae, just the way I like them. In that split second I wondered if my hands would be big enough to cope with these king-sized beauties.
“Sit down, Jock. Your first time in a hot tub? Feel around. There are different levels to sit on. And watch out for the jets,” she giggled.
I was about to ask her what the difference was between a hot tub and a Jacuzzi, but she carried on talking non-stop, giving neither of us men a chance to get a word in edgeways. Even when she asked a question, she left no room for an answer.
“Jock, what do you do for a living? You have a very fit physique, do you go to the gym every day? Are you retired yet? Grant’s still got a long way to go and we’re building up a nest egg for ourselves…” she rattled on and on, and I couldn’t help noticing her eyes were always darting around, looking up at the house next door and then down into the hot tub where I lay back with the tip of my cock occasionally floating upwards and breaking the surface of the water.
She moved to a higher seat in the tub and her amazing tits came into glorious view again, and I found myself zoning out and unable to concentrate on what she was saying.
But I woke up with a start when she suddenly turned to her husband and said, “Oh sorry, Grant, I haven’t been paying you any attention. Here, sit up on the top step.”
Grant did as he was asked and I saw his cock, really for the first time. (Forgive me, dear reader, I know it’s not kind to compare, but his wiener was a lot smaller than mine, maybe five-and-a-half-inches at the most; but to be fair, it was not at all erect at the time - a zero on my scale.)
Poppy moved towards him and with no hesitation at all, not even an “Excuse me for a moment, Jock,” she pushed his knees apart and took his member into her mouth and began to make little sucking, slurping sounds. Grant gave me a quick look as if to say, “Look what a great wife I have; is this okay with you?” I nodded and he closed his eyes and fell into a trance.
I watched, transfixed. It wasn’t his cock that excited me; it was identifying with it that turned me on. Now, with Poppy hard at work, I had a perfect view of her shapely back, (I love naked backs!) and sometimes when she rose up a little higher, her cute little rump. My fingers involuntarily flexed and squeezed as I imagined my hands running wild across that smooth, round, erogenous zone.
Suddenly Poppy lifted her head, and turning towards me, whispered, “Jock, is Marge watching?”
“Marge?” I queried.
“Yes, Marge! Don’t you remember I was telling you about her?”
“No; sorry, I must have missed that.”
Poppy had been going on and on about so much, and I was only half listening; I was paying far more attention to willing her to stand up again and give me another glimpse of her glorious tits.
“Remind me about Marge, would you?”
“Don’t look now,” warned Poppy.