There he was again. Lathering his flaccid dick in the shower and getting harder the longer he did it. I always averted my eyes but couldn't help stealing a peek to admire the sight when I could. He wasn't just handsomely hung but shaved smooth with low hanging balls. He was honestly porno-worthy.
I had only joined that gym a few weeks earlier but had seen him often. It seemed we both preferred late-night workouts and the privacy that goes with it. If he only knew I've been stealing peeks of him every chance I could. In the lockers where I discovered he was a free-baller, on the floor at various machines, and especially in the shower where he lathered up. We kept to ourselves and never talked, but filled my eyeballs with his cock as often as I could covertly manage it.
I have to say, here, that I'm not gay. I've never even thought about touching a strange cock before, for chrissake. It's just that I've never seen such a perfectly hung guy in person before and found it increasingly difficult to keep my eyes to myself. It wasn't long before I came to cut my workout short and follow him into the lockers for a secret show. I just hoped he didn't notice the all-too-often 'coincidences' and think me a perv, so I began to change up my timing in an effort to be more incognito about it.
One evening, I saw him head for the lockers and waited for a good while longer than usual. I was disappointed to find that he wasn't in the lockers nor the adjacent showers anymore. I must have waited too long and now he was long gone. 'Oh, well,' I thought. 'No show for me that night.'
Uncharestically, I decided that I could use a hot sweat. I hadn't used that part of the gym before and headed for the sauna. My shower would wait. To my surprise, he was there! I was a little embarrassed that the coincidences may have run out and he'd think I was stalking him, so I sat on the bench as far away from him as I could. He was leaning against the wall with one foot up on the bench. That position parted his towel just enough for me to steal another peek of his manhood.
A few silent minutes (and peeks) later, he blurted out, "You like what you see, don't you."
Damn! I went flush with embarrassment but tried to be nonchalant in my denial. "No, no. I'm sorry. I wasn't staring if that's what you're thinking." I nervously defended my roving eyes while shifting uncomfortably on the bench. I began to stammer, "I was just... I mean... Look. I'm not gay if that's what..."
"Bullshit," he cut me off. "You've been staring at my cock for weeks now. Did you think I didn't notice? I'm thinking you're gay." He opened his towel and spread his legs to fully expose that magnificent cock. "Well, here, gay-boy. Take a good look." He rocked his knee as if to invite my voyeurism.
I didn't fully grasp what I had gotten myself into and nervously denied being attracted to men - in any way! I was talking faster than a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar and trying to explain their innocence. He began to cup and manipulate his loose balls during my rant as if he was taunting me. As if he knew better. I felt my face redden even further when I realized I hadn't taken my eyes off of his growing dick the whole time I was jabbering. Hell, I wasn't peeking anymore, I was in a full-on stare.
"Maybe you're gay and just don't know it yet," he said with a mocking smile, "...or maybe you know you are and just don't want to admit it." He pulled the sagging skin of his sweaty ball sack hard and slowly let it slip through his fingers. I stopped my feeble denials and silently gazed at his manhood as he stretched that sweaty sack again - hard enough to raise his hips. "So which is it going to be?" Another slow, long, and hard tug. I should have broken my gaze, but I didn't. "I don't really care either way, but what say we find out." It was more a statement than a question.
He stood up, leaving his towel where he sat and approached me. I had long since stopped talking and braced myself for what I knew he was going to do. Nude and standing between my legs, he squeezed his shaft tight and gave it a slow tug. The milking produced a large bead of precum that oozed out and dangled from the eye of his dick. I was hypnotized by it. "Go ahead, gay-boy. Give it a taste," he said while pulling back hard on his shaft enough to strain the helmet large and shiny. "Gay or not, I know you want to. Nobody here but us... and the time for just looking is over, don't you think?" He reached out to place his hand on my neck and gently pulled my face forward. I put up a meager resistance. The real fight was internal.
It was indeed just the two of us, I thought, but that could change at any moment. The gym was sparse - not empty. I certainly did not want to be walked in on... but couldn't help being in a butterfly-filled trance. The sight of that undulating cock with precum dangling and sweat dripping off his balls had my mind reeling with rationalizations of what I knew I was about to do. I sat in a mesmerizing stupor as he pulled me close enough to lose focus on his sex and nervously acquiesce to the only available senses I had left.
I liken it to the first roller coaster ride. The apprehension when standing in line, the nervousness when strapping yourself in, the growing fear being escalated ever-upward, and the realization that you're on the cusp of having gravity take over to provide a mind-numbing experience that would forever be difficult to compare.