Lock Problems

The 24-hour gyms aren't necessarily 24 x 7. The one I frequent closes at 1 AM on Tuesday morning. That means it's pretty slow late on Monday night, which is one of the times I always go. There are a dozen or so regulars who are on this schedule, plus the odd stranger who can't sleep. The place clears out by a quarter to one. I was running late, having done some extra work on my pride and joy - my chest.

I had just enough time to get through the shower and out by 1. The desk staff knows me by now, but I always make sure that it's not me keeping them late. If I moved it along, I could clean up enough to stop by the supermarket on the way home.

My workout clothes could wait in a pile. I got my towel and sandals out of the locker and went into the shower. There was still soap, nothing to count on, and I quickly spread it over my chest to start. Months of focus there were paying off nicely. By summer I'd make a habit of peeling off my shirt in public. I scrubbed my hair next, and worked top to bottom. Since nobody was around, I pulled back my foreskin and thoroughly cleaned my cock. I normally wasn't this thorough in a shared shower. It's just not my style, and I don't want to give anyone ideas.

I rinsed and stepped out to towel off. As I did, a new customer charged in. He'd probably gotten the message from the desk staff. You can always tell the new ones. No towel. No flip-flops. They always go for the busted showerhead, the one that sprays everywhere but on the user.

My towel went to the bench as I opened my locker and started dressing. Socks go on first, as I have spent a fortune on foot cream thanks to this place. I fished a clean shirt out of my gym bag and started putting it on. It was an old tight one, just what I wanted.

"Shit!" The cry came from the shower. I thought to myself that he would now remember to take his towel with him to the shower area.

"Aw, fuck!" he shouted. He wasn't hurt; he was upset. "Hey dude, tell me my towel is on the bench."

"It isn't," I replied. I fished out some sweat pants that were almost presentable in public.

"Uh, I have a problem," he said.

Yes, I thought, you do. You're an idiot, and I'm nearly out of here. I didn't say anything.

"My key is in the towel," he said. By now he was standing, and dripping, in the dry-off area. He wasn't much to see, younger than the regulars and scrawny in my book. He belonged with the early evening rush that I avoided. He wasn't much in the dick department either.

"You should get a combination lock," I said. I pulled my sweats up as I turned to face him. He looked. I would have bet on it.

I'm not sadistic, but the predicament was funny. Seeing him standing there, naked, wet, and thoroughly fucked out of his own carelessness pleased me in some way. Maybe working my dick a little was a good thing, because on top of it he got to see a dick twice what he had. So I am a little competitive about my body.

"You want seconds on the towel before I put it away?" I asked. I thought of wiping my balls again before I handed it to him. He could rub down the stubbly remnants of hair on his head with it. The aggressive cut made him look even more naked. I waved the towel once or twice, and then stuffed it into the bag. He hesitated, so he lost. He watched me zip the bag shut. His last chance at dignity vanished behind the zipper.

"So," he said, "Will you check if the desk has a bolt cutter?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I will just hang out there and wait for you to wander out yourself and ask. The wet footprints all the way to the front desk would be pretty funny, I think." My reply finished off with a fleeting smirk. I had no intention of making him walk out there with his balls in the breeze, but I was going to have fun with this first.

He just stood there, unbelieving, as I lifted the strap on my gym bag to my shoulder. I was going to say good night, but he cut me off.

"Okay, fucker. Is that what you want? You want to make me walk out there like this? Then I'll do it. Why don't you just pull out your dick and start stroking it now? You suck, dude. I hope somebody screws you over when you need help, fucker!" His voice cracked with anger.

He turned around and walked to the door of the locker room. As he reached the edge of the short hallway leading to the outside, I was going to stop him. He was a few steps short before some female laughter stopped him cold. Trish was leaving, and she made a lot of noise.

"Can't do it, can you?" I asked.

"What choice do I have?" He replied and looked over a shoulder towards me.

One last little game. Just one. I cupped my hand below the crotch of my sweats and bounced it up a little. My prick rubbed along the loose nylon of my pants, free of restraint. I tugged at the cord, releasing the knot. Then I just stood there, hands on my sides. The heat radiating out of my body after the workout seemed double the usual, and I drew in deep, slow breaths. I'd stop him as he turned to go out.

To my surprise, he lowered his head and walked over to the bench. He sat down, turned towards me, and swung his knees apart. His dick was getting harder by the second. He looked down at it, then back at me. By the time he lowered his eyes to my waist, he was fully erect.

"Just don't jizz in my mouth, okay?" He said. "I'll suck your dick, but please don't cum in my mouth. I can't deal with that. I'm going to choke as it is." His voice cracked again, but for a different reason.

Blood rushed into my meat. For the first time I was springing a full-force, raging proud bone over a guy's offer. It's not like it was the first time a guy has suggested something. I get propositioned twice a week at least with eyes, and once a month with words. But this guy was serious, and by the looks of his prick he didn't exactly hate it deep inside. A dick doesn't lie.

"Beat off, punk." I said. "Since you told me to do it, I want to see you work your dick."

He started, thumb and forefinger gripping his shaft and the base. He took quick strokes, slamming into his balls with each return. He leaned back slightly, treating me to a perfect view of him in the process of spoiling himself.

"What are you waiting for, stud?" he asked. "I said that I'd suck your cock. Your meat is ready for a blowjob, huh? Give it to me."

"Get on your knees." I pointed in front of me.

He stopped stroking and landed just where I pointed. There was no hesitation any more. His green eyes looked up at me. As we connected he let his lips part. I gave him a single nod.

The kid was into my pants in moments, his hands still grasping the waist of my sweats as he took my manhood into his mouth. He sucked hard, pivoting at the waist to serve me. As he grasped my firm ass, I leaned forward and forced myself into him. He did not resist.

"Yeah, you're no rookie," I said. "Now start stroking. If you come before I do, I won't jizz in your mouth. Otherwise, no promises." By now he was getting a taste of precum, my salty manjuice beginning to trickle. I always cum my best after a heavy workout, usually sooner than I would like. To delay my climax, I focused on the pattern in the tile floor. It was not working.

He left himself alone, evidently preferring to lose this challenge. Okay by me, I thought. He wouldn't need to suck much longer.

As I burst into his mouth, his head jerked back into my hands. Nobody pulls off me when during an orgasm. I drained my balls into him; not counting or caring how many times my prick danced and spurted on his tongue. It must have been quite a load, as he swallowed hard once, then again as my performance ended.

"Whew!" I exclaimed. "That was a good one."

He said nothing, but leaned forward and kissed the final drop of cum off my dick head.

"Guess you eat cum now, kid. Maybe we'll let you stick around here after all." I said.

He grabbed himself and started beating off as fast as he could. I kept up the talk.

"Studs like me enjoy a blow job like you give now and then," I said. "I know a few guys you should meet, now that you take cum shots."

He bent forwards and exhaled as he shot. A milky pool formed at my feet, the kid spilling his seed onto the tile. He looked up to see me watching, and smiled.

"Nice load, kid," I said and tied my sweats. "Your key is on the floor in front of your locker."

"I know," he said. "I put it there."

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written by justfun