Regular Part of My Weekly Workout

I'm fat, and I've learned not to be ashamed of it. Not just because I can't control how my hormones have given me low stamina and slow metabolism, but because I've also discovered that there are people out there who like me as I am. However, there's a difference between being fat and being completely out of shape.

Many times I've cursed myself as I climbed a single flight of stairs, out of breath by the time I reached the top. At the moment, I'm facing a lot of stair climbing. I'm attending college, and every one of my classes is on the fourth floor. There's an elevator which I use almost always to get up to the right floor, but I keep feeling guilty since it's meant mainly for handicapped students and for equipment moved from floor to floor. So what was I to do?

Fortunately, the college has some very handy facilities for students, including a weight room. I figured that a regular workout, while unlikely to melt away the pounds as so many infomercials continually promise, would help get me into some sort of shape. So I paid for me one-semester pass and, on Friday, went to the change room for the first time. Lockers lined the walls, and a few benches sat in the middle of the floor.

When I arrived, several other guys were either getting ready to work out, or were just finishing up afterwards. I've always been nervous about getting undressed around other people, at least when it wasn't for sex. I walked over to the far corner, away from the two half-dressed guys at their lockers, only to realize that I now had a clear view into the showers. Water was running, and there was the occasional tantalizing glimpse of an arm or leg as whoever-he-was washed off.

I began awkwardly undressing, putting everything in an empty locker, and sneaking peeks at the others. It was now clear that the two at the lockers were getting dressed to leave, which they did accompanied by the clanging of locker doors. I had just finished undressing when the water stopped in the shower. Panicking, I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my ample waist just as the owner of those arms and legs stepped into the change room.

He was at least six feet tall, with a boyish face topped with a dark blonde crewcut. The summer semester had barely started, but he looked as though he was already working on his tan. Before I could see how far his tan went, however, he had grabbed his towel and covered the object of my curiosity.

Then he seemed to notice me for the first time, giving me a brief once-over before going to his locker. I'd heard just about every line about being fat, and wondered which was going through his head just then. I watched him surreptitiously until I saw him putting on a pair of shorts; it was still too cool outside, so he was most likely going to be in the weight room when I finally got there. Finished playing Sherlock Holmes, I headed for the showers.

As the hot water sprayed over me, I let myself fantasize for a while. I ran my soapy hands across my chest, cupping one breast, then the other, circling the nipples with slippery fingers, and imagining that it was one of the guys I'd just seen. My hand moved down the curve of my stomach, then nestled in its overhang, slowly lifting and lowering it in time to my breathing. Then I felt down further still, into the nest of hairs that hid -- ah! -- and began running my fingers around my cock, coaxing it out of its hiding place, stroking it into hardness, and continued until my knees twinged. It wouldn't do me any good to exhaust myself before even getting to do any exercises, so I forced myself out of that reverie by thinking of what would really happen if someone walked in while I was stroking off.

I finished washing, letting the hot spray rinse away the last of the soap, then towelled myself dry, quickly dressing in the grey flannel tracksuit I'd brought along. then I shut and locked my locker, and headed for the weight room.

I don't know why they didn't call it the "workout room" or the "exercise room," since the weights are only part of the equipment. There're also some stair-climbers, stationary bikes, and other machinery you'd find at most gyms. I saw the blonde crewcut on one machine, lifting a weighted bar with his legs. I decided to warm up on one of the stair-climbers, setting it to an easy level and short time.

It took a while to get used to the mechanism, although I still wonder if I didn't get more exercise from gripping the handrail than by actually "walking." I'd finally started to get into a rhythm when the timer went off, and the display showed my results: not great, but not bad for my first go. I stood there, catching my breath for a few moments, then decided to have another go with the same settings.

It went better that time, but I kept getting the feeling that I was being watched. Every time I looked, though, the other guy was busy with his own exercises. Then my second go on the climber was finished, showing a better result than the first. I decided it was time for a short breather before continuing.

I sat on the bench for a few minutes, feeling the sweat continue to trickle down my face and tickle as it ran down my back. I kept sneaking peeks at the blonde as he would finish with one machine and move right to the next. With that build, he could probably get just about any girl he'd want. Or guy. Before my mind started to wander in those directions again, I decided to get back to my own exercising. There was a pair of exercise bikes in the room, so I climbed onto one of them, set it to a low resistance, then began pedaling. It was pretty easy, so I began to go faster, and faster, making the speedometer's needle crawl further across its dial. Then my right leg cramped suddenly, making me gasp and struggle to get down. Whether he'd been curious about my rapid pedaling, or concerned about my pained gasp, the blonde was suddenly beside me. He helped me off the bike, his strong hands supporting me as I walked the knot out of the muscle.

"You shouldn't be doing so much exercise," he said.

"At least, not without warmups. Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Guess that's all my exercise for today. Thanks for the help."

"No problem. I figure I'm done too, so let me help you back to the changing room. Oh, my name's Greg, by the way."

"Thanks again, Greg. Mine's Rob."

I limped back to the change room, Greg walking close by in case I cramped again. Part of me tried to figure out why he was so concerned about me, remembering the touch of his hands and conjuring all sorts of impossible scenes, which my cock responded to enthusiastically. No matter how often I told myself he wouldn't be interested in someone like me, my erection remained almost painfully hard. I hesitated at my locker, waiting for Greg to go ahead into the shower, but he hung back.

"No need to be embarrassed, Rob," he said.

"I'm used to seeing other guys getting undressed, so you've nothing to worry about."

I didn't bother telling him that I wasn't so used to being watched by a stranger as I undressed, nor did I want him to see my small erection. I readied my towel, quickly removed the tracksuit, and wrapped the towel around my waist, all with my back to Greg. We headed for the showers together, which made me realize that all my ingenuity had been in vain -- I was about to be in a small room with Greg, both of us naked with no way to hide anything. Reluctantly, I hung the towel on the rack by the doorway, then stepped in. Greg had already started one shower, so I modestly chose one facing the other direction, enjoying the hot water once again spraying over me.

I lathered up, starting with my chest, but self-consciously avoided paying anything close attention as I had earlier. My cock was still hard as I gave it a quick scrub, then gasped when another hand replaced mine on it.

"You should wash it more thoroughly than that," Greg said quietly in my ear as he slowly stroked my hard-on. My insides turned into so much jelly, alternately fever-hot and ice-cold as I fully realized what was happening.

"I saw you looking at me, and I think you know I've been watching you." His hand left my cock, running up my slippery belly, joining his other hand and pulling me close. A recognizable hardness rested against my ass, and his chest pressed against my back as his hands explored my belly, my hips, my breasts. I sighed, relaxing and enjoying the attention.

"Yeah, baby, just let it all go. You're so sexy, so beautiful, all of you." He grabbed my breasts gently, running a finger around each nipple, making me melt a bit more.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, revelling in the feel of our bodies pressing together, but finally Greg released me.

"We might get caught here," he said.

"I don't live far from here." I broke several personal drying and dressing records then, and we were soon walking the few blocks to his apartment. It was furnished in the usual student-budget style, but what struck me was the posters around the living room -- large guys, fat guys, ranging from fully dressed to buck naked.

"There're more in the bedroom," he said. I didn't need any other hinds, and by the time we reached his double bed, we were both naked again. Gently, he laid me back down onto the bed, running his hands lightly over my body. Then his lips were on one nipple, his tongue lapping around it in circles of cool fire. I couldn't help gasping when he treated the other nipple the same way. Another gasp was cut short as his mouth pressed against mine, our tongues playing with each other, exploring. When our kiss broke, he stared at me for a long moment before ducking down. His mouth and tongue began to explore my body, teasingly running around each breast before paying attention to the nipples, then moved lower.

Down the middle of my stomach he kissed, licked, and nibbled, as he kneaded my ample flesh with expert hands. His tongue dipped into my navel, almost making me giggle at the new sensation. Lower still, he explored the sensitive skin beneath my overhanging belly, and then he reached my cock. I moaned, almost shooting my load then as he took it into his mouth, licking its underside, enveloping it in moist heat. And then he moved down even further, sucking and licking my balls, one, the other, both at once. His hands stroked the inside of my thighs, gently spreading my legs.

One finger probed further back, pressing against the sensitive knot of my ass, and I arched my back in an attempt to let it in. Greg gently rolled me over onto my stomach and surprised me by continuing his oral ministrations on my ass. I moaned loudly as his tongue ran across my tight hole, each pass convincing it to loosen a bit more. When he actually pushed his tongue in, it was the last straw.

"Fuck me," I pleaded, "fuck my ass!"

Reaching over to the bedside table, he retrieved a condom and lube. He quickly rolled the condom over his erection, and spread the cool lube on the rubber and my ass. One finger slipped into my ass, a second one followed slowly, letting my muscles relax further. Then the fingers were gone, and Greg was kneeling between my legs, and his cockhead was pressed against the opening. He pushed forward gently but firmly, and I lifted my ass to give him better access.

As I did so, he slid into me partway, making me gasp at the sharp pain of penetration. Holding still long enough for me to get used to him, he then slowly moved forward again, filling me up. Then I felt him resting against my asscheeks and knew that he was all inside me. He lay down on my back, his elbows planted on either side, his hands free to fondle and caress as he began to slide in and out.

As his tempo increased, I moved with him, lifting my ass to meet every thrust, muscles clenching in a vain attempt to keep him from pulling back out. Our sweat slicked our bodies, letting him slide across my back as he continued to fuck me. I turned my head, letting our mouths meet in another kiss which matched the intensity of our sex. Then he groaned, and thrust deeper, harder, again, trying to reach as deep as possible before-- "Aaaugh!" he cried out, and I felt his cock swell inside me, pulsing as shot after shot of his cum filled the condom, and he collapsed on top of me.

We lay like that, his cock gradually softening within me, for several minutes, catching our breath. Carefully, Greg slipped out of me and excused himself. I heard him washing off briefly in the bathroom, and figured it was one of those "wham-bam" deals. I rolled onto my back, and decided to relieve myself. My cock was rock-hard, and already slick with all the precum he'd fucked out of me, and my hand slid easily along the shaft.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Greg asked from the doorway.

"I'm not going to let you get off that easily!" To my surprise, he opened another rubber, and rolled it onto my cock. I began to protest that I was too small to do anything, and he quieted me by straddling my waist.

"You're just the size I like, Rob! You'll love it as much as I will." He lubed my cock gently so as not to bring me off accidentally, and rubbed some in his ass, then positioned himself over my groin. I felt my cock press against the muscular ring of his ass, then slide in.

"Oh, God!" I exclaimed as I felt the heat of his insides envelope me. He sat in my lap for a moment, letting me savor the feeling, then began to bob up and down gently. The sensations of those muscles sliding up and down my cock were almost enough to send me over right away, but I wanted this to last as long as possible.

Greg leaned forward, resting his hands on my chest, massaging it as he continued to ride me. I reached up and held onto his arms as I started to thrust in time to his own rhythm, inching me closer and closer to my climax. I felt it tingling in my balls, growing stronger, slowly spreading outwards.

"I'm going to cum!" I gasped just as the pressure released, sending cold fire along my spine and hot jism shooting from my cock. I tried to bury myself as deep as possible inside him as I shot again, and again, gradually growing weaker as my orgasm faded. He stayed on top of me as I softened inside him, leaning down far enough for us to kiss again.

We spent the rest of the day in bed, trying out everything we could think of. And since then, Greg's become a regular part of my weekly workout.

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written by rtsmithy