Sexy Andy 2

The hot water released what was left of my tension, and I was glad to be rid of the salty coating I had acquired between the gym and the tub. As I lathered, I thought of asking Art if he could spare time for dinner sometime after a later workout. "Hey, Art..." I turned around to ask him, and I found him facing me, several showers away, fully lathered. But now his dick, which had been only partly erect before, was standing straight out. Art gasped and turned away from me so fast he almost lost his footing. "Yeah, um, what is it?", he stammered as he hurriedly rinsed the slippery lather from his crotch. I inquired about dinner, Art made a nervous postitive reply, and he ducked back out to the lockers. When he did, I noticed that he took his clothes from a locker that wasn't in my row.

When I got home from the gym that night, I tried to do some work on the computer but found myself distracted. Why should Art be so ashamed of a silly erection? I got boners in the bath and shower all the time; I didn't think anything of it, but I suppose it would be a little embarrassing in front of someone else. No, I couldn't say I didn't think anything of it--I was surprised at being a little titillated by the sight of a handsome, muscular man with an erection. Pointed right at me, no less. Should I be flattered? I wrote that off--no man of his cut could see anything appealing in a jellyfish like me--and turned in for the night. I dreamed of my schoolboy idol, Andy, shut in a closet with me. A flashlight shone between us from the floor as we breathlessly fondled each other's silky young pricks. I woke up sweaty and hard, calmed myself by alternately drinking and passing water, and returned to bed.

I returned to the club two days later. After working out with Brian for a while, I asked about Art. Brian cocked his head and peered at me with a strange smile. "Do you know anything about why he left?" When I said I didn't, Brian explained that Art came in the night before and turned in his membership. I shrugged, mentioned that I had only met the man once, but he seemed like a decent chap and it was too bad he wouldn't be around. I was much more disappointed than I let on, to Brian or to myself.

Brian left me on my own after that, and I straddled the bike. Headphones on, I made my way past meadows and pastures, all the while ruminating over this whole business with Art. I still didn't understand it, although if it had happened to someone else, I'd know just what to make of it: Art had the hots for me, I caught him indulging in a fantasy or two, and he blew a fuse. Of course, seeing that I was involved, I knew there was no way in hell this built guy would be mooning over the likes of me. There had to be some other explanation, but how could I explain that I had been counting the minutes until I could share a bath with this man again? I had to admit it: I was positively crushed that Art wasn't coming around again.

Weeks went by. I stuck with my workout regimen and eventually forgot all about Art. I studied bodies of all shapes in reflections in the chrome fixtures, even shared a jacuzzi or two with other regulars. I had become a fixture myself, and hanging out naked with these guys became second nature to me. Besides, my body was showing changes of its own, and I liked what I saw. Brian's direction was doing wonders. My belly was firm, my once mountainous love handles were reduced to tiny hills, and I was feeling good about myself for the first time in years.

I must admit that I was given to brief bouts of vanity, standing in front of my locker door. I'd towel the shower water off my body slowly, feeling new curves, highs and lows that weren't there only a few weeks before. I'd plant my foot on the bench, and run the towel up my tight calves and thighs, squeezing hard to feel the dense muscle underneath. I was no Mr. America, but I was making good progress.

I was off in this dreamland, slowly toweling my thigh with one foot on the bench, when my greatest adventure began. I had lost track of time, and in my haze, all but a couple of patrons had deserted. I had the whole locker room to myself, so I took my time. I was indulging my vanity when I heard a couple of wet footsteps behind me. "Excuse me," a low voice spoke, and a warm, strong hand gripped my thigh. "My locker's right through here," came the voice again, and before I could step aside, the man started past me. His hand was clearly there to keep me from falling over, but it also held me firmly in place as he inched by. His thigh touched my ass and I tried to recoil, but the hand held firm and the body kept moving. There was obviously no intent--the movements were those of a man squeezing into a movie seat or on his way to the airplane lavatory. He was facing my backside, and I felt his warm, hairy leg tickle my skin as it went past. He scooted inside even more, pressing tighter against me, and with a quick move I felt his leg, then his inner thigh as he stepped up, then he moved forward. I felt an unfamiliar shape, then I realized that this man's penis was nestled between the cheeks of my ass! It only lasted for the merest instant, and he was, in fact, fully by me in only two or three seconds. I was frozen there for a moment, looking at this man standing in front of his locker but stunned that I could still feel a soft, moist cock pressed against my butt. I found myself with an unconcealable erection, and suddenly I knew how Art felt. The stranger was turned slightly away from me, but he'd look over now and then to smile at me. My face was bright red, and I hurriedly stepped into my briefs in an attempt to get my raging hard- on under wraps.

That night, I had that dream about Andy. Only this time we were hiking in the woods. He said he had to pee, so we stopped and watered a shared tree. Andy turned to me and asked, "I wonder what it feels like if somebody kisses it." Kisses what, I asked, and Andy nodded toward his cock. With each dream, Andy's cock got bigger, and in this one, his was as large flaccid as mine was fully erect. "I don't know," I offered in response, "but I bet it feels good." Andy looked down for a moment, then at me. "Can I try it?"

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I didn't know if that meant I was supposed to kiss his or he was supposed to kiss mine. Either way, my heart started racing when Andy took a few steps back from the damp leaves and pulled his pants to his knees. He began tugging on his cock, and I watched silently as it grew in his hand. He reached underneath to play with his balls, and when he squeezed his ass tight, his cock surged and his cockhead got shiny. I knelt down on the ground in front of Andy, taking tiny steps on my knees. The tip of his cock appeared and disappeared inside his fist as he worked himself, and his huge balls hung low between his legs. I wanted his dick in my mouth more than I ever wanted anything, and the more I walked on my knees, the closer his dick got, until it was right in front of my face. I could see hole weeping clear fluid, which he picked up with his fingers and swirled around the tip. I steadied myself with my hand on his thigh, and opened my mouth. I closed my eyes so nothing could interfere with the sensation of the tip of his huge cock cresting over my lips. Andy breathed hard as he guided himself into my waiting mouth. My own cock suddenly burst in my hand, gushing hot, sticky juice all over. I opened my eyes to watch Andy's cock slide over my tongue.

I saw white linen, lit by the sun from the window. I brought up my hand to prop myself up, and it was as messy as it had been in my dream. The bedding was soaked. I chuckled ashamedly to myself--I felt like a damned kid. Imagine. Wet dreams at my age. I dropped the linens in the washer while I showered.

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