Spotting a Third at the Gym

My guy and I work out at the same gym. This is not the same as working out together. He and I are on separate paths, but in the same park. We do the same thing at a party, we'll arrive and leave together. On the way home, we talk about the two different parties - both at the same place - which we were at that evening. We get this luxury because we have been together for years, we don't cheat, and, quite frankly, we know it's going to be damn tough for either of us to do too much better than we have it now. You can call it arrogance. I call it insurance.

That doesn't mean we don't look around. That's still legal, and openly discussed at home. The bf has been watching a certain guy at the gym for months. I see him too, but he didn't really get me going. He's got the best shoulders and arms in the gym, to be sure. Decent chest, too, decent in the sense that neither my guy or I can never expect to get there. Let's be real here. And I wouldn't mind rolling up the shirt to check for a six pack either. I bet it's there. His T-shirts don't quite stick tightly enough to reveal. And he seems the type who could be sporting the most awesome abs and not feel the need to taunt anyone with them.

The cutoff sweats he wears hide anything below that, but the bulky legs that I find hot aren't part of the package. Is that why I could look at and then look past him? Maybe they seem merely normal given his shoulders and modest workout clothes. I'll try to get a better look.

On a rare day, we will relate our fantasies about others when we're having sex. Anything said in bed can't be taken too seriously, and said well it can be a real turn on. As I had my mouth full of the boyfriend's meat recently, he carefully described how hot it would be to watch me take it from our gym guy. This much detail had been thought out in advance. Maybe this is why he has needed more service than usual lately. I moaned my approval and sucked harder, soon earning a hot load as we both relished the scene. I imagined the two of them enjoying the oral orgasm, one now satisfied and one to follow.

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In truth, he doesn't like to share. For him to have constructed this fantasy in such detail and to have related it was exceptional. For my part, I occasionally crave a three way but not quite enough to seriously suggest it.

Next time I saw the dude at the gym, I rolled the whole sequence again though my mind. He was in my sight, and I still liked the idea. His short hair, nearly to the scalp in back but long enough to spike in front, now seemed aggressively sexy instead of just odd. His ratty sweats no longer looked exhausted, rather experienced. I was starting to get what the bf saw in him.

I shifted in my seat at the calf raises station. Two iron discs waited for their ride at my expense, up two stretch three, down two three. Focus on the form. I had a great view of him as he set up the weight bar for some dead lifts. Up, check the feet two three, down two three. There's the burn, right on time with rep number 8. Maybe one in twenty-five guys will even try a dead lift. Too bad it doesn't require a spotter.

My heavy cotton boxer briefs had pestered me during the cardio session nut now justified their place by restraining me. Not now! I need the blood elsewhere. This was a legs session, not a dick workout. Two more sets to go.

He parked the weights and brushed a towel around his neck. I tried thinking of how the bf would fit in. It would be so hot if he topped the muscled dude, which is what he naturally wants from guys and takes at will from me.

Between the two, shoulder guy and my bf, it wasn't clear how it would go down. Wouldn't it be intense to see my guy finally lose his cherry? After years of making sure mine was long gone, I think I'd shoot just seeing him take it for the first time. That would be breaking the rules, and that can be great fun for a little while. He'd find out what all the squirming and straining was about. After it was done, I'm sure I could overlook my guy's brief abdication and return to our well established bedroom deal.

However it played out with the three of us, there's be plenty of pictures taken when it was my turn on the mat. I know what I like, and my guy likes it just as much. By now there are hundreds of photos of me serving him. If I was going to give it up to the muscle dude, it would be with a few dozen souvenirs for us all to enjoy after the fact. I'm not building this body simply to forget it years later! I want proof.

In my mind, I saw the dude smile as I handed him a copy of the photo disk. I imagined flashing a grin at him a day or two later at the gym, when he rolled in for his serious workout. He'd give only a husky 'hey' in return. About two paragraphs of words would pass with that glance, though nobody else at the gym would catch it.

"The photos are awesome. I grow some wood when I just see that disk."

I imagine entirely too much. The cotton had given up. Fortunately the bunches of extra fabric in my nylon sweats covered up both real and imagined sins. I'd finished my sets. I was past a reasonable period of resting, now bordering on slacking. My next station was far across the gym, far from the shoulder exhibit. Now or never.

I walked over said hello. He immediately introduced himself and seemed eager to talk. He's far nicer than his sculpted shoulders let me assume. Maybe I thought he's brush me off as a relative novice, but he seemed pleased to talk to someone else dedicated enough to be at the gym on a Friday night.

I summed up what progress I had made recently and what I was wanting to do next. Implied was that I was considering him the authority on the matter. He listened intently and relayed notes from his experience at a similar stage. He had been there, though probably at nineteen. He was in his low thirties, I guessed, though super lean bodybuilders usually look older than they really are.

The conversation ran all over, as it does when two people begin to survey areas of common interest. We go to the same produce market when we want to splurge on the best possible goods. He and I compared notes on where to get the best prices on protein power and on what energy bars had the least saturated fat but were still edible. It was pure gym talk, but with rock solid eye contact. He takes a small amount of creatine, but clarified that's it. I don't go past a daily vitamin pack.

Not wanting to run the hose dry, I settled in to some work at the station adjacent to his. I took up some moderately weighted squats, knowing better than to try to impress him by dropping a pile of weights on the floor. Moments later he resumed his program. Despite mirrors at every angle, he never broke his concentration to look over. It's not a good idea with the amount of weight he had on the bar. He probably knew I was watching him, and that I had been for several minutes.

We had another spark of conversation as I disassembled my bar, but then I left the weight room for the resistance machines. He mentioned that was his next stop, and it was immediately so. Come to think of it, I never have seen him move around the gym with anyone. I think he likes to walk alone.

A minute later, we were again positioned in cruising range. He laid face down to do leg curls. I was seated behind him, working the adductors. No words passed. His trim glutes bounced as the lifted the weight bar. His strong legs could have bounced the pad off his ass, like the muscle boys do when they are showing off. Instead he kept things under control, evenly towing and lowering the stack of iron weights. I mimicked the smooth motion, steering my knees together and apart with those easy to forget side-of-the-leg muscles. His form revealed that he was a pro at this sort of thing.

He wandered off, back again to the weight room. I took his place on the curl machine. I eased into the spot where he had been, still warm like all the equipment at this busy gym. I checked the weight setting, merely one notch above my usual. He really is a torso boy, I thought. I can match him here.

The first set peeled off easily. I should be pushing myself harder, I thought. Half way through the second set I started to falter. The pad was in no danger of bouncing off my ass, and the motion of the weights became jerky. By the end of the second set, my range of motion was less than complete. If my trainer were watching, he'd let me hear about it. I am near the end of my workout, I told myself. And I had done some extra cardio at the start. That's why. I stalled completely during the third set, having to drop a notch to finish it. Next time. Next time I'll do it at his level.

And I'll tell the dude that he set a mark for me, and I was chasing it. He has certainly done that.

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