The Gym Shower by Hankster

The Gym Shower

by: Hankster

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So here’s what you need to know about me. I’m not going to tell you anything you don’t need to know. Just the facts and nothing more.

I am 36 years old. I practice law in the city of the angels, Los Angeles. I am married with kids. My son is 14 and my daughter is 12. My wife teaches third and fourth grade at a nearby elementary school. We have a large home in a good neighborhood. Our very private back yard boasts a huge patio, barbeque pit, and a fairly good size swimming pool, which our gardener maintains for us. My wife and I often skinny dip after the kids have gone to bed. I think my son caught us once. He had a real smirk on his face at breakfast the morning after.

I work out at a gym three times a week. It is on my way home from work, and I stop off on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. My wife loves how well I keep my muscled, fatless body and she doesn’t mind at all that I come home late. On gym nights she keeps dinner hot for me. I am proud of my body. I am 5’11” tall. I am very muscular, but not grotesque like a body builder. My cock is 5” flaccid and a good 8” erect. I am cut. Thank God my wife loves oral sex and she gives my tool a good workout. I reciprocate, of course, but I really don’t enjoy it. I’d rather fuck her.

On the surface we are the all American family. You can’t pigeon hole us. We don’t have a political affiliation, and prefer to vote as Independents. Neither do we have a religious affiliation. We rarely attend church, and if we do at some holiday time, we just go to the church nearest at hand.

I guess there is only one thing that may set us apart, and I am not certain as to how much apart that sets us. You see, I AM GAY! Maybe there are a million married men like me, and maybe just a few. I don’t know. I doubt anybody ever took a survey. I am deeply closeted. Certainly nobody knows about me, but me. My yearning to have sex with a man is eating me up alive, but I don’t dare give in. I don’t want to risk losing everything I have, by getting caught. Instead I read internet porn, look at pictures, and jack off to my fantasies.

I am with it enough to know when a man is cruising me, but I always feign innocence, and turn away. I always turned away, that is, until that fateful day at the gym.

It was a Wednesday and I stopped on my way home from the office. After a vigorous work out, I hurried naked into the shower. There are a dozen shower stations, and the urinal rule is carefully observed. Whenever possible, every other shower is used. When I came in I had no trouble observing the rule. There were only two men in the shower room.

I usually have a problem in the shower. I must use all my will power not to check out the other guys, if you get my meaning. I am well enough endowed that I don’t worry about someone checking me out. I usually manage one furtive glance before displaying an air of indifference. I took a quick look at the two men. One of them was just shutting off the shower head and he was reaching for his towel. He was at least thirty pounds overweight. A flab of fat covered most of his dick and it looked like he had no cock at all. The other was quite good looking, lean and muscular, but he was old, at least 55. He was uncut and had a good size cock. His hair was salt and pepper, mostly pepper. His eyes caught mine (my worst nightmare) and his steel blue eyes smiled at me along with his warm and inviting grin. I had to turn quickly away or I would have gotten a hard on and embarrassed myself. Before turning away, I had time to admire his uncut cock. It was about the same size as mine, but much thicker. Yum!

When the overweight man left, we were alone. I took a shower head just two stalls away from him. I didn’t want him to think I was shunning him. At the same time I didn’t want to stand too close. When I figured that he should be about finished, I stole a quick glance at him. He was soaping himself anew, like he was just beginning his shower. We continued to shower in silence. Every time I looked his way, he was smiling at me. I tried not to make eye contact but eventually I could not avoid it, and I had to smile back at him.

It was then he said, “Hi. My name’s Brad. Why do you keep turning away from me? I’m not a sexual predator.”

I must have turned ten shades of red. “I wasn’t trying to avoid you.” I said. “I’m just trying to hurry up and get home for dinner. I’m late.”

“I figured,” he said. “I see you have a wedding ring in all the right places.” What the fuck did he mean by that? Besides wearing it on my ring finger, did he mean I looked married? I hoped not. He continued. “I work out every evening right after work. This place is very convenient for me. My apartment is just around the corner, and I don’t have dinner waiting for me. I’m single so I make my own meals when I get home.”

He stopped talking and the silence was uncomfortable, so I said, “I really didn’t mean to be unfriendly, Brad. I’m sorry if I gave that impression. My name’s Matt.” Then I did the craziest thing, without thinking of course. I left my shower, and reached out to shake his hand. I might add, he took it with a strong grip and held it a little longer than was necessary, I thought.

Now here’s where it got interesting. We were drying ourselves at the same time. Out of the blue, he said to me, “I’m a CPA. My office is around the corner from Good Sam Hospital. How about you?”

“I’m a lawyer and my office is a block south of the hospital.”

“Great,” he smiled back at me. “We should get together for lunch some time. Maybe we can refer business to each other.”

I now had a good business reason to get to know this guy better so I relaxed and foolishly said, “I’ll be here Friday after work, and I don’t have to rush home. My wife has a Parent-Teacher evening. My kids are old enough to care for themselves so maybe we can chat about this after our workout.”

His beautiful grin got bigger. His straight, pearly white teeth smiled at me. “That sounds fantastic, Matt. We can go to my place and I’ll make us a drink and a light dinner.” I could feel my heart beating loudly and skipping beats at the same time.

“You’re on,” I said. My knees were shaking. I wondered if I would have the courage to work out here on Friday or if I should seek a new gym. Down deep, I knew that I would be there.

We entered Brad’s apartment on Friday evening and I did a double take. The apartment was decorator furnished and looked like a picture right out of a magazine. But it wasn’t overdone. It was very classy and tasteful. I thought that my wife would go ape if she could see this, knowing she never would. Brad was aware of my awed face.

“I don’t take any credit for this,” he said. “I have a friend who is an interior designer and he helped me put all this together. I just moved in a couple of months ago.”

I eyed the room once again and then said the stupidest thing I ever said in my life. I should have been immediately disbarred from the lawyering profession. “Your friend must be gay,” I muttered. “No straight guy did this place.” The moment I said that, I wanted to run, but Brad’s reaction stunned me.

“Oh sure, Timmy’s gay. Most of my friends are,” he said in a very matter of fact tone. Before I could react, he said. Come with me into the kitchen while I prepare dinner. We can talk some shop.”

We did. By the time dinner was ready, we had established what we each specialized in, and created a picture of what a good referral client would be for each of us.

Dinner was quite good actually. Brad had frozen spaghetti and meatballs in the freezer. He took it out and defrosted it in the microwave. He then heated it up in pots atop the stove. By that time, the frozen Italian bread was defrosted, and he served it with butter. Red wine complemented the meal. We had ice cream for dessert.

I helped him clean up, and we went into the living room with a fresh glass of wine. Brad pointed to the sofa and I sat down. Damn him, he sat down right next to me and our thighs touched. Neither of us made a move. I was too scared and he was probably trying to seduce me, I hoped.

I must have looked very uncomfortable, because after a long silence, Brad said, “You seem to be very uncomfortable. You do know I’m gay don’t you?’

“I figured,” I answered inanely.

“If you’d like to leave,” he said, “I’ll understand, but I would really like you to stay.”

Now I told you that my desire for gay sex had always been my secret, but somehow I decided that it was time to confide in someone. Why not Brad? He was gay, older than I, and a mature man I believed that I could trust.

“May I confide in you?” I asked.

“Absolutely.”

“I think I’m gay,” I said barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been with a man, but it’s all I think about.”

“I had a suspicion,” Brad said. He smiled at me and took my hand.

I was flabbergasted. “Why did you suspect?” I asked.

“It was the way you were checking me out, how you kept turning away so you wouldn’t get a hard on. I could see the lust in your eyes.”

I was deeply embarrassed, but for some crazy reason, I started to laugh. “I guess I’m not as good an actor as I thought.”

Brad looked deep into my eyes. He put his thumb and forefinger on my wedding ring, and began to speak. “I like you, Matt. I like you a lot. I could easily fall in love with you.”

My blood was pumping so hard, I was getting faint. Was this the night I was finally going to have sex with a man? Brad continued, “But as long as this ring is on your finger, there can be no future for us. I’m not looking for instant gratification, Matt. My partner of thirty years died of cancer six months ago. I know I can’t replace him, but I want a relationship. I want someone who is there for me 24/7. I’m not willing to share a partner with another bedmate, male or female. I don’t want to live in the background waiting for stolen moments. I want my guy to be just that, MY GUY! Do you understand what I am saying, Matt?”

I understood full well. I was not going to get laid that night after all, at least not by a big fat cock. I started to cry. “What am I to do?” I sobbed. “I can’t go on living this way.”

“I wish I could help you there, Babe,” Brad said. (Did he call me Babe?) “You have to decide if what you want is worth giving up what you already have. If it isn’t, then continue as you are. I can tell you this much,” he added. “If and when that ring comes off your finger, I’d love to share my life with you. Until then, I want to be your friend and a business associate.”

I nodded to let him know that I understood and respected his position.

“I’d better go now,” I said. “Have lunch with me Monday. I have a client who asked me to recommend a good accountant. I’d like to talk to you about him.” I didn’t want to, but I had successfully changed the subject. I got up to leave and Brad put his arms around me, hugging me tight.

“I do like you a lot,” he reiterated, “but that ring on your finger….” His voice trailed off.

From the moment I said, “I do” I regretted my decision to marry. Over the past fifteen years I had agonized constantly about telling Staci that I was gay, and asking for a divorce. At first I thought of asking her if she would mind an open marriage, but then I realized that an open marriage might satisfy my lust, but would not satisfy my emotional need to love and be loved by a man, and to be a part of the gay community. In spite of how I felt, I did not have trouble making love to Staci. We used oral sex as part of our foreplay. When she went down on me, I pretended she was some hunk I had seen in the gym shower, or some handsome movie star, and I was instantly hard. The rest was easy.

Sometimes I wished that Staci would have an affair so she would realize that I wasn’t that into her. I wanted her to experience the passion that came with true love. I somehow wanted her to find out about me all by herself, since I didn’t have the courage to tell her. I never gave her any reason to suspect, and if she did, she never let on. Now, since meeting Brad, I really had a serious reason to want out of my marriage. Now I had someone to go to. Leaving Staci was no longer an abstract vision.

I couldn’t wait to meet Brad for lunch on Monday. We met at a small sandwich shop near the hospital which was frequented mainly by hospital personnel. We were both self employed, and neither of us had any appointments that afternoon, so we lingered over our sandwiches. I gave Brad the names of two of my clients I intended to refer to him, and he gave me one name, so when they called, we would know who they were. Finally, I came out with it. I told him how miserable I was, but I didn’t know how to break the chain I had forged.

“I truly wish I could help you,” he said, “but this is one thing you have to solve yourself.” Thinking back, his statement sounded harsh, but he didn’t say it that way. He said it in a most sympathetic way. Then he stood up, extended his hand and asked, “Will I see you at the gym tonight?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I’ll get there about 5:30.”

“Me too,” he said and he was gone.

That evening, we changed in the locker room together, and then worked out side by side. When we headed naked for the shower, I got a hard on which I decided I wasn’t going to hide. I was praying all the way to the shower, and my prayers were answered. We were alone. This time I took the stall next to Brad, and got really brave.

“Want me to do your back? I asked.

Without hesitating he smiled at me, and handed me his soap. I lathered his back and his ass. As I started to reach underneath to do his balls, he turned and grabbed the soap. “No!” he said. Then he rushed through his shower and left abruptly.

He called my office early the next morning and apologized. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I told you that I couldn’t get involved with you. Let’s meet for lunch. I need to talk to you.” As if I would say no.

At lunch, Brad leaned into me and whispered, “You know how I feel about getting involved with a married man, but I want so much to make love to you. Can you get away and spend the afternoon with me? No strings attached.”

I didn’t answer him, but I pulled out my cell phone and called my office, telling them that I would not be in the rest of the day and could not be reached.” Immediately, he did the same. We ran to where our cars were parked and I drove to his apartment. He was waiting for me in the parking lot.

Once inside, our lust took over. We couldn’t bother to undress each other. We undressed ourselves in record time. We just stood still for a few moments staring at each other. We had seen each other naked before, but this was different. Our dicks were hard and bobbing up and down. Both of us were breathing hard.

The silence was deafening. “I’m a virgin,” I blurted out, and then I could have kicked myself.

“I know,” he said. “Let me guide you and teach you. Would you like to fuck or be fucked?” he asked sincerely.

“Both,” I answered in pure innocence, not knowing what to expect.

“Good,” he said as he took my hand and led me to his bed.

We lay in his bed facing each other. He took my cock in his hand and started stroking gently. I literally started purring, but I was way beyond embarrassment. I took his cock in my palm. It was the first time I had ever felt another male prick, much less a hard one. I was amazed. It was like velvet over a steel rod. I pushed back what foreskin remained on his purple head and started to stroke gently. As if to let me know that he felt the same way that I did, he started purring as well.

I could feel an orgasm growing and Brad seemed to know it also. He abruptly let go of my cock, leaned over me and started to lick my cock up and down the shaft. Then he sucked my balls, and just under my balls at my crack. I gave out an involuntary little squeal. He took me into him and I could feel his lips pumping the outside of my cock as his tongue licked up and down the shaft as if he was sucking a lollipop.

Again I felt an orgasm coming on and I stopped him. He had promised that I could fuck him. I had never fucked Staci in the ass, but I had often dreamed of it. Still I was determined to remain patient. I wanted to taste Brad’s cock, so I leaned over him and repeated everything he had done to me with one exception. When my tongue reached his crack, he lifted up. It was a clear invitation to go further. My tongue found his love canal and instinctively I began to suck it, and I inserted my tongue as far as it could go.

“It’s time,” he said. He reached over to his dresser and ripped open a condom, which he deftly rolled down my cock. Then he took some KY Jelly and lubricated my cock and finally his ass. When he was ready, he straddled me and positioned himself over my cock.

“This is the easiest way to enter,” he said. He lowered himself on my cock as I looked into his face. I could see that he was in pain, but when I was all the way in, he rested a moment and then he began to pump. I pumped with him, and soon enough I could see the pleasure in his face. I’m sure he could see the pleasure in mine. I came way too fast, and in time my limp dick retreated.

“Are you sure you want me to fuck you?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Good,” he said, “because I almost came and I wanted to save it for your ass hole.”

He put on a condom and greased himself. Then he laid me on my back and lifted my legs onto his shoulders. He inserted a greasy finger up my ass. God, it felt good, but when he inserted a second finger, it hurt a little. He reamed my ass until I was used to it. Stretching me a little further, he inserted a third finger. It hurt, but I knew it would pass. I closed my eyes waiting for more when suddenly I felt empty. Brad had removed his fingers and his cockhead was poised to enter. Once again he asked if I was sure, and I nodded.

As he entered me deeper and deeper, it was very painful, but it was what I wanted and I wouldn’t stop him. Finally he was all the way in and I wanted to cry out in my agonizing pain, but I didn’t. Suddenly I felt his cock move and he touched something deep within me. Slowly the pain left and I was overwhelmed with pleasure. I began to purr again, and Brad began to gently stroke inside of me. I began to think that I never wanted this to end, but Brad’s breath was getting shorter and shorter, and with one big wail, he exploded inside me.

Of course, Staci wanted sex that night, but I was not up to it, and I made some lame excuse. I lay in bed beside her, wondering if I could ever have sex with her again. I had experienced all my fantasies and somehow, even that first night, I knew that I could never go back again.

Brad and I continued to have lunch together and to work out at the gym together. We saw each other more and more at business meetings, as our list of mutual clients grew. Beyond that, he would not have sex with me again. “I love you,” he said, “but I can’t have you part time, less than part time.”

I knew he was seeing other men, and I grew insanely jealous. I told him so one day and he retorted, “Now you know how I feel about Staci.”

After that fantastic afternoon with Brad, my marriage changed. I no longer wished to avoid male sex, and sought encounters at the gym and through the internet. I had plenty of male sex, but rarely saw anyone twice. Nothing measured up to my few short hours with Brad. As for Brad, he was pleased that I was playing the field, but he actually worried about Staci.

And what about Staci? We practically never had sex anymore. After awhile she stopped objecting and I resumed my prayer that she was seeing someone else. Time flew by quickly. My son was suddenly off to college and my daughter was a junior in high school. To my extreme relief, Brad was still unattached and we were still friends.

Friends indeed. I found him looking at me with longing, when he thought I couldn’t see him. Once, at lunch, he took my hand at the table, but quickly released it. “Please,” I pleaded with him, but he shook his head. I cried inside all afternoon.

The day before my daughter left for college, my marriage ended abruptly. Staci came to me and asked for a divorce, a friendly divorce, without animosity.

“I don’t know what has been going on with you these past few years, but I am tired of living like a nun,” she informed me. “I have been seeing one of the other teacher’s at work, and we want to get married.”

When I remained silent after her announcement, she asked me, “Was it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“I embraced her, much to her surprise. “Oh no,” I said, “never you. I love you, Staci, but I need to admit something to you. I’ve been so afraid, but now I can tell you. I’m gay.”

“Poor darling,” she said, holding me closer. “I suspected, and I was afraid to ask you. Do you have someone?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered. “He refused to have anything to do with me because I am married.”

“Find your happiness, darling,” she said fondly. “I have found mine.”

Even though it was not a gym day for me, I went to the gym that evening. Brad smiled when he saw me. “This is an unexpected pleasure,” he said.

“I just felt like a little exercise,” I informed him. I was wearing my ring and I didn’t say anything to him. After our workout, we showered next to each other as we had done now for the past few years. When he handed me the soap to do his back, I didn’t take it. Instead I removed my wedding ring and handed it to him.

“I’m not wearing a wedding ring anymore,” I said without embellishment, as simply as I could. There were two other men in the shower, but Brad didn’t seem to care. He embraced me and wept on my shoulder.

Of course I went home with him that night, and we have not spent a night apart since that day. We even attended my ex wife’s wedding together, and graduation ceremonies for both my kids.

Posted: 08/13/10