Quick but not Dirty

This happened a couple of months ago - just finally got it edited to post. Unfortunately, things got busy and complicated, and I fell back out of the habit; hopefully thinking about this will help me get back on it. 

(back in April) 

I have been going back to the gym. It's been good for my body, and the regularity of getting up, getting out of the house early, driving to the gym with the early morning sun slanting through my car windows, has been good for the regularity of my schedule. I'm sleeping better. 

This morning has been uneventful. I've seen a couple of people I know; one guy in particular always smiles and passes friendly remarks, and it's good to see a smiling face. I do ten minutes in the sauna, breaking a solid sweat, while doing my Wim Hof breathing practice; combining those two is a little intense, but it feels good, building lung and mitochondrial capacity. I work mostly machines - butterfly for chest, lat pull-downs and rows for back, lateral shoulder raises, then switch to free weights and do some lat shrugs and then variations on the physical therapy exercises the PT prescribed for my rotator cuff. I'm never going for "killer" workout - but I like feeling like my upper body is a little tighter and a little worn out. More than anything, I'm working to build the habit of being here - of getting up and going, of taking care of my body. It got a lot of disuse and neglect during the Bad Time, the decade of gray depression, and it needs some rehabilitation. 

I watch the clock, and when it's time, I change out of my clothes into a towel, and go to get five minutes more of sweating in the sauna. Then, it will be a quick shower, dress, and out to head to work. 

When I get to the sauna, it's empty. I sit in the far left corner, close to the heating unit. I like this hot spot; it's easy to see who's coming in, and I'm not in the way of traffic. Another guy comes in, and goes back and forth between sitting on the opposite corner of the bench, and pacing beside the door. Another guy comes in, and sits down on the other bench, which forms an L to the one I'm sitting on. And then another guy comes in and sits on the bench next to me. 

He's beautiful; large and muscular in a way that's intense enough to be intimidating. His head is shaved with a short clipper, like a #1 guard, so that his hair is exactly the kind of velvety stubble that my screen name comes from; a classic super-short butch. He moves decisively, like he's on a mission, with little extraneous motion; he doesn't shift from foot to foot, he doesn't rock or twitch; he doesn't have a phone on him to look at. His thickly-muscled body looks like he spends a lot of hours in the gym, but I also get the impression he might do some muscular strength sport, like rugby or rock climbing. He's got a handsome face, with a thick, robust red-brown beard, and he's hairy. All over. He's got a thick pelt on his chest and thighs, and you can tell that if he didn't shave, the beard creeping down his neck would probably almost connect to the hair peeking out of his collar. There is a smattering of fur on his shoulders, and there's a light coat of hair all the way down his back. His skin has some freckles amongst all the fur, and as he leans forward, relaxing in the steam, I see that the fur continues, shading to dark brown, right down the crack of his beefy ass where it protrudes from the top of his wrapped towel. Gulp. 

He has the intensity of expression of someone who's got a job to do, and is doing it to a schedule. He's got five minutes of sweating on the agenda, so he's sweating. He looks focused. I can't tell if he's just very present in the moment, or if he's planning his day, or working through how to manage a particular sticky situation with his team. He doesn't do any of the talking-to-oneself motions that I'm used to seeing; if he's working through his day-runner, he keeps it entirely to himself. He seems like the kind of guy who gives his full attention to the work in front of him. It's a posture I'm accustomed to seeing in athletes and guardian dogs; taking everything in, ready to move if needed, not distracted by the extraneous. He does not fidget. I keep wiping with my hand towel, because the trickling rivulets of sweat running down my face and limbs tickle and make me feel like ants crawling on my skin; he just sits, leaned slightly forward, and drips. I watch salty drops run off his face and land on the lower bench at his feet. 

I reach the end of my time, and I get up and walk to the shower room. I pick a stall, hang my towel on the hook, set my stuff up on top of the wall, and start to lather up. I leave a little gap in the curtain where I can see what's going on, but the only other occupied shower is directly across from me, and he's got the curtain fully drawn. I try not to make anybody uncomfortable with shower shenanigans - I know that a lot of guys are just here to work out, and consider this kind of thing unseemly. Of course, some of the guys are straight. I'm washing, enjoying the cool water sluicing over my body, and when I look up - the big furry guy has picked the shower diagonally opposite me, in the back corner of the shower room. He leaves a gap in his curtain too. He watches, clearly interested, as I lather up my chest, my pits, my balls, my dick. I start stroking my cock, the lather making a slippery froth - I'm using Aveeno, a colloidal oatmeal cleansing bar, so I know it's not going to dry my skin out. The sudsy lather from the Aveeno whips up into a froth, looking almost exactly like the frothed semen that happens when I edge, and I enjoy squeegeeing it off the end of my dick with my hand, and then laying it back on the shaft to rub some more. I do a few rounds of PC muscle squeezes, making my cock come to rampant full rigidity and bounce up and down. I look at him as I wag it in his direction. He opens his mouth, running out his tongue so far that it nearly covers his chin. I can't tell if this is just a comment, a gesture of feeling horny and aroused, or if it's an invitation; it could go either way. He's stroking his cock as well, in a nest of dark brown hair; it's a nice one, and rock hard, although not as big as mine. He waves me over with his hand, and now the ambiguous invitation is crystal clear. I point to my watch, though, and shrug - I really don't have enough time. It usually takes me so long. I'm not good at quickies.

I rinse, and I dry off - again, letting him watch. I rub the towel sideways back and forth on my ass, so that my cock swings back and forth like a dog's wagging tail. I wrap the towel around my hips, hard cock still jutting it out in front, and step across the little aisle to the other side. He steps toward the doorway of his enclosure, then steps back, as if to make room for me.  I touch his chest, and tell him, "You're fucking beautiful, thank you for letting me watch. I really do have to go, though." He is still keen... and I open the front of my towel. He holds the curtain in one hand, as if he's going to close it against my dick and use it like a glory hole, but I say, "OK, just a minute..." and I put my towel on the hook over his, step into the shower enclosure, and draw the curtain fully closed. 

I haven't got a plan, really... there's not a very reliable way to discern who wants to do what, in a mixed-gym shower situation, aside from me stroking my big erection and him sticking his tongue out. That's about all I've got. He hasn't mimed any signals - sometimes a guy will be really obvious, making a jerking-dick-into-mouth gesture, or turning and arching his back, showing his fuckable ass - although that's more often likely to be the case in the shower at the bath house. I'm still not sure what's about to happen, aside from that we find each other attractive, and he's grabbing my dick and I stroke his muscular hairy chest as we kiss. 

To my delight, he drops into a deep squat and takes my dick into his mouth. Looking down, the powerful muscular curves of his body are so strongly angled that he almost looks like a superhero cartoon. His meaty shoulders (BAM!) flex as he grips my thighs and works on my dick. His torso is slightly twisted, so his hips and thighs (KAPOW!) make one massive visual block, while his furry torso moves back and forth sucking me. We're almost completely silent. I put my hand on his short-buzzed hair, and feel the water running down my body and onto him as I stroke the cropped stubble. His hands on my thighs stabilize him against the motion of my body. I realize that I need to put my phone down, and I stick it up on top of the short wall; in a few seconds, it's joined by the little black mesh fastener bag that holds my soap and shampoo. I grip his skull with both hands, and give an experimental push. FUCK ME, but he just opens up and takes it. I fuck into his throat, running my hands over the stubble on his head, his meaty shoulders, his muscular pecs. I tweak a nipple. Then, I move my hands to the back of his head, cradling an ear behind each wrist, and thrust repeatedly and deep into his throat as his skull is cradled in my interlaced fingers. I don't even need to dislocate his jaw; he's in almost perfect control of his teeth, and his mouth is deep and warm. I fuck some. There's still that one guy on the other side of the wall, and we hear him finish his ablutions and leave. We're still being very quiet - you can hear the water splashing out of the shower head, and you can hear it hit us as we move, but there's no grunting, no slapping, no noise. I don't think that most observers would realize there is anything but an ordinary shower going on, while we're enacting this swift and brutal prison sex scene. I pin him into the back corner of the shower, his head corralled by both tile walls, and fuck hard; he pushes on my thigh when he needs to breathe, and I let up for a second each time he does. 

I have trouble believing it, because I usually take forever to get off, but I feel the orgasm building. The whole scenario is just so hot. I fuck several more deep strokes into his throat, then pull out and jerk my dick. It only takes a half-dozen yanks, and I'm spraying semen across his cheek, narrowly missing his eye, then a splat in his beard. Then I shove back in and finish unloading all the way down his throat. I hold it until he pushes me off. 

I rinse off, and he does too; in a low sotto voce rumble, I tell him that he's amazing. I tell him my name, and he gives me his. This order of introductions always amuses me about gay guys - get the blowjob out of the way, and then trade names, like decent horny animals. I thank him again, grab my towel and my stuff, and exit the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind me. The guy who always waves has just come into the shower room, and he raises his eyebrows at me, as if to say, "Well, well!" I raise my own, rolling my eyes sideways toward my new friend, as if to say, "Holy FUCK, you have no idea." 

I go to my locker and start toweling off and dressing. The friendly guy who waves, comes out of the shower room into the locker room, and says, "So, how's your day going so far?" and I say, "JESUS CHRIST, you saw how its going... it's been amazing so far." He laughs, and I hurriedly finish drying and put on my clothes. He goes to the sinks to shave. I realize after I'm mostly dressed, that I forgot lotion - I'll have to get it later. 

I get to work, only a few minutes behind time, and get things going. A little while later, when I go into the bathroom to piss, I notice a perfect ruby of blood on the top of the shaft of my dick. I wipe it, making sure that the nick is tiny - and it is - penile wounds are enthusiastic bleeders, but heal very quickly. It will be invisible by lunchtime. I go get some Aquaphor, and salve the spot. I never blame a guy if I get my dick nicked when I'm thrusting like that; it's never a matter of him not watching his teeth - it's me fucking his mouth like a cunt, that does it. And I'll put up with a moderate amount of random blood spots, for this kind of amazing shower service.