January at the gym... At least, the first two weeks of January! The time of year when the gym is very busy. You meet regulars, but also many new faces. It is not uncommon to have to wait your turn for the machines or to alternate sets with another member. This is then the opportunity to start a conversation, even if not everyone is receptive. Me first. However, it is easier to get along with some. That lunchtime, as the group classes approach the start, the gym is packed. I take turns on the calf press with a man I often see here. Charming, in his fifties. During my first set, slightly to the side, a guy sitting working on his quadriceps (upper thigh muscles) looks at me discreetly. I smile at him and he smiles shyly back. He glances at me sideways several times. He's wearing a red long-sleeved soccer jersey, black and gold shorts over black leggings, and thin, also black sneakers. Physically, he looks like Neymar, which I avoided telling him because I imagine that he must have been told that several times. The eye contact lasts for the duration of his sets. He finally gets up and walks with determination to the other end of the room. I see Guérom and Guilhem in the distance, still training together. They're timing themselves on a Pilates ball. Having finished my rehearsals, I go up to follow the group classes that are about to start and meet Guy at the bottom of the stairs. He's also a regular. The very first one to talk to me when I started at the gym. He's exactly 45 years old, blond, not very tall. The class is taught by the handsome guy at reception who gives me a big smile when I enter. The session lasts 15 minutes during which he stayed next to me, ogling under my mini-shorts during the core workouts. The teacher's crotch is clearly itching, which is a shame because it's impossible to have fun at that precise moment. 12:15 p.m. is displayed on the wall clock. The class ends. It's time for me to go home. I go down the steps under the disappointed gaze of the coach, who must be moving on to another lesson. No blowjob for us today... From the bottom of the locker rooms I can already hear the commotion, the voices mixing and the water running. It's rush hour and there's a queue for the showers, that's the word! I'm caught up in this vision... In a smell that mixes deodorant and sweat, guys everywhere, naked guys... A commotion of open lockers that slam shut when you bump into them,benches buried under bags and clothes, shoes dragging on the feet of nagging guys... Many are there. I position myself under my windowsill, as usual, in a few free square centimetres. On my right, a young blond man with glasses in his twenties, sitting naked - something very rare here - wiping his feet. I pack my things, but he reassures me that I'm not bothering him. On my left, I recognise the things of the calf press guy who is just coming out of the showers naked, towel in hand. His cock is so small that only his glans is visible. That said, he has big smooth balls and pubic hair. In fact, he has hair everywhere, on his buttocks, lower back and even behind his shoulders. He looks at himself in the mirror and boasts, with his ass in the air, about having a nice body despite his barely 50 years. I nod in agreement. He is followed by Guy, also naked, still wet. He has a small penis too, short blond pubic hair, big pink balls hanging down and a long foreskin. While drying himself, he chats with me, as he often does. In the process, Neymar comes in. I see him watching me while I undress. I gather my things, but it's impossible to find my shampoo in this pile of clothes where the underwear of some ends up in the hands of others. As I enter the showers, he takes off his football jersey, and furtively for me to catch a glimpse of his navel. The time to press the shower head that he appears in black boxers behind me, towel around his neck, without shower gel. A dry muscular body, visible abs, hair around the nipples and the pubis sticking out. He places himself in the shower at the back, and falls down with a broad smile with already a circumcised half-soft and small balls covered in curly hair. He places his index finger on his mouth to indicate silence, whispering: "Don't get me hot!" But he's already stiff. He grabs my hand and uses it as a sex toy to jerk off. My cock is getting hard too, but what to do with ...

... Log in to read the end of this erotic story | 100% free registration