Old 04-15-2018, 03:15 AM   #1
matt1995
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Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 51
Default The Three of Us

I’m cupping my balls. The original intention was definitely hygiene, I swear. I’m stood in the gym shower, in this blue cubicle, and the stream of water hits my face. It’s a good shower. My legs are aching from a slightly over-ambitious level of squatting, and now, as per the sweat than covered me, and especially my previously Lycra-clad legs, I need to wash. So, I was merely adding shower gel to my privates, and it happened that the physical stimulation of my balls, combined with the necessity to close my eyes have led me down a certain path.

There was this woman in the gym, in the same area, also doing squats. Whereas I, in some sense of modesty and perception of masculinity, wear shorts over my Lycra, and thus don’t have my arse out for general observation, this woman – early-twenties, blonde hair, lean, in spectacular shape, with beautiful blue eyes and stunning features otherwise – did. Her legs were thick in exactly the right way, and led up to her arse, and every time she squatted (and boy, could that lady squat), I noticed/watched/gazed upon her incredible bum lowering, tensing, sticking out. Perfect form. And now, in my mind’s eye, she’s still squatting, but she’s doing it without the eighty-or-so kilograms on her back, and she’s naked. And as she goes lower and lower, I see her legs part from behind and her slit and it’s all so tight. Once more, now I’m in the scene, and lying on my back, and similarly naked, albeit not nearly so athletically endeavoured, so I’m just lying there. My dick, in this moment I’m watching, is rock hard and 90 degrees vertical to my body, and I literally do nothing, as this woman squats deep, and I enter her, and it feels great. And now, not just in my fantasy anymore, I’ve got a semi.

But I should really introduce myself. My name is Tommy, I’m nineteen and I go to university in York. I’m studying English, in my first year; I have a few friends in my halls, and am part of a couple of societies: tennis, film, creative writing, whatever. I started going to the gym this year, and have a constantly varying esteem on the way I look. Five foot nine, slim but reasonably built, jet black hair, and I reckon pretty handsome, from the right angle. My mum says so. University was supposed to be where I would really cut wild and live a crazy lifestyle. I mean, I threw up in a bin a couple of weeks ago, but otherwise…

I’m a virgin: that’s a reality – at nineteen. Never been laid, even as in my head this woman, who was pretty loud when she was just lifting 1.5x her bodyweight up and down, is screaming with pleasure in gleeful receipt of my dick. I glance down: it’s not a bad dick, I think. About six and a half inches long, and – not that anyone would ever ask, or feel – circumference of six. Unusually thick, that is, I’ve told no-one. Hell, I’ve never even been wanked off. Once me and a friend masturbated next to each other, but that was more about the porn we were watching than each other’s company. It was years ago, anyway. I watch too much porn. Three times a day if I’m flat-based, probably, and I think I have the unfortunate combination of a high sex drive and low capability of achieving same. So my left-hand moves from my balls – which need a trim, come to look at them – to my increasingly rising shaft, and I begin to wank, gently. It takes longer with the left. I’m the only one in the locker-room, or so I thought.

There are four stalls for showering, and suddenly next to me a door swings open, and I see the reflection of him on the floor enter the cubicle. Shit – these reflections are remarkably clear, and I can actually see him remove his towel and his dick – his actual, flopping, flaccid dick come out – and crucially, by extension, he could see that here I am, his immediate neighbour, three feet away from him, with now a full erection. The tennis showers are open, and I shower in boxers there because of the sheer unpredictability of my dick. I turn away from this stranger, close my legs, and concentrate on the deeply unerotic: mould and grandma and Donald Trump. I’m ready to leave the shower within a couple of minutes.

I towel off in the stall, and am just pulling my boxers up under the towel in the changing room, when there are footsteps behind me. I turn:
He’s about six foot tall, and naked. His skin’s very good: strange initial observation, I know, but I’m someone who’s like six months removed from the last of chest acne, so I notice. He’s smooth from head to toe, and if he had body hair at one point, it’s gone now: not under armpits, on chest or stomach. A few wisps of brown-blond pubic hair show until his left hand, coming from a thick, toned forearm and bicep, covers up his genitals. His abs show without him apparently tensing (I mean, almost the same with me, but this guy must outweigh me by three or four stone). You can see the veins in his wide legs. Finally his face: he’s grinning, classically handsome, clean-shaven, jawline, blond hair, blue eyes, high-cheekbones.

‘Hey mate,’ he says.
I’d briefly forgotten about speech. ‘…Hey.’
‘Stupid thing to do, but I forgot my shower gel. Don’t suppose I could borrow some.’
‘Sure,’ I say, stealing another glance towards his left hand. It looks like it might be big. It’s a generous cup. I turn and grab my shower gel, and go to hand it over. He opens his hand as if receiving the Eucharist.
‘Just put some in my hand. Don’t want to keep you up if you’re heading out.’ There’s a tug under my towel.
‘Sure,’ I repeat myself, and feel stupid. I squeeze some into his outstretched right hand, and grinning, he goes to turn.

‘Cheers, mate – I owe you one.’ And he goes to walk off towards the stalls again, now bare ass pointing towards me. This guy clearly squats, as a small shelf of muscle comes from his lower back into this lightly-fuzzed rounded ass, and I can’t stop looking, and now my twitch has become another semi, and if he turns around, he’ll see, so I turn and race to get changed. Boxers, shorts, t-shirt, bag packed, zipped. I’m still imagining his meaty ass and thighs as I almost run out of the changing room with the running of the shower in the background. I turn straight into the weight area, and that blonde woman is still squatting, and at her full decline, and her ass too (shit, I never realised I was such as ass guy) is pushed out and rounded like a Greek statue and now she’s squatting into his dick and I’m being blown and – real world, this time – I’ve got a full erection, in shorts – bloody nylon modesty-is-for-the-weak shorts – in the middle of the gym, and if anyone looks my way they’ll notice. I near-sprint from the place, and the moment occupies my thoughts for much of the day, at least until I relieve myself in a uni toilet cubicle an hour and a half later, and then, shamefully, half an hour after that. Thinking about that changing room, it won’t stay down.
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