It was spring break. The campus was practically deserted. I am 34, but I often visit university towns on my travels purposely to use the college gym, to work out, maybe get into a pickup basketball game, and of course, to check out the sights and smells of the men's locker room. Some are easier to sneak into than others, and there's always a whiff of danger in such places. One is an intruder, not legally there.
Some schools, like this one, have a sauna. I had been here, in this gym, before. Last time I came, there were college studs everywhere, and I remember following so many of them into the showers, time and again, and again and again, shower after shower, that I must have been there for hours that day. No come-ons. No sex. Just cheap voyeurism. Cheap thrills. And one Heck of a solo jack-off session at the end of the day!
They did not have the sauna, then, but I remember going from the student locker room to the faculty locker room, and back again, over and over. I'm always lookin for hairy chested hunks, older students, or graduate assistants in their 20's and 30's, or just good lookin older men, 40-ish faculty types, who usually end up being engineers or business school profs, usually married. The ones that catch my eye are always hairy chested, of course.
And that day, burned into my memory, was one very long shower with this tall, incredibly hairy-chested and dark-haired runner, a grad student I think, who had just come in from a long run. His skin glowed with the rosy warmth of blood running through his veins, and I purposely took the locker next to his, and shivered as he took off his shirt and wiped the sweat from his hairy arms and massively curly-haired chest. I gasped almost audibly as he stripped and stood there in front of me, all hairy muscle and sweat in a jockstrap, and again as my arm brushed against the curls of hair on his forearm as we reached into our lockers and undressed.
It took all my might to suppress what might have been a raging hard-on. The showers are large and communal, there. I followed him, and although it was just the two of us, I dangerously chose the shower head immediately next to his. He must have suspected. But I actually managed to start a macho conversation with him about the next Saturday's game, and while acting like a totally straight jock I quietly got the thrill of watching him soap up his thick, curly hairy chest not two feet from my face. I went nuts when he leaned backwards, eyes closed, to rinse his hair, the soap dribbling down through the thick curls on his chest and under his arms, and when he reached down to wash his enormous dick I just couldn't stand it and quickly left before giving myself away.
But, then, wrapping myself safely in a towel, I sat on the bench and watched him dry himself off, toweling his hairy chest over and over again. I dared not suspect that he was putting on a show for me, but he did take his time, slowly toweling dry the profuse amount of hair around his groin and dick, repeatedly toweling the gloriously hairy ass crack, tugging his towel back and forth across his back while his dick flapped in the breeze. The hair on his chest billowed out from his skin and, as he turned, brushed against my own hand as I reached for my shirt. I shuddered. And I shuddered again as I watched him strutting masculinely and nude to the urinal and back, aggressively shaking the drips of urine from his dick with his powerful, muscular right hand as he returned, and assertively swiping his stick of Old Spice deodorant through his thickly hairy armpits. He wore boxers of course, and like most hairy men, a T-shirt. I got a good last look at his hairy pecs and armpits as he pulled it over his head, and my own briefs grew little harder when I noticed that the thick hair on his chest curled deliciously above the collar of his T-shirt . . . a tight fitting T-shirt through which one could see the dark outlines of thick curls of chest hair.
By that time I was half dressed myself, and it was a little tough slippin into my jeans over my bulge, but I wondered all the while if he knew that my manly jockish comments like 'Isn't so-and-so a good quarterback' were really a subterfuge, and that what I really wanted to say was 'Can I lick your hairy tits!' He stufffed his rugged gym bag and left. I immediately stripped again and jacked off in the shower as if he were still there, half hoping he would return and catch me at it! Well, that was last year's voyeuristic fun. And, stupid me, I had stumbled onto campus this time during spring break.
No one around to look at except the guy in the mirror. I'm a pretty good lookin guy, myself: tall, sandy-haired, masculine, more than a little hair on my chest, and I stay in shape, lift a few weights. I don't sleep around much. Too dangerous. And I've never been in one place long enough to find a mate. So, I reduce myself to this voyeurism and probably know every good jack-off technique in the book. So, here I was again, and I decided to get a workout in. A little solo basketball. A few weights. And then I hit the track to run a couple of miles.
When I was walking back to the gym I suddenly noticed a man jogging in the same direction, obviously headed to the showers. I picked up my pace, and reached the gym door at the same time. He was a total hunk, with a sort of ruggedly handsome, chiseled face, dark hair, deep dark eyes, thick dark and coarse stubble on his unshaven cheeks. Maybe in his late 30's, a professor perhaps, his T-shirt was soaked with sweat.
I immediately struck up conversation as I opened the door for him, 'How far did you run?'
He smiled and said, 'Oh, about four, I think . . . not as much as I used to.' I replied, 'Well, you are keepin in great shape,' wondering if he would notice the emphasis I placed on the word 'great.' Maybe he did, because at that moment as we walked through the tunneled hallway toward the locker room, he quickly and aggressively pulled off his shirt. I was done for. I went weak in the knees at the sight of the incredibly thick, dark curly hair covering his entire chest, framed between two chiseled, vascular hairy arms and huge biceps, with a thick trail running down across his chiseled abs.
Even worse, he said, 'Name's Nick,' extending his hairy forearm and right hand to shake mine. His grip was a man's grip, and I did my best to reply without losing control, 'My name is Jack.' That isn't my real name, but it sounded masculine, and like a real man I pulled off my T-shirt too as we walked through the door of the locker room. I caught his glance, looking at me. As we reached our lockers, which just happened to be near one another, I noticed the manly way he had hung his pin-striped dress shirt and tie over the locker door. I saw a white T-shirt and boxers. A regular business type.
He was out of his running shorts before I could catch my breath, and he grabbed a white towel and strolled into the showers still wearing his jockstrap. I removed mine, and followed him. As I had done the last time that I came here, I took the shower head next to him, but as we had started up a conversation about running and other sports, I didn't think I was being too obvious. As I reached for a bar of soap, to my surprise he quickly rinsed and turned off the spigot, and he said, 'I'm goin to hit the sauna.'
'Sauna?' I said, 'I didn't know there was one.'
'It's new,' he replied, 'C'mon, I'll show you where it is.' Well, we had to stroll buck hairy naked to the other end of the long, cavernous locker room, Nick still in his dripping wet and nearly transparent jockstrap. Damn, his ass crack was hairy! I licked my lips as I walked behind him. We jumped inside. I quickly climbed to the top bench as Nick immediately sprawled himself out on the lower bench, just beneath me. 'Ah, this feels good,' he said, lying on his back, eyes closed, running his hands back and forth through the thick hair on his chest. His soft, billowy chest hair must have billowed out an inch or more from his ruddy skin, gathering thickly between his pecs, and along the curvature underneath his pecs, merging into a glorious treasure trail running down across his very hard abs. His arms were hairy, too, sinewy, muscular, more thickly hairy at the wrists but with hair covering his muscular forearms all the way to the elbow. 'Ah , this feels good,' he said again.
'It sure does,' I uttered, staring down at his hands, drooling, imagining they were my hands, and keeping my towel tightly around me. Then, like a total stud, he jumped up and did some push-ups against the bench just across from me. His legs were spread apart, and with each thrust his hairy ass crack rose toward me, my tongue salivating over the sight of each hairy curl. Without a word he then sprang to his feet and stripped off the jockstrap, his huge limp prick, buried in a massively profuse growth of pubic hair, dangling in front of me as he aggressively wrung the water out of his jockstrap and hung it on the bench next to me to dry. I stared at it, noticed the several curls of public hair on its cup and licked my lips, then looked again over at his hairy dick where he still stood, and then up at his face.
I think he was watching me. He smiled and laid down again, where he had originally lain, but this time completely nude. His cock must have been 6 inches even when flaccid. And I ogled as he again ran his hairy hands and arms up and down through the hair on his chest and abs, lightly massaging his torso, occasionally itching himself on the groin, or pulling at a tuft of hair there, swiping his hand a couple of times across his large, languishing dick. I was about to explode. But, as saunas do, they get too hot. 'Let's hit the showers,' Nick said.
Knowing that I had a raging hard- on, I said, 'You go on, I'll catch up.' No shower fun today, I thought. So, I returned to my locker only in time to watch Nick toweling himself off, and after lingering to ogle him as long as I could, I hit the showers myself. When I returned, Nick was gone. I toweled off, wrapped myself in a white towel, and grabbed my razor for a badly needed shave.
When I turned the corner, there was Nick, standing at a sink buck naked, with a canister of shaving cream and a razor sitting on a shelf, as he toweled dry his hair. I stared at the glistening muscles in his beautifully hairy arms as he scrubbed his head with the towel, and I drooled again at the sight of his hairy armpits. Thick, luscious, inviting. I drooled. There were several sink basins, but I boldly walked up and took the one immediately next to Nick's.
'You mind if I borrow some shaving cream?,' I said. 'Mine seems to be empty.' It wasn't. He handed his to me, smiled, said 'Sure,' and to my astonishment, he winked! I almost dropped the shaving cream, but I quickly lathered it onto my stubble and shaved, glancing over at Nick in the mirror with each stroke.
There was something masculine in his every move, even the way he dried his hair! Just as I was splashing water onto my face, he said in his deep masculine voice, 'Here, let me have that back,' and he grabbed the shaving cream, his hairy arm brushing against my chest, and with a slight chuckle and began to lather it onto the coarse stubble of his beard.
There is nothing sexier to me than the sight of a buck naked, muscular, hairy-chested jock, standing at a sink in a locker room, steam rising from the hot running water, lathering shaving cream onto his beard's stubble with his powerful hands and hairy arms, a razor in one hand, the other hand gently fondling the hair on his own chest, as he starts to shave the coarse stubble on his rugged face. I stood there and conversed, watching, unable to pull myself away, becoming very obvious, and quietly sighed as a blob of shaving cream plopped down onto Nick's hairy chest, the chest hair still half wet, still matted down in places against his athlete's skin, droplets of water clinging to individual curls, and yet half dry and billowy where he seemed to gently pull on clumps of hair with his left hand. I was breathless.
He glanced over at me in the mirror a time or two as I lingered there. I heard a soft chuckle, and at that, overcome with lust for this beefy chunk of luscious chest hair and masculinity standing next to me, I reached over and wiped the blob of shaving cream from his hairy chest. He smiled. Instantly, I dropped my towel, and momentarily stroked my fully erect and throbbing prick. In an instant I had moved over to stand behind Nick and I gave him a bear hug. He chuckled again, playfully, said nothing, and continued shaving as I kissed his muscular back of his thick neck and ran my fingers through the luscious hair on his chest, my stiff cock nestled into the soft, luscious hair of his ass crack.
Finally, after splashing hot water onto his face, he turned around, returned my embrace, and kissed me passionately as I continued to fondle his hairy chest with one hand, our giant pricks mashing into the softness of each other's hairy groins. Our tongues explored each other's eager mouths, and as both of us were now as hard as a rock, we grabbed each other's manhood and pulled each other back into the shower. He must have been 10 inches erect to my eight. Both of us thick. One could barely grasp the two cocks together in one hand!
There, in the shower, several spigots running, steam rising all around us, we must have remained for an hour or more before I would experience the pleasures of taking his giant prick up the ass, and feeling the warmth and taste of his prick in my mouth, the taste of pre-cum, but before we got around to that, and before I got around to soaping up that hairy chest of his, I first introduced my eager tongue to every last sweaty curl of hair covering his broad chest, dribbling down across his sculptured abs, his profusely hairy groin, his huge prick, his hairy inner thighs, the thick hair and manly scent under his arms, and every fucking hair on his body! I saved his thickly hairy ass crack for last, probing his hairy hole with my tongue as I reached around and stroked his massive cock.
And then, I knelt before him and sucked his gigantic prick, which seemed to grow ever bigger as I sucked and sucked. Then, as if to prepare me, he pulled me onto my back on the shower floor, spread my legs, placed my feet up high on the wall of the showers, so that the hard jet of warm water hit with full force into my own, quivering hairy asshole. He held me there under the spray while he knelt and sucked my cock, kneeling over me, lowering his hairy balls to my face so that I could suck on them as they slapped against my face.
The streams of warm water hitting against my asshole drove me insane. I was in sweet agony, and finally, I could stand no more. I pleaded with him, 'Oh Nick, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. PLEASE FUCK ME!!!!'
He pulled me up, held me close. We kissed, and he pressed my face into the center of his hairy chest and held it there awhile, his strong hairy arms wrapped around me lovingly. And he whispered sweetly into my ear, 'OK. I will.' He kissed me passionately again, and, laying out a large towel on the shower floor, laid me there under the steady stream of hot water, steam rising like a cloud around my face. He knelt over me, straddling my chest, and told me to soap up his massive prick, which I stroked eagerly. He was huge! I stared wide-eyed as I soaped up his cock. Then he backed up, knelt between my legs. I salivated over the sight if his rippling muscles as his powerful hairy arms lifted my legs high, and over his shoulders. I was breathless at the sight of his massive hairy chest hovering above me. I reached up, and just as I lost my fingers in the thick curls of chest hair of the gorgeous man about to fuck me, he shoved it into me, all of it, quickly. I gasped in pain, repressing a scream, but it was soon glorious. HE fucked me slowly, lovingly, bending over me closely enough for me to caress the thick hair on his chest as he fucked me, and yeah, he fucked me good. Oh, how he fucked me! The rhythmic intensity was like nothing I had experienced before. I almost passed out! We gazed into each other's eyes, and just as I reached up and caressed his rugged face, he stiffened, and exploded inside of me, stream after stream of hot cum shooting up my waiting ass. I shot my own wad simultaneously, all over my chest, and he reached down with a finger and brought a blob of my cum to his lips before leaning down to kiss me.
Both of exhausted, we lay there on the shower floor for several minutes, wrapped in each others arms, kissing affectionately. After we cleaned up, he took me to dinner. We spoke little across the table, and just stared affectionately into each other's eyes most of the time, as if each of us were thinking the same thing. Each of us had found someone. And then he took me home, a masculine disheveled home strewn with sports equipment and books, beer bottles and brown leather chairs.
We watched a movie, slowly caressing, kissing, drinking wine. I unbuttoned his shirt and played with his chest hair where it curled up onto his upper chest and delicately touched the Adam's apple. I unbuttoned two more buttons and nestled my face in the hairy center of his chest, as if discovering it for the first time. Finally, as the movie ended, our wine bottle empty, we pulled each other off the sofa and headed to bed. And there, we rolled around affectionately for an hour until, ultimately, we fucked again, each of us this time taking the other's prick up the ass, and finally, completely spent, I lay there completely happy, warm and safe in this hairy man's bed, caressing and nuzzling and his powerful, muscular, and beautifully hairy arms, as I rested my face in the thick hair on his chest, which I nuzzled, and kissed, and licked, all night long.