Muscleboy Double-Teamed in the Gym Shower

In my previous story, I recounted an 'incident' that occured in the shower stall at my gym. Although, calling it an incident might be mild - if someone had recorded it, I'd be calling it a porno. An older man and his son had ambushed me while I was showering (and, incidentally, pleasuring myself) and completely had their way with me. For most other people, this might have been somehow traumatic, and they would've likely proceeded to switch gyms and/or re-evaluate their life choices re: masturbating in easily accessible places. For me, however, this had been my wildest wet dream come true. Up to that point, I had only fantasized about an older man manhandling my smooth, beefy boy body in public. Turns out, reality was ten times hotter than fantasy. I absolutely loved the feeling of being completely vulnerable, hands restrained, mouth gagged, my lewd body entirely at the mercy of not one, but two older men. The son had 'forced' me to ride his cock (I'd loved every second of it), and as an added bonus, they'd left me tied up in the utility room, where I then received a follow-up pounding from the manager of the cleaning crew (and also gotten doused in cum by a few of his staff).

That day had been playing on repeat in my head ever since, and had been the focus of many a long edging session. I'd also upped my weight on the bench press, squat and deadlift, and had been training my abs almost every day, so that I'd look as sexy as possible in case Earl and Jimmy decided to show up again. After every workout, I'd head down to the locker room, hop into the shower and wait around for a good half hour or so for my 'admirers'. Eventually I'd start feeling a little ridiculous, or someone would start complaining that I was taking too long, so I'd quickly blow my pent-up load and leave.

About three weeks after the 'incident', I started to give up hope that I'd ever see the pair again. I'd also begun spending my evenings on gay webcam roulette sites as a way to redirect my sexual frustration. I'd usually wear something very skimpy - a tight girly T-shirt, maybe some booty shorts and a thong. The tighter the outfit was, the more skin it showed, and the more it accentuated my muscular, curvy figure, the better. Sometimes I'd throw in a pair of cowboy boots for maximum sluttiness. I'd click around until I matched up with an older man, and would then proceed to slowly striptease him. I loved watching him literally drool while I ran my hands all over my smooth muscular body, slowly revealing more and more of my lightly tanned skin. I'd wiggle my luscious ass at him, bring my thick pecs up to the camera and play with them seductively, show off the massive erection barely contained by the tiny thong, until he finally blew his load all over his webcam. I'd usually do this a couple of times a night until I couldn't hold back any longer, and would then settle on one lucky daddy who would get to watch me shoot my boy milk all over the place.

I'd also begun wearing these kinds of skimpy clothes under my regular day outfit whenever I went out. Prior to that I'd occasionally wear thongs (when I was feeling especially naughty), but those now became a staple, and I also began complementing them with a tight baby tee. The latter was generally so small that it clung to my meaty pecs like a second skin. The bottom cut only went down to just above my abs, meaning my sexy stomach and my pierced bellybutton were on full display, and the sleeves didn't even begin to cover my shoulders. Coupled with a tiny thong that could barely contain my perfectly shaped ass, I was amazed at how I could be look manly yet so feminine at the same time. I'd spend a few minutes admiring my scantily clad body in the mirror every morning, making a few seductive poses while stroking my meaty cock. I'd bring myself right to the edge of climax before putting my regular day attire over top of my perv outfit, and heading out the door to start my day. I got a total sexual thrill from the risk of somehow being caught wearing these slutty clothes in public, and would often pop a semi-chub throughout the day as I felt the tight fabric against my pecs and butt.

About a month after the encounter in the shower stall, I had a little incident at the convenience store where I work the late shift. It was around 12:30 AM at night. I normally didn't stay this late, but a drunk customer had stumbled in and managed to break a good number of liquor bottles (think double digits), and my manager preferred to have me clean up the mess while he smoked in the back. I was more than happy to oblige, since I was really gunning for that 10-cent an hour raise he'd promised me months ago. At one point, while I was on my knees trying to reach some larger shards of glass that had gotten under the shelves, I got the strange feeling that someone was watching me. I turned around and saw a disheveled-looking homeless man with wild, wispy hair starting at me through the glass storefront. Well, more accurately, he was starting at the thong that I realized was on full display as I bent over with my ass towards the glass. In fact, the man was ogling much more than just thong - my pants were pretty tight (by design), and I could feel the cool breeze on at least the upper third of my finely sculpted ass. The man was clearly getting quite a show. I smirked I gave my ass a seductive little wiggle. The man gave me a toothy grin, and slowly reached his hand down into his pants. He fumbled around down there, stopped for a moment, and then began to sensually glide his hand back and forth, clearly jerking off. Wow, this was kind of hot, I thought. Like a real-life chat roulette. I turned back around and resumed cleaning up the glass while simultaneously wiggling my ass for the hobo. Suddenly, I heard the back door open. My manager was coming back! I swiftly got up, pulled my pants up to cover my asscrack, and marched over towards the glass where the hobo was.

"Sir, I don't know what you think you're doing, but you need to leave." I said sternly. The man only grinned back, and continued jerking himself off, a little faster this time. I heard the back door close, and this was followed by my manager's voice: "Jake, what's going on?"

Yes, now you know, my name is Jake. Deal with it. Anyhow, I knew that if the manager saw the hobo pleasuring himself while gazing longingly at me, he'd definitely have more questions than I was prepared to deal with. I jogged over to the front door, opened it and walked over to the hobo. As I got closer, I realized that he was definitely taller than he'd appeared from behind the glass. If I had to guess, I'd say he was 6'4". Compared to my 5'9", he was basically a giant.

"Sir, I'm not going to repeat myself." I said, trying to hold back the waver in my voice, "I'm going to need you to leave".

"And I'm going to need you to shake your ass for me again," he replied in a surprisingly calm tone, "come on, let's see it."

It took me a second to gather my thoughts. It was all fun and games when the man was behind a glass wall, but now, standing in front of him, I felt very intimidated. However, I knew that if I didn't find a way to handle the situation, my manager would inevitably get involved. Heck, if he discovered that I'd been wearing a thong and showing off my butt to potential customers (yeah, right), it'd be more than my job on the line.

"Leave or I'm calling the cops." I said, raising my voice. I then reached down into my front right pocket, pulled out my phone and began dialing random digits. Fortunately, this was enough to dissuade the hobo. He sneered, turned around and began walking away into the parking lot, hand still in his pants. As he was a couple of parking rows in, he suddenly stopped, turned around, and I could've sworn he winked at me. Unnerved, I decided to hightail it back to the shop. I told my manager it was just a homeless man begging for change, finished cleaning up the glass, changed out of my uniform (don't worry, I had a tight athletic shirt and yoga pants on underneath my uniform.. like I'd really wear nothing but a baby tee and a thong), and clocked out.

By this point it was around 12:50am (on a Wednesday night), and the metro station was literally empty. This particular part of town was normally pretty dead, but now it was like a ghost town. It took about ten minutes for the train to roll up, its headlights cutting through the darkness like a pair of searchlights. I boarded one of the middle cars and looked around - empty, of course. I slumped down in one of the handicapped seats and reclined a little bit.

Normally, my commute is about fifty minutes, give or take. I pulled out my phone, and my heart sank when I saw that my battery was at 8%. Darn it! No Candy Crush for me, I guess. I put it on power save and shoved it back into my front pocket. As I lay there contemplating how to kill time, I felt my dick began to stir. The earlier scene with the hobo had crept back into my mind. Having something like that happen in real life, as opposed to on a computer monitor, brought back the same rush of sexual adrenaline I'd felt in the shower stall with Earl and Jimmy. It the feeling of my deepest, most perverted fantasies being laid bare for all to see. I closed my eyes, thinking about the hobo admiring my luscious butt through the glass, and my dick began to push against my thong and yoga pants. Around the same time, I realized it was getting unusually warm in the train car. Opening my eyes, I held my hand up against a nearby AC vent. Sure enough, the cooling had stopped working, and given that it was pretty muggy outside, I could only imagine how warm it could get inside. I decided I'd switch cars at the next station, hoping that it was just an issue with this particular car and not the whole train. Unfortunately, there were about ten minutes left until the next stop, so I'd have to put up with it for the moment.

After about a minute, I felt a bit of sweat begin to build up underneath my armpits. These tight clothes were definitely not helping. I decided to get up and move around to cool off a little bit, and walked over to the metal pole in the middle of the train car. As I leaned my back against it, the pole slid between my buttcheeks. The cool metal felt amazing between my shapely buns, but seeing as how I was already horned up, to me the pole felt more like a rock-hard cock. I felt my own cock begin to harden even more. A naughty thought surfaced in my mind - eight minutes to spare, nobody in the train car (possibly even in the train, besides the driver), night outside, too many layers on.. heck, why not? Without a second thought, I peeled off my athletic top (which was, at this point, pretty damp with sweat), pulled off my yoga pants (with some difficulty, as they were already very tight against my muscular ass and thighs, and the sweat didn't help at all)... and there I stood in all my slutty glory. The baby tee I'd worn today was a light blue, and the thong a creamy white. I caught a glimpse of my reflection against the glass in the sliding doors - boy, did I look hot. The blue tee only managed to cover my bulging pecs. My sexy rack of abs was on full display, with a thin layer of perspiration accentuating the shapely ridges. My bellybutton piercing shimmered seductively in the dim glow of the overhead bulbs. My hard nipples were clearly outlined underneath the tight tee, and I simultaneously gave them a playful pinch with both hands. My cock being hard-wired to my nipples, the former responded with a powerful push against my tiny white thong. I looked down at the reflection of the tent in the mirror, the drop of precum forming at the tip, and then turned around to admire my ass. God, what a thing of beauty it was. It resembled the most finely sculpted of asses from the highest-rated twerking videos. The dim ambient light helped to outline the two dimples above my ass even more than usual - boy, did I have a cute pair of dimples. I flexed my powerful thighs for the mirror, which accentuated my butt even more. Stripping down and admiring myself in this way had gotten me incredibly horny, and at this point I'd basically lost all capacity to think clearly. I was in a lust-filled haze, and decided the only way out of it was a quick jerk session. I turned back around, leaned against the pole, and felt the metal slide between my butt cheeks once more. I reached down and pulled my cock and balls out of the thong. The fresh air against my sweaty junk felt amazing. I hugged the back of my thighs towards the pole and began slowly sliding up and down on it, feeling the metal glide through my tight asscrack and up the lower half of my back, and hearing the light screech of the sweat and skin rubbing against the steel. I raised my arms high above my head and grabbed the pole, stretching my body out like some kind of seductive pole dancer. I could see the reflection of my own pole sticking out straight in front of me, a dollop of precum dangling from the tip, getting longer and longer as it stretched towards the floor. God, I looked like such a sexy slut. I closed my eyes in bliss, just to take it all in for a moment before going to town on my pent-up dick.

I should've remembered what happened the last time I closed my eyes in a sexually vulnerable position. I felt something close around my hands, which were still stretched above my head and holding on to the pole. I opened my eyes and tried to jerk them down, but it was too late. Glancing at them in the reflection, I could see that they'd been tightly tied to the pole with what looked like a belt. This wasn't the most unnerving thing in the reflection, however; behind me stood a tall dark figure, and it didn't take me long to realize that it was the same hobo who'd ogled my ass at the convenience store.

"Well, well, well..." he murmured, "looks like we meet again, young man."

He walked over and stood in front of me. Just like before, he towered over me, except this time I felt even smaller and more vulnerable, for obvious reasons. The only thing that wasn't smaller was my rock-hard rock, which, if anything, had gotten bigger at the realization that I had once again been trapped in a sexually compromising position by a bigger, older man.

"Sir, I got no beef with you. Just let me go, please." I said.

"You clearly got some kind of beef down there." smirked the hobo, and stepped closer. He looked to be in his sixties, with coarse wrinkles running across his weathered cheeks and forehead. The wispy hair I'd seen through the storefront window was grayish-black, and he had a thick moustache to match. His eyes were beady under his furrowed brow, and looked slightly bloodshot. His nose was big and red, almost like some kind of cartoon character. He definitely was NOT a looker, unlike yours truly. He wore a weathered-looking bomber jacket, a faded t-shirt that looked like it was from some kind of ancient 5K run, and khakis with tears at each knee, through which I could see patches of ashy skin. He didn't look frail at all though, and filled out his 6'4" (?) frame quite nicely - his arms and legs looked shapely enough, an I briefly wondered what his exercise and diet routine must have been like to maintain that kind of shape at his age, and in his condition. He had a bit of a musty smell, but surprisingly it wasn't nearly as bad as I imagined for someone with his appearance.

"Jeez, boy, what are you wearing? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" he asked as he looked me up and down. He then took his coarse index fingers and ran them down my arms, starting at my palms and slowly working his way down to my armpits. I trembled a bit at his touch - I was very ticklish, and the sensation was wonderful. I bit my lips as I felt his fingers diddling around in my sweaty pits. They were clean-shaven, and as the fingers explored, the smell of my old spice anti-perspirant whiffed through the air. Maybe I should switch brands, since this clearly wasn't stopping any kind of perspiration, I thought.

After the pit stop (literally), the man's fingers continued on their downward trajectory, but this time it was a shorter trip. They stopped at the pointy nubs poking rudely through the tight baby tee. After a moment of hesitation, the man flicked both of them simultaneously. I let out a brief, involuntary moan, but quickly stopped. I didn't want him to see how much I loved this kind of thing.

"That's all it takes, huh?" he asked, "Boy, am I going to have some fun with you." His fingers began tracing circles around my nipples through my shirt, every so often pausing to flick them sensually. I bit my lip harder to try and keep from moaning again. After about half a minute of this, he pulled his hands back, and then suddenly, without warning, shoved both of them under my baby tee with one swift motion. The hands closed around my beefy pecs, one hand on each, and then squeezed vigorously.

"Oooooh-!" I moaned in surprise and pleasure. The unexpected assault on my tender titties, and the sensation of his skin on mine, felt amazing.

"Yup, that's what I thought." said the hobo. He then began massaging my boobies with his large powerful hands, kneading them, pulling them up and down, side to side, squeezing every which way. Ocassionally he'd focus on the nipples, grabbing them between his thumb and index finger and pulling them outward from my body rudely. The sweat that had collected under my tee provided lubrication for my molestation.

"Please sir, please..." I moaned, "Stop, sir... they're so sensitive...". It felt like the right thing to say. At the same time, I wish he'd keep going forever.

"Yeah, that's not happening, boy." he responded, "What'd you think was gonna happen, dressing like this?" he released my pecs, giving me a brief respite from the onslaught of pleasure. He pulled one hand out and put it behind my head, and used the other one to grab the front of my baby tee and pull it up and away from my chest. There was an audible tear as the neckline tore, and in the reflection I could see that my juicy pecs were now on full display, with some remnants of the t-shirt left underneath them to prop them up like a push-up bra. Then, out of nowhere, he pushed his body against mine and locked his lips to my own. His lips were chapped and had a mild cigarette taste, and his breath smelled strongly of booze. The onslaught was so unexpected that I didn't offer much resistance. His lips completely enfluged mine, and his tongue quickly worked its way inside my mouth, exploring every crevice. His left hand travelled up and grabbed my hands, which were still tied to the pole, and his right hand clasped around my left buttcheek, squeezing tightly. As he kissed me, the massive bulge in his pants pressed against my own cock, rubbing against it roughly, I could feel the precum oozing out of my cockhead in a steady dribble.

He kissed me for about two minutes, then stepped back and eyed me up and down. His eyes fixated on my throbbing, dripping cock.

"That's a lovely piece of meat you have there, boy." he said. "Bet you wanna cum, huh?"

"No.. just let me go, please..." I moaned. As I said this, I wiggled my hips for him sensually. My cock bounced a bit and I could see a faint shimmer as a few miniscule droplets of precum flew through the air. My eyes were half-closed in a lustful haze. I bet my request was very convincing.

The hobo glanced up at the station indicator. "Looks like we're almost at the station. What do you say, you want to give them a show?" he asked. My heart sank. The next station was usually the busiest, even at this time of night. And based on the indicator, we had less than a minute before we arrived.

"Oh god.. no, please.. Let me put my clothes back on!" I begged pitifully, "I can't be seen like this!"

"Not happening, boy. Should've thought of that before you dressed like a total slut. Now let's get you locked and loaded!" the hobo laughed. He walked around and stood behind me, then reached both hands under my armpits, down over my hips and wrapped one hand around my Eiffel Tower and the other around my smooth, sweaty, cum-laden nutsack. He gave the latter a playful squeeze.

"Lotsa cum in here! Time to let it out!" he jeered. He then began to stroke my cock slowly while kneading my nuts with his other hand. "Ooooooh my goood... Ooooh nooo..." I moaned in absolute pleasure. The sensation of my stiff rod getting jerked after all that teasing was amazing. I began to rock my hips back and forth involuntarily, pushing my cock into his hand. My abs flexed and my bellybutton piercing shimmered in the dim reflection across from me. I could see a large bead of sweat slowly run from my bellybutton down onto the smooth base of my cock. As the train operator announced the approaching station, the hobo began to jerk harder and faster. As the train pulled up to the station, I could feel a distant orgasm approaching. I closed my eyes and tried as hard as I could to will myself out of it. Maybe I could explain getting molested by a hobo, but I sure as hell couldn't explain blowing my load in total ecstasy while a bunch of strangers watched. The latter would imply that I loved this, which I totally didn't. However, it was all futile. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't deny that this was something straight out of one of my perviest fantasies. I felt the train stop and opened my eyes. Directly across from me, on the other side of the glass, were five jock-looking types wearing university jackets. They stared in disbelief at the sight in front of them. The hobo sped up his jerking even more and squeezed my nuts hard.

"Ooooooh yeeeah!" I moaned and half-closed my eyes as I felt the orgasm approaching. This was it, the point of no return. I half-opened my mouth and let my tongue fall out in a lustful haze as I made eye contact with the jocks. The hobo's timing was basically perfect; as the train doors slid open, he performed the final stroke, but he did it at an almost snail-like pace. As his hand descended down my shaft, I felt the swell of orgasm like an incoming freight train. As he reached the base of my dick and squeezed, it hit me. I let out a massive, high-pitched, feminine moan of pure pleasure, like the kind you hear the girl make in a porno when she's cumming: "Aaaahhhh... ooooooh... yeeeeAAAAHHH!"

I felt the wave of cum rush from my nuts, up through my shaft and explode from my piss slit. I shot my boy milk straight at the first of the jocks, dousing the front of his jacket. At this point the hobo masterfully sped up his stroke, prolonging the pleasure and even launching me into a second mini-orgasm. "Ah! Ah! Oh!" I yelped, sounding like a complete and utter slut. More milk shot out from my cock, hitting the same jock again, as well as a few of his buddies. The rest wasn't as powerful, and splatted down onto the floor of the train car. All in all, I'd say the hobo got ten good spurts out of me.

The jocks paused for a second in disbelief. I prayed in my head that they wouldn't go in, that they'd take the next train, but then they started laughing.

"What... the... fuck?" exclaimed the one who'd received the majority of my cum, "did this dude really just nut all over my jacket? What the fuck is happening?"

"You guys shooting a porno in here or something?" asked another one.

"This is fucking crazy, man! Yo man, get in, I wanna see how this ends!" chimed a third, and with that, they all piled in to the car. Looks like my night was just getting started.

Stay tuned for part 2!