Ever had one of those days, when the moment your brain heard that god awful beeping from the alarm clock, that you just knew you didn't want to get out from under the covers? I mean surely you've had those kind of days, where you finally kicked the covers off, after hitting the snooze setting a half dozen times, until finally your guilt for still being in bed, kicked in?

Here it was, a Monday, and while I rarely hit the snooze alarm, I must have hit the damn thing about a dozen times, and still, didn't want to get out. The dog even wasn't moving much, as if she too wanted to stay under the covers. Kind of like life, at times, and I just knew that today was going to be one of those. I mean the morning schedule wasn't heavy, not out of the ordinary even, yet it felt like there was more to do than there were hours in the day.

That and it being a Monday, meant that another weekend had ended, without anything to write home about, not that anyone was at home. After all, when a guy is hitting the big Four Oh, it isn't like you still write home. Sure maybe when you first head off to college, or go out on your own, but come on, that only lasts for a few months, as you get wrapped up in your new life.

Hitting 40 was not old, but damn, it sure made those weekend parties few and far in between. Oh a guy can kid himself, and give it a whirl, but it is just fooling yourself. Okay, so maybe the body has gone a bit to seed, and the stomach just isn't quite like it was when in the 20's, but hey, at least it isn't falling over the belt. Sure the waist line is a few inches bigger, but not like a guy can spent that much time at the Gym, and still pay the rent.

By the way, I am Joshua, Josh to my friends, and last Thursday I turned forty. I never really thought much about it, and to be honest, I kind of think I am not much different than when I was a teenager. I've put on some weight, no longer that slender 140 pound gawky kid with blond tussled hair, but I have grown up. So I weigh in at about 180, and the long flowing curly hair is no longer curly, no longer flowing, it is still naturally blond, and no, despite Hanks pronouncements, I don't touch it up. Besides, how the hell can you tell grey hair from light nearly white blond?

So it's not quite so long anymore, a guy has to earn a living, and the world out there, well it doesn't quite get a guy in his thirties wearing hair down to his butt. That was maybe the big change, when hitting that Three Oh mark, having the locks trimmed, and then keeping it short. Naturally the friends, like twat head Mark, who kept calling me an old fart, just because I wanted to get ahead at work. Not like I wanted to always be a pencil pusher, though it just seems like that's what it is going to end up as being.

Like I have been going to the same bar, most weekends, for the last twelve years, ever since moving here. It was the place to go, at the time, and yet over time, it is just the place. There are other one's now too, but I don't know, despite the damn place having about a dozen owners over the years, it is still basically the same. I like it, I suppose, because I am used to it, and even hip Mark still likes it. Though he whines the most, he is always there, sitting in the same damn chair, against the wall, at the same table, that looks out at the entrance.

Not like it used to be though, I mean we were youngish back then, and well the old guys would look us over, as we strutted in, but now, well, we are the old guys looking over the young stuff. Problem is, the young stuff, just doesn't really show up there, unless they are on the game. I may be 40 now, but I will be damned if I'll pay for it. Okay, if he's really cute, and not some 28 year old pretending he's just eighteen. Man how I hate those kind, where it is obvious they are way older than they claim.

Hank, now he likes to pretend he's younger. And he really doesn't quite pull it off, given he's nearly bald, a year older than me, and well, let's just say the last time he could fit into a pair of 28 inch pants, was a few years before he headed off to college. Now myself, I am wearing a size 32, which isn't bad, given I used to wear a size 28 most of my life. Yet you don't see me parading around in painted on pants, four sizes too small. I like my comforts, one of them is being able to sit and breathe at the same time.

Now I like sex, enjoy a nice cock, but let's be honest. When you get to my age, you want more than just a quick blow job, or fuck. Maybe that's being crude, but I learned a long time ago, jacking off can be a whole lot more entertaining, than paying some punk 20 bucks to wrap his lips around your dick. I mean, okay, it can be fun, for the moment, but it is usually over so damn quick. After all, he's got some dope to buy or in a rush to get to the back to the bar before last call, so it never really lasts long.

Then too, who in the hell wants to wake up to someone, every blasted day, and smell their morning breath, and be expected to act like it doesn't stink? Call me cantankerous, or just plain ornery, but I told you, I like my comforts. I like to walk in, toss my damn suit jacket on the floor, and not have some Queen scolding me for being messy. I don't make my bed up every morning, and okay, maybe the sheets should be changed more often, but fuck, there is more to life than doing laundry, dusting, and vacuuming. Least I think so, and yet here it is, another Monday, and not much seems to have changed.

There was no hangover on Saturday or Sunday, which goes to show you, I am indeed forty. Then again, who says having a hangover means you had fun? All it really means is you spent a lot of money, to feel like shit the next morning. Maybe you had fun the night before, but you can't be certain, because well, you got hammered. Makes no sense to me, and I don't really care what Mark or the others say, I kind of want to enjoy my life, later on, so why piss away the cash now?

I have nice things, don't own my place, though the bank account says I could. I'll leave that for later, when it is time to stop the 9 to 5 drudgery, but for now, I just want to make the cash, get ahead and when the time is right, enjoy the years of work. I want to travel, before the legs give out, before time makes it mark on my looks, so okay, I get up every morning, drink my coffee, check the paper, and head off to that dreary office.

Least it isn't one of those cubicles, when I started working there, and I do have a rather nice office, that actually has an outside window. Now that isn't bad for a guy 40, is it? Then too, I manage my own 401K, and unlike others, I didn't panic and lose my shirt. Sure things are rough, but panic never makes it any better, and I figure, this will pass. Now, Hank, he's almost ready to jump off a cliff or something, but then shit, he is nothing but a drama Queen. Always has been, and always will be, but he's been a friend for ages, what's a guy to do?

It isn't like I am burying my head in the sand either. I put in long hours at work, because of this stupid recession. I know my middle management level job isn't the most secure, but I think I can hang on, until things improve. If they don't, or if I lose it, well, I won't go shoot myself. I am good at what I do, and am one of the youngest in my position, so I think I could get hired at the other firms, if push came to shove. Course I don't want to find out, hence the long hours, but it pays off too. Not that I get any extra, but at least I think my job is more secure than say Brenda, even if she is sleeping with our Supervisor.

Speaking of 'sleeping with' it brings me up to why perhaps this is just one of those days. Hell, more like it's been one of those weeks, if not months. It all started with my birthday, which I said was last Thursday. Now I hang out with guys, I have known since elementary school. I not only know their birthdays, but important dates like when Mark had his first blow job, or Hank had his first rejection. Not like I remind them of it, but thing is, I know those dates, and when it is their birthday, I always get them something.

Nothing expensive, because basically I am cheap, but a card at least, buy them a few drinks at the bar, so you would think they could reciprocate, right? NOT! Okay, Mark sort of does, as long as you remind him the day before. No sense telling him any earlier, because he won't remember, and Hank, well hell, you can tell him on the morning and by afternoon he'll have forgotten, or so he says.

Never seen a guy with so many excuses as our dear Hank. Then there is Tyler. Now him, I wish he would remember, but then I have had a crush on him, since before I even knew what having a crush was. He is perhaps the closest to my dream man, and unlike the rest of us, he hasn't changed since he was a Senior in high school.

He's about my height, six foot, but he's still got that beefy frat boy look to him. I figure he's still about 150 to 160, and there is no way you can pinch an inch on his body. He says he doesn't work out, but shit, looking at how he fills out those shirts of his, how his Pecs look through the silk fabric, he has to be doing something, other than jogging.

I even toyed with the idea of taking jogging up, just to maybe have a chance at joining him in his morning routine. Least until I found out that he starts his morning jogs at around 6am. No friggin way am I getting up that early, to be frustrated watching his firm butt shake ahead of me.  Besides, I'd never be able to keep up with him, and starting every morning off being frustrated, well, I think staying cozy under the covers with the pooch, is a bit more my style.

Still, out of all my friends, he is the one I always think about. I know it sounds crazy, and to have never once told him how I feel, is perhaps stupid. I mean shit, we've known each other for decades now, still, I'd rather stare and think of him, than risk him being grossed out, or whatever.

Like don't you ever think like that? I mean its frustrating as hell to see him, to want him, but you'd rather be that way, than risk having him reject you, or worse, give you a pity fuck. Now that would really suck, and not in the good way. Thought, in my more darker moments, I almost figured it would be worth it, given how fucking hot he is.

Makes you wonder, why we are so attracted to those who are like Tyler? I mean, is it the looks that makes us stare, or is it some unconscious thought that we'd like to look like that, to have the bragging rights to say, 'hey, look who we shag'. Makes you wonder too, what do they get out of it? I mean if we are doing for the bragging rights, what's their reason?

Still, I do wish I'd have the nerve to at least talk to him about it, and there have been moments, like this last weekend, when the opportunity was there. Yet, like a total wusse, I didn't do it, which is maybe one more reason why I don't like getting plastered anymore. It was fine when I was in my twenties, but if I did it now, I'd have a lot less friends than I do. I mean, I am sure I'd have told Hank off, especially when it comes to his constant harping of how he never has to pay for it. Never have, Never Will, is his mantra, yet I have seen him pass some of those hot sexy dates of his a wad of cash. And no, there is no way it was small bills, I mean I can tell the difference.

After all, I am in the Investigation Department, so I should know, right? Though I bet good old Brenda wouldn't tweak to it as quick as I did. Then too, not like I'd want to be bending over for our Supervisor like her, no matter what. Now if he looked like Tyler, well, that might be different. Besides Dennis not only didn't come close to looking like Tyler, he was butt ugly.

I don't mind some imperfections, like even Tyler has one or two, though I wouldn't mind examining them a bit closer. But Dennis, well, it would be hard to find the perfections, over all those imperfections. Like you could start with his bad breath, his body odour, and go from there. The guy is just a pig, and yet Brenda seems quite willing to suffer through all that, just to keep her job. I like the job, but it sure as fuck isn't worth that, to me.

The thing is, that it was my birthday, and I suppose hitting 40 isn't what it once meant, but still, you would have thought that my so called friends, would have done something special. Okay, so they had said we'd all go out for dinner on Friday, that became Saturday that is now next weekend. Even Tyler forgot, or seemed to, which is what maybe has set the whole mood.

I've never forgotten his birthdays, not one single one, and while the other's get a card, I've always tried to do a bit more for him. I guess it's my infatuation with him, but damn it, least he could do is return the favour. Not like I am ugly, or gone to seed. Nor do I bullshit like Hank, or always whining like Mark, and I do listen to him, when he's got something to say.

So what if he's into Sports and my main interests is in Opera and classical music? I know who Mick Jagger is, and who Brett Favre is, so not like I live in a bubble. Yet, you would think he would have done something, instead of showing up to our bar party, an hour late, then fuck off after having one measly drink with me. I know, we aren't boyfriends, don't fuck, but shit, when he turned 30 I took him to dinner, and last year, I got him tickets to the home game of our local football team. And they weren't cheap either.

Still, he couldn't be arsed to show up on time, sit and just, well, let me soak in his good looks. I mean couldn't he have just once, let me indulge in my daydream? I know, I do it often, though I am certain he hasn't tweaked to it, but this was supposed to be my night, my once a year time to be the center of attention.

Instead Hank picked up some Twinkie hustler, and fucked off for most of the night. Now I don't mind, after all, sex is sex, though I doubt if the guy Hank went off with was Twenty. Besides, he wasn't all that hot. He had buck teeth, wore those stupid baggy pants so you couldn't tell if he had a monster cock, or a teeny weenie. Then too, he never really smiled, and well, even Mark looked surprised that Hank picked him up.

Mark spent most of his time trying to hustle the waiter, who was rather cute, and he knew it too. You know, the kind that could always get you to order another drink, and tip him more than just the change from the bill you handed him. He definitely was the type a guy could enjoy, but then too, he kept telling everyone he was straight. The way he moved his hips, how he would look at you, said no way he was straight. It did get him the attention though, because everyone in the joint seemed to have a yen to bang the straight stud. Truth is, I wouldn't have minded banging him myself. It has been awhile, though not from a lack of trying. Just that, well the picking were a bit slim.

Okay, maybe they weren't that slim, but I am just too damn picky. I guess when you reach my age, haven't had any significant other in your entire life, you sort of get thinking that you have past it. Sex is still a turn on, but then a guy can excited over other things too. Hey, it does help to keep on thinking that, when the only fucking thing you get to sleep with, is a small wiener dog.

Maybe that is what got me pissed off about Tyler? Like, surely he could have stayed for more than a drink, could have done something special, like even a birthday kiss? I really do need to get a new batch of friends, if my biggest hope for the night, was to get a kiss from someone I'll never get to bang. I mean how pathetic is that?

Yet, I have to admit, the night was okay, and we nearly came close to closing the place down, though that was simply because we kept looking for each other. Mark kept wandering off to try and score with the waiter, and God only knows where Hank had gone with his tart. When he did come back, his shirt was out of his pants, and the knees of his pants were rather dirty too, so we all knew he was down on his knees, but the bar wasn't near any park, so where he did it, who knows.

Hank was a tramp, to put it bluntly. In some ways I wish I could be that casual about getting sex. I mean, there is something about leaning up against a brick wall, down some dark alley, having some hustler unbuttoning your pants, taking your dick out, and sucking it, that is, well, a turn on as well as a total turn off.

Yet it seems to suit Hank, who we can usually find down the alley, when it's time for us to go, except the night we were supposed to be celebrating my birthday. Naturally that was the time when it was time to go, no Hank, not in any of the alley's near the bar. No Hank, yet we had seen him go off with the hustler, and there aren't any nearby flop houses. No wonder it was close to last call, before we left. Sure as fuck wasn't because we were enjoying ourselves, least I wasn't.

And it was supposed to be my night!

Okay, maybe it sounds like a litany of whines, but fuck, here it is, Monday, and I am now in my 4th day of being 40, and the last time I got fucked, was, well let's just say it wasn't anytime recent. Like how is that not supposed to make you want to stay in bed, or not go to work? Not like anyone in the office managed to remember, which I didn't expect.

I guess, it is just frustrating, wanting to get off, and not have a fuck buddy. Maybe that is something to aim for, this year, to find a fuck buddy. You know, the guy you can just pick up the phone, call and then meet shortly after and fuck. Now if only Tyler could fill that need for me, I'd gladly die happy.

I do think about it too much, but you have to see this guy. I managed to catch him in the shower, once. I mean talk about having the need to jack off. Fuck it hurt so much, and I bet that all I saw him for, was maybe three or four seconds. And that was like, well shit, nearly a year now.

He had called, needing a lift from his gym, because his car had been towed. Now, I mean, how does a smart guy like him not put his car into a lot, let alone let it sit expired and get towed? But then, hell, even guys like Tyler have those kind of days, and that was one of them. I didn't mind, and besides, it would give me an opportunity to be in his company, without having to share him with the others.

Then too, going to his gym was well, a turn on. It was one of those exclusive places, not where just anyone could walk in and join, and frankly, from what I had seen, not one of them needed to workout. Like they weren't overweight executives, or anything resembling being in need of losing a few pounds. So just the idea of seeing all that beef, was making me drool.

The kicker was, of course, Tyler. To maybe see him in his workout gear, was the thing my dreams are made of. Add into that, that he said if he wasn't on the floor, to come find him in the locker room, was well, a dream coming true. I kept hoping that when I got there, he'd not be on the floor, that instead, he'd be waiting in the locker room, in a towel and nothing else.

Getting there, not seeing him on the floor, had certainly made me horny, and nervous too. I mean all those others, in various states of pumping iron, of showing off their bulging muscles, and I don't just mean their biceps. Never have I seen so many hunks in one place, and all of them wearing mostly tight fitting shorts.

God, how I hate the new fashion of baggy clothes, from boxer shorts to pants. Least that day, the guys working out were into the old fashioned, tight fitting, basket showing shorts. I had to have been drooling, but who the fuck cared? I was in heaven, and when I realized Tyler wasn't on the floor, well it was like maybe my dreams were actually going to come true.

Walking back into the locker room area, was nerve racking. I mean, I had to have been sweating bucket, yet it was certainly worth ruining a good shirt over. I still have that shirt, but I never did wash it. Sort of like it had brought me one good moment in what was rapidly becoming a dreary life. That one time, when he was looking, as how I always imagined seeing him.

I am not certain why, locker rooms are just a turn on. Maybe it is the smell of sweat, of masculinity being exposed, or maybe it is simply the idea of men in various states of undress, but it seems a lot of gay sex, is about the locker room. Hell, even in my more erotic dreams, a locker room seems to figure into it, though I have no idea why. Yet, that day, it was like dying and going to queer heaven.

To begin with, I got to pass inside, and have to turn and lean up against the wall, as this hunk walks by, brushing into me. I mean, talk about a narrow entry point, which made me wonder if the designer of the place, was Queer. Like how much fun is it, to walk in and get up close to another sweaty guy, without having to feel guilty?

Beyond the smell, there is the whole ambiance. I mean it is like walking into a bustling train station, except that most of the passengers are naked. Now that would be interesting, to walk into a place like Grand Central Train Station, and see all those people in various states of nakedness. That would certainly increase commuter traffic, don't you think?

All that chatter, and not one peep of it with any girlish sounds. Like nothing but manly voices, some in jest, some in sorrow, some out of breath. It was like music to my ears, as I made my way in, looking for Tyler, my heart thundering in my chest, as I passed by each aisle. I made sure to carefully check each one too, and let me tell you, there is nothing like men who aren't ashamed of their bodies.

I never saw so many cocks hanging out, as I did that day. And I have been to the bathhouses before, but shit, this was so much more natural, so much more arousing. Like what is it about seeing straight men, with their dicks hanging out?

Kind of like some of those scenes I have seen in a Bel Ami video, where all these buff twinks are horsing around, enjoying some friendly banter. It was like being there, as I searched diligently for Tyler. I mean, I had to make sure he wasn't down any aisle, before moving on, and okay, I did get a few odd looks, but then, I did get to see more than just an eyeful of beautiful men.

There was this one guy, showing how he had posed for something or other. Now it was nice, to see him flex those huge muscles, to see the way his skin rippled, but it was a lot more fun to see how his cock swayed, as he pumped up his arm. I never seen a flaccid uncut cock, that big before. And I have a good collection of porn, but it was nothing to what was on display in that locker room.

I could feel myself licking my lips, hell biting them, as I gazed down each aisle, seeing all kind of cocks. There were even a few, that had to be semi erect, and those one's, well I had to look at the man, to see if maybe he was, well, you know, family. Like why else would he have a near erection, in a room filled with other naked guys? Course, each time I looked, there was no blaring sirens going off in my head. Not even a flicker, which made me wonder if maybe my gaydar needed some repair.

Surely one or two of them had to be gay, but it just never registered. Yet, I have to admit, those cocks were definitely not soft, and I'd have given anything to have just kneeled down in front, and worshipped them. Course, I didn't, nor did I even try to make a play for any of them. Maybe I was too scared, or maybe just too pre-occupied with the idea of finding Tyler, looking like them?

Now, Tyler is gay. Of that there was never any doubt, from early on the old Gaydar worked like a charm. Plus, he never denied it, and over time, I know of some of his dates, and how they went. So it was hard for me to understand, why he was a member here, where so many obviously weren't gay. Or did he have a secret desire to torture himself? I mean what else would you call it, if you were constantly in a place like that, but there was no chance of satisfying your needs?

I had hoped he was down at the end, but naturally my luck wasn't quite that good. Though that day, I sure thought it had changed. I mean there was this one guy, in the aisle just before where Tyler was, who was bending over, rubbing his thigh, and talk about having a secret weapon. Fuck, the thing had to be over ten inches, and the way it shook, as he rubbed his thigh dry, was, well, let's just say it made my mouth water, and my ass twitch.

Just thinking of playing with that, was, well, mind boggling. I always wondered, about guys who had such big cocks, if they got as much sex, as we thought? Even straight guys, had to have problems, in convincing their girls to take their meat, either in the mouth or between the legs. Now a guy, well, I know I'd be screaming if he'd be putting that thing into my hole, but I sure as fuck wouldn't have him stop.

Not sure I could take it, but I'd enjoy trying. Most of the guys I have been with, were average. There were one or two that had a bit more than average, but I never had much of a problem, in taking them all. Still, that guy at the Gym, was way beyond anything I'd ever seen, except in my porn mags.

I'll admit, I did linger a bit longer there, ogling the guy. I know, it was risky, but not like he was trying to hide it, though I doubt if he could. It did make me wonder, what kind of pants he wore, and what happened when he was walking down the street, and got aroused. Now that is what I would call giving off one hell of a tell tale signal. Could you just imagine that?

It did make me wonder too, if I could even get my mouth open wide enough, to wrap my lips around the head, never mind stretch my throat to take it all down inside. Hell, I doubted if I could even spread my butt cheeks apart, wide enough, to fit his cock head, let alone have it penetrate me. Still, the idea of lubing it up, of tasting it, was thrilling, and I could feel my already hard cock, stiffen even more. God, thankfully the lighting in the place wasn't all that good, or I'd have been outed right after walking in.

Course, now if the guy with the super sized weapon, had been gay, and got erect, even with the poor lighting, people would notice. It did make me smile, as I reluctantly moved on, to keep looking. Part of me was kind of hoping he had gone, so I could wander around forever, but as I looked down the next aisle, there he was. I have to admit, that after just seeing the biggest cock in my life, live, then to see Tyler, in the buff, was almost more than my poor heart could take.

Man the thing was hammering my chest, as I saw him, in a profile shot, and then the guy in front of him moved, and I got to have my eyes treated to what my heart yearned to see. There he was, totally naked, and I could see the dark patch of his pubic hairs, and yes, I could see the pink flesh of the flaccid dick.

It immediately confirmed my thoughts, that yes, Tyler was uncut, and yes he was above average. I saw how his dick hung down, with a sort of small bend near where the head was hidden under his foreskin. I could even see the drooping flesh, which made me suck in my breath, and almost whistle. I mean, shit to come upon him like that, was what my dreams were always about.

Didn't matter the scenario, but it was generally where I would find him in some spot, where he wasn't aware of me. He would be naked, would be looking away, and then I would clear my throat, and his head would turn to see me. His eyes would glitter, as they recognized me, and my eyes would sparkle, as they would gaze at his naked crotch. I would see his cock shake a bit, and start to see it rise up, as he would then call out to me.

Christ, aren't dreams fun? I mean you can make anything happen, that you want, and here I was, in one of those very dreams, or so it felt. I could see him, and he hadn't spotted me, and then, just like the dream, he turned and saw me. I saw his eyes recognize me, and I immediately looked down, for a quick peek. Yet, unlike the dreams, his cock didn't shake, it didn't start to rise up.

I moved my eyes away, afraid of him noticing, and yet, I don't know, it was a brief moment when I think we just knew, what the other was thinking. I really think he had asked me to pick him up there, knowing I'd find him naked. Hell, maybe he had even deliberately had his car towed, so he could have an excuse, but then, l do dream a lot, don't I?

Still, it wouldn't be a fun life, without a bit of daydreaming, but I gotta say, the more I think back to that time, to all that went on, I wonder, if there is a bit more to the daydreams, to the thoughts of me and Tyler?

Maybe I shouldn't have moved my eyes away? I mean he knows I am gay, just as I know about him. He's been around when I've gotten lucky, or at least been there to hear about them, just as I have, so what if I was staring? Not like we got anything to hide, and believe me, I'd be quite happy to have him walk in on me, when I was nude.

Yet, I didn't do it, and I don't know, even the ride home was anticlimactic, almost disappointing. Yet, for those brief few seconds, when I saw it, saw how it was almost exactly as I had imagined, it was more than just thrilling. Then too, how did I know what it would look like? Was seeing him, finding out his cock was just like I had pictured it, a sign or something? Should I have said something, or at least tried?

 

Gaystoryman

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