Copyright by Marathon Brad, 2026, permission given to GayDemon to reprint this story. It may not be copied to another website without prior approval from the author.
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A Triathlete's Troubles
The Heated Edition Chapter 1
When I travel for business, I am usually in a city for several weeks at a stretch. The first thing I do after I drop my bag in the hotel room is find a health club. Not just any club. The right one.
I wrestled in college, then became a triathlete. My body is my priority. Twenty-six years old. Five foot nine. One hundred and fifty-five pounds. Thirty-one-inch waist. Twenty-nine-inch inseam. Tight Levis that leave very little to the imagination. My light blondish brown hair is cut close on the sides and three quarters of an inch on top, the front flipped up and held with athletic gel. My chest is shaved clean for the compression shirts I race in. I am particular about all of this.
On this trip I found a club within walking distance of the hotel. Less than a year old. Six panel wooden doors at the entrance and techno beat music being played the moment I stepped inside. The name on the wall behind the front desk read: Thrust Hard Men’s Athletic Club. Play. Sweat. Repeat. The place had a comfortable, expensive feel that I liked immediately.
My first visit was a Friday evening. A trainer named Rico introduced himself within minutes of my arrival. Handsome. Thirty-something. A smile that landed somewhere between professional and dangerous. He offered to walk me through the weight stations and I said yes before I finished looking him over.
Powder blue Lycra shorts. Skin-tight. The fabric was thin enough that no description quite covered what those shorts revealed. The full outline of his cock was visible through the front. The thick head. Every detail. He was wearing nothing underneath, and he knew I could see every inch of him, yet he did not adjust a single thing. I told myself to look away. A second later, my eyes drifted right back to him.
Rico had offered to help me with my workout. However, what he was actually doing felt very different. The way his eyes moved over my body between sets. The way he held eye contact two beats longer than necessary. His hands were strong and warm when he moved behind me to adjust my position on the bar. At one point his palms slid low on my back, his fingers spreading just above my waistband. His fingertips slipped just inside the elastic. Warm against bare skin. I felt his breath catch at my ear. Just for a moment. Just enough to tell me this was not entirely professional for him either.
I stood there gripping the bar. My heart was racing. I tried to focus on anything except the heat of his hands. I failed completely.
The club was quiet that evening. A handful of other members. Nobody paying attention to us.
After the workout I went straight to the sauna. I needed to. The whirlpool area was empty, the wet air thick and hot, and I took care of what Rico had started and jacked off under the water. Then I went back out to the floor and asked him if he wanted to join me in the sauna.
He smiled. Said he could not right now. But Sunday, he said, was a different story as hardly anybody came in on Sundays. He would meet me in the whirlpool then.
I thought about that conversation all the way back to the hotel.
By the time I was lying on the bed I had already decided what I was going to wear in the whirlpool area. My small white thong. Let Rico have a look at something worth looking at. I fell asleep with the fantasy already running through my head. Rico in the whirlpool. His hands finding the waistband. The thong eventually floating on the surface of the bubbling water.
Sunday morning the club was exactly as he promised. Quiet. Almost empty. And Rico was near the front desk waiting when I came through those six panel doors.
I wore my white Lycra shorts. Three-inch inseam. No support underneath. The fabric hugged every curve of my athletic body and left the same amount to the imagination as his powder blue shorts. Which was nothing. The way Rico smirked when he saw me walk in told me my strategy had landed exactly as I had hoped. He gripped the edge of the desk for just a moment, like he needed something to hold onto.
We stood in the front lobby and talked for several minutes. Small talk. Rico told me about his master's degree from UCLA, how he had been recruited to the club directly after graduation. I listened and let him talk and let him look. We both knew what was happening. Neither of us acknowledged the game we were playing. The lobby was brightly lit and anyone coming through the front doors would have seen me standing there in those white tight shorts with Rico's eyes moving over me like I was something he planned to finish later.
Then I felt hands on my shoulders.
Strong. Warm. Moving into a slow deep rub across my shoulders and down my back while I stood there facing Rico.
Rico asked, "Does that feel good?"
I had no answer. I was standing in small compression shorts with no support underneath, already getting an erection from the hands working my back, with Rico watching me from three feet away and smiling.
The voice behind me was barely above a whisper. "Just relax. Enjoy the moment. You have a great jock body."
A few minutes later Rico introduced him. Jose. Same age as Rico. Same height and weight as me. Hands that clearly knew what they were doing and had for a long time. Rico explained that his associate Mark was arriving shortly to cover the desk. Then Jose and he would both be free to work with me.
Before I headed to the locker room Rico stopped me.
"Would you mind wearing a posing suit while you work out? The suit will help us assess the muscle groups more accurately."
I had no idea what that meant. I said no problem.
They both said great at exactly the same time. Jose disappeared into his office and came back with what he called shorts. White. Small enough to fit in one hand.
Jose walked me to the locker room and showed me a locker. He sat down on the bench while I changed. When I reached for my training shirt, he reminded me about the assessment. “No shirt. No shoes,” he said.
I could feel his eyes on every inch of me as I stepped out of my white Lycra shorts.
The locker room was warm, the air thick and humid from the showers at the far end. When my shorts dropped to the floor I stood there for a moment. Fully exposed. The dark trail of hair below my navel. The light dusting across my legs catching the warm overhead spotlight. I was already leaking. A small bead of precum formed at my tip, and I made no move to hide it. Jose did not look away. I reached for the posing suit slowly.
He was extraordinarily handsome up close. Dark eyes. A face that belonged on the cover of a West Hollywood fitness magazine that had nothing to do with fitness. His gaze moved down my body and stayed there, his lips parting slightly. I could feel him looking at my cock. Neither of us said a word. The only sound in that locker room was two men breathing.
The posing suit was smaller than the white thong I had planned to wear. I understood in that moment that Rico had been several steps ahead of me with his seduction plan since Friday.
I walked out of the locker room and checked myself in the full-length mirror by the door. The white nylon covered almost nothing. I looked at myself for a moment and then followed Jose to the weight area.
Two other men were already lifting. Both of them looked up when I walked in. Then they took another look. The attention landed somewhere low in my gut and I felt myself beginning to harden, again.
Jose worked me through the stations the way Rico had on Friday. Hands on. Adjusting. Correcting. Explaining. His palms moved over my arms and shoulders and down my back with the same easy certainty as before. The two other members drifted closer. They were not subtle about their interest. They positioned themselves near enough to watch and stayed there.
Jose asked me to lie back on the bench. He needed to monitor my breathing, he said. He placed his palm flat against my upper chest, his fingertips resting just below my left nipple. He watched me breathe. Then his fingers moved. A slow brush across my nipple. My cock responded immediately. Jose watched that too. Then he nodded for me to get up and went back to lifting instructions as if nothing had happened.
A few minutes later Rico joined us.
"Brad," he said, "you definitely have a great athletic body."
Jose leaned in close behind me. "Very fit," he said quietly. "Very."
I was hard inside the white posing suit, my cock pointing straight up with the swollen head straining toward the waistband, threatening to peek out above the fabric. I had never been this hard, the ache almost painful. There was no hiding what was happening. The fabric was stretched tight across my erection, and the wet spot had spread until the nylon turned fully transparent. I could see everything in the mirror. So could every man in that room. Rico caught my eye in the glass and asked me to do some stretches. Bend this way. Now that way. Hold there. He wanted me on display and I let him have his way. In the mirror his jaw was tight. His eyes on my ass were full of lust and he was not hiding it.
Rico then leaned toward Jose and whispered something that I could not quite hear. But I caught the words hungry and hole and I saw once more Jose's eyes drop to my ass in the mirror and stay there. Both of them smiling. When Rico straightened back up his eyes found mine in the glass and held them. Dark. Certain. Like a man who had already decided.
I understood well enough what was being discussed and I felt a flush of heat move through me that had nothing to do with the workout.
After fifteen minutes a third employee appeared. John. The club masseur. He had the kind of easy confidence that came from years of putting his hands on men's bodies. He looked me over slowly and said, “You look like you could use another man to help take care of you right now.” He introduced himself and offered me a free massage given how quiet the morning was.
My head was spinning. Three club employees and two gym members all circling me as I worked out in a very tiny posing suit soaked through with precum and sweat. Rico kept sending me to the drinking fountain on the far side of the room so I would not cramp up. The walk across that floor in that condition felt like a performance. I think that was the point.
Rico gave a look to Jose. Jose gave a look to John. All three of them had the same small smile. Beautiful white teeth. Something sly passed between them.
Rico and Jose moved to either side of me. John came around from behind. They walked me to a back corner of the gym where floor to ceiling mirrors covered one entire wall, making the space feel larger. The two remaining members followed at a distance and stood near the far wall watching.
Rico and Jose stayed close on either side as I lifted. Their hands on my arms. My shoulders. My ribs. John pressed in behind me, his mouth near my ear, and said quietly, "You really are an attractive jock boy."
His hands found my hips and gripped them. Not a question. Not a suggestion. A statement.
Rico helped me set the bar down.
John took his time after that. His hands moved down my back with the patience of a man who knew exactly what he had and was in no hurry to rush any of it. He spread his palms across my ass and squeezed once, slow and deliberate, and I heard myself exhale. Then his arm came around my front. His fingers hooked inside the pouch of the posing suit and peeled the fabric back and lifted my hard cock out into the open air of that room.
Rico and Jose each took one of my arms and draped it over their shoulders, holding me steady between them.
The cool air hit the wet head of my cock first. I was so swollen and slick that John barely had to touch me. I was already throbbing in his hand. I forced my eyes up to the mirror. What I saw stopped my breath. My cock fully exposed and glistening. John's fist underneath it presenting me to the room like something on display. Every man in that gym looking at me. And me looking right back at all of them unable to move or speak.
John's fingers wrapped around my shaft and began to milk me. Slow. Knowing. The kind of grip that told me immediately he had done this before and knew exactly how long to make a man last. He worked from the base upward, firm and deliberate, drawing my cock to its full length and holding me there. His thumb pressed slow circles around the ridge of the swollen head, and a long moan rose from deep in my chest that I could not stop. He found the wet opening at my tip and spread the slick precum in slow circles. My free hand lunged out and grabbed his forearm. Not to stop him. Just to hold on. John exhaled slowly against the back of my neck.
Two quiet words. "Good boy."
Rico and Jose pressed in from both sides allowing me to hold on tight to them. Hands moving over my chest. My stomach. My thighs. Rico's lips were at my ear. Jose's hand slid around my hip and gripped my bare ass from his side, his fingers pressing into my cheek and pulling me open. I was completely surrounded.
John never stopped. His grip was slow and persistent and kept me right at the edge without ever pushing me over. A long slow torture.
Across the room the gym members continued to watch. They each took one step closer. Their eyes were fixed on my cock in John's hand. I found their eyes in the mirror and held them. One wet his lips. The thin fabric of the back of my suit had disappeared completely between my cheeks, the nylon pressing and riding with every movement of my hips. I could not take much more. The way he was milking me, I should have begged him to stop. That was the reality of those fifteen minutes. Maybe more. John keeping me right there at the edge, the room full of men observing, and nothing I could do except surrender more with every passing second.
Then Rico's voice, quiet and steady, close to my ear.
"This is the moment, Brad. Give everything to us. All of you."
Jose pulled the posing suit down my legs and asked me to step out. The men adjusted my stance, spreading my legs farther apart. I was naked in The Thrust Hard Men’s Athletic Club that I had first walked into forty-eight hours earlier.
Rico put his finger to my lips. I opened my mouth and took his finger deep without being asked, sucking eagerly as I gave myself over to the three men surrounding me. When his finger left my mouth, he reached behind me and slipped his finger into my hole. Jose stepped close and offered me his fingers next. I took those too. Pulled them in. Worked them with my tongue. I did not hesitate for a second. I had stopped thinking entirely. I was just theirs.
I stood there held up by the three of them and felt the release build from somewhere deep and move through every muscle of my body at once. When the release broke, I cried out. Long pulses of my hot, thick cum hit the mirror in front of me one after another, each one pulling a groan from the men around me. My knees were so weak. I was covered in sweat and shaking all over.
John patted my hair gently when the session was over. Rico leaned in one last time. His voice was quiet. Just for me. He said before the week was out the three of them intended to give my hole the kind of attention it had clearly been needing for a long time. His hand pressed flat against my lower back as he said it. Warm. Possessive. Like a promise.
John reminded me I still had a free massage to use.
I had come in on Friday looking for a workout. By Sunday I was naked in the back corner of the gym with three men working my body like they owned every part of it. And the honest truth? They did.
Author is Brad
My email address is [email protected]. Please share your thoughts with me.
Other stories I have available here on GayDemon include The Chosen Jock, George and His DILF, and Diego’s Heat in the Pool.
I love making men excited whether through reading my erotic stories, watching me work out in my skin tight gear at the gym, sharing my body online, or dancing on a stage.
I will stay hard for you in every way that matters.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
