Caught Staring

The look on his face, standing across the locker room, told me instantly that I’d been caught staring. I dropped my gaze quickly, my face blushing in embarrassment…

I loved going to the gym because there were hot guys all over the place. The muscles, the sweat, the power; I loved staring. I would climb on a treadmill and walk, sometimes an hour or more, just watching the muscle studs lift and strain, their muscles pumped, their tank tops revealing powerful arms, their bodies dripping with sweat from the exertion. I didn’t really care about working out, but I loved watching these muscle studs.

My name is Bill. I’m a happily married man. My wife and I have been married for 15 years, and we have three kids: two girls and a boy. We look like the perfect American family. I’m 38 years old, and since I’ve been coming to the gym, my lean body is in the best shape of its life! My wife loves my toned body, and our sex life has improved since I’ve been working out! We’ve even gotten more creative in our love-making. The only problem is that all of that is a sham, because secretly, what I want more than anything, is to be taken by one of these muscle studs and fucked silly.

I’ve known I was attracted to men since puberty. I’ve never acted on those desires, choosing instead a straight life. But the attraction has never gone away, and based on the porn I watch, I know that if I ever do, I’ll be the bottom, spreading my legs for whichever man figures out my secret and makes his move to seduce me. The pent-up desire, the flagrant staring, the fascination with big muscle guys; I was bound to get caught. It was just a matter of time.

I had no idea when I woke up this morning that today would be the day that I got caught. Everything was normal about this day. I got up, got ready, ate breakfast, took two of the kids to school, went to work, was productive, and then headed to the gym after work. While on the treadmill, I had seen this guy lifting across the room. He was hot! Hairy chest, barely covered by the thin tank top he was wearing, leaving nothing to the imagination. His shorts were tight, and his body was covered in sweat. He was muscular and driven, working hard to pump his muscles. He was exactly the kind of man my knees went weak for, exactly the kind of man I imagined spreading my legs and thrusting his big cock into my virgin ass.

I took mental photographs, already looking forward to fucking my wife later while I imagined him, fucking me! He was perfect eye candy for my cardio session. After about 45 minutes, I got off the treadmill and headed back to the locker room. I had done some light weights before the cardio, so I was finished for the day. I went to my locker, grabbed my stuff out, then sat down on the bench in front to catch my breath for a moment before heading home. I typically showered when I got home, so my plan was to rest a moment, then grab my bag with my street clothes and head out. I was looking at some reels on Facebook when I heard someone walk in and open another locker across the room. I didn’t pay him much attention, until I saw in my peripheral vision a man lifting his shirt over his head and off. No gay man in his right mind, closeted or out, would stop himself from looking when a guy at the gym takes his shirt off. For that matter, I’ve never been able to stop from looking when any guy takes his shirt off, hoping to see a muscled chest!

To my surprise, the other man in the locker-room was the stud I had been watching lift on the gym floor. Now closer, I could see that he was muscled, his chest was in fact covered with hair, and he had an all-over sexy Alpha vibe that made me shiver inside. The dude was fucking sexy. I got lost in staring at his hot body, revealed to me in the locker room. And then he looked at me. He caught me staring.

The look on his face, standing across the locker room, told me instantly that I’d been caught. I dropped my gaze quickly, my face blushing in embarrassment, reaching to grab my bag and get out of there. I didn’t want to be the creep caught staring in the locker room. But before I could get out, he had walked swiftly and purposefully to stand in front of me, glaring down at me as he said the words that sent chills throughout my body: “What are you staring at, faggot?”

“I’m, uh, not really…, I um, just was, you know, lost in thought, like staring in space, you know?” I was trying, with every ounce of my being, to deny that I wanted him. I needed to maintain the illusion that I was just an average straight guy here at the gym, lost in thought about what I had to get done when I got home. But my eyes betrayed me, glancing down at his meaty bulge in in his shorts, his hairy chest matted down with sweat. His masculine smell was surrounding me as he stood close.

He didn’t buy my act. “I’ve seen dudes lost in thought, and I’ve seen faggots lusting after my body. I know which one you are. You can't even stop looking now!” As he said that, his hand came behind my head, and he pulled my face forward, crushing it against his crotch. His shorts were still on, but I could smell the musk, the sweat of his balls, and I involuntarily breathed in, basking in his scent, not even trying to pull back from his hand holding me against his dick, which I could feel getting hard as he ground my face on it.

“I knew it. You’ve got the wedding ring, you’ve got a little wife at home, and probably some kids, and you think everyone doesn’t know that you’re only here to stare at men like me. But I know. You think I didn’t see you watching me out there? You were focused on me the entire time you were on that treadmill. Well, guess what? I’ve got a little secret of my own!”

My eyes looked up at him, my face still held against his manhood. He met my gaze with a cruel smile as he said, “I’m always on the lookout for new faggots to turn out. Today’s your lucky day, bitch. I’m about to give you what you’ve always wanted.”

Finally, I regained my wits enough to try to pull back, to try with the last ounce of any dignity that I might have to deny what he was saying.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man!” I said.

“Uh-uh,” he shook his head no. “You’re not getting away. You may think you’re not ready to become my bitch, but that’s too bad. You just let me grind my smelly crotch all over your face, and you liked it! I’m sending you home to that little wife with my load in you, faggot.” With that said, he stepped back, keeping his hand on my head as he reached down and lowered the band of his shorts under his balls. I was staring at the hard cock of the muscle stud I had been lusting after, just inches from my face. Then his hand pulled my head forward. I resisted some, trying one last time to pretend I didn’t want it. “You’ve got this wrong, man. I’ve never…”

“Oh, a virgin, huh? Maybe it’s my lucky day!” he laughed, continuing to pull my head onto his dick. I gave in. I just opened my mouth and suddenly I was sucking cock. I had his dick in my mouth! I was in a public place, other people could come in, and I was sucking this stud’s cock. I was freaking out, but couldn’t stop. I heard him chuckle above me. “You faggots are all the same. You pretend you don’t want it, but given the chance you’ll suck my cock anywhere, anytime.”

Then he pulled me off his cock, snapping his shorts back up. “Come on,” he said, pulling me up. “Let’s take this party somewhere a little more private.” Holding my hand in a powerful grip, he pulled me toward the shower stalls in the next room. As we entered the shower room, another muscle stud came out wearing only a towel, his hair wet.

“Caught another one, eh Clint?” he asked, smirking as we passed.

My captor, apparently named Clint, just nodded as he pulled me forward, toward the showers. He strode down to the last stall, pulled back the curtain, and ushered me inside. Following me in, he pulled the curtain closed and turned to face me.

“Strip!” he commanded. I quickly got naked, no longer trying to deny I wanted this. He smirked, watching me submit. I stood before him naked, waiting.

“Kneel” was the next command. I knelt on the tile floor, imaging the number of guys that had jerked off on this very floor, wondering if I was kneeling in their spunk. “Good boy,” he said at my obedience. He once again grabbed the waistband of his shorts, but instead of just hooking them under his balls, he dropped them, taking them off and hanging them on the handy hook on the wall. I looked up in awe, kneeling before this muscular naked man, knowing that we were here to have sex. I was getting what I had always wanted. I felt dirty and shameful and completely alive, living out my must secret desire in this shower, the risk of discovery by others only adding to the thrill.

He stepped up to me, once again grabbing my head with his hand, and pulling me into his sweaty crotch. “Lick my balls,” he said, the authority in his voice. My tongue darted out and tasted his sweat, his funk. I lathered his balls in saliva, my mouth saturated with his taste. Finally, he pulled back and placed his cock head back on my lips. I tried to open my mouth, but he held my head back.

“Look at me,” he instructed. I looked up, meeting his eyes, acknowledging my inferiority, my submission to his masculinity. I was his cocksucker. “This cock is going all the way in. Nod if you understand.” I nodded. He pulled my head forward, his hard cock sliding over my lips, across my tongue and deep into my mouth, hitting my throat. I gagged, but he didn’t stop. “Swallow!” He commanded sternly. He pulled my head harder and his cock pushed into my throat as I obeyed, amazed that swallowing allowed him into my throat, my lips coming to rest in his pubes.

“Fuck, yeah!” he groaned, holding deep in my throat. I was gagging, struggling for breath. My throat was convulsing around his cock. He seemed to like that feeling.

“Since you’re there, stick that tongue out and lick my balls.” I tried, touching his balls a little with my tongue. I felt like I was going to pass out. Finally, he relented pulling me off. I coughed up some slime, a result of the gagging. He grabbed my chin, and pulled my face up to look at him. Leaning down to look directly in eyes, he said, “I always go balls deep. You want this cock, you get all this cock!”

With that statement, he grabbed my head again and thrust all the way back into my throat, then pulled out, starting to fuck my face as I knelt before him. I hated how cruel he was being, but was shocked to realize that my cock was harder than it had ever been. Was I getting off on being treated this way?

He fucked my formerly virgin throat for about 5 minutes. Finally, he pulled out, his cock coated with my spit and throat slime. “Get up!” he barked. I jumped up, and he spun me around and bent me over the bench in the shower. “Time to take that other cherry!”

I felt him move behind me, felt his cockhead on my hole. Leaning over my back, he said in my ear, “You best be quiet unless you want the whole place to know you’re getting fucked!” Putting his hand over my mouth, he said, “Push out!” as he lined up his slick cock and just slammed into my virgin ass. He went all the way in in one shove, knocking the wind out of me. I wanted to scream from the pain, but I couldn’t make a sound come out. My body was shaking and jerking from the intrusion, in shock from the sudden entry.

He grabbed my hips and began thrusting, in and out, quickly building up a solid rhythm. I’d always wondered what it felt like to get fucked by a muscle stud. I didn’t have wonder any longer. The initial pain had given way to a dull throbbing with a sense of fullness. I felt completely out of control. I couldn’t resist, I couldn’t get away, I could only endure.

Except that after about 2 minutes, I didn’t need to endure. The dull ache was beginning to turn into pleasure. He was hitting a spot inside me that was beginning to feel good. I began to take it all in, hearing the slap of flesh connecting with flesh as his hips slammed my ass. I let out an involuntary groan of pure pleasure as he hit that place full on, shocked to feel my cock hardening. He chuckled behind me, leaning over to say in my ear, “You sluts are all the same. One ride on my cock and your groaning in pleasure. Look at you, pushing that pussy back onto my cock!”

He was fucking with my head as he fucked my ass, and it was working. I was lost it the pleasure, loving my first fuck. How had I denied myself this pleasure for so long?

He didn’t last long, speeding up his thrusts until with a mighty shove he held his cock balls deep in my ass. I could feel it pulsing as he shot his load up my ass. My formerly virgin ass. He then pulled out, and reached to turn on the shower, leaving me laying face down on the bench, marveling at what just happened.

Looking down at me as I moved to try to stand up, he said, “You can jerk off if you need to. I know you faggots like looking at me.” My face filled with shame as I sat down on the bench and reached for my hard cock, beginning to jerk as I stared at his amazing body. He smirked as I came, shooting my load on the shower floor.

Once he was clean, he grabbed a towel from the stack outside the stall, dried off, grabbed his shorts and stepped out of the shower. My first time was over. I stood under the water, letting it wash off the smell of him, the guilt of cheating on my wife, the shame of being revealed as a needy faggot. I too dried off, then grabbed my clothes, walking back over to my bag to put my street clothes back on, forever changed by what just happened.

When I got home, my wife asked, “Did you shower at the gym?” as she kissed me, welcoming me home.

“Yeah,” I answered. “I was smelling pretty bad, so I decided to go ahead and wash off!”

“Thanks!” she grinned, hugging me. I took my bag into the laundry room and started a load in the washer, getting my gym clothes clean. I walked back to our bedroom, sitting on the bed, staring out the window, wondering what my life would look like moving forward. After my first taste of gay sex, I knew I was going to want more. I already wanted more.

My thoughts were interrupted by my phone alerting me to a text message. I opened the screen to see a message from a number I didn’t recognize. It read: “Was your wife happy to see you when you got home, faggot?” I noticed in the line above, there was a text from me to that number that read simply, “Gym faggot’s phone.” He had texted himself from my phone while I was in the shower. He had my number. He fucked me. He has my number. I don’t even know his name! Shit!

“Reply. I can see you read it,” the next text from him stated.

“Yes.” I wrote back.

“Yes, what?” he said.

“Yes Sir.”

“Good boy. I’ll be wanting more of that sweet pussy. See you tomorrow at the gym, same time. Make up a good story for the wife, because you'll be coming home with me.”

As much as I wanted to go back to life as it was, I knew I’d be at the gym tomorrow. I knew I’d readily suck him again, and I couldn’t wait until he was balls deep in my ass. I really am a faggot!

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