Gym Boss Caught Me Looking

I never noticed his spectacular ass before that day at the fitness conference. From then on, Brock Langley changed my cock, my hole, and my whole life. Read about that awesome first weekend.

  • Score 9.6 (4 votes)
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  • 1913 Words
  • 8 Min Read

I’d known Brock as a casual business acquaintance for a few months. Nice guy, good body, deep voice with a sexy Southern accent.

But I must’ve been temporarily blind to have never noticed he had the biggest, roundest, firmest ass I’ve ever seen. It took being out of town at a fitness conference to show me what I’d been missing, at an evening reception in the hotel lobby. 

I was glancing around the room full of attractive fitness professionals. Lots of handsome men, pretty women, and toned or muscular bodies.

But The Ass across the crowded lobby was shining like a beacon of blazing perfection.

“Who is THAT?” I thought to myself, walking closer to get a look.

It was Brock.

Brock? With that ass?

And now that I was looking, I noticed the rest of him. Not merely a good physique but an amazing one – big thighs, big pecs, bulging biceps, flat tummy… Super-hot daddy handsomeness with big, bee-stung lips and a short stylish haircut. He wore trendy but age-appropriate leisurewear, and athletic shoes so cute they made me wonder… could he be?

I mean, this man was Put Together, and charming a few trainers gathered around him, hanging on every word like sophomores agog that the senior quarterback was hanging out with them.

Maybe they were high on his powerful sexual presence like I was.

I stared back at that ass hoping no one noticed.

No one did.

No one except Brock.

Later, as I stood waiting for the elevator, I heard someone next to me say in a deep, but friendly growl, “Hey, buddy, did you have a good time tonight?”

I turned to see Brock there, his branded polo shirt straining from his powerful pecs, shoulders and biceps. About my age, Brock was smiling but nothing flirty, just a friendly, here-we-are-at-a-conference smile.

“Yeah, I suppose,” I said. “Been a long day. I’m beat.”

“Oh, you heading to your room?” Brock asked me.

Still no sense he was flirting. How could he be? He seemed like a totally straight, aging dude-bro, plain and simple. Hot and aware, sure, after years of focusing on the male form, his own and others. But that was just work, right? I never got any gaydar buzz off of him.

Of course, I never noticed that massive wagon he was draggin’, either, so, maybe I’d been wrong about this, too.

“Yeah,” I said. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Here alone, nothing to do. Want some company?”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“Cool,” he said. “We can hang out in your room. You know.”

Did he wink?

The elevator bell chimed when we got to my floor and we walked together to my room, my cock already getting hard.

“Use the head?” he asked as soon as we got in.

“Of course,” I said.

After I heard the toilet flush, it sounded like I heard the shower start. A minute later, Brock  opened the door to the room and said, “Hey, hope you don’t mind… Just cleaning up a bit.”

“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you need.”

“Why don’t you join me?”

What? Did he just -- ? Is Brock actually in my shower, asking me to get naked and wet and hot and steamy with him?

Yes, he was. And I wasn’t going to waste another second thinking about it.

Playing it as cool as I could, I walked into the bathroom pulling my shirt over my head. Brock opened the sliding shower door and stood naked in front of me, eyeing my bare chest and lathering his beefy chest.

“Dude! Nice body on you,” he said. “Who knew?”

I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my socks and, still trying to look like I wasn’t hurrying or nervous, I slid my Lululemon pants down, leaving my briefs on.

Brock eyed me up and down, pausing on my bulging crotch.

“Turn around slowly and drop the briefs,” he said.

I did as instructed, and I think he actually whistled. How could Brock be whistling at my very average ass when he was carrying around the fattest, juiciest booty I’d ever seen?

When I turned around, he was stroking his hard cock with one hand and washing his butthole with the other. I was already hard, too, and he looked down to assess my wood.

“Nice, man. Get in.”

I stepped in and used the shampoo and body wash from the dispensers, Brock putting his giant paws on me firmly and scrubbing me down – first working my chest, pits and balls, then spinning me around so I was spread-eagle against the back wall. His massive back and fat ass blocked the water stream as he continued to rub me up and down. Slippery hands groped my ass and Brock said, “Somebody’s been doing his squats,” squeezing playfully.

My cock was so hard I thought it might separate from my body and shoot through the tiles of the shower wall.

We rinsed, kissed hungrily, and dried ourselves off. Towel around his waist, Brock strutted with the swagger of a natural stud who’d clearly done this before and knew my eyes were riveted to the white cotton pulled tight against his bubble ass.

He stood with his back to me at the window, looking out at the downtown lights coming on for the evening. Brock pulled the curtains mostly closed, then turned around and leaned against the window ledge.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I said. “Look at you.”

Brock dropped his towel and said, “Come.”

I did. Powerful arms wrapped around me as his big lips pressed softly to mine. He was hungry but not attacking me; there was a calmness to his seduction. For him, anyway. My heart was pounding, and when he wrapped a big hand around my aching hard-on, I gasped out loud.

“God, Brock,” I said, reaching for his cock, which was substantial in size and perfect in shape and proportion, a cocksucker’s dream.

“I saw you checking me out earlier,” he said. “Made me pop wood right there in front of everybody.”

“Your ass…”

“Big, huh? Juicy.” He smirked playfully, not being a dick.

“It makes me want to suck your cock.”

“Show me,” Brock said, gently but surely pushing me down by the shoulders till his gorgeous erection was pointing at my face, mere inches from my lips.

I usually like to lick up the vein first, maybe kiss the head of the dick I’m about to suck.

Not tonight. I opened wide and gulped as much of his chubby cock as far down my throat as it would go.

Not bad for a first pass, but as girthy as Brock ’s cock was, I knew it’d take some time till I could feel his smooth balls against my chin.

I caressed, kneaded, groped his gigantic, round ass, so strong from years in the gym and blessed by DNA. An ass like this doesn’t come from just sweating it out in the gym. It comes from the gods.

“Damn, Trey, that’s great,” Brock said as his strong hands gently held my head on each side and began a slow steady rhythm of fucking my lips, sending the cock head to the back of the throat and a little bit farther down with each stroke.

My hands never left his ass.

His never left my head.

The slow face-fucking continued until finally his cockhead and then shaft nudged past the entrance of my throat and he bottomed out, fully inside my face.

“Dude, yeah, that’s so good,” he said softly to be discreet, not romantic. There was no romance involved in this passion. He needed to get off and was taking what he needed from the friendly cocksucker on the floor in front of him.

“So good, Trey… Suck my cock, yeah… Got a huge load for you, buddy…”

I felt him tighten his grip on my skull. I tightened mine on his glutes. He grunted softly and spasmed at the waist.

I felt the hot first shot hit the back of my throat and I pulled off him enough so the rest of his load would land flat on my tongue. I wanted to taste and savor every drop, holding it there before swallowing it and smacking my lips. I looked up at Brock, whose head was thrown back liked he’d just had a great workout.

“You didn’t come?”

I shook my head and lay fully on the floor on my back. “Sit on my face,” I said as fast as possible, afraid I’d nut before I got to feel those fat cheeks engulf my head or taste that prized hole. I’ve always been an ass man. There’s just nothing like it.

And Brock must’ve wanted me to play with it after making such a show in the shower. And it smelled and tasted clean and manly, the faintest trace of eucalyptus over the delicious tight pucker that finally lowered itself onto my tongue.

My hands were on his lower back, frantically reaching up and back down, taking pleasure from all those muscles rippling beneath his skin as Brock gently rode my face. I let out muffled moans against his beefy ass while lapping and licking and getting my tongue as far past that sweet, tight ring as possible.

“Eat my hole, Trey,” Brock said above me. “Get it good and wet for your dick.”

What? He wanted me to fuck him, too? I couldn’t believe my good luck and quickly turned redirected all my efforts back to pleasuring Brock through his asshole, and selfishly luxuriating in the heavy fullness sliding over my face.

But when I felt Brock’s hand wrap around my rock-hard cock, I couldn’t hold back more than two or three strokes. I buckled under him, thrusting my cock into his fist and shooting on my abs and his hand. I gently pushed Brock ’s ass just an inch off my face, took one long, last lick from his taint to his hole, and patted the ass like a ballplayer congratulating his teammate.

“Fucking amazing, man,” Brock said as he stood. “Never knew you had it in you.”

“I told you when we met because I didn’t trust myself to be alone with you unless you knew I was gay.”

“I remember. But there’s being gay, and then there’s throating my hog like your life depends on it. Phew!”

He plopped onto the bed, ankles crossed, hands behind his head. He jerked his head once, signaling me to join him.

“Follow the Cup? Brock asked, picking up the remote and turning on the. TV. “Gotta see how my boys are doing, if that’s OK.”

That was the other thing about Brock. So polite, this godlike creature who had built a fitness empire from nothing, whose net worth was now in the eight figures, and who had recently broken up with his first post-divorce girlfriend.

If he wasn’t a player with the ladies, he sure could’ve been.

Or the fellas, too. And spending his life in first bodybuilding and then general fitness, he’d been surrounded by other body-obsessed men who’d either eyed him with lust, envy, or admiration.

He was a BMOC of the fitness world, long past his bikini-posing days and all the more handsome with some age.

And best of all tonight, he seemed in no hurry to leave my hotel room.


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