Lust at First Sight

Introduction to the Gay Demon Edition

Although fiction, this twelve chapter story is grounded in reality and intended to be savoured over a period of time rather than inspire a single quick wank. In addition, potential readers should note that although featuring sexual power-play, it may disappoint those into more violent sub/dom master/slave scenarios but as a result may be of interest to a wider gay male audience. It will especially appeal to sub white guys with a soft spot for dominant gay guys of recent African and Indian ancestry and hopefully vice-versa.

Summary

When unflattering pics of him in his swimwear are posted online following his annual workplace outing to the seaside, thirty-four-year-old Phil Johnson is shamed into getting himself back in shape.

Following a disastrous break-up with his partner of over seven years, his love-life is in need of sprucing up too!

So, after spotting an ad in a gay magazine, featuring a pic of a muscular Black guy working out, offering a “free introductory assessment and a month’s worth of personal training sessions in a private gym at an attractive introductory price” he eagerly signs up for it, in the hope of killing two birds with one stone!

Within seconds of meeting him for the first time, Phil falls for his handsome gym instructor, Leo, with a thud!

In the hope that his lust for his trainer will eventually be reciprocated, he continues to visit him on a regular basis, until he has a body to rival that of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime and the two of them have become close confidants.

But as the years pass, despite endless flirting, it seems less and less likely that Phil’s lust-filled fantasies of being dominated by his handsome instructor will ever become a reality.

Until one day at the gym, Leo confides something to him that rekindles his hopes….

1. Lust at first sight

When I saw the pics of me posted on the company’s intranet, I felt completely humiliated!

No, they weren’t naked ones of me I’d stupidly shared with some sadistic bastard I’d fallen for on a gay dating site, or ones taken of me by an embittered ex-lover who had sent them to my workplace to embarrass me.

Nothing quite as bad as that! But shocking nonetheless!

The pics had been taken by some joker on the annual office outing to the seaside and were of me lying on the beach in my swimming trunks, fast asleep, looking like a beached whale.

I overheard the admin staff giggling at the other side of the partition wall as they too checked out the pics from the daytrip and in my paranoia assumed they were laughing at me.

There was no doubt about it; I had let my body go to pot!

Long hours, high stress and too much good living had all taken their toll and had left me looking middle-aged well before my time, an impression reinforced by my fast-receding hairline.

The state of my love life hadn't helped much either in recent months, with endless rows with my partner of seven years standing adding to my woes and him eventually dumping me for another guy.

Back on the gay scene after years of absence, I’d soon realised that I could no longer rely on a cute face and my boyish charm to get me into another guy’s pants – I needed a fit body to go with them!

So, at the tender age of thirty-four, I realised I needed to get my act together and make an effort to knock myself into better shape.

However, as I'd just been landed with a huge mortgage to pay as a result of my breakup, whatever solution I came up with would also have to be a pretty inexpensive one!

*  *  *  *  *  *

I can be decisive when I need to be, so before I began work that day, I quickly searched the internet for the latest health and fitness tips and had soon drawn up a shortlist of things I could do both immediately, and in the weeks ahead, to turn my life around and restore the good looks I had taken for granted in my younger days.

To start off with, I resolved to watch what I ate to reduce my intake of sugar and fat, cut down on eating out and takeaways, stop using cabs when I went out and drive instead, which as well saving me money would help keep me sober most days of the week and cut out all the calories which come from knocking back too much booze.

As far as exercise was concerned, I went swimming after work that day and then a couple of times a week first thing in the morning, as I discovered the pool was far less crowded at 6am than in the evenings! After losing a few pounds, I even added jogging in the park at weekends as well.

After three months, I looked and felt a hell of a lot healthier but my body still looked pretty uninspiring.

Having exhausted the cheap alternatives, I realised if I wanted to improve my physique still further I’d have to put my hand in my pocket and join a gym.

But finding the money wasn’t the only problem.

I’d never been much of an athlete as a youngster and hadn’t set foot in a gym since my schooldays - so didn’t fancy making a fool of myself in front of all the macho old hands by not having a clue what to do.

What I needed I decided, at least initially, was a personal trainer to show me the ropes - just for a few weeks - after which I would economise, join the cheapest gym I could find, and manage on my own.

I was in the process of figuring out how to find myself one, when I spotted an ad in a gay magazine that I’d picked up in a club in the run up to Christmas that aroused my interest in more ways than one.

It was illustrated with the muscular back pic of a Black guy as he flexed a dumb-bell above his head and offered a whole month of personal fitness training in a private gym at an "attractive introductory price".

Taken by both the man and the low cost, I phoned up and booked myself in for a “free fitness assessment” and, on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, made my way by underground to attend the first workout session of my adult life.

*  *  *  *  *  *

As the tube train stuttered toward my destination, stopping at endless stations on route, I pulled the ad out of my pocket, lusted over the rippling muscles of the hot-looking guy and instantly got a hard-on. Was this just a sexy pic of a muscle man borrowed from the internet to attract the attention of gay men, I wondered, or was it one of the trainer himself?

I hoped it was the latter.

After consulting my street map, I made my way from the tube station to the “fitness studio” through the mid-winter gloom. To my disappointment, it turned out to be a dingy terraced house just off the high street. It didn't look much like a gym, but as I climbed the half dozen steps up to the front door, the sight of exercise equipment through the bay window of the brightly lit room beside them tipped me off that I was in the right place. So, I rang the bell and crossed my fingers.

No answer.

I rang a second time and, while I was checking the address I’d written on the ad again, to make doubly sure I’d got it right, the door opened.

When I looked up, I was stunned by the sight of the most gorgeous looking Black guy I’d ever set eyes on, kitted out in little more than a tight vest, shorts, heavy duty trainers and a very welcoming smile.

I immediately recognised him as the man from the ad.

“Phil?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Leo?” I replied, hardly able to believe my luck.

It was lust at first sight!

“Hi!” he said and held out his hand. I slid my fingers into his palm and was rewarded by having them crushed in his fearsome grip, “Come in! I’ve been expecting you.”

“Sorry I’m a bit late” I apologised, following him into the hallway and taking the opportunity to examine his rear as closely as I had his front.

He was smaller than me, but beautifully proportioned, with broad shoulders, beefy thighs and a clean-shaven head. I guessed he was in his mid-twenties.

“Find your way here alright?” he enquired.

“Yep! No problem!” I replied, unable to stop smiling.

Leo led me into the clinically-lit room that I had spotted from the doorstep.

“I’ll leave you to get changed and be back down in a minute.”

As soon as he'd left, I looked around mystified about where I was supposed to change and hang my clothes. Although small for a gym, the room was packed full of an intimidating range of contraptions, weights, mats and benches, all sparkling new in the bright fluorescent light. Their purpose was a complete mystery to me and added to the nervousness I felt as I prepared to change.

Despite feeling as though I was on display in a shop window, I set my bag down on the stripped wooden floorboards, took out the shorts and gym vest I had bought especially for the occasion and started to undress.

Once changed, the coldness of the room and my nerves combined to make me desperate for a piss, so I sneaked outside to find a loo.

I wandered around peering into a few tastefully furnished rooms before coming across a toilet tucked away beneath the stairs.

Judging by the voices coming from the floor above, I guessed Leo had started off his new business venture by using a room in his home. I flushed and quickly sneaked back down the hallway to the gym.

Shivering from a mixture of the cold and excitement I eagerly awaited my handsome instructor’s return.

*  *  *  *  *  *

After giving me a once-over, Leo ushered me across to some scales and had me remove my trainers before noting my height and weight, then calculated my body mass index and checked my blood pressure.

I, in turn, surreptitiously took my measure of him.

As we came into close contact for the first time, I noted with approval that he not only looked gorgeous but smelt delicious too, as the smell of cocoa butter wafted in my direction.

The preliminaries over with, I was next put through my paces on a running machine and then led through a series of warm-up stretches.

I was thrilled whenever my instructor laid his hands on me – which, to my delight, turned out to be surprisingly often.

Each time his back was turned I took the opportunity to examine his body more closely.

He wore tight-fitting rugby shorts, which revealed his muscular legs and a gloriously firm butt, his vest was stretched over the width of his broad shoulders and then tapered down beautifully to profile his six-pack and perfectly flat stomach. His upper arms bulged with muscles.

Could he be gay, I mused, totally smitten. Surely, he must be - would a straight guy advertise in a gay mag for customers, I asked myself?

It wasn’t long before I was caught looking, when Leo turned around too quickly for me to avert my eyes. But to my relief, he smiled, apparently happy to accept that lust-filled glances from his customers came with the job.

By the end of our first session, I was pretty sure that I had left him in little doubt about what I felt about him, but as to his feelings toward me, I didn’t have a clue.

However, I knew one thing for sure, I was definitely signing up for my first month of personal training sessions and at the end of the session eagerly handed over my payment.

On the journey home, I again took out the advertisement to remind myself of the instructor's handsome body and once again instantly became erect.

I recall playfully rechristening Leo “LAO” short for “Lickable All Over” an expression I often used to myself when cruising on the gay scene whenever I came across an especially handsome-looking man.

With the prospect of seeing Leo on a twice weekly basis in the year ahead, I decided my fortunes were definitely on the up!

*  *  *  *  *  *

In the days that followed, Leo was seldom out of my thoughts and the subject of most of my wank fantasies.

I conceded that my pale, un-shapely body might not set him alight, at the moment, but with his help, I hoped to turn myself into something that might eventually be worthy of his affections.

I looked forward to my twice weekly personal training sessions, as much for the pleasure of having such a beautiful man all to myself for an hour as for the impact it was having on my body.

So, when the first month came to an end, I didn't hesitate to sign up for another, as fitness training had become the highlight of my week.

However, it was not just Leo's stunning good looks that aroused me, I also found the power imbalance between us a huge turn-on.

Each session I just handed myself over to him and willingly complied with his every whim, allowing him to mould me as he saw fit. 

Eager to please him by carrying out his exercise instructions, I also fantasised about him taking advantage of me sexually as well. If he had told me to strip naked in the street and bend over so he could fuck me, I would have obeyed him just as eagerly!

During our workouts, I found it hard to stop my mind wandering in this direction and regularly found myself sprouting erections which I then had the embarrassment of trying to hide. Quite a challenge, given the skimpy shorts I had chosen to wear for my gym visits, in my attempts to seduce my instructor!

But Leo just seemed to take all this in his stride and pretend not to notice.

Despite this, he continued to touch and hold me close throughout our workout routines leaving me unsure whether to take this as a sign of his sexual interest in me or not. Never having had a personal trainer before, I had no idea how much this handling of me was professionally necessary and how much was because he liked doing it.

I hoped it was the second, but whatever the explanation, I loved every minute of it!

Was he as excited as I was by the electricity that seemed to flow between us, I wondered? But his own groin gave nothing away – his manhood was always carefully hidden away from prying eyes - I guess beneath his shorts he wore a jock.

As he had me reach up to tap his muscular shoulders as I did sit-ups, I remember being taken by surprise by the baby softness of Leo’s ebony skin.

Once, failing to reach that far, I accidentally touched one of his nipples, which I could spot even though they were hidden beneath his vest, after which I began doing it deliberately, at least once in each set, in the hope of stimulating some sort of response.

I loved feeling his strength as he flexed his muscles and effortlessly folded and lifted my body to whatever position he wanted it to be in.

Whenever I lost my balance, I would regularly hang on to him for support, grasping hold of the nearest part of his anatomy and then let my hands linger on for as long as I could get away with, desperate to sample more of the smooth hardness of his perfectly formed body.

I found some of the exercises Leo had me do in those early days particularly arousing and wondered if they formed part of a standard work-out or were specifically chosen to tease me, in response to my endless flirting.

Whilst lying on the floor on my back on the mat, as I held onto his bare ankles, I loved looking up at his wide thighs, attempting to steal a glimpse of what lay beneath the tight hem of his shorts as I lifted up my legs to touch his outstretched palms in an exercise designed to strengthen my abs.

Also, whilst lying down between the stanchions of the workout bench to push up weights with my face located only inches from his crotch, I would breathe in the enticing smell of his genitals, as he hovered above me, ready to catch the bar-bell should it prove too heavy for me to lift.

I relished the way he took control of my body and stretched and manipulated it into any position he wanted, dispensing with the usual apologies that precede making physical contact with a stranger in favour of the on-going intimacy usually reserved for a parent or a lover.

But most of all, I loved the way he took my complete obedience for granted – within the confines of our workout sessions, I fantasised that I was this handsome Black guy’s very willing slave!

To be continued....