My heart was slamming so hard I swore my gym trainer Brock could hear it over the hum of the AC vents. The gym felt smaller now, the emergency lights painting everything in faint blue and red, mirrors throwing back my flushed face and the obvious tent in my shorts like they were mocking me.
“Come here, Logi”, said Brock.
My legs moved before my brain caught up, cock jumping at the rough edge in his voice. No turning back. No pretending this was still just training.
I walked to him slowly, like the floor was sticky under my sneakers. Brock stood there towering, hand still cupping his bulge, eyes locked on mine with that same slow dangerous grin. When I got close enough he reached out, grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me in towards him. Our chests collided, his solid muscle pressing against my leaner frame, heat rolling off him in waves. I gasped sharp, cock jumping against his thigh through the thin fabric.
“That's it bro,” he growled low, breath hot on my ear. “Come here.”
His hands started roaming. Big palms sliding up my sides, thumbs hooking under the hem of my shirt, lifting slow. I sucked in a breath, body tensing, but I didn't pull away. He peeled the shirt up inch by inch, fabric dragging over skin still damp from the workout.
“Let me see what I'm working with bro.”
I helped him…arms lifting awkwardly as the shirt came off over my head. Cool air hit my chest, nipples tightening instantly. I stood there shirtless, lean but still soft around the middle, cock hard as fuck now, straining against the compression shorts. The mirrors caught every angle: my flushed skin, the way my body flexed with each quick breath, right next to Brock's massive frame dominating the reflection.
He didn't waste time. Hands landed on my belly first, palms flat, fingers spreading wide. He pressed in, kneading lightly, then slid up to my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples once. I shivered hard.
“See,” he said, voice rumbling. “Your bloating's already coming off in under a week. Keep showing up to the gym like this, you'll be shredded soon.”
His touch lingered, tracing the faint definition I had started to build, then moved lower again, back to my stomach, circling slow. Then he pulled me in, bodies grinding together. My cock rubbed against his bulge through our shorts, friction sending sparks up my spine. He palmed my ass next, one big hand squeezing firm, fingers dipping under the waistband to trace the crack. Skin on skin. Heat. I bit my lip to keep from moaning.
“Yeah,” he muttered, squeezing again. “That's a fat ass for a guy like you. Plump. All that junk food did you favors back here.”
I panted, hips shifting without thinking, cock sliding against his. “Yeah man, it's probably the pizza, burgers, all that shit.”
He chuckled low, hand still kneading my ass like he owned it. “That junk made this ass perfect for grabbing. Bet it jiggles nice when you squat heavy. You wanna feel my body? See what real muscle feels like?”
I nodded fast. “Sure man.”
Brock stepped back just enough to give space. He grabbed the bottom of his tank and peeled it up slowly, fabric stretching over his chest before coming off completely. The sight hit me like a punch. Veined abs like carved cobblestones, rising and falling with each breath. Thick dark hair trailing from his pecs down the center line, disappearing into the waistband. Shoulders broad enough to block half the mirror, biceps already popping even relaxed. Sweat glistened on every ridge, the musk of him hitting harder now, clean sweat mixed with something raw and male. Nipples hard from the air, chest heaving slightly. He was built like a fucking god.
He flexed his biceps, peaks rising high, veins snaking over the surface like rivers. “Come on, feel it. This is what your end goal should be.”
I stepped forward, hands shaking a little. Palms landed on his biceps first. Rock hard, skin hot, veins pulsing under my fingers. I squeezed, feeling the unyielding muscle. Then up to his chest, fingers sinking slightly into the firm pecs.
“Fuck dude,” I said, voice rough. “These are insane. How many reps you hitting to get this?”
He flexed harder, biceps jumping under my grip. “Enough to make pussies wet. Squeeze harder, feel the pump.”
I laughed, nervous but horny. “Shit man, you're a beast. My arms feel like noodles next to this.”
Brock grinned wider. “Keep training with me, you'll get there. But damn, your hands feel soft like a chick’s.”
He shifted, flexing his abs now. Eight thick ridges rippling under the skin. “Feel those abs.”
I ran my fingers down, tracing each one slow, feeling them contract under the touch. Down the happy trail, thick dark hair leading straight to the waistband of his shorts. My fingers hovered there, right at the edge. I looked up at him, eyes wide, waiting like it was a question I didn't dare ask out loud.
Brock nodded once. “Go for it. Don't be shy bro.”
I hesitated. “Uh... are you sure?”
He looked down at me, voice dropping rougher, breaking it into pieces. “You think I let guys touch me like this after a workout? Nah man. I'm fucking horny tonight. And I don't see a chick nearby who can take care of this shit.”
I laughed, shaky. “Fuck man... same. I mean, yeah.”
My fingers hooked into his waistband. Tugged slowly. The shorts slid down his thick quads. His cock sprang free, slapping up against his abs. Thick. Veiny. Heavy. Head dripping with pre, slit beading. Balls hanging low, full. The musk hit me full force, salty and raw. My mouth watered instantly. This was the cock of the hot fucking hunk I had been 100 percent sure was straight, and now it was inches from my face, throbbing, leaking, demanding attention.
Brock groaned low. “See what you did to me?”
I stared, throat dry. “Holy shit bro... that's huge.”
He stroked himself once, slow, pre-stringing between fingers and head. Then he guided my hand to it. “Wrap around it.”
I gripped. Heat seared my palm. Pulse racing through the shaft. Pre slicked my fingers as he rocked into the hold.
“Stroke it slow,” he said. “Feel how hard I get.”
I did. Up and down, slow, watching the head flare, more pre welling. My own cock throbbed untouched, leaking steadily into my shorts.
Brock's hand came to the back of my head, fingers threading in my hair. Gentle at first. Then firmer.
“Get on your knees for the real workout bro.”
I dropped. Knees hit the mat, rubber cool under me. Face level with his cock now. Mirrors showed my back arched, ass up slightly, him towering over me. He tapped the head against my lips once. Twice. Wet pre smearing.
“Open up. Taste what a real man is like.”
I parted my lips. The head of his cock pressed in slowly. Warm. Thick. Salty pre coating my tongue right away. I sucked gently at first, just the tip, lips stretching around the flare. Brock groaned low in his throat, fingers tightening in my hair.
“Fuck yeah. Lap it up bro.”
I swirled my tongue under the head, tracing the slit, collecting more pre. It was thick, bitter, warm, sliding down my throat easy. My cock throbbed hard in my shorts, leaking a steady drip. The mirrors caught it all: my back arched, head tilted up, Brock’s hips flexed forward, abs tight. I looked wrecked already and we had barely started.
I took more. Halfway down the shaft. Lips sealed tight. Cheeks hollowing as I sucked. Saliva pooled fast, starting to drip from the corners of my mouth. I bobbed slowly, getting used to the stretch, the weight on my tongue. Veins pulsed against my lips with every pass. Brock’s breathing got rougher.
“That’s it Logi. Work that tongue. Good fuckin’ boy.”
The praise hit low in my gut. Made my hole clench empty. I moaned around him, vibration rumbling up his shaft. He hissed, hips twitching forward once. Deeper. I gagged a little, throat tightening. Wet choke sound bounced off the walls. Brock pulled back just enough to let me breathe, cock slick with my spit, strings connecting my lips to the head.
“You like that? Tastes good doesn’t it?”
I nodded fast, panting. “Yeah man… hot as fuck.”
He slapped the wet head against my cheek once. Twice. Smearing spit and pre across my skin. Then pushed back in. Slower this time. Deeper. I relaxed my throat the best I could. Took him to the root. Nose buried in his pubes. The musk was overwhelming. Sweat and man. Balls resting heavy against my chin. I held there, throat fluttering around him, eyes watering.
Brock groaned louder. “Fuck. Your mouth’s tighter than any pussy I’ve fucked.”
He started moving. Slow thrusts at first. Pulling out halfway, sliding back in. Steady rhythm. My saliva ran down his shaft, dripping onto my chest. Wet slurps filled the quiet gym. Every pull back left strings of spit hanging between us. Every push forward made my throat bulge. Mirrors showed the obscene angle: my lips stretched wide, tears streaking, Brock’s hand locked in my hair controlling the pace.
“Deeper bro. Choke on it.”
He picked up speed. Hips rocking firmer. Facefucking now. Not brutal yet. Controlled. But relentless. Balls tapped my chin with every thrust. Gags came constantly, wet and messy. Spit bubbled at the corners of my mouth, ran down my chin in thick strands. My cock bounced with each jolt. I was close just from sucking his dick. From the stretch. The taste. The way he used my throat like I was a pocketpussy.
“Suck harder. Make me nut bro.”
I hollowed my cheeks. Tongue pressed flat under the shaft. Swirled around every vein. He growled in approval. Thrusts got erratic. Cock swelled thicker in my mouth. Head flared against my tongue.
“Fuck… here it comes. Your post-workout protein bro. Swallow every fucking drop.”
I nodded as best I could with him buried deep. Throat open. Ready. Brock locked both hands on my head now. Pulled me onto him hard. One last deep thrust. Then he froze. Cock pulsed once. Twice. Thick ropes hit the back of my throat. Hot. Salty. Bitter. Flooding my mouth fast. I swallowed greedily. Gulp after gulp. Some leaked out the corners anyway, dribbling down my chin. He kept shooting. Pulse after pulse. Coating my tongue. Filling me up. I moaned around him, swallowing everything I could. The taste lingered heavy, coating every inch.
Brock held me there until he was empty. Cock still twitching. Then he pulled out slowly. His shaft glistening with spit and cum. A final string connected my lips to the head of his cock before he pulled it away. I coughed once, gasping air. Face flushed. Chin wet. Eyes teary.
He looked down at me. Grinned that cocky grin. Tugged his cock back into his shorts casually like nothing happened.
“Good fucking boy.”
He reached down, wiped a stray drop of cum from my chin with his thumb, then brought it to my lips. I opened my mouth without thinking. Sucked it clean. He chuckled low.
“We should have these night sessions more often. Builds character. Gets the blood flowing right.”
He bent, picked up his tank from the floor. Slung it over one shoulder. Turned toward the locker room without another word. Door swung shut behind him with a soft click.
I stayed on my knees. Cum still cooling on my chin. Taste thick on my tongue. Cock aching hard, untouched, throbbing against my shorts. Hole twitching empty. Mirrors showed me exactly what I was: flushed, spit-slick, marked, wanting.
I whispered “fuck” to the empty gym.
Already hard again.
Already thinking about the next time he’d feed me his protein shake.
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