Connor
Another Saturday after a long, grueling week that had screeched to a halt late Friday night.
For the past year, at least, my life was so fucking predictable: wake up, go to a finance job I didn’t care about, come home, eat a sad dinner while scrolling on my phone, sleep. Every now and then, I checked my bank account. It looked more impressive than I ever would’ve expected at this young age; if only I had a single second of time or ounce of motivation, to actually use it in some way that felt fulfilling.
Feeling down around my stomach, I was again reminded of how my physical body was withering away the same way my mental one was. Might as well go to the gym at this point; it was that or sit around all night, waiting for the Sunday scaries to strike tomorrow.
Unsurprisingly, the gym was completely empty at this hour, everyone else near my age likely off at bars, dinners, and apartments for parties and hook-ups. I settled into a short fifteen minute ab circuit, focusing on my core just so the burn would remind me that it even existed. After finishing, I felt more tired than I expected, probably from the lack of sleep all week too. Deciding that I’d done about all I could muster, I headed towards the locker room. Maybe some sauna time would do the trick to sweat out some of the stress.
I heard a shower running down the hall and wondered if someone had accidentally left it going all evening; there was no way someone else was here, and even if they were, they’d had to have been showering for the whole time I’d been at the gym, almost a half hour by now.
I almost decided to just walk towards the showers naked, but figured I should throw a towel around my waist just in case someone were actually in there still (hopefully still alive). Making my way through the winding hallway of curtains on each side, my ears perked up hearing a deep, moaning, sound.
Oh shit. Was someone having sex in here? Well, that’d be kinda hot at least. But I didn’t hear a girl reciprocating the lower octave sounds? There was no way a dude jerking off would be moaning that loud…right?
I stopped in my tracks like a deer in headlights, as a tall (at least 6’5”), muscular, guy with insanely toned biceps and abs stepped out of the shower in a towel. I was immediately struck by how smooth his skin looked, it accentuated his muscles and veins even more across his upper body.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that I was staring at another dude’s body. “Ugh…sorry man I uhh…” I stammered, hoping he hadn’t noticed me gawking at him.
The guy seemed to give me a one over himself, probably guessing that I was past my prime and starting to round out. He probably saw in me what he hoped he’d never turn into.
“I…” he stammered, “sorry no one’s ever here this late…my bad dude sorry…”
Oh, so he was definitely jacking off in there…
He brushed past me, clearly trying to escape our awkward encounter, but I felt a weird pull towards him that I couldn’t explain. It was probably just my lack of social interaction or friends, that I craved attention from someone who looked like they may have at one point in life been similar to me.
“Wait!” I called out.
“Yeah?” He slowly turned back towards me.
“Just…” Fuck, what do I say now. “I’m…uhh…I’m Connor…” I awkwardly held out my right hand for a shake, praying that I didn’t drop my towel and turn what was already the most awkward minute of my life into a memory I’d have to file away in the depths of embarrassment.
He looked back at me like I was the weirdest fucking dude that he’d ever seen…I’d probably be thinking the same if I were him, especially since it seemed pretty likely that I was holding out to grip a hand that had just touched…something I had no interest in getting close to…
“Hey…I’m uhhhh…I’m Thomas…” He returned the shake and I couldn’t help but wince, praying that he’d washed his hand off from his…business…before getting out of the shower.
“I know this is weird…” I was desperate to lower the temperature of our awkwardness, “but I don’t have a lotta friends in Dallas right now. I don’t know why you’re at the gym at this hour but it would be nice to have a gym partner if you come here often…like to spot me and shit!”
Oh god, I was just making this worse. And saying “come here often”; fuck I hope he doesn’t think that was a sexual innuendo. Fuck, I bet he thinks I’m coming onto him, shit.
“Yeah…I do actually…I work too much to come at normal people times…” Thomas seemed, surprisingly, to be considering it.
“Oh yeah?” I saw my opening.
“Yeah…I’m an L3 in law school and I’m coaching football on the side. No social life at all, honestly…” Thomas looked down at the ground.
I could feel it in his words. It was the same disappointment and loneliness that I felt every single day. I could inherently tell that he, like me, had never felt like that in life before this.
Now was my shot to change something in my life for the better. “Same here. A finance job that’s killing me…like 12-13 hour days, working on the weekends, all that shit…”
He just nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. Shit, Connor, what are you doing? I felt the heat rise in my face, hoping he didn’t read into it, hoping he didn’t think I was a weirdo. I just wanted a friend, someone to work out with.
“I mean this in the least weird way possible, I SWEAR…” I walked past him and pulled my phone from my backpack by the lockers, “but can I get your number? Maybe we can meet up to workout together next week?”
He smiled and laughed, finally seeming to conclude that I was, in fact, not a fucking weirdo who was stalking him. “Yeah man, dope. Here…” He took my phone and typed a number in before firing off a text. “I’m gonna get outta here, but let me know when you wanna meet up.”
Thank god.
——————————————-
Now, here I was staring at my phone the following Thursday, my thumb hovering over his name, Thomas - Gym. I had no clue what his last name was, his age, anything really. Just that he was tall, seemed athletic, and must’ve been smart if he was in law school.
I felt the same strange, nervous energy from last weekend when I’d basically heard him jizzing in the shower. I took a deep breath. It’s just a text. Just asking if he wants to workout. I tapped out the message.
Hey Thomas, it’s Connor from the gym. It was cool meeting you. Want to hit the gym this Saturday night? Seemed like we both don’t have a ton going on, haha.
Fuck, wait. What if he thinks I’m making fun of him, assuming he’s free? Shit, I just told him he doesn’t have a lot going on; I was being such an asshole. Fuck, fuck, fuck…hopefully he just ignores me. What if he thought I was a creep again? The few minutes I waited for a response felt like an eternity. Then, my phone buzzed.
Yeah, man. Sounds good. Let me know what time works for you.
A wave of relief so intense I could have cried washed over me. I was so desperate for human interaction, for a friend.
I felt a strange mixture of anticipation and dread as I drove to the gym on Saturday. I’d spent the last two days thinking about him, about the size of his arms, the way his towel had hung low on his ripped hips, and the sound I’d heard. I couldn't remember the last time I’d been this preoccupied with a person, let alone the fact that this was a guy. What the fuck was wrong with me? Was I this desperate to have a friend?
He was already there when I walked in, stretching his lats at a pull-up bar. He was wearing a simple grey tank top and black athletic shorts that hung just above his knees. The tank top was stretched taut across his shoulders and chest, the fabric pulling at his thick biceps. He turned and grinned when he saw me.
“Hey man, good to see you again,” he said.
I tried to play it cool. “Yeah, you too, I’ve needed a workout buddy for a while now…” I replied.
“I haven’t worked out in a while with someone, not since I was in football at A&M. Do you want to take the lead and I’ll follow?”
Woah…he played D1 football? Well that explained a lot, now. “Uhh…sure. I’ll try. Let me know if you need to go harder than I usually do.” Even if it meant being sore as shit tomorrow, I knew I had to go all out today to impress him and make sure this wasn’t a one time hang.
We started with some light cardio, jogging side-by-side on the treadmill, before moving to do a leg workout. We alternated lunges next to each other in front of the full-length mirror on the wall, taking advantage of an opportunity to get to know each other better.
“So, what’s your deal? You said you don’t have a lotta friends? That’s kinda surprising.” He looked like he regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth, as if him assuming I’d have friends was him admiring me in some way.
“Yeah, I’m just working too much. I played volleyball in college but most of the guys went all over the country for corporate jobs. I ended up here and it’s great pay but I’m pretty much working every single hour I’m awake Monday to Friday and half the day Saturday and Sunday, too.”
He seemed to be slowly nodding and analyzing the number of hours that must’ve added up to weekly.
“Probably like 70-ish hours a week...” I helped him out and saw him smile, realizing I’d interpreted the look on his face accurately.
“I was a receiver at A&M and ended up here in Dallas for law school because I got a gig coaching offense at a school one of my college coaches used to be at. I’m probably right there with ya on total hours if you include both, unfortunately.” He finished a set of lunges and I could see the pulse in the bottom of his thighs, just above his knees. His legs were impossibly thick, but still somehow proportional to his huge 6’5” frame.
“Hey, at least some of that is time on something you love coaching!” I was jealous that he was able to blend one hobby into his ‘work’ in a way.
“Eh, I swear that once something isn’t just for fun anymore, it doesn’t matter if it’s a job, volunteering, or what…it’s still exhausting…” he joked, a tired smile on his face.
We wrapped up on lunges and moved to doing squats. He loaded the bar with an absurd amount of weight, more than I’d ever seen anyone at this gym lift. He stepped up, the weight settling on his shoulders, and took a deep, controlled breath. “You got me here?” He asked.
I quickly nodded and stepped up behind him to keep an eye on the bar, and to step in if he needed any help…something I highly doubted. As he lifted the bar onto his shoulders and squatted down towards the ground, I found myself staring at how his muscles bulged, unable to look away. He went down slowly, his back straight, his eyes fixed on some point in front of him. His quads and hamstrings bulged under the strain, but it was his ass that stole the show. The fabric was stretched so tightly across his backside that it didn’t leave much to the imagination. The muscles were perfectly rounded, two sculpted mounds of power that flexed and strained with every inch he descended. I could see the crease where his shorts dug in, emphasizing the perfect, round curve of his glutes. It was a master work of art, undoubtedly sculpted by endless gym time.
He hit the bottom of the squat, paused for a split second, then pushed back up, the veins in his neck and arms standing out with the effort. I watched him complete the set, my mind a blank slate except for a single thought: Wow.
I was impressed, and a little confused by why I was so impressed. My mind started to race. What is wrong with me? I wasn’t gay. I had never fantasized about a guy’s body, not like this. I was staring at his backside, openly mesmerized, and the feeling wasn't disgust. It was a kind of awed appreciation. It looked strong. It looked powerful. It didn’t look weird or wrong. I had never looked at another dude in the gym like this before. When he finished his set, I tried to focus on my own workout, but my eyes kept darting back to him in the mirror. What the fuck was happening to me?
After our workout, we headed to the locker room. My heart was pounding, a nervous flutter in my chest. The locker room where this whole weird, new thing had started. Thomas grabbed his stuff, a simple black bag, and headed toward a row of lockers. I followed, but kept some distance about ten feet away since we were the only ones there. I tried to focus on my bag, my towel, anything but him.
He undressed quickly, following a mindless routine. The tank top came off, revealing that perfectly smooth, muscular chest and the crazy six-pack. His shorts followed, leaving him in nothing but a pair of dark grey boxers. He grabbed a towel from his bag and I wondered if he was going to walk to the showers like this or if he was going to wait to wrap the towel around his naked body. It only took a second to find out.
He faced directly away from me and quickly yanked his briefs down his huge, thighs. I finally got a view of his giant, pale, ass. It looked massive because of his tall and muscular frame, but was shockingly as smooth as the day he was born, just like his upper body. It looked rock solid despite its crazy roundedness and there wasn’t a single wisp of hair poking out from the seam. I convinced myself that my fixation was no different than admiring a prime athlete’s strength, or another guy’s success in the gym; something for me to aspire to for myself, clearly not to yearn for on him. Before I knew it, his towel was around his waist and he was turning back towards me. I quickly stared down at the ground in front of me, my heart racing a trillion miles per hour; it felt like it was about to burst out of my chest.
I tried to shake the sight of it out of my head. Physically rubbing my hair to shake whatever was going on from my brain. Playing volleyball my whole life, I’d seen countless naked dudes in locker rooms; it was actually one of the things I hated most about playing organized sports. All shapes, sizes, and usually, disgustingly gross and hairy. This was…different.
He stepped into the shower and the sound of the water filled the gaping, confused hole in my head. I finally managed to get my towel and head to the showers. My own body felt alien to me now, and as I washed the sweat and grime from my body, the image of Thomas’s perfect form, and the strange, powerful feeling it had awakened in me, stayed right there at the forefront of my mind. The apathy was gone and it had been replaced by desire. And I had no fucking clue what to do with it.
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