Ron was in a total lather. He really needed a release and needed it badly. He rubbed his bulge and knew he needed to fix it quickly. He eased its throbbing length from his fly and it quickly sprang erect, the cherry flaring tightly. He was leaking pre-cum just at the thought of that beautifully masculine body and its tightly muscled chest and chiseled abs. The chest was lightly dusted with hair which extended down in a narrow line in the centre of the abs and spread into a tight curly bush of dark hair from which his beautiful gently arched member seemed to spring invitingly. Even as he envisaged stroking the wonderful body and bending down to take the strongly formed cock into his mouth, he was stroking himself and working his own cock into a frenzy of excitement. He could feel the thrill of his mushroom being stimulated. It was sending shivers down into his balls which were tightening deliciously. Now he was working rapidly with his fingers gripping and pulling his cock and thrilling and tingling the head. He was breathing heavily and his muscles in his back, his legs and his butt were tensed to a breaking point when the first spurt burst from his cock with a rush of pleasure and caused him to gasp sharply and moan with the intensity of the release. He continued to pull on himself as he spurted again and again thrilling with each thrust. Afterwards with the his muscles relaxed, he was left feeling wonderfully released and pleasurably content.

Ron was himself a well-built young man and athletically fit. He had no extra weight on him but was wirey and muscled from hard running which was his joy. There was nothing that thrilled him more, apart from sex, than pounding along the track, his legs going like pistons in a steady rhythm. He felt powerful and strong as he ran and was thrilled by the very essence of his manliness. It was an exhilarating experience. This was what he lived for, running and racing and competing to win, pitting himself against other strong men and reveling in being a man participating in something intensely masculine. To him it was greatly satisfying.

While he gave himself to running, he was frustrated by his personal life and often lonely. His attraction to men was a point of great frustration and anguish to him. He felt nothing for women and on the odd occasion when a friend had tried to get him hooked up with a girl, it had been a painfully embarrassing experience for him. His desperation to feel aroused seemed to thwart any attempt to wake his cock into some kind of action. The more desperate he felt the more limp and unresponsive his member became. He was shy by nature and found it difficult to make friends, especially of the kind he was looking for and wanted. Most of the guys he knew were intensely, frighteningly masculine and definitely straight. He would not dare approach them in any way that could be construed to be sexual or affectionate and this led to further isolation. He was wary of being classified gay or a poof.

The shower and locker room was a place of torment to him. He loved to have the chance to ogle at the wonderful masculine bodies, but he was so afraid that someone would see how he was affected by those bodies and expose him as a "morph". How could he admit to others his shameful secret? Besides which he was so petrified that he would not be able to control an erection. How embarrassing that would be and what a mocking there would be. He would never be able to hold his head up amongst his peers again. Consequently he avoided the locker room at all cost. But that day he had an office function in the evening and he had no time to go home and shower first.

There had only been one other person using the showers that evening and he was the young man with the beautiful physique. Ron had been in an agony not to look and not to think of the young man's body. He had to make himself think hard about the most disgusting things to turn his mind from where it was chained, and his shower was an extraordinarily rushed affair. The guy must have thought he was a complete nerd. He even forgot to wash the shampoo out of his hair, he was in such a hurry, and had to turn the shower on again to sort it out. But that didn't stop his lustful thoughts on the young man's physique. The image of him was imprinted on Ron's mind and stayed with him all through the evening. Even after he had wanked later that night, he still drifted into sleep thinking of that body, and he dreamed of holding the young man in bed and feeling his strong limbs and athletic body lying up against him. What a delight! What a joy! How disappointing it had been to wake the following morning to an empty bed.

It was not many days later that Ron had an unexpected meeting with the young man again. He was buying a newspaper at the stand just round the corner from his flat. While he was digging in his pocket for change he dropped his pen. After paying for the paper he was about to bend to search for his pen when a hand reached out holding his pen towards him. He traced the hand up the arm to the face of the young man.

"You dropped your pen."

"Yes, thank you," Ron stammered at a loss for words.

"Aren't you the guy from the Metro Club?" he asked.

"Yes, I train there. I'm a long distance runner."

"I know. I've seen you around. Name's Mark," he said holding out his hand.

"I'm Ron. Nice to meet you."

Ron grabbed the proffered hand and was pleasantly surprised by the warm firm grip. He didn't want to let the hand go, but he knew that would not be wise to hold it longer than was politely acceptable. Was it his imagination that Mark had also seemed to hold that handshake just a tad longer than need be.

"Hey, Mark, we should grab a drink at the pub sometime."

"Yes. I'd like that. Be seeing you," he said by way of a goodbye as he sauntered off down the street.

Ron watched him go filled with a sense of excitement about meeting Mark again. He was looking forward with great anticipation to seeing him again at the club, and it was not long before he did so.

Ron was about to head out on his regular run a couple of days later when he saw Mark in his squash togs holding a squash racquet.

"Hey, Mark!" he greeted him. "How are you?"

"Hey, Ron! Me, I'm fine. Good to see you. You headed out for a run?"

"Yes, my usual. Can we meet for that drink later?"

"No problem. Say about an hour. Will that be ok with you?"

"Perfect. See you later."

Ron felt his heart pounding in his chest and it wasn't from running yet! The whole time on his circuit he was dreaming of Mark and what it would be like to get to know him. He hardly noticed his route and was thankful he could run it without having to think too much about where he was going.

Later in the pub they had a good chat and really seemed to click. They discovered some things they had in common. It seemed to Ron that at last he had made a friend and whether Mark became no more than a friend seemed at this point immaterial to him, though that did not stop him from dreaming of something more than friendship. He could not pretend that he was not very attracted to Mark in a sexual way that stirred him to the pit of his stomach. Of course, he could not ever let Mark know that. It was better to keep him as a friend than to spoil that friendship by a rash move that in his experience usually resulted in rejection and embarrassment. The only way he could ever go further with Mark would be if Mark somehow communicated to him that he also was willing to deepen their relationship. Ron was not sure that he could hope for that and was intent on convincing himself that it could never be. That way he felt he would not be disappointed.



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