Adam revved the engine of his sleek black motorcycle one last time before killing it in the gym parking lot. The roar echoed off the concrete, drawing a few glances from early morning arrivals. He swung his long leg over the seat, his tall frame unfolding with ease—six-foot-three of lean muscle, inked with intricate tattoos snaking up his arms and peeking from the collar of his fitted black tank top. Married for five years, straight as an arrow, Adam hit the gym religiously to keep his body sharp for his wife and the construction job that demanded it. Today, though, he felt an unusual buzz, maybe from the crisp air or the anticipation of pushing his limits with his trainer, Jax.
Inside the gym, the clang of weights and hum of treadmills greeted him. Jax was already there, spotting a client on the bench press. The trainer was built like a tank—broad shoulders, thick thighs straining his shorts, and a no-nonsense vibe that made clients sweat harder. Adam nodded as he approached, dropping his gym bag by the rack.
'Ready to crush chest today?' Jax asked, clapping Adam on the back. His hand lingered a second too long, but Adam brushed it off, chalking it up to bro energy.
They started with flat bench presses. Adam loaded the bar with plates, his biceps flexing as he gripped the knurled steel. He lay back on the bench, feet planted firm, and unracked the weight. First set went smooth—up, down, controlled reps that burned through his pecs. Jax hovered nearby, arms crossed, watching form.
By the third set, Adam was pushing heavier, veins popping along his forearms. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temple. 'Spot me,' he grunted, settling under the bar again.
Jax stepped up, positioning himself at the head of the bench. To get the best angle, he straddled the end, his sneakers planted on either side of Adam's head. As Adam pressed the bar up, his eyes flicked upward involuntarily. There, inches from his face, hung Jax's package—bulging against the thin fabric of his gym shorts. The outline was unmistakable: heavy balls sagging low in the pouch, and the thick shaft of his dick curving slightly to the left, stirring with each subtle shift of Jax's stance.
Adam's breath hitched mid-rep. He could smell the musky tang of sweat mixed with whatever body wash Jax used, faint but intoxicating up close. His heart pounded—not just from the lift. Straight married guy or not, the proximity hit him like a gut punch. Jax's balls swayed gently as he leaned forward to grip the bar if needed, the seam of his shorts riding up, exposing more of that veined sack.
'Keep it steady,' Jax murmured, voice low and steady. His crotch hovered right there, so close Adam could feel the warmth radiating off it. One more press, and the bar trembled—Adam locked out, chest heaving, eyes locked on the prize dangling above. Jax's dick twitched, thickening just a fraction, as if sensing the stare.
Adam racked the bar with a clang, sitting up slowly, face flushed. 'Good set,' he muttered, avoiding Jax's gaze. But the image burned into his mind—the weight of those balls, the girth of that cock, begging to be noticed. Jax smirked, stepping back, but not before adjusting himself blatantly, letting his hand brush over the growing bulge.
'Take a breather. Then we hit inclines.' Jax's tone was casual, but his eyes held a spark, like he knew exactly what Adam had seen—and what it might awaken.
Adam wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his chest still pumping from the flat bench sets. The image of Jax's heavy balls and thickening cock lingered like a fog he couldn't shake. He stood, shaking out his arms, and followed Jax to the incline bench, the gym's fluorescent lights casting long shadows across the mats.
Jax adjusted the bench to a steep angle, loading it with plates that clinked against the bar. 'Inclines next. These will carve out that upper chest,' he said, his voice carrying that authoritative edge that made Adam push harder. Adam nodded, stripping off his tank top to work bare-chested—his tattoos rippling over defined pecs, a light sheen of sweat highlighting every ridge.
He settled onto the incline, the padded surface cool against his back. Gripping the bar, he unracked it, feeling the pull in his shoulders as he lowered the weight toward his collarbone. Rep after rep, his pecs contracted, fibers firing with each press. Jax positioned himself again, this time closer, his thighs bracketing Adam's head from the side to monitor the bar path.
On the fourth rep, Adam's form faltered slightly—the burn intensifying. Jax reached down without warning, his large palm pressing flat against Adam's left pec. 'Breathe into it,' Jax instructed, fingers splaying wide, rubbing in slow circles over the muscle. The touch was firm, almost massaging, thumb grazing the edge of Adam's nipple. Heat shot through Adam's core, unbidden and electric. His nipple pebbled instantly under the friction, hardening into a tight bud against Jax's skin.
Adam grunted, pushing the bar up, but his focus splintered. Jax's hand didn't pull away; instead, it slid to the right pec, kneading deeper, calluses scraping lightly over the sensitive skin. Adam's other nipple stiffened in response, poking out visibly now, dark and erect amid the flush of exertion. The rubbing grew bolder, Jax's fingers pinching just enough to send a jolt straight to Adam's groin, where his own cock stirred traitorously in his shorts.
'You're responding well,' Jax murmured, leaning in so his breath ghosted Adam's ear. His hand lingered on the hardened nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger with deliberate pressure. Adam's breath came ragged, the bar trembling as he locked out the rep and racked it. Sitting up halfway, heart slamming, he met Jax's gaze—those dark eyes knowing, predatory.
'Hey,' Jax said softly, his hand still on Adam's chest, thumb flicking the stiff peak one last time. 'Did you like what you saw earlier? Those balls hanging right over your face... my dick getting hard from your stare.'
Adam's face burned, his nipples throbbing from the attention, cock now half-hard and pressing against his thigh. Straight, married—words that echoed in his head like a mantra, but his body betrayed him, chest heaving under Jax's touch. He swallowed hard, voice rough. 'I... yeah. Fuck, maybe.'
Jax's grin widened, hand trailing down Adam's abs before pulling back. 'Good. Let's see how many more you can do like that.' He stepped aside, but the air between them crackled, charged with unspoken promise. Adam lay back, nipples still achingly hard, the incline suddenly feeling like the start of something steeper.
Adam's chest burned from the inclines, his nipples still tingling from Jax's teasing pinches, standing out stiff against the cooling sweat on his skin. He racked the bar with a clang, sitting up fully now, his cock twitching uncomfortably in his shorts from the unresolved tension. Jax clapped him on the shoulder, grip lingering a beat too long. 'Solid work on chest. Time to hit those triceps—keep the pump going.'
Adam nodded, wiping his face with his discarded tank top, the fabric damp and clinging. He followed Jax to the cable machine in the corner of the gym, the space more secluded under the dimmer overhead lights. Jax set the pin low for overhead extensions, demonstrating the motion first—arms extended high, elbows locked, triceps flexing hard as he pulled the rope down behind his head. His biceps bulged, veins popping along his forearms, and Adam couldn't help but track the way his shorts rode up, that bulge shifting with each rep.
'Your turn,' Jax said, stepping aside. Adam gripped the rope, facing away from the mirror, and began the extensions. The cable resistance pulled his arms up, stretching the backs of his triceps before he drove them down, feeling the muscle contract and isolate. One rep, two—sweat beaded on his neck, trickling down his tattooed back.
On the third set, Jax moved in close, positioning himself directly behind Adam. His chest brushed Adam's back, solid and warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. 'Form check,' Jax murmured, voice low and gravelly. His hands came up, palms pressing into Adam's upper arms, fingers wrapping around the biceps to guide the motion. But it wasn't just guidance—Jax started rubbing, thumbs digging into the triceps with firm strokes, kneading the taut muscle as Adam pulled the rope down.
Adam's breath hitched, the rubbing sending sparks up his arms, making his skin prickle. Jax's body pressed closer, hips aligning with Adam's ass. Adam felt it then—the hard length of Jax's cock, fully thickened now, grinding deliberately against the cleft of his shorts. Each downward pull from Adam prompted a subtle thrust from Jax, the bulge nestling deeper, rubbing back and forth over Adam's cheeks. The friction was insistent, Jax's heavy balls shifting against the base of Adam's spine through the layers of fabric.
'Keep those elbows in,' Jax instructed, his rubs turning into squeezes, hands sliding down to grip Adam's forearms, then back up to massage the triceps harder. His cock pulsed against Adam's ass, the curve of it pressing right where Adam's own dick was starting to swell again, trapped and aching. Adam grunted through the reps, ass clenching involuntarily around the invading pressure, the grind building a rhythm that matched his extensions—down, thrust; down, grind.
Sweat slicked their contact points, Jax's breath hot on Adam's neck as he leaned in further. One hand abandoned the arm rub to trail down Adam's side, thumb hooking briefly into his waistband before returning to knead the muscle. The bulge dragged slower now, more teasing, the head of Jax's dick nudging insistently against Adam's hole through the shorts. Adam's triceps quivered from the effort and the distraction, his married mind screaming denial even as his body arched back slightly, pushing into the grind.
'Feels good, doesn't it? That burn in your arms... and ass,' Jax whispered, hips rolling once more, cock sliding firm and unyielding. Adam locked out the last rep, rope clattering as he released it, standing there pinned by Jax's body, arms throbbing, ass hot from the persistent rubbing. He turned his head just enough to catch Jax's eye—dark, hungry—and felt his resolve cracking further under the weight of that stare.
Adam peeled off his sweat-soaked shorts in the locker room, his cock still half-hard from the grind against Jax's bulge, slapping against his thigh as he stepped under the hot spray of the shower. The gym was emptying out, the distant clang of weights fading, leaving him alone in the steamy tiled space. Water cascaded over his tattooed shoulders, tracing the lines of ink down his broad back and over the curve of his ass. He leaned one hand against the wall, letting the heat loosen the knots in his triceps, but his mind wouldn't settle.
He was straight—fucking married, with a wife waiting at home—but the image of Jax's thick cock pressing into him replayed relentlessly. That curve, the weight of those balls, the way Jax had owned the moment behind him. Adam's hand drifted down, fingers wrapping around his shaft, already thickening again. He stroked slowly at first, thumb circling the head as water sluiced over it, imagining Jax's hands on his arms turning into something rougher, pinning him down.
'What the hell,' he muttered to himself, pumping faster, the slap of his fist echoing off the tiles. In his head, Jax shoved him against the bench press, yanking down Adam's shorts and spreading his cheeks. That curved dick would nudge right at his hole, slick with sweat and pre-cum, pushing in slow and deep. Adam groaned, ass clenching at the thought, his strokes turning urgent. He pictured Jax thrusting hard, balls slapping against him, filling him up in a way no woman ever had. His straight resolve crumbled under the fantasy—Jax fucking him raw, owning his married ass, making him beg for more.
The shower door creaked open, but Adam was too lost, eyes squeezed shut, hand flying over his cock. Footsteps splashed closer, and then a deep voice cut through the steam. 'Couldn't wait, huh?'
Adam's eyes snapped open, heart slamming. Jax stood there, naked and dripping from his own quick rinse, his thick cock hanging heavy between his legs, already stirring to life. Water beaded on his muscled chest, trailing down to that prominent bulge Adam had stared at all session. Jax's gaze locked on Adam's fist, still gripping his shaft, and a smirk curled his lips.
'I... fuck, man,' Adam stammered, but his hand didn't stop—couldn't stop—the fantasy bleeding into reality. Jax stepped under the spray with him, closing the distance, his cock brushing Adam's thigh as he reached out and grabbed Adam's wrist, halting the stroke mid-pump.
'Let me,' Jax growled, voice thick with intent. He spun Adam around, pressing his chest to the cool tile, water pounding their backs. Adam's breath fogged the wall, his ass arching back instinctively as Jax's body pinned him. One hand slid down Adam's side, gripping his hip, while the other wrapped around Adam's cock, stroking firm and sure—long pulls from base to tip, twisting at the head.
Adam moaned, pushing into the touch, the confusion drowned out by need. Jax's free hand kneaded his ass cheek, spreading him open under the stream. 'You want this, don't you? Been eyeing my dick all workout. Now you're gonna take it.' His fingers teased Adam's hole, circling the tight ring before pressing one in, knuckle-deep, crooking to hit that spot that made Adam's knees buckle.
'Yeah... fuck, Jax,' Adam gasped, his straight world tilting as Jax worked him open, adding a second finger, scissoring roughly. Jax's cock ground against Adam's thigh, hot and rigid, the curve promising to stretch him just right. He jacked Adam harder, matching the rhythm of his fingers thrusting in and out, water making everything slick.
Jax pulled his fingers free, lining up his cock instead. The head nudged Adam's entrance, thick and insistent, and with a grunt, Jax pushed in—slow at first, the curve dragging along Adam's walls, filling him inch by inch. Adam's hole clenched around the invasion, burning and full, but he rocked back, taking more. 'That's it, straight boy—open up for me.'
Jax bottomed out, balls pressed to Adam's ass, and held there a beat, letting Adam adjust to the girth splitting him. Then he started fucking—deep, steady thrusts, hips snapping forward, the slap of wet skin loud under the shower. His hand never stopped on Adam's cock, jerking in time, thumb smearing pre-cum over the slit. Adam braced against the wall, tattoos flexing with each pound, his moans turning to curses as Jax hit that angle over and over, the curve grinding his prostate.
'Fuck my ass... harder,' Adam begged, lost to it now, his wife a distant thought. Jax obliged, gripping Adam's hips with both hands, slamming in balls-deep, his own grunts mixing with the water's roar. Sweat and steam blurred everything, Jax's cock pistoning relentlessly, stretching Adam's hole wide.
Adam came first, spilling over Jax's fist in thick ropes, splattering the tile as his ass spasmed around the invading dick. Jax followed seconds later, burying deep and unloading, hot cum flooding Adam's guts, pulse after pulse. He kept thrusting through it, milking every drop, until they both slumped, panting under the cooling spray.
Jax pulled out slow, a trickle of cum leaking from Adam's puffy hole, and turned him around for a rough kiss—tongues clashing, no words needed. Adam's mind reeled, straight no more, already craving the next session.
