Connor's POV
I sat back on the old secondhand burgundy couch in my one bedroom apartment in Dallas, exhausted from a marathon of a work day. I'd changed into comfy corduroy shorts, needing to feel even a little bit of freedom after my suit and tie look all day.
The clock read 7:04PM already after an eleven hour day glued to the life-sucking cubicle on the twelfth floor of the finance office I worked in downtown. Between waking up for the gym at 4:30AM and my almost hourlong commute, I couldn’t believe this was what life had in store for the next forty years. I was only two years out of college and was running out of steam. How the fuck people did this forever blew my mind.
Scrolling on social media through an endless vertical of dogs, gym bros, and motivational videos only reinforced how drained I felt. I brushed my middle parted medium length dark-brown hair out of my eyes and took a deep breath, knowing I should get up to shower and eat dinner, but unable to find an ounce of energy to be responsible. My phone buzzed with a text from my older sister.
Hey Con, wanna grab a drink?
I stared at it, the thought of getting back in my car like being forced into a century of hard labor.
Sorry Lizzy, more work to do tonight.
I lied. Although it didn’t really feel like a lie. My work had become so consuming that it did honestly feel like my personal time was for just enough sleep and gym to maintain my athletic physique. I’d been a D1 volleyball player in college and watched my eight pack, toned biceps, and thick dump truck of an ass slowly become just a tiny bit softer month by month since graduation.
7:45.
Fuck where does the time go…
The couch was scratchy on my bare back. I fidgeted with my positioning and felt the rough shorts underneath rub against my dick, the itchiness being just enough friction to send a small current of electricity from my groin up to my brain. Without overthinking it, I reached down and quickly slid the shorts off of my strong, toned frame, throwing them onto the floor. I lived alone on the top floor of a generic four story concrete apartment building in the suburbs anyway so I really could’ve been naked 24/7 if I wanted to be.
Looking down, I saw how the skin around my abs was just barely starting to roll a bit, showing signs of how my eating habits in my mid-20s were slowly overwhelming my gym time going from three hours a day in school to about ninety minutes now. I squeezed my stomach and still saw a clear six pack flex under the very tan, taut skin, but could tell it wasn’t as rock hard as it used to be.
My innie belly button had just a few stray millimeter length hairs under it from when I’d recently shaved the little bit of body hair I grew on the upper part of my body. Moving my fingers faintly over my waist, I could feel where those tiny microscopic hairs that would’ve made up my happy trail ran into the the fine line where I stopped my clean shaving.
A short but full layer of dark brown hair started just below my waist line and extended down onto the top of my thighs before meeting another clean break two-thirds of the way up my legs with otherwise baby smooth thighs down to my knees. Playing with the short hair on my groin, I yanked slightly, wincing from the pinch, desperate to feel something other than the monotony of the daily grind.
Going down further, I poked at my three and a half inches (nine cm) of soft shaft that sat to the left against my thigh, resting in an exhausted state that matched its owner…me. I’d been so busy that I couldn’t even remember the last time someone had played with it. Two weeks? Two months?
Even I hadn’t had the time in almost a week to satiate my own little buddy down there. I’d gone from increasing my body count by at least 2-3 people a month through college to feeling like a lonely hermit, building up a backup of god only knows how much juice in my balls.
Speaking of my balls, I cupped them in my hand, finding warmth and comfort, an immediate sense of calm coming over me. Needling each of them through my hands was relaxing, like a kid with a special toy that brought peace. I kept them as smooth as I could which meant they built up a little layer of sweat throughout the day being buried in my underwear since almost 6:30AM. As I played with my balls, tapping, caressing, and holding them, I watched as my dick ever so slightly grew in length. It took minutes, but eventually it was just a tiny bit harder than before.
With a little bit more shaft to play with, I moved my other hand up and used a finger to squeeze near the head, feeling the magical sensations of that tiny little part of my body. How that tiny little centimeter on the bottom ridge served as the key to the mountain of dopamine pent up in my head was just one more thing that I'd never understand. Squeezing and rubbing that bullseye right along the bottom ridges of the head, underneath the slit of my dick, sent little waves of lightning up and down from head to toe. It didn’t take long now with my weeklong build up now for my dick to grow to its 7 inch (18 cm) pulsing length. I took it in my hand just at the base and held it up straight, admiring my own cock.
I was proud of the meat that stood at mass, looking like it could certainly do some damage. Waving it around a bit was a psychological kick to my horniness. I loved how thick and full it looked against the light hair at its base and silhouetted by my abs. I moved one hand up to twist and pinch my own nipple as the other went to grip my dick halfway down. Despite being cut, I had just enough extra foreskin around my dick that I didn’t necessarily need to grab lube to continue.
I pulled the skin up and down slowly, letting out a deep breath at something finally feeling good after the weeklong void overwhelming me. While I slowly stroked up and down, I started to let my hand come into contact against with that magic spot on the head, letting out small moans. I didn’t care if my neighbors heard me. I knew at least one had made a move on me before anyway, something I would’ve said yes to had I known how hard it would be to find time to leave my apartment for anything but work.
As I felt a building tide of pleasure drowning out the sore, exhausted muscles in every corner of my body, I let that other hand go down and find a spot underneath my balls. There, I felt a little more hair than on my groin and torso. I used it as a guide to go down even further until I found the a valley that beckoned me to dive into it for exploration.
My finger traced the faint outline of my hole, a sensitive area I rarely gave much thought to but that had occasionally unlocked some of the best releases of my life. The hair was a little coarser here, a different texture from the finer stuff on my body. Hesitantly, I pressed a single fingertip against the tightly puckered entrance to my ass. As I breached the constricting opening, my hips bucked off the couch, a purely unconscious reaction that I followed with a low moan.
A flood of thoughts of my previous partners rushed into my head. The feeling of being planted inside of another person, thrusting and convulsing with pleasure as I’d used this cock in my hand to pound others for hours with.
I felt hornier than I had in months now and pressed a little harder, struggling to pierce through the dry ring of my hole. I pulled my finger back out and winced at the pain of the pop. Bringing it closer to my face, I caught the quick waft of scent from my sweaty backside and scrunched my nose. Collecting it first onto my tongue, I pushed saliva out onto that damp finger that had just been buried inside my most private area.
Bringing it back down, it was now much easier to push inside. The thought of my spit mixing with my insides made me squirm in both mental pleasure and discomfort. My moaning became more frequent, louder, and deeper in tone as one finger ventured deeper and deeper inside my ass while my other hand quickened its pace in playing with my own toy.
Like an explorer finding their long lost treasure, I managed to hit something inside my ass that sent shockwaves into my groin. It was like the head of my dick and whatever was buried inside an unexpected place of my body were hardwired to communicate intense pleasure back and forth. I started to squeeze my thighs uncontrollably, an involuntary response from my body as it was became overwhelmed with dopamine.
Just let go. Stop thinking so much. I said to my self.
And for the first time all week— hell, for the first time all month — I stopped thinking. No spreadsheets or quarterly reports.I wasn’t thinking about the gym or the commute or work.
My grip and speed on my cock tightened, my other finger pressed down to my knuckle inside my ass, and my world explored into a blinding flash of light. A strangled cry ripped from my throat as I arched my back, every muscle in my body seizing at once, my toes curling until they cramped. Wave after blistering wave of pure pleasure pulsed through me as my huge cock shot cum like an erupting volcano out into the air. The force even shocked me as gallons of thick, hot, cream flew through the air onto my face and chest, flowing down each step of my abs like lava working its way down a hillside.
The deep silence of the apartment rushed back in to fill the void, but it felt different now. It wasn’t oppressive anymore. It was just quiet. I looked down at the evidence all over me and the couch. I probably should have used a towel but I didn’t care. I needed to feel release and this had certainly done the trick.
With a groan, I pushed myself up and pulled my finger from my aching ass. My muscles felt used, loose, and pleasantly warm, as if I’d just finished a great workout at the gym. The exhaustion was still there but it was the good kind now—the satisfying ache of exertion, not the soul-crushing weight of life’s challenges. I walked to the kitchen, naked, unbothered, and covered on my chest in my own stickiness, and drank a full glass of water from the fridge.
Letting loose a sigh of relief, I found the jolt to be just enough to bring a momentary smile to my face. I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t find myself back in this state again tomorrow, but for now, I felt relaxed and ready for the restful night of sleep to come.
Thomas' POV
The hiss of the water was the only sound in the dimly lit, old, and tiled shower stall at the gym. Steam ghosted around me from the scorching hot water flooding from the shower head that couldn’t even reach the top of my 6’5” body (196 cm).
It was almost 10:00PM and I’d had the gym to myself tonight. Leg day. And boy were my legs feeling it now. They were like jelly after I’d hit a two hour grind. Squeezing my thighs, I could feel huge quads that were already weak from exertion tonight. Reaching around behind me, I massaged my thick, solid glutes, feeling how they jutted out in a curve behind me from two decades of squats and four years of football as a division one wide receiver at A&M.
These days, at 24, were usually over 14 hours long. I’d wake up by 6am, grind through a 10 hour day as a third year law student, rush to lead a practice at a private high school I was volunteering at, and just barely have time before bed for the gym. I was lucky if I got five hours of sleep a night.
The water, an inferno from the impossible to control temperature, beat down on my shoulders, a welcomed punishment that felt like the only thing capable of melting the tension in my muscles.
My brain felt fried, buzzing with thoughts of torts and contracts mixed with receiver route patterns and rambunctious teenage football players. I loved it, but God, it drained what little energy I had left to give.
I let my head hang forward, the water running through my blonde hair.
I squeezed a small bit of soap into my palm, working it into a thick lather. I started on my head, scrubbing my scalp with my fingertips, trying to physically dislodge the endless loop of legal cases and football plays. I could feel the stress in the tight cords of my neck, the granite of my biceps.
My hands moved down, over my shoulders and chest, naturally hairless and smooth and letting me glide along the slick huge ridges of muscle. I felt the familiar geography of my body - the broad sweep of my pecs, the hard ridges along my ribs. This body got me through college. It was a finely tuned machine back then but now, it was just something I had to pour hours and hours into, to try to maintain.
I spent a moment on my arms, my palms tracing the thick, heavy curve of my biceps. They were still solid, a testament to years of productivity shaking corners on the field. I flexed one, watching the muscle swell, a familiar peak rising under the skin.
My hands slid over the six pack that rippled across my stomach. It was vanity, mostly, that kept it there. A discipline I refused to let go of, even when I was running on fumes and three hours of sleep. It gave me the feeling that I still had control over something. The soap slicked over the valleys and for a second, I wasn't a tired student or a stressed out coach, but just a collection of muscle and bone under the heat of the water.
It ran down my legs, and I followed its path. I bent over, the stretch in my hamstrings a dull ache. I massaged my calves, remembering the explosive power they once had, launching me off the line, out-jumping a cornerback for a high pass in the end zone. Now their main job was to keep me standing through a practice for other, younger, in-their-prime athletes.
I reached my feet, scrubbing the soles, the arches that had taken a pounding from cleats on turf for a decade. It felt grounding to wash away the grime of the day from the very bottom up.
Straightening up, I let the water cascade over my front again. The day’s fatigue was still there, but it was being replaced by a different kind of feeling. A slow, simmering heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.
My hands, now rinsed and slick with just water, drifted lower. I washed over my stomach again, then lower still, into the neatly smooth space below my belly button.
I skipped something else and moved my hand down to cup my balls, their weight heavy in my palm. They were hairless and huge, a fact that had been a source of both pride and jokes in the locker room for years. I gently washed them, the shaven skin of my sack sensitive to the touch of the tea tree oil mixed into the soap I’d been using.
I moved my hand higher now, sliding along my shaven groin until my fingers wrapped around my dick. I smiled thinking of how the guys used to tease me in the locker room. It measured a solid six inches soft (15cm), thick and heavy, hanging with a presence that promised more than it delivered.
I was a shower though, who only gained another half an inch or so hard, but I never let my teammates onto that fact when they joked in the locker room that the 6’5” receiver was packing a hammer between his legs.
It’s my one great physical illusion. It looked like a cock that matched my long, dense body, when I was naked and soft, but hard I was just a bit above average. No complaints, it worked just fine on plenty of girls in school, but the tricks I could play with it always amused me.
I worked the soap into a fresh lather and began to wash myself, my touch slow and deliberate. I wasn’t just cleaning anymore, but exploring and playing with a toy. My thumb traced the sensitive ridge of the head as my fingers circled the shaft. The simple act of washing turned into a gentle, teasing stroke that quickly brought me to mass.
My mind, for the first time all day, went blank. The hot water on my back, the slick glide of my hand, the slow, steady response of my body.
My grip tightened. The slow, washing motion became a more purposeful rhythm. Up and down, my thumb continuing its circular massage on the head. I braced my other hand against the cool, wet tile wall, leaning into the feeling.
My hips started to move, a slow, unconscious rock that matched the rhythm of my hand. I thought about nothing and everything. Knowing no one else was at the gym at this hour, I allowed myself to let loose. Accentuating my natural moans, I let out roars of deep, masculine groaning that amplified the euphoric feeling building in my cock.
I closed my eyes, my head resting against the tiles. The pace of my hand quickened, my knuckles brushing against my shaven groin with each downstroke. The feeling was building deep in my gut, a tight, coiling knot of energy that was about to break. I could sense my balls tightening, preparing to rocket a release up my shaft and out into the world.
I let my moaning get even louder, not holding back and needing this self-pleasure.
My sculpted ass clenched hard and I felt my butt contracting. Every muscle in my body tensed. My back arched off the wall. I was right on the edge, that momentary feeling where everything dissolves except pure pleasure, a monstrous release of hormones in the brain that frees you from every one of life’s challenges. One more stroke. Another. A loud moan escapes my mouth.
The climax hit me hard. A shudder wracked my large frame, from my toes to my scalp. The coiled spring in my balls unleashed, and thick, hot ropes of cum shot out, splattering against the dark grey tiles of the shower floor. I released loud, groaning sounds, leaning into the pleasure and pumped my hand a few more times, trying to milk more cum out in case I didn’t have time to do this again for a few days.
The water continued to beat down on me, washing away the evidence, washing away the last dregs of tension.
A profound sense of peace settled over me. The exhaustion was still there but it was different now. I stood under the water for another minute, letting its heat soothe my spent body. Then, with a newfound sense of clarity, I reached out and turned the knob. The hiss of water died, replaced by a sudden, ringing silence.
I grabbed my towel and felt calm, empty in a relaxing way. I pulled the shower curtain aside and stepped out, immediately bumping into a guy who was just a bit shorter than me and also in a towel.
“Oh fuck, sorry!” He blurted out.
My eyes went wide and I panicked. How long has he been here? No one is ever here at this hour! Fuck fuck fuck what if he heard me.
“Uhh…sorry dude I uhh…” he stammered.
He was a good looking guy, that much was obvious, even for me. His dark brown hair was parted down the middle and while he was in great shape, I saw the smallest bits of soft extra skin starting to form around the edges of his six pack.
“I…” I didn’t know what to say, “sorry no one’s ever here this late…” I could tell from the look on his face that he’d definitely heard me in the shower, “I'm...sorry....” I brushed past him, rushing to escape this terrible, awkward exchange.
“Wait!” He called out, stopping me in my tracks.
I squeezed my eyes shut and slow turned back towards him, “yeah?”
“Just…” he looked desperate, but for what reason I had no clue, “I’m…uhh…I’m Connor…”
He held his towel around his waist with his left hand and reached out his right for a hand shake. I stared at him, confused why we were doing introductions as two male strangers standing naked in towels after he’d clearly just heard me masturbating in the public shower.
Regardless, I took the life line to get out of the awkwardness from before and shook his hand back, “hey…I’m uhhhh…I’m Thomas.”
Author Note: This is part of a 12-chapter series on my patreon that is completed there
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