Date: Mon, 2 May 2005 12:46:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: Northwest College Lambda Alliance <nwc_lambda@yahoo.com>
Subject: Just Another Locker Room Fantasy

Author's Note: the following contains sexual acts involving two men, and a
lot of steam. If this isn't your idea of a good time (how could it be
bad?), then you are free to leave and never come back.  If the opposite
applies, then read and enjoy...


FEEDBACK always welcome to:  nwc_lambda@yahoo.com

Just Another Locker Room Fantasy 	Copyright MMV T.N.S.


I stood just outside the fitness center's main doors, trying to smoke as
quickly as possible.  The sweat was already starting to freeze the tips of
my ears, and my thin workout clothes did little to protect me from Winter's
unforgiving chill.  Looking up through a haze of smoke and blowing snow, I
watched as people hurried from their parked cars through the blizzard and
through the automatic doors, letting out a rush of warm air every time they
opened.  It was the first snow of the season, and it had been accompanied
by a blast of arctic Canadian air.

With one long, last drag I ashed the cigarette to the filter, threw it into
a waste bin and turned, shuddering, to reenter the building.  My head,
still sweaty from a hard workout, was chilled and aching.  I supposed I
could have gone directly from the aerobics area to the locker room, but I
had decided to get a quick smoke in before cleaning up.

Walking back to the lobby I turned right instead of going left and up a set
of stairs.  That would have led me back up to the weights and aerobic
areas, the place from which I had just come.  My legs felt rubbery, the
muscles stretched and overworked.  The sauna would feel especially nice
tonight.

I stopped to relieve myself before I got to my locker, then continued to
the back of the locker room.  It smelled faintly of chlorine, antiseptic
and the mingled smells of males of all ages.  I punched my code number into
the door number 160 (my lucky number), heard the beep and pulled it open.
As I undressed I glanced around me: most of the people at my gym are either
young and gung-ho about being beautiful and fit, or old and trying to undo
what bad eating and heart attacks had already done.  College athletes and
beer-bellied lawyers and wrinkly old men...not the best selection, you
would think, but I don't mix business and pleasure.  And I consider my
fitness very serious business.

My jock strap came off and I walked over to a cabinet to retrieve a towel
for the sauna, catching a glimpse of my body in the wall-length mirror.  I
knew I was getting stared at, but by now ignoring it has become pretty much
second-nature.  Standing six-foot-four and weighing 285 pounds-all
muscle-it's hard not to get noticed when you're nude among males, even if
they are straight...mostly.  I let `em look, if they want to.  I am a
bodybuilder, and have honed my purebred German body to its maximum
potential.  My broad shoulders and bulky arms taper down to slim, rock-hard
abs, just above my massive thighs and calves.  Tendons and veins show up
easily through my unusually dark skin...even the veins in my cock, which
happens to be my most valuable endowment.

Dark yellow eyes gleamed back at me through the mirror, and the hard
fluorescent lights made the diamond stud in my left ear glitter a small
spectrum of color.  There were little beads of frost in my dirty blond
hair, and I shook myself hard, showering the immediate vicinity with a mist
of perspiration.  Slicking my hair back, I wrapped the towel around my
waist and paced down the short hallway to the sauna.

It was as if I had walked onto the surface of the sun.  Immediately, my
eyes started to water and my skin tingled from the sudden change in
temperature.  There were two other guys in the hot room, both on the
second-tier wooden bench reading a newspaper.  I crawled my way up to the
corner, where it was hottest, and sat down with a heavy, wet sigh.

The man to my right was young, about eighteen, with a skinny "trying to get
some muscle" build.  Like most of the other younger gym-goers, he wore his
swimsuit into the sauna and spa.  For some reason, all the good-looking
ones want to cover up while all the old fat guys have no problem baring it
all and parading around the locker room.  Maybe they're trying to hide
something inadequate.  With what I carry between my legs, it's no wonder.
I don't brag; sometimes it's more of a curse than a blessing.

My other neighbor, to the left, was older and bigger, soaking wet and
looking thoroughly worked over.  He seemed to be around forty, but he could
have passed for five years younger.  He sat, stooped over, his towel laid
out underneath him, scratching his balls unselfconsciously.
Salt-and-pepper hair flowed in Caesar's-crown around his thinning top, and
was all but plastered to the sides of his head.  A belly that told of too
many beers as of late protruded from his slumped posture.  In fact, he was
bigger all around.  Solid, yes, but undefined and pudgy, the typical
middle-aged body type.  Studying the paper carefully, he made no move to
hide himself.

I unwrapped myself and leaned against the hot wood, wiping a wet hand over
my head and closing my eyes.  My groin was the only thing left unexposed;
usually when I share a sauna I tend to respect the modesty of others and
keep myself covered, but only as much as necessary.  The only sounds were
some heavy breathing, the occasional shifting of cloth from the thin guy
and the flaccid rustling of newspaper.  My heart beat in my temples like a
racing engine; I was giving myself a workout just sitting there in that
heat!

Eventually the swimmer, obviously overheating, stood and padded out of the
room, leaving myself and the chubby fellow.  An air of tension seemed to
evaporate after the door closed, and he put the newspaper down.

Maybe it was because the other guy had been wearing a suit, and he didn't
want be too familiar, but I heard the scratching again^Åa soft, wet sound.
I knew the man was readjusting himself.  He let out an audible sigh, and
through my closed eyes I could envision his belly becoming bigger with air,
and then collapsing again as he let it out.  I smiled slightly, squeegeed
my forehead again with a hand, and spread my legs over the "L" made by the
corner of the sauna.  The hot air hit my groin and crept up from below to
caress my anus, and it was a very comfortable feeling.  So comfortable, in
fact, that I felt myself hardening and had to force it back down.
Unsheathing in front of this burly-looking guy would not be the most proper
thing to do.

I heard him pick up another section of paper and begin reading again,
adjusting himself a third time.  I decided since he was obviously
uninhibited when it came to nudity, he wouldn't mind me airing out my male
bits.  Letting the hot air invade my lungs, I had to keep my mouth open and
pant away some of the excess heat.  Soon my mind began to wander to
thoughts of a naughty nature and I had to keep detouring to something
else...thoughts of my mother.  Those are guaranteed to stem even the
strongest erections.

A flush overcame me and I started to feel that I may have switched
temperatures too soon for my body to accommodate.  I could feel the blood
in my face and ears; it practically roared around me.  Little dots of light
danced in front of my eyes, and I gripped the shelf and waited for it to
pass, almost ready to leave and take a cool shower...

And that's when it got interesting.

The roaring passed quickly enough, but the little dots remained.  I blinked
my eyes open and stared straight ahead, and a familiar sound came to my
ears.  It was that same slick, flesh-on-flesh sound of the big man
adjusting himself...but it had taken on a different, even more familiar
quality: it had become regulated, like a metronome counting time.  I knew
what it was before I thought to look to my left, and I knew what I would
see before I saw it.

I wiped my forehead again, water and sweat dripping onto my already soaked
chest.  I took advantage of the movement to narrow my eyes and shoot a
glance over at him, and my suspicions were confirmed: he sat straight up,
eyes locked on me (well, one part of me, at least), his hand gliding over
his now-hardening penis.  His other hand held the newspaper at an angle so
as to block outsiders from becoming unwitting voyeurs.  I reclosed my eyes,
pretending to not have noticed my companion's new intentions.

Suddenly something occurred to me: my heart had just jumped a couple
notches closer to my throat, and I found myself actually nervous.  Sure,
this was a public place, where decent people came with their families and
friends to keep fit and maintain healthy lifestyles, a place far removed
from the YMCAs of yesteryear where you were more apt to find a good fuck
more often than a good workout.  But now here I was, only a couple of feet
from a man in the sauna who was every bit the pervert parents warn their
children about.

But the fact was, he didn't look the part.  He was overweight, middle-aged,
and probably ten times as nervous as I could possibly be.  I wondered how
many evenings, how many countless hours he had spent in this very sauna,
playing a risky game of low-level sexual tension, just waiting for someone
to reciprocate by not leaving disgusted or reporting him to security.  He
didn't seem to be the predatory type...just a lonely guy looking for other
lonely guys to have a little fun with.  Hell, he probably wasn't even gay!
I felt a little sorry for him, actually...and I had an idea.
       If he wanted some action, I supposed it wasn't any skin off my back
to play a little game with him.  Being the current object of his jack-off
fantasy, I would be the one in control, and it made me feel better and my
heart slow back towards normal.
       As nonchalantly as I could, I spread my legs just a little wider,
and to my unexpected pleasure my towel slipped from my leg and dropped to
the bench below.  A muffled "mmmm..." rewarded me for my efforts.  I rubbed
my head with one hand; the other braced me against the wall.  I cast
another incognito glance to the left; his cock was fully up and receiving
quite the workout.  Just looking at it made my own member want to escape,
and this time I did not try to stop it.
       Now, it's no secret to those who know me that I have a very active
sex life.  When you have a cock like mine, you tend to get noticed.  My dad
used to tell me back when we played sports together that I had a gift.  He
wasn't a perv or anything, but when we changed after each activity he would
always comment on how big I was getting "down there."  He said the girls
would be all over me, and warned me to play it safe.  It was guy talk that
made me feel like I was more on his level.  I have to admit he was
disappointed when I came out to him, but all he did was tell me that I
would be beating away pretty near everyone with a stick.
       I don't tend to refuse many people; I like sex and I like having it.
As long as I get off I'm not picky as to who does it.  It's amazing the
people you attract when you're known for having a foot-long cock the width
of a beer can.  The attention is great, yeah, but I've only actually fucked
guys twice, and finished with only one.  There is such a thing as too big.
       But for this particular occasion, a simple exhibition would do.
Smiling sultrily, I shifted my hips about and angled myself just a bit so
that the guy had a better view of me.  By now, he had realized that I was
privy to his manual labor and didn't mind...in fact, I welcomed the
attention.  So did my cock, whose tip was just now showing itself to the
world.  He saw it and let out a ragged breath.  Droplets shook from his
head as his fist worked between his chubby legs.
       I started thinking about past guys I'd had, and memories of the
things I'd done with them.  There was my first blowjob, which had taken
place in my Aunt's Lexus in the parking lot of an IHOP in the dead of
night...a college study session with one of my straight friends that had
ended up with us jacking each other off...and, of course, the time I had
paid a surprise visit to a pen pal's house on his eighteenth birthday.
That little kid hugged me so tight; we talked for so long about a lot of
things before he climbed into my lap and begged me to tail him.  I had
objected at first, but my cock had said differently.

I could still remember how the leather harness and ball gag blended so well
with his curly hair...

My fantasies evaporated as I realized how good of a job they had done.
Looking down, my foreskin withdrew from each inch of flesh as it emerged
from my body by itself.  There was a good six inches now laying on my lower
belly, leaving the skin it touched sticky.  Just inside the hood it looked
like I was growing a baseball bat, and as sensuously as I could I took both
thumbs and index fingers and pulled the skin down over the bulge.  I had to
stretch pretty far and winced at the sudden pain, but as the last of my
cock came into the open I sighed at the heat on me.

"Oooohhh...nice, big, cock..." came from the man in a low utterance of awe.
I tensed my groin, making my member lift almost perpendicular to my chest
and fall again, and the big male's hand lost its momentum.  I was now
certain I had his undivided attention.  The hand that was holding the
newspaper upright faltered a little, and he had to struggle to keep it
raised while jerking himself to me at the same time.

Blurry figures walked past the sauna windows, on their way to the steam
room or the pool.  Four men sat in the hot tub just outside of the room, in
plain view save for the paper.  It occurred to me that we were not making
much of an effort to remain hidden, but from what I could see anyone
looking in would be hard-pressed to guess our illicit actions.  Actually,
we could have switched to the lower bench and been completely hidden, but I
didn't want to move and spoil the moment.

My new friend, on the other hand, had no trouble moving.  I swiped my
forehead again, and practically yelped when I felt my cock being stroked.
I stiffened visibly, in both senses of the word, my eyes watching the hand
moving up and down, trembling over my length.  It seemed he couldn't
contain his lust and just helped himself to me.  Before I could control
myself, I thrust lewdly into his hand, felt the sharp twinges of climax and
a warm spray in my face as I let fly the first of my prolific precum.  With
a big cock comes a lot of cum, and anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a
leaker.

"Fuck, that was hot," he muttered, reluctantly removing his hand from my
member and milking his own, letting a fairly large drop of pre fall onto
the bench under him.  It was lit from behind by the light of the locker
room, and to me it was very erotic indeed.  Smiling now, and enjoying
myself watching his reaction, I decided to give him more of the same.  With
one hand holding up my left side, my other hand went to my now aching
erection, first gripping it by the base and slowly running my fingers over
all twelve inches.  It was hard to keep from closing my eyes like I do when
I'm masturbating, but it felt indescribably good to be sharing myself with
another man like this.  The pads on my fingers were warm and smooth,
tracing a line along the underside over the veins and the urethra, feeling
the swelling where countless sperm traveled to their doom each day.  I
squeezed and pulled up, holding shut and then pushed at the last moment to
get the desired effect.  Once again, beads of thin pre coated my neck and
nose and I heard a muttered curse.  He would never know how much practice
had gone into perfecting that little trick.

I locked my gaze on the other guy's, which switched constantly from my face
to my crotch and back.  His mouth was open, unsmiling, the teeth within
licked by his roving tongue.  He would use his whole hand to make long,
hard strokes over his entire length, making its tapered shape shake and
swell.  I continued to stroke myself, each time gaining shots of pre on my
neck, chest and abdomen.  All too soon I ran out of fluid, and I pushed
forward on my cock so it stood straight up and swelled with fresh blood.

Suddenly the man jerked his head away, casting a worried glance out the
sauna window.  His eyes were everywhere, looking for any way someone could
see.  I looked too, but there was no one outside beside those in the hot
tub.  He turned back to me and the newspaper went to his side.  He leaned
over, and I was perfectly ready for him to grab me and use me like a
joystick again, but this time his hand served only to steady my cock as he
opened his maw and swallowed half of me.

This time I couldn't help as a stunned moan escaped my lips.  My hands
automatically went to the back of his shaggy head to help guide his already
talented mouth.  There were no teeth and no smooth tongue, only his lips as
they sucked hungrily on my meat.  After only a few seconds though, he came
back up with a wet pop, leaving a little trail of saliva from my tapered
head to his canines.  He licked his lips, looked furtively out the windows
again and went back to his own cock.  Now I followed suit; I didn't care
about leading him on any longer.  I played with my balls as I tried to
bring myself over for a mutual climax.

"Mmmmm, tastes so good," the man of few words said, laying back against the
wall and unabashedly speeding up.  "Getting close."  His eyes were fixed on
me.  My hand glided easily over my red flesh, soaked in spit and precum,
and getting wetter with every stroke.

He sat stiffly on the bench, bent on the achievement of one thing and one
thing only.  The muscles on his legs stood in relief beneath his pale,
hairy skin; his feet flexed, trying to give him that last little push.  He
was so involved that he didn't notice my foot edging closer to his along
the lower bench.  I lifted it over his and set it down, pushing my toes in
between his, using my nails to scratch along the insides of them.

He sucked in a chestful of air and stared at the ceiling in wide-eyed
disbelief.  A series of whimpers accompanied the bucking of his hips as he
gave in to orgasm.  He stroked faster, cupping his left hand under the head
of his cock.  A deep baritone rumbled satisfaction; I could feel his toes
curl and dig into the wood.  His face looked like a fish needing water, but
I was watching his hand filling up rapidly with white seed.  There was
plenty of it, but miraculously none leaked out as evidence on the floor.  I
watched the windows while he finished coating his hand and shook the last
drops out, finally letting his shrinking member go.

I patted one thick thigh and shifted back into the corner, realizing I was
losing my hardon too, even though I hadn't come yet.  I decided that my
neighbor had done enough for both of us, and it wouldn't take anything at
all to finish the job at home.  My heart still raced from the heat.

"I'm gonna hit the showers," I said, aloof, as if nothing had happened at
all.  Wiping his hand on his towel, he wrapped himself up quickly.  It was
clear that the post-handjob letdown had made it known how precarious a
situation we had been in.  He made to say something, but I got up too fast
and pushed the door open, letting in a rush of relatively chilly air.

I made quick use of the shower, turning the water on cool to quell the rest
of my erection into submission.  After a quick soapdown and rinse, I exited
nude and dripping to pick up a fresh towel.  Punching my code into the
locker again, I noticed the big guy across the room from me, toweling
himself into a human fluff and avoiding my glances.

It was clear that he was still watching me, and I felt like I was part of
some peep show.  I dried off and dressed slowly, giving him plenty of
opportunity to watch me as I moved.  Out of the corner of my vision I saw
his eyes darting quickly over my body, trying not to look obvious.  He was
so nervous and looked so guilty that I had to suppress an urge to roll my
eyes.

Shouldering my duffel bag, I strode over to his locker and leaned back
against the wall across from him, one leg propped up.  As he pulled a very
middle-aged looking cardigan sweater over his head, I said, "Well...that
was fun."  I did not look at him.

"Heh, yeah.  Yeah, it was.  So, uh, when do you usually work out around
here?"  I knew immediately where this was headed, but something I had seen
earlier prevented me from being as friendly as I otherwise would have been.
After all, having fun is quite different from having an affair.  I had to
nip this in the bud.

I stepped over to him, and he surprised me into a gasp by blatantly swiping
a hand over my groin, cupping my equipment beneath the thin fabric of my
jogging pants.  I grabbed him by the wrist and held the hand at eye level,
saying, "You're a nice guy.  Really.  You're candid, cute, and-" I leaned a
bit closer- "you have a very nice cock.  But I don't think your family
would approve of me, no matter how much they love you."  I held up his hand
for him to see and he flinched upon seeing the gold band that had been
conveniently forgotten during our interlude.

"I...um, I'm not^Åshit," he started, but I shushed him by raising a finger.
He looked like a little kid who had been caught experimenting with the
family pet.

"Do you at least feel better?"

He nodded, looking at his feet.

"Everybody gets one," I said, smiling, "but you're out of luck when it
comes to next time.  Now go home and love your wife like she's never been
loved before."  At first, the man looked offended, and anger flashed
momentarily behind his eyes.  Then he understood what I was saying, and
resolve made him stand up straight...so did a certain part between his
legs.

"I'm sorry, I was desperate."

"Don't apologize; I'm sure that, whatever the reason, you needed it.
You're allowed."

"Okay.  Yeah, that was fun.  Thanks...a lot."

I patted him on the cheek, thinking how funny it was to look at a
middle-aged man acting like a once-bitten-twice-shy teenager.  "Good boy."
I left him to gather his things and made my way quickly to the front door.

My cock pressed needfully against my thin pants, and I had to walk stooped
to keep it from being seen.  I knew exactly what I was going to do the
minute I got home.  I replayed the scene in my head, adding an erotic
variety of new twists and outcomes.  Yeah, it wouldn't take any time at all
to spray a load all over myself.

Before I got in my car, I pulled a well-used pack of cigarettes from my
back pocket and lit one, savoring the first drag and blowing smoke up into
the cold winter air.  Maybe, just maybe if I caught up with him again I
would let him look but not touch...just watching seemed to satisfy him
plenty.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to put on a good show, is there?