I answered the classified ad with trepidation. I was married, everyone
assumed I had the perfect life and here I was answering an ad from a
guy looking to have sex with “bi-curious” men. In the letter to the
blind box address I accurately described myself as 6′ 1″, with brown
hair, brown eyes, a swimmer’s build and a great tan – except for my
brilliant white ass which was always protected by a Speedo. I drove to
the Post Office and was literally shaking as I dropped the letter in
the mail chute.
A couple weeks later an envelope with no return address appeared in my
post office box. I quickly tore open the flap and a color photograph
dropped into my lap. The guy in the picture had striking dark features
– and an unbelievable body. From what little he was wearing it
appeared as if he were a professional dancer. The enclosed letter
explained he owned a fitness club and spent a great deal of his time
teaching aerobics. He had always known he was attracted to guys.
However, being from one of the wealthiest and most socially prominent
families in town did not give him the option of being openly gay. In
fact, he was marrying into one of the other “better” families in town
the following month.
I could relate to his message. I had also forced all thoughts of
possibly being gay into the farthest recesses of my mind. I knew my
family would never accept that I could be gay and most likely I would
be disowned. That was the last thing I had wanted. Instead, I married
my college sweetheart. Although I really did love her, the desire to
be with another man was overpowering.
Feeling almost sick to my stomach, I called the phone number in the
letter when I got home. My voice cracked as I asked for “Michael.” The
masculine response on the other end of the line was: “Speaking.”
After explaining who I was, and some idle chit-chat, he suggested I
come by his gym two mornings later. He said it would not seem unusual
to his employees to have someone stop by to visit him at work. I could
be an old friend or possibly a new client for his sideline as a
personal trainer. He told me that if I were wearing gym clothes I
would fit right in.
Two days later I kissed my wife goodbye as she went off to work and I
headed for the shower to relax. I was incredibly nervous. As the hot
water cascaded down my torso I caught myself running my hands over my
chest, stomach and down to my crotch. My cock was twitching with
anticipation of what might happen later that morning. I stroked
myself, bringing myself to the verge of an explosive orgasm. I
suddenly stopped, rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. My prick
remained rock hard as I toweled the excess water from my skin.
I caught a glimpse of myself in front of the full-length mirror in the
bedroom. I had to admit I looked pretty good. The sharp lines of my
summer tanning focused all attention on the smooth white globes of my
bubble-butt. I turned around and noticed the V-shape of my chest
directed my eyes immediately down to my still-engorged cock. The red
of the fleshy pole and my dark, trimmed public hair stood out against
the pale vee of my crotch.
I stepped into a black jockstrap and had to pack my cock into the
front pouch. A pair of tight yellow Dolphin running shorts were pulled
up over the jock, presenting an inviting package from the front or
back. I pulled one of my old fraternity T-shirts over my still wet
hair and I was ready to go.
After about a ten-minute drive I arrived at Michael’s fitness center.
The sound of the latest aerobic music and the clanging of weights
mixed with the unmistakable aroma of male sweat. A couple of women
walked by in their workout gear, looking me up and down as I neared
the front counter. The young guy at the desk did the same as I asked
for Michael.
…End of the part1. To be continued..
Very frequently the girls get covered with yoghurt or some other sticky stuff.
