Several years ago I was employed by a large company. The work involved lots of overtime and you never wanted to change out of your company clothes into your personal clothes without taking a shower. This was back when there wasn't a big emphasis on privacy. The shower area was a large room with six shower stations. Each station had four shower heads. For each of the stations, the four shower heads had small partitions to give you privacy from the guy next to you. However, there was no partition separating the six shower stations from each other. I may not be giving a clear explanation, but the point is, if you were taking a shower at one of the stations, there were certain "stalls" that if you used them, people at some of the other stations could see you. Only the ones in the corners of the shower room gave you what might be considered privacy.
My coworker and I always took showers after work. When we worked overtime, nine times out of ten we were the only ones in the shower area. When we first started working together, I noticed he never would take a shower that provided maximum privacy. Initially, I would make sure I chose a shower where we couldn't see each other directly.
After a few months, Jim and I became almost what you could call friends. We didn't socialize after work but at work we became almost inseparable.
I'll take a minute to describe the two of us at the time this all happened. I'm white, average build. Not fat at all, not considered skinny nor muscular. I was 5'10 tall and weighed a hair over 170 lbs. As I said: average. Jim was a different story. He was about 6'2 and weighed around 210. He wasn't a body builder, but he went to the gym regularly and had very nice muscle tone. One of the reasons I never chose a shower where I could see him is because I was afraid I would stare at him because he was a good looking black man. He had absolutely no modesty in the change house. He stripped naked, put on his shower slippers, threw his towel over his shoulder and made his way to the shower room in what could only be described as a strut. His package was quite impressive. Limp he was nearly as big as my erect 8 inches. The first time I saw him in the change house, I didn't expect to see this stud of a man proudly displaying what god gave him to whomever wanted to take a glance.
That first day, I did the classic double take which he noticed. His only response was a sly grin. I know I blushed with embarrassment, but he never said a word. After that initial encounter I tried my best to never look at him again in the change house. My "best" was horrible. I had never had an interest in any man before, but I enjoyed looking at him and the most surprising and embarrassing thing was I most enjoyed watching his manhood hanging and swinging as he walked... no, strutted, to the shower room.
After we became friends, the subjects we talked about became more and more varied and eventually included sex. I was dating someone at the time but I knew it wasn't going to last. We had sex but it was pretty boring stuff. She rarely went down on me and there was no passion or enjoyment in it for her and therefore it didn't do much for me either. I never finished with her orally. I had been with a couple other women before her and one of them loved oral. Of course, that made my ex good at it and we both enjoyed it. Conversely, those experiences contributed to my lack of fulfillment with my current girlfriend.
"Did she swallow?" Jim asked me when I was telling him about one of my exes. He knew my current girlfriend wasn't into oral so he wouldn't have asked that question about her.
"Yeah!" I proudly proclaimed. "She would blow me while I was driving and not let a drop get anywhere but down her throat."
"Yeah man. That's the best. No mess." Jim laughed at my story and the obvious enjoyment I had described and also my enjoyment at telling the story.
I actually got hard telling that story to him. It was uncomfortable in my pants and needed to be adjusted but I didn't want to bring attention to the fact I was excited.
When our shift was over, we again were asked to work overtime. We both liked money, so we agreed. I don't remember a time either of us had turned down overtime. After finishing our overtime tasks, we headed to the changehouse. As it normally was, the changehouse was empty except for us.
Instead of stripping and being the first in the shower, Jim headed off to one of the bathroom stalls. I went about my business of getting undressed, slightly disappointed Jim wasn't strutting around showing off his cock. When I realized what I was thinking I became ashamed of my own thoughts. Even so, I felt my cock stir and begin to get hard. I immediately tried to think of something else to justify my growing erection. I thought of my ex and how good she was at blowing me. That temporarily relieved me of the shame I was feeling about thinking of Jim, but it exacerbated my problem. My cock was now completely erect.
I grabbed my towel and hurried off to the showers. I thought about taking one of the more private shower stalls so Jim wouldn't see my condition. For some reason that I didn't understand, I didn't. Instead, I took one of the stalls that, if Jim took one of three other stalls, he would have a good view of me.
