This is a story involving two men, one mostly dominant and the other submissive. Please look at the story tags at the end should you desire more information on the story content.
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The year was 1978, and I was a skinny 18 year old who was insecure and uncertain about myself. To say I was easily impressionable would be an understatement, and when I fell for somebody, either male or female, I fell of them and fell hard.
Since I was neither confident, good looking or very well off, it was rare when anyone would give me a second look, and since I lacked the testicular fortitude to make my feelings known to the one I was madly in love with, you can imagine what my love life was like.
Then came Tom. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I was hooked. I saw him in the gym, lifting weights while reclining on a bench, and even though I was a bony kid who packed only about 135 pounds on an close to 6' frame, I started to hang around that part of the gym whenever I would see him there. I looked as out-of place as you could imagine.
Still, I fiddled around with some of the weights, even though my eyes were on the prize, the prize being Tom. He looked to be a little shorter than me, but he was all muscle, especially his upper torso. His biceps were, without exaggeration, as big as my thighs, and when he would get really pumped up, with veins bulging and tendons rippling, it was a sight to see.
I thought it was weird that I would get infatuated by somebody like this, because I had never been drawn to anybody like that before. Maybe it was because Tom, like me, seemed very shy and kept to himself. He never looked at anyone while he worked out, and just kept lifting weights and doing stuff with the various machines.
Actually, that's not quite true. He did look at one person. Himself. He was fond of watching himself in the mirror, checking out his body while he lifted absurd amounts of weights with relatively little strain. I couldn't blame him, and often cringed when I saw my own reflection in the mirror.
The mirror was what led me to meeting Tom, and it was because he caught me staring at him. My eyes were fixed on his bulging biceps, as they often were, but I happened to glance up and saw him watching me watching him. A little grin formed at the corners of his mouth, and I read the look he gave me as contempt.
I tried to keep my distance for the rest of the day, and the next day I vowed to make sure I wasn't so obvious, but I was startled when a voice came up from behind me.
"Hey," said the voice, which I had never heard but sounded just like the body it came from. "I need a spot."
I knew little about weightlifting, but knew enough that what my hero was asking was for me to stand over him behind the slanted bench and be ready to grab the bar in case he needed help for some reason, like losing a grip in the bar.
"I can't - too much weight," I mumbled, trying to explain that I couldn't be of much help, given the amount of iron on the bar, but he acted like he didn't hear me and waited for me to follow him.
"What's your name?" he asked as he looked me over.
"Eric," I squeaked, and when he extended his hand and told me his name was Tom, like a fool I extended mine.
He didn't break any bones in my hand, but I could tell he enjoyed my discomfort. When he let me go I tried to tell him that I could never lift that much weight off his neck if it ever fell on him, but she shook his head.
"Ever hear about people who lift cars off kids? About people doing inhuman things when they had to?"
"Yeah, but..."
"Well, that's what you'll do too if you have too," Tom said matter-of-factly, and after he put rosin on his hands and got onto the bench, he continued. "After all, if I broke my neck, who else in here would you have left to stare at?"
"You'll get a better look from here anyway," Tom concluded with a knowing grin as my face probably turned crimson, but still I stood behind him as he lifted the bar off the brackets.
He was right. I was able to get a better look, and while he started lifting I got interrogated. Yes, I was a freshman, 18, and lived with my folks because the college was only about 2 miles from home.
In return I learned that Tom was a junior and 3 years my senior, and as he finished his brief biography all of sudden the bar started shaking and his eyes bulged.
"Losing it," he gasped, looking for me for help, and I grabbed at the bar and pulled up with all my might.
It was a titanic struggle, but after a few seconds I could tell my the look on Tom's face that he was only kidding and had still been in control. Effortlessly, he jerked the bar up and put it back in place before rolling off the bench to put more weights on the bar.
"Just testing you. Wanted to see whether you would piss your pants or run," he informed me, and while I hadn't done either, I did lose the hard on that I had gotten from staring at Tom from above.
The hard on returned as Tom went back to lifting, and I had to press it down between my legs so it wasn't obvious. Toward the end of the workout, I had figured out that Tom was not only tolerating my staring at him, he was enjoying it, feeding off of it.
It wasn't boring, just standing there watching. I could stare at Tom's shoulders and arms all day, enjoying the rippling of the muscles and the animal-like grunts he would let out. Being up-close, I got to see the little wisps of hair that grew deep in the hollows of his armpits.
From a distance, I had thought he must shave his body hair, maybe for body building or something. The few hairs were a light red, so light it was almost invisible, and as I watched trickles of sweat roll down his sides I was tempted to towel him off.
My eyes went down to Tom's baggy shorts, and I let my imagination wander at what wonders they held, and just then Tom announced that the workout was over.
"Let's hit the showers," Tom said, and a shiver went down my spine.
I usually avoided the showers because they were so public. Not that being naked in front of guys bothered me, but seeing other guys naked would often give me an erection, and that doesn't usually go over too well. Now, the prospect of taking a shower with Tom was giving me mixed feelings, and I was tempted to go into a toilet stall and jerk off first so I didn't have to worry about that.
As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. I ran in the the shower room, made sure the temperature of the water would be cool enough to made an erection tough to happen, and stood under the spray for a while. A shower wasn't really necessary because I hadn't even worked up a sweat, but I stood there and waited for Tom to come in.
After a couple minutes I stepped out and dried off a little before going to my locker. Tom was down there in that direction and was putting on sweat pants, having just dropped his shorts, and I got a nice view of his muscular butt but missed seeing anything else.
"Get dressed and you can come to my place and give me a rubdown," Tom informed me. "You ever do that?"
"No," I said and I got dressed in a hurry, not only because the idea excited me but before Tom was staring at me.
My body was nothing much to look at, but Tom seemed interested on one particular part of me, and I needed to get my boxer shorts on fast because his attention was getting me rather excited.
While I wasn't blessed physically in very many ways, I do have a big cock. Big as in long, that is. It's slender, embarrassingly so, and in my eyes it resembles one of those foot-longs you get at a ballpark. I'm used to having guys do double takes (along with an occasional snicker I must admit) when they see my dick flopping around, but if I had my druthers I'd trade half the length for a doubling of the girth.
Tom didn't snicker, and that made me happy. It also made me wonder if he was gay, instead of being just a shameless narcissist. Was he looking at me as a potential lover, or just in the market for a fawning personal assistant? As for me, I didn't much care which. He was gorgeous.
I was young, immature and plenty shallow myself. Considering that I was far from being a prize package myself, I didn't really have the right to be that way, but that was the truth. As the saying goes, I was young, dumb and full of cum.
After I got dressed Tom led me out of the locker room and down the street toward what was known as the student ghetto of the town. It was a less than charming but very accurate description of the area, and as we walked Tom answered a lot of my questions on the way.
"You should get a haircut," Tom informed me, and he was probably right. I wore it long in the fashion of the times, and it could have used a little work, but there was no way I would get it cut short like Tom's was, which was close to a crew cut.
"You are queer, right?" Tom asked after I mumbled agreement about my hair styling, and his bluntness put me back on my heels.
I mumbled my standard response, which was that I was sort of playing the field, which consisted of both teams, although I had very little luck with either gender.
"You ever suck cock?" Tom asked, clearly annoyed at my response, and when I mumbled that I had, he concluded, "Then you're queer."
"Um - er - um," I said on the way to asking him if he was homosexual.
"Some stuff I do and some stuff I don't do," Tom said as he ushered me up some rickety stairs that led to his apartment. "You'll learn."
Tom's apartment was a studio that was very sparsely furnished. A little kitchen table with two chairs, a ratty looking couch, a TV with a coat hanger as an antenna, and a bed.
"Get undressed," Tom said before ducking into the bathroom.
This was hardly the romantic moment I had imagined, but I obediently took my clothes off, except for my boxer shorts. When Tom emerged from the bathroom he told me to take my underwear off while throwing a tube of lotion at me, but I barely heard him because I was staring at him.
Tom was naked, and while his physique was amazing, what caught my attention was his dick. I was expecting something magnificent, along the lines of the rest of him, so as he walked over to the bed and fell down on his stomach I did my best to keep a shocked expression off my face.
All I could think of was the statue "David" by Michelangelo, only compared to Tom, David was well hung. I told myself that it probably looked small because the rest of him was so massive, and while that might have been part of it, the simple fact was that Tom had a small penis.
This did not bother me, and to be honest it kind of turned me on. For one thing, his dick looked beautiful regardless of the size, at least in the brief time I had seen it before he got onto his stomach. He was circumcised, I had noticed, and he had a tiny tuft of red hair above his dick which was cute too.
I took my boxers down and walked over to the bed, with Tom's eyes following my swinging dick doing the metronome thing, and when I got to the side of the bed Tom told me to put some lotion on my dick.
