Slippery Slope 02: Steamed

In the light of day, I couldn't believe what had happened.

I'd let an old friend back into my life and he immediately turned it into an opportunity to mess with my mind, calling me a slut and getting me naked and making me grind on his thick, hefty cock.

And then he left me high and dry!

By the time I'd woken up the next morning - after stroking myself to an orgasm that completely coated my chest in pent-up cum - I knew that I couldn't show up at the gym that day. If I did, Peter would just push me even further, turn me into another one of his conquest stories; another dumb slut he'd seduced and fucked the brains out of.

But I wasn't going to let that happen.

As soon as I'd taken some Tylenol and a few glasses of water (It must have been the alcohol, I thought, that's the only way I'd let myself act so... like that), I sent Peter a text.

"Hey, man, I don't think I should go to the gym today. Last night got way out of hand, and I don't think we should see each other again."

I hit send. About fifteen minutes later, I started to feel a bit guilty. It wasn't all Peter's fault, after all. I'm the one that kept thinking that I should end it, I should have just spoken up for myself. And Peter hadn't done anything wrong, really; he thought I was into it, so he encouraged me to keep going.

And, really, I liked hanging out with Peter, even when I wasn't... sitting on his cock, feeling it throb against me... He was a nice guy, when he wasn't calling people sluts.

I wrote out a second message, trying to be more careful this time.

"Sorry, I shouldn't make that sound like your fault. But I do think we went too far, and we should just hang out as friends. I'm still recovering from stuff with Trevor, and I don't think I'm ready to get too sexual."

I sent that message, and felt a little bit better. Not go to the gym and see Peter's throbbing hard cock better, but I was giving Peter a chance to be a friend. And I could use all the friends I could get, really.

I went back to bed for a while, lying down and idly playing with my cock. I was still feeling horny after last night. Too much pent-up energy lately. Plus, it was pretty hot. It's a night I knew I'd be thinking about when jerking off for the next few months, at least, and as a one-off it was a pretty good one. Though I wish I'd had the chance to actually see Peter's cock properly... I could remember the feel of it against my lower back, and the way it throbbed, but I still didn't know if he was cut or uncut, what it looked like, what it tasted like...

Wait, no, not that last one.

I was curious. And like Peter had said, isn't that one of the great things about having gay friends? A bit of flirting, that comfort with sexuality... Maybe it wouldn't hurt anything just to see Peter's cock. Not in a situation like last night, of course, that would be extreme. But there was one way I could get some answers.

After all, Peter had to shower after the gym, right? And he'd mentioned something about the sauna... I'd never been in a sauna. I wondered if it would be all hairy, fat old men. Did people really go naked, or did you keep a towel wrapped around you the whole time?

And there was that other thing. The Beast, he'd called it. The words kept ringing in my head. The Beast.

It was about ten in the morning by the time I sent Peter a third text.

"Maybe you are right about getting more comfortable being naked, though. I mean, it's pretty ridiculous for a guy to be in his late twenties and still not comfortable getting naked with guys."

I winced, but sent it anyways. I was basically asking for him to get me naked again, but maybe it would be worth it. And I was starting to warm up to the idea of... well, not a slutty phase, per se, but getting out there more. After all, half the problem with Trevor had been that he was too boring. A more exciting sex life might be just what the doctor ordered.

Finally, my phone buzzed with a reply.

I snorted as soon as I opened it. Fucking Peter. "Hah, knew you wanted to kick off your slutty phase. Be at the gym in twenty minutes. Bring a jockstrap to change into."

Fucking horn dog. No way I was missing the fact that he was expecting me to change into a jockstrap - he was making sure he got me naked. It was so obvious.

I would have been more comforted by seeing through the ploy if I hadn't found myself throwing a nice black jockstrap in with my gym clothes and driving over to the gym five minutes early. It wasn't that far from home; I probably could have walked, but some insane part of me didn't want to get all sweaty before I even got there. I'd actually toured the gym once, since it was so close, but I'd wussed out. I really was nervous about getting naked around people... the previous night notwithstanding, of course.

Thinking about it made my heart race a little - and my cock to thicken - and I found myself wishing I'd changed before coming over.

When I finally worked up the courage to go in, Peter was leaning against the front desk, chatting with the receptionist. Peter was already dressed in basketball shorts and one of those ridiculous tank tops that was cut so low in the sleeve that he might as well not have worn anything - because of course he was. The second he saw me, Peter left the conversation in mid-sentence, walked over, and pulled me into a big hug.

I was a bit astonished, actually. Maybe things weren't going to be weird after all.

"Hey Geoff," he called back to the receptionist, "This is my little buddy Matty! He's coming for a workout with me today. That's cool, right?"

The receptionist gave me a look up and down that I couldn't quite read. He was a bit scruffy looking - I always thought of gym employees as all being those clean-cut, ex-jocks who ended up making the gym their job when nothing else fit. And the guy was clearly jacked, but he also had a kind of patchy beard and a bunch of tattoos peeking over the collar of his uniform shirt.

"Whatever you say, man," he said with a shrug.

"Thanks! Little Matty's been just begging me to work his ass into shape," Peter went on, giving my ass a firm spank for emphasis.

"Peter!" I whispered, scandalized.

He ignored me and went on, but it didn't escape my notice that his hand was still resting on my butt. "He really appreciates the free tour."

I bit back my complaint, and realized I was being a bit rude to this Geoff guy; he could probably get in a lot of trouble for letting me in without signing up for a membership. "Yeah, thanks, man. I do appreciate it."

Another shrug. "No worries."

Geoff was a man of few words, apparently.

Before I had a chance to try and stumble my way through some small talk, Peter was using his hand on my ass to guide me further into the gym. I didn't have a chance to look back, but I sure hoped Geoff was too bored with existence to pay any attention.

"Would you please get your hand off me?"

Suddenly Peter's body was close up against mine, so close I could feel the heat of him through my clothes. His voice was barely a whisper in my ear. "That wasn't what you were saying last night, slut".

I shuddered. So much for things not being weird.

Thankfully Peter did back off, though I wasn't sure if it was because I asked or because there were other people using the gym. His hand went up to my lower back as he steer me around, pointing out some of the machines, the cardio area, and a few of the studios they had for yoga and calisthenics and stuff. It was actually a pretty nice gym - not as fancy and squeaky clean as some of the big chains, but I'd forgotten how well equipped they were.

Finally, Peter steered me into the locker room. My blood pressure was right back up.

"Go on, little buddy," he said. He sat down on one of the benches facing me and gestured at my bag. "Why don't you get changed so we can get started."

I felt myself blushing as I realized that he fully intended to watch me change.

"I know you're shy," he whispered, even though the locker room was abandoned as far as I could tell. "That's why we're here, right?"

"Right," I said, slowly. I put my bag down, trying to not make it obvious that my hands were shaking. I pulled out my shorts and t-shirt, and finally the jockstrap I'd thrown in. I glanced over at Peter as I did so, and caught him grinning at the sight of the jockstrap.

"Good boy."

I didn't know what to say, so I just peeled off my shirt. I threw it in my bag and reached for the t-shirt, but Peter's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. He shook his head at me.

"Keep going."

I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but there was an intensity in his eyes that told me it wouldn't be worth it. He'd get his way no matter what I said, I realized. Maybe I could make it easier on myself by just going along with things, for now. I just had to make sure that I didn't let things go too far, again. Not this time.

I dropped my shorts, next. I took a few seconds to fold them, and my shirt, before putting them in my bag. I was stalling, but Peter didn't seem to be in any hurry; he was letting his eyes wander up and down my body in a way that I was tempted to describe as 'predatory' if it didn't sound so over-the-top.

Actually, it wasn't so bad. Locker rooms had always made me nervous; worrying about who was looking at me, what they were thinking about my body. I guess some of it was that Peter had already seen everything. Kinda made it a bit easier, though my heart was still racing. Also probably helped that I knew exactly who was looking at me and exactly what he was thinking.

I debated for a second whether I should turn around before dropping my briefs. I had a feeling that no matter what way I turned, Peter would get an eyeful - and probably tease me about it afterwards. In the end, I decided that if I faced him, I'd seem a little braver, maybe a little bit less like his plaything. Plus, I figured if I turned away, he'd probably slap my ass again, and I wasn't quite ready for that.

I pushed my briefs down my hips, consciously not making a show of it, just in time for someone else to walk into the locker room.

He was a bigger guy - a bear, really, but the kind with muscle under the hair and bit of fat, with a bushy beard, wearing a tank top and baggy shorts.

I blushed harder, feeling a lot less brave standing there naked with Peter just a foot away, clearly looking at me. I scrambled, grabbing for... the damn jockstrap, which really wasn't going to be an improvement.

The man gave us a sharp nod. "Gentlemen," he said, voice as gruff as his exterior would suggest.

I pulled the jockstrap on, desperately avoiding looking at Peter or the bear, and hopped into my shorts as quickly as possible. When I did glance up at Peter, he was turning red and holding a hand to his mouth trying not to laugh at me.

"Shut up," I said.

The bear had moved around the corner - either to the other side of the locker room or the bathroom further on. A small mercy. I pulled on my shirt and shoved my bag into a random unoccupied locker. I'd have to remember to get a lock next time; I still had nightmare images of my friend Jer who'd had all his clothes stolen as a prank when he was in the high school gym showers, and he'd had to wander through the halls in nothing but a towel until the principal had yelled him into the office.

(Okay, now starting to have some guesses as to where my fear of being naked comes from.) (Also, maybe not all of the dreams were nightmares, Jer was kinda hot.)

Once Peter had recovered from my apparently hilarious discomfort, he tilted his head back into the locker rooms where the bear had gone.

"You'd look hot sitting in his lap."

"Shut up," I said again, starting to get annoyed.

"Maybe he was headed to the sauna, you could join him."

I didn't say anything, but I did find myself wondering if that's where the guy was headed. He wasn't exactly my usual type... but then, my usual type was boring and a bad lay, so maybe that was a good thing.

I shook my head when I realized what I was thinking. Peter's talk was getting to me, clearly.

Rather than acknowledging him, I left the locker room, trying to look more confident and in-control than I felt.

To my relief, when Peter joined me outside, he was all business. Peter really did spend a lot of time on his body, though I think he enjoyed his partying a bit too much to stay really ripped. But he had a lot of mass, and as he set up weights on each machine, I realized just how strong he really was.

He really seemed to know what he was doing; maybe he'd missed his calling as a personal trainer. Peter talked me through each exercise, and made sure I was paying attention to his form as he demonstrated. I felt like a bit of a wuss when I saw how much weight he took off before having me try each machine or workout or whatever, but he was good about it and didn't comment when he had to drop the weight even more when I found something too difficult. It got to the point where I wasn't even thinking about last night, and could really focus on the workout.

It wasn't anything too crazy, but it was challenging, and I imagined I'd be a little bit sore later.

It was while Peter was at the squat rack that he gave me a smirk and nodded his head. "Hey, your new friend's still around."

I couldn't figure out what he was talking about for a second; honestly, I'd been a bit distracted. The squat rack had a mirror set up behind it, probably for keeping an eye on form or something, and I had to admit I'd been checking out Peter's muscular ass as he was doing his last few reps. I glanced behind me, and there was the bear, midway through a set of benchpresses. He was pushing a pretty good amount of weight... and, since his legs were pointing towards us, I could see a pretty healthy lump outlined in his loose shorts.

Good god, was this gym for hung guys only?

"Like what you see?"

I jumped, not having realized that Peter had finished his set. His voice was right on his ear, and I felt his hand brush against my ass.

"You should introduce yourself," he said. "Maybe buddy there would take your sweet little ass home."

"Knock it off," I said, elbowing him in the stomach.

Peter laughed and took me by the shoulders. "Your turn, bud."

He walked through the finer points of form, again, even though he'd explained it all when he was setting up. He maneuvered me so that I was facing the mirror - so I could "watch my form" he said. Mostly, I could see Peter staring obviously at my ass as I did my squats. The perv. He was standing barely a couple feet behind me, arms crossed (and flexing lightly) with his eyes glued to my ass. I rolled my eyes, but tried to not let it interfere with my set.

When I glanced to the side, though, I got a bigger surprise.

The bear from the locker room was watching too. He was a little more subtle about it than Peter - but only just. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and was letting his eyes drift oh-so-casually around the room, but whenever my ass was pushing out, his eyes were locked in my direction.

I almost dropped the bar.

I pushed through the next couple reps as quick as I could, trying not to think about that lump in the stranger's shorts.

Peter gave me a firm pat on the back, and met my eyes in the mirror.

"You should always wear those shorts with that jock, little dude," he said, quietly. "It's a good look."

"What?" I looked at myself in the mirror. I couldn't see anything weird at first; white shorts, navy t-shirt, the same thing I always worked out in at home. But then I noticed an outline. My heart dropped when I realized what I was seeing was the outline of my black jock, barely visible through my shorts. I spun around and looked at my butt, and sure enough, I could clearly make out the black lines of my jockstrap framing my ass. No way that the bear could have missed it - and suddenly I realized that Peter would have been aware of it all day and hadn't said a damn thing. "Oh shit."

Peter grinned wolfishly at me. "Doesn't hurt to advertise, right slut?"

I went crimson. I glanced to where the bear had been sitting, but he'd disappeared. I wasn't sure if I should be grateful or mortified.

"Um, maybe we should get going-"

"Sure, little buddy," Peter said to my surprise. "But just one sec, I wanna make sure your form on the benchpress is good."

"It's alright," I said, "I'm getting a bit tired, maybe I should-"

"Come on." He took my by the elbow and lead me to the same bench the bear had been using just seconds before. And I let him, which was the bit that annoyed me. The guy had just let me make a fool of myself and kept calling me a slut, why did I keep going along with this.

He turned me around and put a hand on my shoulder, pressing down gently until I sat down on the bench.

I was a bit surprised, this was a change to the routine we'd set up "Aren't you going to-?"

"Nah, bud, not really my arm day. Just lie down and let me show you this."

As I followed his instructions, I realized that the guy hadn't really wiped down the benchpress. He must have been in a hurry. It was barely noticeable - just a bit of dampness from his sweat - but I was also lying down directly in his smell. It... wasn't bad. Strong, a bit of BO and some cologne or something. I tried not to think about it too much, and definitely wasn't going to mention it to Peter.

It occurred to me, as Peter got into position, that maybe it was an intentional move on Peter's part. I hoped he wasn't actually that nefarious, but I was starting to realize that maybe I didn't know Peter as well as I initially thought.

Once Peter set the weights, he moved into position to spot me. Which, of course, put his crotch directly over my head. When I looked up, he was leaning slightly forward, which made his ridiculous tank dangle forward. I could look right up it, along his chest. Even though most of his body had been out on display - like I said, the holes of the shirt didn't leave much to the imagination - and I'd seen him fully shirtless the night before, this still gave me a bit of a thrill.

I got even more of a thrill when I noticed the tent in his shorts.

He definitely wasn't fully hard - I'm pretty sure if he was, everyone in the gym would have noticed by now. But I suddenly realized something; I don't think he was wearing underwear, from the way the bulge was swaying back and forth. If he was, it must have been loose boxers or something, which I'd never really seen Peter wearing. Which meant...

"Enjoying your workout?" Peter said.

I blinked a few times. Then, glancing down, I realized that my own bulge was getting a bit obvious. Fuck.

I tried to move my legs around a bit to make it less conspicuous, then gave up and shuffled down so that I could sit up.

"Um..."

"Don't worry, little buddy," Peter said, "Happens to all of us. Besides, I know you're looking forward to joining me in the sauna."

"I- what?"

"That's what we talked about last night, isn't it? It's real relaxing, trust me."

He wiggled his eyebrows at me, the dirty fucker.

"I shouldn't," I said quickly. "I think... I'll drive home and shower there, but, um, thanks for the workout and-"

"Don't be ridiculous." Peter's habit of interrupting was really starting to get on my nerves. "Besides, this is all part of getting you more comfortable, right? And besides," he moved closer and dropped his voice, "This is your chance to meet the Beast, right?"

I glanced down in spite of myself. It was hard to tell in his basketball shorts whether the bulge had gotten bigger or if it was just my imagination, but I had the sinking feeling that I was about to get in over my head.

I let Peter guide me again, my mind racing. Could I somehow get to look at him without him pushing me further? I had a bad feeling that the sauna was some kind of a trap, but... when would I get another chance like this? Besides, I was starting to think I should take some time away from Peter, give things a chance to cool down. If it wasn't now, it might be never.