Like many men turning 50, I had been getting restless. So much in my life felt stale or routine -- my job, for one thing. But I realized with a shock that my marriage, and more specifically my sex life, had gone stale, too. Although I still loved my wife, and had no idea at all of breaking up our 28-year marriage, I had to admit that our sex life was boring.
That was partly because my wife had lost the edge on her sex drive, and seemed to endure my advances rather than welcome them, but also because -- I hate to say this -- I wasn't as aroused by her body as I had once been.
For all I know, she felt the same thing about mine. But I was vain enough to doubt, because I knew I was still in pretty good shape. I ran and swam regularly, watched my weight, was fairly careful about what I ate, so I carried no more than a few extra pounds. The only drawback, as far as I could tell, was that my hair had gone prematurely white -- a family trait -- which I thought made me look older than I am. My body hair was still mostly gray, but if anything I thought that looked worse, and there were times I thought about shaving it all off.
But whatever my looks, I wasn't getting enough, sexually. I was horny a lot, and it seemed like I wanted to masturbate all the time. Actually, I did masturbate all the time. I had a pretty vivid fantasy life, involving lots of women with big breasts and voracious sexual appetites, and that was usually enough to give me a good solid boner. But I'm guessing I watched a lot less porn than many men. I just didn't feel I needed the extra boost.
Nor did I consider having an affair, although there were one or two women who hinted at their interest. It wasn't really a moral thing, although that was part of it; I was just too scared of getting caught.
So for several months after realizing how bored I was, I tried to work off my sexual energy by exercising myself to exhaustion and beating my meat whenever I could.
I swim at our local Y. It has both an indoor pool and an outdoor pool that is covered with a big canvas bubble in the winter. I usually swim at the latter, because there's lap swim every day and if I get there first thing in the morning I can almost always get a lane to myself.
For a long time the person working the front desk was a friendly older woman who I got to know on a first-name basis, but a couple of months ago a college-age guy started working two or three mornings a week. He wasn't as friendly as Margie, or at least not as talkative, and all he ever said was, "Good morning, sir," when I walked in, and "Have a good day, sir," when I walked out.
After a couple of weeks of this, I stopped one morning and stuck out my hand.
"My name's Jim," I said.
"Tom," he said.
"Nice to meet you, Tom," I said. "Are you working here while you're in college?"
"Yes," he said. "State."
So far, nothing but monosyllables. I was about to ask him if he ever used the pool himself -- just to be friendly --- when someone else walked in the front door. I gave him a quick smile and walked into the locker room.
Another week went by without my seeing Tom. The next time I did, he said, "Hi, Jim," as I approached the desk, and I said hi back. He seemed about to say more, but I was in a bit of a hurry that morning and just smiled as I went to the locker room to change.
It was unusually cold that day, and the locker room was not well heated, so after my swim I took a long hot shower to warm myself. The showers, by the way, are all in one room, with half a dozen nozzles but no curtains or dividers, so there's no privacy. The drying area is off to one side, and while you're in that area you can see down the hall to where the lockers are and have a partial view of the mirrors above the sinks.
I was standing in the shower with my eyes closed, letting the hot water run over me, when I had a sudden urge to stroke my cock. I opened my eyes, glanced around quickly to make sure no one was around, squirted a bit of soap into my hand and gave myself a few languid strokes. My dick began to harden.
I desperately wanted to finish myself off, but it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught, so I rinsed myself instead and turned off the shower.
I still had a boner when I stepped into the drying area, but I thought I was alone and wasn't worried about anyone seeing me. I started toweling myself off, looking down while I dried my hair, and when I happened to glance up I realized someone was standing at one of the sinks.
It was Tom, and he was watching me in the mirror.
I looked back down, and when I did I realized I was still mostly erect. For a split second I was horrified to have been discovered in such a state. But that feeling gave way immediately to another one; without quite knowing why, I felt, well, excited, that someone had seen me with my cock hard. I had never been an exhibitionist, but I felt a sudden thrill.
During the second or two that all this was going through my mind, I had not looked again in Tom's direction, but somehow I knew he was still there. I continued drying myself, and as I did some perverse impulse made me brush the towel against my cock in such a way as to make it flop heavily from side to side.
I looked up again, and this time caught Tom staring. He quickly looked away, then made a show of washing his hands, pulling down a paper towel and tossing it into a basket underneath the sink. Without looking my way again he walked out of the locker room.
I was alone again, and now totally hard. Stepping back into the shower, I began jerking myself furiously. In less than a minute I felt my balls contracting and watched as three huge wads of cum shot halfway across the shower and landed on the floor. Two more spurts coated my hand and dribbled down the head of my cock before the convulsions finally stopped.
Knees shaking, I let go of my still-throbbing cock and turned the water back on. First I washed the cum down the drain, and then I stepped under the nozzle to cool myself off. I stood facing the wall, breathing heavily, letting my pounding heartbeat slow.
Eventually I turned the water off, dried myself off again and headed toward the lockers. No one had come in during the last few minutes, so I took my time getting dressed, taking a chance that someone coming in might see my still red and swollen cock.
When I was ready to go, I stopped just inside the locker room door to collect my thoughts. I wasn't sure what to say to Tom on the way out, or if I should say anything at all. Finally I pushed the door open and headed for the front door, hoping to escape without being seen.
Tom wasn't in his usual spot at the desk, and for a second I thought I might get away without having to see him. But just as I reached the outer door, I heard his voice.
"Bye, Jim."
I turned around. He was standing in an alcove a few steps away from the front desk, which is why hadn't seen him before. His face was flushed. Something made me glance downward, and I noticed that he was wearing tight-fitting sweatpants, and that he clearly had an erection. I swallowed hard, and managed to croak out, "Bye, Tom."
I hurried out to my car and drove away.
******
Driving home after leaving the pool, my mind was swirling with conflicting emotions.
Uppermost at first was embarrassment over my sudden bout of exhibitionism. A guy my age wagging his dick at some kid barely out of his teens? What the hell was that? Bad enough that he had seen me playing with my stiff cock. What if somebody else had, too? Or worse, seen me jacking off in the shower?
Underneath the shame and embarrassment, however, was a tingle of excitement. If I were honest with myself, I had to admit the thrill I felt, standing in front of another guy naked with a hard-on. I felt it still, because the mere thought of it was making me hard again.
What the hell?
I thought about the kid -- Tom -- stopping me on my way out of the building. He had obviously waited till I came out of the locker room, making sure I saw him before leaving. Did he also want me to see that he had a boner?
