Wored Out

There was always an arousing thrill to being somewhere you weren't supposed to be, doing something you weren't supposed to do.

The inappropriateness.

The danger.

Instances like these were never about long held fantasies, but rather, moments of sudden opportunity that struck with the realization of - "I could do it right here, right now and nobody would catch me,"

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I had been travelling in my car on a long trip when I came across one of those 24hr fitness centres, for a chain I was a member of back home. I figured I would drop in for a bit of a run, a steam, and get an energy drink before the last three hours of my journey north. The parking lot was relatively empty, so I pulled into a spot near the entrance, and grabbed some gear out of my luggage.

The young guy at the desk barely looked up from his phone when I entered, so i took a look around. It was a sprawling enterprise with one or two stragglers plodding along in the weights.

"Can I help you man?"

I turned to the stocky kid with his tight golf shirt, showed him my membership card, asked if they had any Red Bull. He gave me a lock, and randomly pointed around to the equipment and change room before retreating behind the desk.

I entered the change room and undressed, pulling on my shorts and knotting my sneakers. The last couple gym goers rattled around, and headed to the showers. They seemed to flush out an older, olive skinned gentleman with thinning hair, and dragging a mop and bucket around. We made eye contact, and politely nodded at one another. I put in my ear buds and heading out to the treadmill.

I had disappeared into setting my pace when I was jolted back into reality by a tap on my shoulder. The desk clerk had come over and was trying to get my attention.

"hey bud - I've gotta step out for like an hour, dinner break and shit. I left you a Red Bull at the desk in case I'm not back when you leave. No charge. If you need towels, George is still around cleaning up, you can ask him for anything, he's got keys."

I thanked him and watched him pull out of the parking lot.

Some time after, feeling awake and sore, I returned to the locker room, where 'George' was vacuuming the lounge. I grabbed a towel, stripped down and headed to the shower. It was when I heard the vacuum noise drift off, and a door swing shut that I felt the rush.

Alone, late at night in a gym shower. I could jerk off out in the open, watch it splatter on the wall, and wrap up an invigorating work out.

I looked around the corner, as the water streamed against my front, then began to tug away at my cock.

I got hard, then squeezed some body wash into the palm of my hand, before turning my back to the water to lather up. Moaning quietly, I grasped my cock and took a soapy hand to my hairless crack, gently fingering my hole. It felt so nasty getting off like this, and I closed my eyes, thinking about how shy men all were in these open showers, fearful of anyone even thinking you were checking them out. Everyone staring straight ahead, cocks to the wall, but covertly trying to size each other up. No homo. And here I was whacking off with abandon in the gym shower.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself looking dead ahead at George, who must have thought I needed a towel. He stood in the doorway holding a stack of them, locking eyes with me, completely expressionless. I was mortified, and felt my entire body blush. I had instantly moved my hand away from my ass and tried to make it look like I was rinsing my rear, but it took a little longer to let go of my dick. I almost wanted him to see me aroused, to show off to this swarthy stranger. He left the towels on a bench and moved away without breaking eye contact. I smiled to myself at the craziness of it all. So he caught me jerking off, what was the janitor going to do about it?

Rinsing off, I figured i'd take my half-hard on into the steam room, so I grabbed a towel to wrap around my waist, and another to sling over my shoulder. I cranked the steam up, and opened the door with a whoosh, slipping in amongst the scalding steam.

I sat down on the bottom bench and spread my legs out, letting my towel open and fall along the wood slats, I slouched and laughed to myself. My cock was still buoyant, and when I wiped the sweat from my brow, I used it to manipulate my shaft back to life. Figured, maybe I would spill some seed on the floor and it for George to clean up for interrupting me. I laughed to myself at the casual meanness of my thoughts and drifted off a bit. I was awoken by the whoosh of the door, and looked up to see the steam escape and a clear view of a naked, barrel chested George.

The man was built squarely, squat with broad shoulders, a thick mat of hair covered his chest, protruding belly and crotch. His cock seemed to match, not impressively long, but thick and threatening even in its limp state. He stood at the door silently, looking me dead in the eye, with no emotion whatsoever. He moved his hand underneath his penis, and massaged it in front of me, apparently thinking this was something I wanted to see. To be honest, I was speechless.

It's hard to say what was going through my head, I could say I was fatigued, or had a foggy brain from the steam and the heat, but I couldn't stop staring at this older greek fellow with his hairy body and his thickening dick. There was a sudden flicker of shame and desire that hit me while watching him masturbate in front of me. He had seen me doing the same thing in the shower, even playing with my ass, and I had thought that I had gotten away with something, dismissed him as a minimum-wage slave in an all-night gym. But now, him standing naked, boldly stroking himself, and slowly stepping towards me, I felt different. I was the kid caught red-handed that needed to be taught a lesson, and that lesson was an 8" slab of meat that had now come inches away from my face. George looked down at me and raised his eyebrows as he grabbed me by the back of my head and brought my lips to the spongy head of his cock. I looked up at him, opened my mouth and started to suck his sour tasting cock.

Trying to meekly fellate this strange old man was a mistake, before I could get used to his girth, he jammed the full length down my throat, causing me to gag, and nearly throw up. He laughed and smacked the side of my face, as he retreated and thrust forward again. I tried my best to quickly catch up, and bobbed my head as he sheathed himself with my face. As harsh as it was, I felt like I deserved this, and made no effort to stop things. Truth be told, from the moment George appeared cock in hand in the steam room, I found myself desperately wanting to serve this man. He was large, strong and manly, and I felt a bit in awe of his hairy beastly form.

I struggled to keep my mouth around him, and grabbed at ass in a feeble attempt to control his thrusts. Each cheek was a solid, fleshy mass I could barely get my hands across. I looked up at his strained face through his pubes just before he hauled out, gave me a smack, and hoisted me up by my throat. Before I knew what was going on, he had tossed me onto the bench face first, splaying my legs open with a clear target on my ass. I had barely caught my breath before he spat on my hole, and mounted me, pushing his full length into my anus. I screamed, and bit the towel that had bunched up beneath my face, the pain was searing and immediate, but he dove so hard inside of me that hit hit my prostate and sent a tingling pleasure down through my legs.

He held his cock inside of me for a few seconds before pulling out slightly, spitting again, and gingerly reintroducing it into my ass. I was sobbing but eager, and after a few minutes of resistance and spit, had opened up and was feeling more pleasure than pain. At one point I had realized that George had actually stopped moving, and I was the one fucking myself on his rod. My own penis was engorged and slapped my belly as I pushed back against him. I grunted and whined when he pulled out, and turned me over - he grasped himself, and pulled himself over my face, finally expelling his hot seed onto my lips and cheeks, over my tightly closed eyes. It fell over my chin and onto my stomach in ropes. I tried not to open my mouth, but there was so much it seeped in, letting me taste his salty goo. I blindly pulled the towel out from underneath me and tried to wipe away as much of his sperm from my eyes that I could. When I looked back out into the steam room, George was gone.

I lay there a mess, having been used, abused and cum on like a worthless whore, yet I felt somewhat satiated, stretched out and relaxed. I gingerly began to collect myself and head to the showers to clean up. Standing there in the corner under a stream of hot water was George, looking entirely non-plussed and disengaged. I stood across from him, turning to rinse any leftover cum off my face, I took some soap and rubbed it into my stretched asshole, wincing at how sore it was. I looked over at him again, and he nodded at me, like "Go on, do it". Without any words, I took more soap to my ass and started finger fucking myself, as I grabbed my cock and started jerking off for him. With all that had happened, I bust my nut in no time, shooting almost well across the shower to where George stood. I withdrew my fingers and slumped against the wall with the water still pouring down over my head. I whimpered as I watched the big, beefy man stalk out of the shower room, grabbing a towel on his way out.

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When I finally collected myself enough to get dressed and go back to the locker room, I had looked around for George, but couldn't find him. I grabbed my gear and strode out front to the exit, the kid in the golf shirt was back, sitting behind the desk reading a magazine. I wondered how long he had been back, and what he had seen if anything, I spotted George, dressed, and wiping down some of the machines off in the distance and paying no attention to anyone. Just as my hand hit the bar on the door - the clerk called out.

"Hey, bud!"

I turned, my face reddening like a guilty child, preparing to bolt.

"You forget something?" He waved a can of Red Bull at me, I feigned a smile and grabbed the drink from him, thanking him for reminding me.

Sitting in my car, I took a deep breath and exhaled. My sore ass making me shift uncomfortably in my seat, and the beginnings of another erection stirring in my jeans.

Sometimes getting caught, was far hotter than getting away with it.