I was working late one night at the gym at my apartment complex.
I was 25 and living my best life in the Gaslamp district of San Diego. A shiny new job, car, and apartment to boot.
This place was probably more than I needed to be paying, but it was right off the Gaslamp, where the nightlife and the convention center and Petco Park were all at my beck and call with that gorgeous, sunny weather for most of the year. I was in heaven most days, and living it up.
That meant lots of one night stands and no-strings-attached Tinder dates and, quite naturally, lots of time at my apartment gym.
I'd played sports in high school but hadn't really fully started to get into shape until the last year. I'd coasted off my good looks and boyish charms before that...but now I wanted to pull in a new class of woman.
I was there alone most of the time when it was late at night, which I loved, because I could get stoned and work out and put on whatever music I wanted.
The room was well furnished with 8 different types of machines and four treadmills, three ellipticals, and even one rowing machine. Then there free weights and exercise balls and all the appropriate tools for a solid workout.
I'd just gotten about half way done with my typical circuit and when one of my favorite Anderson Paak songs came on I decided to get a little more stoned and switch over to some free-weights. I was already feeling the goodness of my sweaty seratonin kicking in.
I was just beginning with the barbell when the asshole who lived on the top floor came in.
I'd seen him coming out plenty of times from the apartment. He was in his forties and was very well built. I was pretty sure he was a lawyer. He was always zooming past people on the phone, never holding doors or elevators, and just generally not having the time for his fellow apartment folk. He also lived on the sixth and highest floor, which were larger condos compared to the mid-sized apartments of the rest of the building. Different pay scales, certainly.
He also owned a Tesla that he drove entirely too fast through the underground garage when he was occasionally leaving at the same time as me. Basically, he bugged the fuck out of me.
He acknowledged me with a nod when he came in, and then put his headphones in and began switching from machine to machine.
All the equipment and machines faced out of this giant floor to ceiling window which looked down on the busy Gaslamp district three floors down. There was usually great people watching, but now he was directly in my way. As his elliptical was directly in front of my second row by the weights. Of course he chose the machine right in front of me.
I decided not to let it bug me. I was too stoned and feeling too good to care. I decided to start with dumbbells and worked on my arms and back muscles. Slow and steady. Nothing crazy.
The lawyer guy meanwhile was immediately setting a fairly fast pace on the elliptical, as his muscular calves were quickly put on display. He was only wearing small workout shorts, and a tank, and his socks were low cut along with his Nike cross-trainers. He wasn't weightlifter built, but he had that sculpted look to all of his muscles. And the salt and pepper hair was irritatingly perfect. He looked like Josh Duhamel I thought. The guy probably pulled in insane amounts of pussy. He was about 6'2 to my 5'10.
At one point he changed machines and I think he noticed that I'd been staring at him. Not on purpose...he was just the thing that was directly in front of me and it was honestly hard not to stare at him. I wasn't in any way gay but I was certainly observant. He was cut.
He gave me a friendly smile when he caught me staring and I was immediately embarrassed.
Next he moved to the rowing machine, which was further to the right, and turned to the side, which basically meant he was going to see me from his peripheral vision now. This is why I hated other people being in the gym. I didn't want people grading how my form was. I worked out for me...even if I didn't do every exercise correctly.
Whatever, I figured. I just needed to tune him out. This was the weed making my brain do this.
I started to work out a little harder because he was rowing impressively fast. Fuck this asshole. Now it felt like someone was pacing me on the freeway. Was this really necessary? Did he truly work out like that? Stupid.
I decided after 40 isolated curls to move on to the barbell. I started with some deadlifts and standing lifts, and then eventually decided I wanted to lay down on the bench press so I didn't keep accidentally looking at him, jealous of his entire body part.
His muscles were so insanely impressive. I wasn't there yet but I wanted to get to that.
I had a great ass and toned legs. I had a building upper section. I wanted bigger arms and more defined chest. Nothing crazy. But certainly in the Josh Duhamel range would be nice.
I began grunting my way through my bench presses which allowed me to zone him out, but as soon as he finished with his rowing he walked over to the freeweights only six or so feet away from me. Now I knew I needed to hold my own again. Fucking toxic preconceived notions.
I added more weight. And somehow found unusual amounts of strength in my arms. Even if I was making a lot of noise. He looked over at me occasionally, and I was embarrassed any time he did. It felt kind of weird to be in the gym with only one other dude. What if something weird happened? He started doing 35 pound curls like they were absolutely nothing and I watched his arms move through their impressively masculine tensions, not even realizing how much he was catching me.
And then I surprised myself even further when I looked down his body to notice that he seemed at least half-hard in his gym shorts. His cock tented slightly, like an elephant waking up at the zoo.
Why was I looking at his big cock?
I turned back and hoped he hadn't seen me.
I decided to attempt a new personal benching record. I had a surprising amount of challenging energy in me, and I began to push the heavy bar up over my head. Really, it was the burst of testosterone in the room. There was zero worlds in existence or gym etiquette where I shouldn't have had a spotter, but I certainly wasn't going to ask him because this was already strange enough that he had chosen to come and do freeweights right next to me. Like when someone sits next to you in an empty theater.
And then I saw him turn to look at me just as I was reaching my bar over my head, and I swear his eyes started at my eyes and then ran down the length of my straining lower body like he was hungry.
I shuddered nervously and dropped the weight dangerously over my chest and neck.
I was immediately pinned though not completely. The gym was designed with a sort of spotting shelf beside the bench so that it wouldn't completely crush you, as the side of the weights would rest slightly elevated from the ground.
This still kept the bar firmly pushing me into the cushioned leather bench, trapping me there.
He immediately stopped when he saw what happened and came over to me.
"Are you okay?" He asked, and I grunted, as I tried to see if I could extricate my body in some way.
"Ughhh..I think I'm trapped," I said, completely embarrassed. I was red all over and squirming. My gym shorts had gotten bunched up and that framed my cock clearly.
"Here let me help you out," he said.
He leaned over me.
I thought he was going to simply lift the bar off so I could scoot out.
But he didn't lift the bar at all.
"Are you completely trapped?" He asked, in a slightly different voice. I didn't understand it at the time.
"Yes...please help," I grunted back, feeling my chest firmly held down by my heavy prison. My arms were awkwardly pressed over the top of the bar.
"I can help you out," and then I felt him rub his hand down my chest and grab onto my very hard cock through my gym shorts.
What the fuck?!? My brain started to freak out. He was grabbing my cock. My HARD cock?! When had I gotten this hard??
"Ummm, what are you..." I gulped. I couldn't finish my sentence. He started to undo the drawstring on my shorts.
"...what are you...ughhh..."
"That's a very hard cock," he said as he worked. "I'm going to help you out."
"No," I said.
"No?" He asked. He didn't stop.
"No. I'm not..."
"You're not what?" He interrupted me.
I was breathing so heavily and nervously. My entire body was shaking.
Then I felt him pulling my shorts down my legs. I wasn't wearing boxers. My very hard cock flopped out and he ran has hand over it, as he wrapped his big fingers around my fully inflated member.
"Mmmm...noooo...I'mNotGay Mmmm...," I squeaked to him. My eyes were closed for some reason.
"You're not?" He asked, as he began to stroke my dick softly in his big hands.
"No...please," I moaned to him. "Don't."
"Don't what?" He asked. And he jacked me a little more now. My head was swimming. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He had a dominant look to him. The asshole lawyer swagger. The way he stood over me. He was staring into my eyes as he jacked me off.
"Fuckkkkk, nooooo, please...I don't waaaa..." I was begging but my moans of pleasure were giving me away. I was so grossed out and wanted him to stop but everything he was doing felt so good.
He pulled my shorts the rest of the way off even as he kept my shoes and socks on. Then I felt him walk around to sit on the end of my bench, right in the middle of my legs, which dangled off either side lazily.
He began to stroke me again and I took a deep breath back.
"You want me to stop? I'll stop if you want me to," he said it in the cockiest way and I hated him.
"Mmmmm, Fuckkk...I...mmmm..." I was trying to find the courage.
"You want me to stop jacking your cock off?" He asked me, and now he had slid his body up against mine so that he was somewhat under me. The bar kept me pinned. My heart was pounding against the metal. His firm cock was pressing up against me through his workout shorts. He was very hard.
I shook my head no and I could barely look at him I was so nervous.
I didn't want him to stop. I hated how badly I didn't want him to stop. This fucker. This cocky asshole. I was straight. I was trying to negotiate my brain out of this. My body systems were all engaged in a rapidly devolving inner debate. I liked girls.
