A gay story: Half-Time Trainer We were sitting around on a grey Sunday afternoon watching football when the penny dropped. I’d just finished griping about the wife’s lack of sex drive to my buddy Paul for the seven thousandth time, when he silenced the room with a biting retort.
“Maybe stop being a fat fuck and give her something worth to look at,”
If we were in a larger group and he’d made such a remark, I probably would have chucked a pillow at his head and called him names as the other fellows roared. But it was a bit of a blow to hear from my best bud when it was just us, knowing there wasn’t a jeering crowd to show off for. I just kinda sat in silence.
Yeah, I’d grown into a mopey bitch since moving to the suburbs. I was 32, boring ass wife boring ass life. The college weight never came off, and my toned upper half was nothing more than a high school memory by now. My wife had similarly put on weight but was still a looker. In a lot of ways I didn’t have reason to be miserable yet here I was.
I glanced over at Paul trying not to look wounded. He too had aged up since high school, but I didn’t think he’d done any worse in the body department than me. I sat there splitting my gaze between the TV and Paul, trying to figure out the last time I saw him shirtless. Fat fuck? I tried to turn my embarrassment into anger, but came up short. The announcers called for halftime and I quickly shifted my eyes away from my friend.
Paul slammed his beer can down on the coffee table and stood up.
“C’mon Charles, get up.” He stood looming over me with irritation behind his eyes. “Get the fuck up, c’mon- lets go,” He started out of the living room and I felt compelled to stumble out of the chair to follow. He seemed intent on heading out to the garage.
I could see the flurries blowing outside the window slits in the garage door. It was chilly in there, but relatively neat and tidy. There was a workbench across one wall, and a weight bench and free weights off to the side. Before I could question him, Paul spoke up.
“Halftime work out. You’ve been bitching about Beth, and swearing every year we’ve been up here that you want to get in shape. So I’m gonna make you do it, put you through your paces.”
I don’t know what look came across my face in response, hesitant or confused, but Paul began to move things around and clear out room for me. I hadn’t shown up for a drill instructor, we were only going to watch the game as we did every Sunday. But there was a growing part of me, a self loathing part that knew this was almost necessary. The whole thing had developed so fast, I couldn’t even think of a way to beg off, to apologize for my whining and return to the living room. My brain had been jolted quiet. Paul and I had that typical teasing relationship, but something about his fed up tone of voice and move to action. I’d grown to hate myself, and this- whatever this was. I needed the push.
“Take off your shirt,” Paul laid out a mat as he brushed by me. For a moment, the spell was broken and I was able to talk.
“What? Why? Its cold in here,” Okay, maybe I needed the push but I wasn’t confident in my body enough to-
“Do it fucko,” He leapt up to test the strength of the pull up bar attached to the rafters, giving me a glimpse of his flexing arms. Guess he used the equipment in here in his spare time after all. I slowly began to pull off my sweatshirt as he dropped to the ground and stripped off his own top.
Paul was not ripped, but he was still fairly tight. The weight he’d gained was well proportioned on his upper body, looking firm with no sag. He’d had a dusting of hair across his flat chest, and a treasure trail. His nipples were small and pink. I didn’t think I was too far off from him, but suddenly felt insecure and opted to leave my t-shirt on. I tossed my sweatshirt onto a nearby box and waited for instruction.
“Nah, you’re taking that off too,” Paul stepped up to me, using that inch of height he had on me to great advantage. He’d never been a dominating personality towards me, but at the same time, I guess I’d never been this…accommodating before. I froze in place, smelling his body for the first time. It’s a weird feeling to be standing close to a half naked man, being told to take off your shirt. He’s already put himself out there, and somehow waiting and watching on you to match him, I guess the feeling of being watched, having to perform- its somehow a more vulnerable position. I gripped the hem of my t-shirt and gently pulled it over my head. I could almost feel the light hitting my soft, hairy belly, my underdeveloped chest, the furry armpits. Exposure therapy indeed. I looked Paul in the eye for a glimmer of approval as I chucked my shirt aside, he offered none. He looked me over, forcing me to straighten my back as I tried to make myself look more attractive. Wait, what the fuck?
He pointed at some free weights and began barking instructions at me. I did my best to move quickly, lift correctly and take his advice seriously. It was difficult not to overexert myself as I went along. It had been some time since I’d been in a gym so I was quickly sore and tired, but I didn’t want to let Paul down, or lose whatever this challenge was. He had me doing arm curls when he sidled up behind me to whisper in my ear.
“You eat shit, you are shit. You’ve let yourself go and given the fuck up. Your wife won’t fuck you because you’re a pathetic whiner who doesn’t have his shit together. And I’m sick of hearing all this every time you’re over here,”
His words made me choke back tears. I didn’t want to appear sadder than I already was. But I suddenly felt guilty and ashamed I had burdened my friend with all my garbage. He was right. I was horrible. And here he was giving me the straight talk, and pushing me out of my rut. I swore then and there I wouldn’t give up no matter what.
“Now drop that and get over here,” Paul motioned to the pull-up bar. I gently placed the weights on the floor and stared into the rafters trying to gauge how tough this would be. I hadn’t done pull-ups in ages. I reached up and tried to get my grip set, finally yanking my heavy body upwards. Paul circled me.
“Every time we do this, you’re going to come in raw, and do whatever I say. No hemming and hawing, you get in here and put yourself out there.”
I lowered myself and struggled trying to pull myself up again. I was determined to follow through.
“You come in here and you give yourself over to me, you got that?” I responded affirmatively. ” You come in here and the first thing you do is strip down. You want motivation- well look at yourself in the mirror. You wanna power fuck your wife? You hate your body? You look at it then. You look at what everyone else has to see, got it?”
I gave an affirmative response again, imagining how good my arms would look in a few weeks. For the moment, I was giving my all trying not to show the pain I was in on my third rep. Paul stopped and stood in front of me.
“In fact, fuck this. You come in here naked from now on.” And with that, he grabbed the sides of my sweatpants and pulled them down in a single motion.
If things were frozen in time, I’d like to think the first noticeable thing about me would have been the look of sheer terror on my face as I had pulled myself into the rafters, feeling my cock suddenly exposed. Paul had successfully managed to pull my pants down and half off my legs, but my underwear had been drug along and were stuck between my knees and calf. He had caught my upward motion at the right time and not disrupted my pull-up, but in the seconds after realizing what had happened I lost my grip and fell to the mat, instinctively grabbing for my underwear to shield myself.
In a crumpled pile I looked up at Paul, searching his face for a mischievous smile- some indication he was still my best bud just fucking with me. But it wasn’t there. Instead there was a confused look and a pair of steadfast eyes glaring down at me. He seemed to be convincing himself that he was being entirely serious with me, but also realizing he enjoyed the power he was exercising over me. We stayed locked in that tableau for a minute before any of us spoke. Of course, it was him.
“You come in here and you get naked, got it?” He was slow and deliberate with his words. “You come in here raw and honest, and you’re going to own up to your truths…got it?” Paul kneeled down on the mat, reaching for the last of my clothes. We both gripped the waistband of my underwear for a moment, before I finally gave in and let him pull it down. My hard cock unexpectedly sprang out, giving him pause. Even I was shocked to realize I’d been turned on by these events. I’d never even considered this kind of scenario, one with a man- my friend- or being exposed; but the moment was doing something to me. I let him strip me on the floor as I inched away from him on the mat.
My briefs flew across the garage as Paul crawled over to me, his proximity pushing me onto my back. He straightened himself up from his knees and spied my prone naked body. Our dynamic suddenly changed as we both realized something about me. All that self loathing, that hatred of myself- that wasn’t a bug. That was a kink begging to be explored. I hated myself so much that the notion of humiliating myself, of submitting to a stronger man, of giving up all control, of relinquishing the whole of my identity as I’d come to know it- it was a new and all consuming hunger.
Paul had pushed himself between my legs and used a hand to pull my wrists up over my head. I could feel his bulging sweats nudge my perineum. Craving something I’d never felt before, I tried to slide my body towards his crotch. My skin stuck to the mat, and I found myself inadvertently spreading my cheeks a little. I suddenly wanted something in my ass. As Paul held me in place beneath him, I began to wiggle my body on the mat- fucking the air between us in quiet desperation. Would he choke me? Oh fuck, I wanted to be choked now. Paul looked down at my movements and grinned for the first time. He let go of my wrists and pulled me onto his crotch. I could feel his erection and desperately wanted to ride it.
The pressure felt good and I began to gently hump him. My arms still lay above my head, as I began naturally teasing his cock with my ass. For his part, Paul made no further motion. He seemed to enjoy watching me pathetically wriggle around, listening to me pant and moan. As I built up a quicker rhythm, my hard cock began to slap against my belly and I found myself enjoying the sensation. I sped up, earning an even wider grin on Pauls face. I flailed around beneath him, hungrily wanting his cock against my hole, and approaching orgasm as my cock thrust away at nothing.
“You’re gonna cum aren’t you? You’re gonna cum from nothing you little shit? Look at you you pathetic little fuck, you so want cock so bad don’t you? You tiny fucking man, you go ahead and cum. Let me see you cum you little worthless shit. Can’t fuck your wife piece of garbage,” Paul hissed at me in encouragement. I think in the moment he wanted to see the depths of my humiliation. I brought my arms down and pressed against the mat, allowing myself more leverage in the vertical movement of my body. I was indeed a pathetic horny mess, and the freedom in letting someone watch, to have them acknowledge that. To finally be less than what I needed to be. Oh fuck me I’ve never had anything in my ass, but right then and there I could have taken a dozen cocks raw.
I came, imagining Paul fucking me blind in a room full of family and friends. I shot three diminishing ropes of jizz across my chest and sank further into the floor. I clenched my eyes shut to relish in the afterglow, and to avoid making eye contact with my best friend. I put my forearm across my face and tried not to cry. Reality began to seep back into my brain as my cum dripped down the side of my stomach.
I could hear Paul get up and pace about. He tossed me my clothes, shut off the lights and left. I lay there mentally trying to put together my rapidly crumbling life, a cum stained, dripping mess. I wanted to race out of there, life the exemplary life of a straight suburban husband, be a dad, get the gold watch. Be the respectable upstanding citizen I’d always wanted to be. I had no idea if my friendship with Paul was repairable, or if… what if Paul didn’t want me to be my best self? What if Paul had realized he liked me exactly how I was. A broken man responsive to his kinky little whims.
I lay there in the dark, cold garage running my fingers through the pooling sperm on my stomach. My cock was soft now and yet…
Without thinking, I took two wet fingers and slid them down between my ass cheeks. I pulled my legs open and began to probe my puckered hole. My cock began to stiffen again in no time.
I wanted Paul to come back and watch.