A gay sex stories: Locker Room Talk Content notice:
The following story contains depictions of negative body image and weight stigma.
I’ve done my best to portray these issues with empathy and sensitivity. Beauty comes in every size, and a joyous, fulfilling sex life is the privilege of anyone who wants one.
That said, if you’re someone who prefers to avoid such content altogether, you might try one of my other stories instead.
The Author
*
“Fuck you, asshole,” is what he wished he would have said.
Rod Robinson was surrounded by people in the gym, and nevertheless by himself. The stranger, a musclebound man half his age and half his size, had already receded into the forest of weights and machines.
Rod wouldn’t have been there at all except for the guilt that he could no longer ignore. The guilt of money wasted on a membership he’d paid for on an impulse, which he had gone five months without using.
Empty nest, new lease on life, get in shape. New year, new me. That’s what he’d told himself. It had been so difficult to summon the motivation to come, and now it was taken so easily, so violently.
The stranger had said, “You’re doing great, buddy! Keep going and you’ll get there.” The words could not have been more cutting if the man had simply called him a fat ass and been done with it.
Rod stepped off the treadmill, grabbed his things, and wove through the cold machines and the warm bodies towards the locker rooms.
There were enormous mirrors along one wall, where men could take joy in the sight of their own bulging muscles. He did his best to ignore the round body and oversized clothes reflected back to him.
He had been slim in his 20s. His 30s brought love handles. His 40s, a beer gut, the beginnings of tits. Now, at 50, he had to ignore how his fist brushed the underside of his jutting belly when he masturbated.
In the locker room, he vowed to herself to disrobe and shower quickly, to be out of this place, away from big men and beautiful women whose eyes he could feel upon his skin even if they weren’t saying anything.
He found his locker, wrestled his way out of the sticky folds of his gym clothes, wrapped himself in his towel, and went for the shower room.
He was alone. He picked a shower at random and turned it on, keeping his back turned to the large, steaming room and trying to let the feeling of hot water on his sweaty skin crowd out his thoughts.
He turned off the shower and covered his body, still dripping, tightly in his towel. He could hear voices coming in from the pool area. Chattering, joking. He moved quickly for his locker.
On the way, he took a look inside the sauna. No one there. He went in, deciding he would dry faster and be out sooner.
Against his furious wishing, the door opened almost as soon as he’d sat down. A group of four men came in, joking, laughing. Mostly young and thin, although one of them was about his age and also fat.
They were all clad in towels, which they wore unself-consciously. Rod instinctively tried to shrink into his own towel as soon as they appeared. They sat all around him, ornamenting the small wooden room.
The fat man took the spot next to him. He was loud, animated, full of laughter. He did not try to hide the shaking of his belly and his tits when he laughed. He seemed to be the leader of the small pack of men.
Rod felt out of place, as though he’d picked the worst place to sit. The fat man was the focus of everyone’s attention. Even sitting at the edge of his spotlight gave Rod an uncomfortable and scary feeling.
The men gossiped about sex. Things they’d done, unrecognizable names of people who had been their partners. Their boastful, pornographic storytelling reminded Rod of his own sexless existence.
He dreaded the prospect of the conversation turning towards him, of being inducted into this circle and having to reveal himself as ugly and boring, but he felt he couldn’t leave without raising attention.
There was something about the fat man. His name, Rod had gathered, was Von. He behaved like the other men, who were young and thin, whose muscles still stood out, for whom sex likely still grew on trees.
The way Von jiggled when he laughed, the way his towel strained to hold his hips and stomach, the way he traded sex stories of his own, as if there could be any comparison. Rod felt embarrassed for him.
It was especially appalling when one of the younger men poured water from his water bottle on the hot rocks and Von scolded him and, in defense from the plume of hot steam, took off and set aside his towel.
Though he tried not to be, Rod was transfixed by the nakedness at the edge of his vision, all large round parts that laid upon one another and shined wetly in the pale lighting and translucent steam.
One by one, all the other men followed suit, dropping their own towels and baring their hard, masculine bodies as if on silent orders, but Rod hardly noticed.
Von droned on, how pouring water on the stones would leave a layer of minerals that would have to be meticulously cleaned, how the steam might feel hot but would not actually raise the room temperature.
Von, it turned out, was the son of the owner, an older man who was not himself a gymgoer but had bought the business as an investment. Von handled the “day to day,” and so he knew these things.
Rod felt discomfort of a different sort. Von was right. The steam did feel hot, hotter than he was used to. The towel had become suffocating, yet the thought of being seen without it mortified him.
But right next to him was Von, with a wide, deep body so similar to his own, who had dropped his own towel without caring, had even prompted the dropping of towels by his coterie of apparent hangers-on.
Von, heedless of the way his shining tits stood out from his chest, the way his belly laid upon his lap, hiding his penis and his pubic hair from sight, the way his thighs spread wide upon the bench.
Rod, who could have left, or remained in his towel, sweating profusely, rolls of flesh slipping and sticking uncomfortably with one another. Who, in a moment he could not explain, chose to do neither.
Rod removed his own towel, awkwardly bunching it up in a pile on the bench next to him. The rest of the men, he felt, did not notice. But Von, who said nothing to him, gave him a cursory look.
Rod felt that his body must not have looked too different from Von’s, though Von was relaxed and reclined and without tension. Rod was bent, slumped, pulled into himself, with no idea how to fix it.
The round robin conversation went on. Rod did not speak and didn’t know what he would say if he were called upon.
But the energy of the gathering soon dwindled. People left one by one. When it was down to him, Von, and just one of the younger men, Rod excused himself, mumbling. He tried not to scurry as he exited.
As he toweled off and stumbled in a hurry into his clothes, he couldn’t keep the thought from his mind that he’d been attracted to Von. Not sexually, but an inexplicable sense of affinity. A closeness.
Von had strode into that sauna and hadn’t given a shit if anyone saw him in his towel, or out of it. Not even the younger, thinner men, whose tight, athletic bodies were the ultimate criticism of his own.
Von would have looked at himself in that mirror with admiration. Von would have said something to the guy, wouldn’t have taken his shit. Von would have stayed, instead of running like an upset child.
Rod drove home in a fog. He could not stop himself from imagining scenarios in which he had stayed, in which he and Von were the last ones left. He could have impressed Von, been admired by Von.
*
Months passed. Rod had become a regular at the gym.
In some ways, it was worse than not going at all. His frequent trips would elicit well-meaning comments from family and friends, intended as encouragement, that reminded him that he was disgusting to them.
If they had taken more of an interest, he might have admitted that he felt stronger, more capable, the good tired of vigorous physical activity. But his appearance had not changed, so they did not ask.
He was not at the gym to change his body, or even to feel better.
It was Von. The phantom version of himself. The frustrating spectre that would not leave his mind.
It was not so much that he wanted to meet him, to talk to him. That was not something he had thought through, or that he would know how to go about doing if he had. That was not a component of his obsession.
Instead, he would try to recreate the conditions of that moment in the sauna, when he’d first encountered him. Each visit, he would hit the showers, then sit there in the unforgiving dry heat, waiting.
He would imagine the door swinging open, the chatter, the laughter, the parade of men, the lewd storytelling, water on the rocks, steam filling the tiny, enclosed space. The communal baring of naked bodies.
It was as though there were a closed room in his mind where rogue thoughts cavorted just barely out of his control. In his more conscious, intentional thoughts, he still felt embarrassed for Von.
There had been one night, later than usual, when he had finished his workout, committed his sauna ritual with the usual results, and checked out at the front counter, when he finally saw Von.
He was all the way across the gym floor, through the layers of weights and pulleys and treadmills, dressed in slim-fitting gym clothes that did nothing to disguise the prominent, fleshy parts of his body.
He was having a discussion with a man with a clipboard–still somehow managing to laugh. Loud, boisterous, fat-shaking, unmistakable. Rod lingered as long as he dared before reluctantly turning away.
That night, Rod laid awake in bed, watching phantom shapes appear and disappear in the whorls of paint on the darkened ceiling. His wife laid on her side, facing away, soothing him with her gentle snoring.
Aside from showering together or the occasional playful touch, they had not been seriously intimate in years. It was not something there was a good explanation for. Her interest in sex had simply dried up.
There was a time when he had been trying valiantly. He would wait for her to wake up in the morning and they would fool around in bed. Clothes might come off. She might even let him pleasure her.
Time wore on. Their intimacy waned in both frequency and flavor. She would tell him that it was the presence of children in their house, and she would immediately feel horrible for having had the thought.
Now the children were grown and gone, and the only reason left was his wife’s preference and his own body. No woman could want him, and it only pained him when his wife told him that he still looked good.
Those frustrated nights and mornings had gradually given way to his now-daily ritual of masturbating alone in the bathroom, pornographic videos playing on his phone. Surely she heard, though she did not say.
A war of attrition won, a classic sexless marriage their prize. He did not want it. But the prospect of resuming that sweating, squishing part of their life, as though they were still young, felt ridiculous.
He found himself dwelling on the memories. That time he had come over and she had surprised him at the door in a slim-fitting satin chemise. His body had not changed much yet and they could still be spontaneous.
That time they had fucked in a tent, trying to stay quiet so as to not be heard by the surrounding campsites. He came in her pussy, then failed to shush her when an unexplainable giggling fit came over her.
Their first time together, she had invited him over to watch a movie. Those electrical first touches on her couch, followed by her lying nervously on her bed like a body in a tomb while he undressed her.
She had apologized to him as he slid her skirt down her legs, then her waisted pantyhose, then her underwear. She had naively not anticipated sex that night. Her bush was in its full untamed glory up and down.
He had been unbothered. For the first time, he told her she was beautiful. (She admitted later that she did not believe him.) She told him it was only her second time having sex. Again, he was unbothered.
They were 27 at the time. He had had multiple partners, all of them varying styles of thin. His someday wife was not fat, but had struggled with her weight and was intimidated by his sexual history.
He had produced a condom, fucked her with a slow gentleness that she appreciated more than she enjoyed, then he was romantic enough to tell her he was about to come and ask her where she wanted him to do it.
He had the condom on. She told her she wanted him inside her when he came. Though he had been in control, domineering, he felt a sort of gratitude when she let him relax his tired, sweaty body on top of her.
At that time, they still had not learned each other’s full names. It had been her intention to sleep around, to sample the men of the world after spending her first decade of adulthood in relative prudishness.
Then they fell in love, got married, had kids, and that was that. He had steered her from that future, stolen it from her.
In the swim of these vivid memories, he found that his fingers had tucked themselves, unbidden, down the front of his boxers. His hand, draped over his belly, touched the head of his half-hooded erection.
Fuck it, he thought. He circled his foreskin loosely, with just his thumb and his forefinger, and jerked off slowly, quietly, inside his underpants, careful not to wake the slumbering woman next to him.
He had always been quick to come, not with women, but by his own hand. Years of solo orgasms had taught him to get off efficiently. He found himself close already even from this timid and clumsy masturbation.
The memories of happier times with her, more sex-filled times, were fleeting and just a little out of reach. He could not maintain them. Likewise his orgasm kept coming close, then slipping away from him.
And then the mental image of Von flitted by, displaying his nakedness with an untroubled dreaminess before his coterie of onlookers, and Rod felt a mix of feelings so utterly off-putting that it was over.
He withdrew his hand and did his best to ignore the nagging demands of his unsatisfied cock, which throbbed in his waistband, his dickhead hot and hard against his belly, and tried to will himself to sleep.
The final thought to be left ringing in his head as he dozed off was that it had not occurred to him to wake his wife, to put the moves on her, and that he was grateful that she had slept through it.
*
Time went on. Rod gave up.
He kept going to the gym, just as a habit, one that he’d devoted enough time to that it no longer felt difficult. Get up. Masturbate alone. Go to work. Go to the gym. Go home. That was how his life went.
It wasn’t that he had decided once and for all that the ritual with the sauna had failed. It was more of a gradual falling away. His unsuccessfulness and his lack of a clear goal had worn him down.
Then one day, in a moment of fate like planets colliding, he opened the sauna and there they were.
They did not acknowledge his entrance, save for Von, who gave him a quick glance before returning to his conversation with the young men in his orbit. Including Von, there were five in total, all naked.
Room was tight, but Von slid over. There was just enough space on the bottom bench for Rod to sit. He would be close to them, between Von and one of the young men. He would have to tolerate that closeness.
In a second of hesitation that felt like an eternity of indecision, Rod took his towel off and hung it on one of the wall hooks, then he sat in between Rod and the young man, letting their knees touch his.
The part of the spot where Von had been sitting felt damp under Rod’s bare ass, whether from sweat or pool water or both, he did not know. Rod was disgusted by it, but only for a moment, and he said nothing.
It was then that the young men started leaving, one by one. Not as a response to Rod’s arrival–rather, it felt to Rod that the party had already been evaporating when he had arrived. It was nothing personal.
The last of the young men left, and so did the remainder of their dwindling conversation. It was Rod and Von alone together on the bench, sitting silently. Rod instinctively inched away. Von did not.
Neither one of them said anything at first. It was Von who broke the silence.
“Sorry if we made it weird,” Von said. “I know we do a lot of locker room talk in here, and I noticed you were pretty quiet the couple times you’ve come in. Not everybody’s comfortable with that stuff.”
“No, it’s fine,” Rod said. He performed nonchalance, though he was hyperconscious that this was the first time Von had ever spoken directly to him. It was strange.
Von smiled. “Usually, when people say it’s fine, it’s because it isn’t.”
“No, really, I’m fine,” Rod said.
“There it is again.”
Rod realized Von was teasing him, but he felt locked into his defensiveness, felt a need to prove himself.
“I’ve done locker room talk as much as anybody,” Rod said. “It’s really no big deal.”
“Locker room talk about what?”
“You know. Women. Getting laid.”
“Well, you should speak up more often. A man doesn’t get to know another man unless they can talk about sex. It’s what we do here.” Von gestured to the room, to the spaces where the young men had been.
“Alright,” Rod said. He took a moment to finesse what he was about to say. Von simply watched his face as he waited.
Rod began. “One time, I was with this girl in Vegas. We made out in the outdoor pool, then we went up to our hotel room. Really nice, king size bed and everything.”
Von’s eyebrows were up. “And then what?”
“We fucked.”
“Okay, I get that, but what happened specifically? What was she like? What did you guys do?”
Rod was letting the memory unspool as he spoke. “She was small. Not petite, but kind of thick, especially her butt and legs. She liked it from behind. She came real easy if you fucked her from behind.”
“Was she loud?”
“Yeah, she would howl when she came.”
Then Rod remembered of another detail to the story he thought Von would find funny.
Rod said, “We didn’t realized it at the time, but the door hadn’t latched. It was open a little, so everyone on our floor could hear us. The hotel had to send a guy up to tell us to keep it down.”
Von laughed, his big, fat-shaking laugh. Rod still couldn’t believe a man could let himself be seen that way, could have so little self-awareness. But he appreciated the genuine reaction to his story.
Von got himself under control and asked, “What did the guy say?”
Rod said, “I don’t remember exactly, but he was very polite. He didn’t specify what people had heard. Just that we should be more careful to close the door and keep it down next time.”
Von laughed again, and his sweating, naked body repeated its previous performance. It was infectious. Rod found himself chuckling, before remembering his self-consciousness about his own quivering flesh.
Von asked, “Did anything else happen?”
“Not really,” Rod said.
When he saw the disappointment in Von’s eyes, he added, “There was another time when this girl and I were at the beach. We were feeling each other up under the water, so we decided to find a place to fuck.”
Von was reinvested. He leaned towards Rod, as if to hear the story better. Rod could feel the sweaty warmth that radiated through the space between their two bodies.
Rod said, “There was an outdoor shower that was deserted. I don’t think it worked. We tried to do it in there, but it was kind of gross. We ended up going back to the car and fucking in the backseat.”
“Wow,” Von said quietly. “Did anyone see?”
“I don’t think so. But a lot of people were going by, right outside the windows.”
“So you’re the kind of guy who gets turned on by water, huh? Or by doing it in places where people could find out.”
Rod had never thought about it before. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Von laughed again, and reached out and touched Rod’s elbow. Rod didn’t jerk away, did not fully recoil, but reflexively moved just enough that Von ended up touching the soft part of his upper arm.
Rod immediately felt ashamed at his own rudeness. If Von was offended, he said nothing, and didn’t take his hand away until it felt natural. Rod’s wet skin was alive where Von had touched him.
“You should talk more,” Von said. “The guys would love you.”
Rod said, “I’m not very interesting.”
“You’re interesting,” Von insisted.
Rod felt like telling Von that both stories were the same girl, and that girl was his wife, that none of the other women he’d been with had had her sense of adventure, and now even she wouldn’t fuck him.
He also didn’t tell Von that she had worn full shirt and shorts into the pool, that she had been mortified when the hotel man had come to the door, that the car had been too cramped for her to enjoy herself.
He felt guilty for describing his stories in a way that made his wife out to be some kind of uninhibited slut. Or a series of uninhibited sluts. He had done it to keep up with the other men, to impress Von.
Then it was Von’s turn.
“You might like this one,” Von said. “One time, this girl I was dating brought me to visit her mom. Beautiful house. The girl and I were sunbathing on the front lawn. She was in a bikini, I was in trunks.”
Rod listened with cool civility. He couldn’t quite will himself to share Von’s interest in the sex lives of other men.
Nevertheless, he found himself picturing the scenario in his head. He filled the role of the girl with one of his own ex-girlfriends, and he could easily picture Von in a bathing suit lying out with her.
“Her mom told her she was going to cause a car accident,” Von chuckled. Rod found himself chuckling again as well.
“Anyway,” Von said, “she was always horny. So we’re making out. Then she puts my hand down the front of her suit, and she reaches into my trunks and gets my cock out. Right there in front of her mom’s house!”
“Were there cars going by?” Rod asked politely.
“Yeah, cars going by and everything.”
“What happened next?”
“Well, I’m fingering her and she’s giving me a handjob, so we figured at that point we should probably take it inside. Her mom was taking a nap upstairs, so we went to the spare room in the basement.”
“Did you fuck her?”
Von leaned in conspiratorially. He reached out and touched Rod’s thigh, the same way he’d touched his arm. This time, Rod didn’t pull away. Von tapped his fingers on Rod’s leg to punctuate each sentence.
“We’re in the basement. It’s not dirty, but there’s junk and stuff. We’re stripping off as we’re headed for the bed in the corner, and we’re totally naked, and bam. I step on a tiny piece of broken glass.”
Rod hissed inward through his teeth. “Ouch.”
“I know, right?” Von excitedly tapped on Rod’s leg. His touch, though light and fleeting, sent a jolt through him every time.
Despite himself, Rod realized that he was invested in Von’s story. The seductiveness of the storytelling was no doubt how Von and his younger, slimmer friends had congregated here in the first place.
Rod was also turned on. For once in his life, he was grateful that his thick thighs and big belly could hide his penis when he hunched in his seat. Feigning attentiveness, he leaned forward, just to be sure.
It was the girl, he supposed. He had made a mistake in picturing his ex-girlfriend. As Von’s girl got naked in the story, he was picturing a naked person he himself had known and remembered fondly.
“I’m lying on the bed,” Von continued, “she’s kneeling in front of me like she’s the one about to fuck me. But now she’s got my foot up in front of her face, digging around while I whine about it like a baby.”
In Rod’s imagination, his ex–a short, slim girl with piercings, tattoos and a buzz cut–was examining Rod’s foot, tweezers in hand. It wasn’t a sexy scenario. But she was there, and that was sexy enough.
“Did you fuck her?” Rod asked. This time, his curiosity was sincere.
Von laughed. “She cleaned me up, bandaged me, and we ended up having a nice cuddly time in the standup shower in the basement. But no, we did not fuck that day. Let’s say the wind had been driven from my sails.”
Rod felt bold. “You couldn’t get hard again after the piece of glass.”
Von laughed even harder, and his whole body was shaking, and his legs drifted apart just enough for his knee to touch Rod’s, that electrical feeling again, and Rod was stern enough with himself not to pull away.
They sat there for a moment, sweating in the sauna, the shared thought of abandoned foreplay lingering in the heat between them. By his own profuse sweat, Rod was certain they both needed to shower again.
He wouldn’t get up. Not until Von was gone. He felt he had successfully hidden his erection from him, and he was intent on keeping it that away.
Eventually, Von did get up. He stepped towards the door, took his towel from the wall, but didn’t put it on. He turned towards Rod, unshy about giving him the full and unobscured naked turnaround.
Von said, “Since we’re friends now, why don’t you come by tonight after closing? I can give you the nickel tour. Show you all the stuff the regular people don’t get to see.”
“Sure,” Rod said. He spoke without thinking, and immediately regretted it.
“We close at 8. Come at 9. I’ll let you in the front door.”
Then he was gone.
Rod felt he had been coy about glimpsing Von’s body, but the moment stretched out in his memory. Von’s wide ass, his love handles, then his hairy belly, very round, above a thick pad of pubic fat.
And his cock and balls, peering out from dense, tightly curled pubic hair that crept out around inner thighs pressed closely together.
Von wasn’t well-hung. Decidedly average, in fact, like Rod himself. But his cock had looked full and heavy, jutting out and drooping down. Brought to partial life, Rod assumed, by their erotic reminiscing.
Rod was annoyed with himself. In part, for accepting Von’s invitation. What would he tell his wife? And to spend time with someone he barely knew, to whom he’d already confessed too much. And in part…
His erection was harder than before, was throbbing more. It nagged him. He badly needed to masturbate.
He leaned back, spread his legs, used one hand to pull up on his belly and the other to grasp his pulsating cock. And that’s how far he got when he remembered himself, felt disgusted, and lost the erection.
He got up, put his towel on, and loitered near the showers until he could go in there and rinse off alone. Then he got dressed and went home.
*
The sun had almost set by the time he pulled into the empty patron lot at the gym. The sky was completely covered in dark, heavy clouds. It made the building look dreary and gray as he trudged towards it.
He made it through the employee parking, where a small station wagon–Von’s, presumably–was the only car parked. Then up the steps, then up to the glass door. He willed himself not to huff and puff.
He knocked at the glass. Nothing happened. He started to turn back. He had already lied to his wife once about why he was leaving. He would have to lie again about why he had come back so soon. He felt awful.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, in the distant reaches of the lobby fogged by the reflectiveness of the glass, Von appeared. He noticed Rod standing outside and walked briskly towards him.
Von was wearing well-fitted gym shorts and a colorful striped tank top. Rod felt foolish in his flannel shirt and slacks, which were his customary uniform when he went out of the house in the evening.
Von opened the door, smiled, and gave him a quick one-armed hug, which felt awkward. Rod wasn’t a hugger. He did his best not to recoil. Then Von led him inside.
As Von promised, Rod got the nickel tour. It was mostly offices and the employee lounge. The rooms were all darkened. It felt intimate in a way Rod wasn’t sure he liked, but he didn’t want to say anything.
Then Von showed him all the hidden back ways into the gym areas. When they passed the corridor to the pool, Von said, “Hey, if you want, we could have a quick swim. A whole pool all to ourselves. Cool, huh?”
Rod nodded without enthusiasm.
“I guess you don’t have a suit,” Von said. “You could take a loner.”
Then he paused, as if in thought, then said, with a mischievous smile, “Or, we could skinny dip! That’s the ultimate luxury. A naked dip in an olympic sized pool.”
Again, Rod nodded, answering Von’s joke with a gracious smile. He felt if he just said nothing that Von would drop it.
Instead, Von took his hand and led him through the back area, past doors and storage areas, towards the distinct chlorine smell.
Then a phone rang somewhere in the offices behind them. Von let go, turning his head in the direction of the sound. Rod tried not to sigh with relief.
His heart sank once again when Von told him to go on ahead and get in the pool, promising to join him shortly.
Von disappeared back into the depths of the employee area. Rod gingerly turned the handle to the door that opened out into the pool area. The overhead lights were off, but the pool was lit from within.
Rod rummaged in the storage area, looking for–what had Von said?–the loners, or a lost and found, anything with a swim suit.
He found one in an unlocked locker that he was pretty sure belonged to an employee. He felt strange about taking it, but he was otherwise out of luck. There was a pair of goggles, and he took those as well.
There was a vestibule off the pool area with an employee shower and washroom. Rod nervously got naked, rinsed himself in the shower, and pulled the suit on, grateful to find that he could fit into it.
He returned to the pool area. The pool was oriented with the deep end towards him. He walked the long walk around to the shallow end of the pool. He had never been a strong swimmer. He dipped his toes in.
After waiting a few minutes with no Von, he muttered, “Fuck it,” and slid into the water. With his feet on the bottom, the water went up past his cock and balls, just cold enough to cause them discomfort.
He shivered, trying to get acclimated. It was not as enjoyable as it must have seemed in Von’s imagination.
Still, as he looked across the surface of the water, lit in vivid blue-green from underneath, it was pretty. The dark ceiling caught rippling highlights from the gentle waves he’d caused with his entry.
When he screwed up enough courage, he put the goggles on over his eyes and dipped completely under the water. He saw across the bottom of the pool with total clarity. When he resurfaced, he wasn’t cold.
That’s when he saw Von standing there, at the threshold of the employee entrance, looking small in the distance across the pool. Shining green highlights rippled upon Von’s completely naked body.
Rod could do nothing and say nothing as Von approached the edge of the other end of the pool and slipped into the water. His entry was neat, nimble, feet first, causing less of a wake than Rod himself had.
Von swam in graceful curves and arcs around the deep end, evidently in no hurry to meet up with Rod at the other side. Rod occupied himself by dog paddling and the occasional soothing dip under the water.
Then, under the water, Rod saw Von come towards him, moving through the water as naturally as if he’d been born for it. Von did not have goggles and did not seem to need them. He moved with gentle strength.
He moved towards Rod, first beckoning with his hands. when Rod made no move to come to him, he came and swept Rod up, gathering him to his chest. Rod was helpless as Von bore him efortlessly through the water.
Rod was unprepared for such intimate contact, the unguarded touch of someone else’s body. It raised feelings deep within the core of him that he hadn’t felt since those early exciting years with his wife.
Von held him with one arm and propelled them with the other, his body sidelong in the water. In this pose, Von’s groin incidentally nestled itself against Rod’s leg, and Rod could feel Von’s hard, hot erection.
It couldn’t be helped, Rod told himself. The pool water felt wonderful once he’d acclimated to it. If his own cock had been out and moving freely, the water would have felt… stimulating. That’s all it was.
Von brought him to the deep end and back again, and had the courtesy not to release him until the pool was shallow enough for their feet to touch. Rod started to say something, but then Von was away again.
Rod looked down at the trunks he wore. Elastic, but a little too small, indenting him in an unflattering way. He took them off. He felt foolish for having put them on in the first place.
He struck out, dog paddling, not venturing too far from the shallows, doing his best to ignore the pulsing of his own hard-on.
This is how to do it from now on, he thought, watching from afar as the round figure of Von cut through the water with the grace of a dolphin. Just be bold. Refuse to be ashamed. Be like him.
Their little moment in the pool wound down without further incident. Von hauled himself up the ladder at the side of the pool and Rod followed suit. They showered together, but separately.
“Sauna’s off, unfortunately,” Von said as they toweled off in the shower room.
“That’s too bad,” Rod joked. “I’ve had so much sex I need to tell you about.”
Von laughed, that fat-shaking laugh.
Rod couldn’t resist the perfect sense memory of the way those round, soft parts felt, or the one part that had been hard and unyielding. It quieted whatever objections he’d had about laughing while fat.
Then they got dressed. It was over. Von led him out to the lobby, and that was when they heard the crack of thunder, followed by the rumble of heavy rain on the building’s flat, expansive rooftop.
As they approached the front doors, the parking lot was a landscape of foaming rain that bounced off the asphalt and dispersed into the air. Rod could barely see his van way off in the patron lot.
“Shit,” Rod said.
Von said, “If we make a run for it, we can get to my car without getting soaked. Then I’ll drive you right up to your car.”
Rod nodded.
Von flung the door open, locked it quickly behind them, and they ran as fast as they could, their feet sloshing and splashing as they went. They tumbled breathlessly into Von’s car and slammed the doors.
For a minute, all they could do was sit, breathing heavily from the long sprint. Each of them was far more soaked than they had hoped. The still air in the small space quickly filled with sweat and chlorine.
Rod looked at Von, and Von looked back at him. In a group, or in his gym, Von held court. He was in control. Now, he was just a wet man, smelling of pool water, more vulnerable than Rod had ever seen him.
Rod was also having a hard time not picturing Von naked. He had seen him out of clothes too many times. He wondered if it was the same for Von. He felt that affinity for him again, more intense than ever.
There was an impulse, like possession, that Rod did not understand and did not care to, but he decided he had liked being touched by this man. Liked the proximity of their nakedness together. Liked him.
If Von had chosen any other moment to speak, Rod might have wordlessly gotten out, trudged away in the rain, away from the station wagon, away from the gym, away from him. Any other moment, if only.
Von said, “I’d like to kiss you.”
Without a word, Rod turned in his seat, leaned over, threw his far arm around Von’s shoulders as Von leaned in as well, his hand sliding around Rod’s thick waist, and their faces came together.
Rod had expected a chaste kiss, mouths closed, lips pursed. But Von’s lips were searching for a way in, and then their tongues were touching one another. Von kissed like he swam, powerful, but gentle.
A part of Rod was still disgusted by Von. The thought kept intruding. He touched the fat of Von’s arm, felt the hair on Von’s face against his own, smelled the sweat and spit of a man who was far too close.
But Von’s hand was on his chest, then his belly. He could feel the caress, the coiled strength of the large palm, even through wet flannel. As Von’s hand went lower, Rod’s knees parted automatically.
Rod was hard. Harder than he’d been in years.
Harder than the half-hearted middle-aged romantic interludes with his wife would have gotten him, harder than any perfunctory bathroom porn could have gotten him. He throbbed in his slacks under Von’s hand.
Then Von broke the kiss.
Rod’s lip was waterlogged. There was saliva on his tongue that was not his own. he swallowed, and found that the spit of two men slithering down his throat and into his belly did not disgust him.
“Take down your pants,” Von breathed. “Lean back in your seat.”
The station wagon was the only car in the employee parking lot. The nearest other car was his, half a football field away. They were surrounded on all sides by opaque curtains of loud, heavy rainfall.
Rod did as he was told. He undid his belt and zipper, lifted up from the seat, and awkwardly shimmied the wet, clinging pants and underwear down to his calves. He could only get the seat to lean back a little.
His loose flannel shirt hung down over his belly, covering his cock. Before Rod could stop him, Von grabbed the hem and pulled it up to his chest. He bared not just Rod’s privates, but his entire middle.
Rod felt a jolt, and an impulse to push Von’s hand away and yank the shirt back down. His stomach, his hips, his thighs, his pubic fat, every one of the most unsightly things about his body were displayed.
Then Von kissed him again, first a peck, then another wet, probing kiss, and Von’s hand was cupping his cock again, and it was becoming difficult for Rod to hold his obsessions about his body in his head.
Von toyed with Rod’s balls with the tips of two fingers, then lightly stroked the underside of his cock up and down before circling him entirely in a loose grip near his hooded glans.
Von broke the kiss again. Just an inch from Rod’s wet, open mouth, Von said, “Lift yourself, sweetie.”
Rod knew what he meant and did not want to. But, again, he did as he was told. One arm was pinned against the seats by Von’s body. With his free hand, Rod clutched the underside of his belly and lifted it.
Von did not kiss him, but kept his face close, occasionally locking eyes with Rod, but mostly watching his body, both of them breathing heavily, sweet air in each other’s faces, fogging the windows.
Rod hadn’t had a handjob since the early days of his marriage. One of those things that had once seemed so special, so laden with newness and excitement, that had passed with slow permanence out of his life.
The way Von was treating his cock, playing with him, testing him, zeroing in on just the right place, just the right tightness, it seemed that this was something he’d had practice doing for other men.
Then Rod blurted with alarm, almost without thinking about it, that he was about to come. It came on so fast, with such intensity, a tightness going from the tips of his ears to the arches of his feet.
Von only nodded and maintained his attentions, and the last coherent thought in Rod’s head was to wonder about the real nature of Von’s friendship with all those young, slim, naked men from the sauna.
Von took his free hand and cupped it over Rod’s pulsing cock, jerked him faster and harder than before, and for the first time in years Sherrod William Robinson was given an orgasm by another person.
The heat, the pleasure, exploded in him. His hips lurched. What felt like gallons of cum were lurching in powerful discharges that wrenched themselves from his balls through his modest cock and into Von’s hand.
He realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled in ratcheting steps that shook his belly that strained against his hand, his rippling flesh a soft, sensuous spectacle before Von’s steaming eyes.
Von turned his palm up and used the knife of it to catch the last dribbles as they poured out of the end and down the side of Rod’s cock. Von’s hand was full, covered in marbled, pearloid cum.
As Rod’s brain began to come back down from full boil, his first thought was to marvel at Von’s adroitness. He had caught all of it without spilling a drop. Rod had no idea what they would do with it.
Von reached into the back seat with his free hand and handed Rod a well-used towel. Rod took the towel gratefully, wiped the sweat and lingering drops of cum from himself, then let go of his heavy belly.
He handed the towel back to Von, who did a well-practiced job of depositing the bulk of the semen in the middle, where it stayed. He used the outer edges to wipe his palm dry, then folded the towel up.
Timidly, Rod asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Von whispered thickly, “No, sweetie.”
He started the car. The engine labored for a moment as it came to life.
Then Von said, “I’d ask you to watch me jack off, but that was the only towel in the car.”
Rod laughed, genuinely.
As Von drove, Rod pulled his pants back up and gathered himself. They bade a prosaic goodbye before Rod slipped out of the car and scrambled to get into the van before the rain soaked his clothes even further.
At first, he waited for Von to drive away, but Von was apparently waiting in the spot next to him for him to drive off. Rod started his own engine, and took one last glance at Von’s car through the rain.
Then he drove home.
~THE END~