The only reason I went to the gym was to watch the sweating and groaning of the strikingly hot male specimen parading themselves in different stages of semi-undress.
I have worked out for six months now and still have not experienced any visible muscle growth. The instructor, an amiable middle-aged man who smiled way too often and never seemed to get exasperated with my constant prattle and complaints, recommended that I should start working out in the night. The gym usually closed at 7pm, but the instructor was kind enough to ask me to drop off the keys with the gate man, Ahmed, allowing me work out from 8pm to 10pm.
It was one of those lonely nights. I was trying my best to lift a 10kg dumb bell and sweating profusely like a birthing cow, when Rufus walked in. That was not his real name (I didn’t know what his name was), but the name I made up in my head, because every time I saw him, the first word that came to my mind was “Hallelujah”.
Rufus was a walking, breathing definition of sex. He was around 6 feet 2, brown-skinned, well-defined pecs, washboard flat abs tightened with eight packs, and thighs the size of an iroko branch. We'd never spoken until that day, but my eyes were accustomed to every inch of him – the way his muscled ass took shape when he squatted with an over 70kg weight, the way sweat dripped down his chest, the size of his nipples, the contraction and expansion of his chest as he bench-pressed.
“I thought I saw the lights on,” he said.
“Yeah, I begged Coach to give me extra hours since I wasn't making progress,” I found myself croaking out. It was a wonder I could speak at all, so stricken afresh was I of his beauty.
He smiled as he observed me. “You’re not making progress because you’re not doing it right. Your postures are terrible, your weights are too small and your positioning would leave you with a terrible back ache when you are sixty.”
With that, he moved to the other side and started working the weights at the left side of the gym. The lighting in the room was dim, and I could hear him groaning as the iron clasped and rang with sex.
“I didn't know the gym stays open by this time. I could have brought my training gear,” he said as he adjusted his chinos trousers more comfortably around his hips. “I came to drop something off, at Ahmed's place and saw the lights on.”
“You can always work out in your briefs,” I blurted out. When he turned his raised eyebrows at me, I felt the heat of mortification flood my face and hurriedly added, “I mean, we are the only ones here, right?”
He gave out a small laugh and said, “You would like that, wouldn't you?”
At this point, I was officially listing the man down as a jerk. I wasn’t sure anymore that I liked him. But no matter how strong the temptation was to sling a snarky retort back at him, I had to watch my mouth. I was alone in the room with a man twice my size at around 8pm in the night.
“Unfortunately, I’m not wearing briefs,” he said with a wicked grin.
Instantly, I felt a tugging in my crotch. It was clear that this man was toying with me, and yet, even as my head was rebuking me, my dick was yearning to get involved.
I suddenly had to be anywhere but here with this insufferable man. So I dropped my work out and straightened. “Drop the keys with Ahmed when you are done. I think I’m done for tonight. It’s getting kind of late.”
At this, he burst out in a short fit of laughter. And amidst his hilarity, he said, “It’s no wonder you can't build any muscles. You're too chicken.”
I lost it at this. I stood there and unleashed my verbal fury at him. I told him that if he spent less time building muscles and actually doing more for himself and the society, he would actually be more useful to himself and others. I knew I was done the moment those words came flying out. I was thinking of the easiest way to escape should he attack me, when a sound caught me up short. It was the sound of his laughter; it was mocking, jeering.
“Is that all you've got, sissy?” the obnoxious hunk said tauntingly.
I was burning with dislike now. And I didn't know whether to slap him or kiss him. Even though he’d become very annoying, he also looked very attractive still. I had to get out of there. I turned around, and began readying my things, determined to leave.
“You should wait awhile though,” he said, “unless you want to walk home.”
“What do you mean?” I snapped out the question.
“Well, when I got in, I sent Ahmed on an errand. I don't think he's back, and with your car on the driveway, who would open the gates for you?”
I slumped down on one of the training benches, and the bench rattled with my weight and frustrations.
Rufus chuckled again. “You might as well use your time well and achieve something. How do you live with yourself, paying all this money in this recession and achieving nothing, when my seven-year-old sister lifts better and bigger than you?”
I’d never disliked a human being like I disliked this man in that moment. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I decided to ignore him. I peered outside through the window, searching for any indication that Ahmed was back.
And then I heard a rasping sound. I turned to see Rufus tasking off his clothes.
He saw me watching him and flashed a grin. “I really cannot work out with these trousers on. Besides, my cock can’t be the only one you've seen.”
And with that, his chinos dropped to the floor. The room was gloomy because I’d dimmed the lights earlier after the instructor left, and so, I couldn’t see much more than Rufus’s silhouette. My heart was thumping now, as I found myself faced with two decisions. I could either maintain my dignity and refuse to be lured into whatever game this man seemed intent on playing, or I I could give in to my inner whore and let what will be be. Even as I was debating what my decision would be, I could feel my self control shredding. I fumbled for my phone, clicking on its torchlight and flashing it at Rufus.
He was naked as the day he was born. His thighs were demarcated in three folds separated by muscles, his dick was average sized even though the mushroom head was ridiculously large, and he was bench-pressing so I could make out the separation of his ass cheeks, a demarcation that led down to an asshole I sadly could not see. I was losing it, as I trembled and my dick pushed out into my joggers. I could also feel my precum starting to leak.
“Fag,” I heard him hiss at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
I swallowed hard and said nothing, partly because my brain wasn’t functioning enough to manufacture something to say, and partly because he’d just gotten up and was approaching me. He was holding his dick in his hand, a sight that had my stare trapped.
He stopped before me and rasped a command. “Suck it.”
I stared and said nothing. I wasn’t sure what to do, even though another hard swallow was communicating to me the hunger to put something – his dick – into my mouth.
“Suck it,” he commanded again, “and maybe I’ll let you fuck me.”
I’d previously seen the nice curve of his ass whenever he did his squats and the thought of owning it had me dropping to my knees. I took his hardening dick in my hand. I caressed it a bit, causing it to jerk and bob in my hand. Then I took it in my mouth. It tasted of sweat, and it tasted good. I was soon enjoying it as I sucked him more and more enthusiastically. Groaning harshly, he jammed the entire inch of his manhood down my throat. I paused, gagging and wanting to pull back. But he held my head in place and shoved his dick in again. I gagged but didn’t pull back. I was getting accustomed to his thrusts and kept on sucking him even as he fucked my mouth. We carried on for about ten minutes or so, when he began panting that he was close to coming.
“I can't come inside a mouth,” he rasped as he withdrew his dick from my mouth. “I need somewhere tighter.” Then he sat on one of the benches. I got up and told him to bend over; a deal was a deal. “Sure,” he said with a chuckle. “If you can flip me over, my ass would be all yours.”
“That wasn't part of the deal,” I retorted angrily.
“It is now,” he said with a smirk.
I knew it was impossible for me to overpower him, but I gave it my best shot, pushing and pulling at his tree trunk of a body. But he remained unmoved; it felt like I was trying to move a mountain.
When I heaved to a stop, he said, “Why don’t we try this – an arm wrestle. If you win, then you get to fuck my virgin hole. And I win, I'll fuck you.”
I glared at him, knowing this was something I’d never win, and yet intrigued enough to want to take him up on this challenge. However, the result of the arm wrestle was predictable. It didn’t matter that he gave me leave to use every machination I could think of to exert pressure on his hand; he slammed my arm down on the bench in less than a minute.
And then, with a laugh, he was flipped me around and yanking my joggers down.
“Wait, I don't have any lubricants or condoms,” I said.
“I do.” I could hear the smirk in his voice.
“I can't do this,” I protested feebly.
“Sure, you can. You've wanted to do this since the first day you laid eyes on me. You've been raping me with your eyes ever since you got here.”
And then I felt it, his fingers prodding my asshole. First the one, and then he was jamming two and then three fingers inside my asshole. I flinched and whimpered in pain. He leaned in to my side and pushed the whimper back in with a kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft for such a hard-bodied individual, and then the pain was gone to be replaced with an inexplicable pleasure. I didn't know whether to scream or cry with joy as his fingers prodded at pleasure points I never knew existed.
And then he stopped. He withdrew his fingers, pushed away from me and started back for where his clothes were. I stared stupidly at him, speechless until I saw him begin to dress up.
What the fuck!
“What are you doing?” I blurted out the question in anger.
“Going home,” he said.
“But…but, I thought –”
“You thought what?” He was mocking me. This cock-teasing muthafucker was toying with me.
“I thought we were about to fuck,” I said.
He laughed. “Dude, I’m not a fag,” he said. “I’ve got a girl at home, and her warm, wet pussy and succulent breasts are calling me home.”
I felt a potent mixture of fury and pain jam into my chest as I stood there, watching him.
Seriously, what the fuck!
“Well,” he continued, “unless maybe…”
“Unless what?” I asked desperately. I couldn’t believe myself; this guy I barely knew had managed to treat me shabbier than an abusive boyfriend in the space of about thirty minutes, and I was still thirsty for him.
“Unless you call me master,” he said with another flash of that irritating smirk.
“Go to hell!” I barked.
“Alright, see you tomorrow,” he said and made to leave.
“OK, I'm sorry,” I blurted, feeling desperation twist inside my gut.
“Sorry…” I swallowed hard before I added, “master.” God, I hated this guy!
“That sounds good,” he said with a chuckle. Then he gestured at me. “Come to master, baby.”
I moved to him and he took me in his arms and began to kiss me. We strained at each other, skin against skin, lips and tongues dueling for several minutes, and then he pulled away from the kiss and let his mouth travel my body. He licked my ear lobes, sucked at my nipples, and slobbered over my navel. I clung to him for dear life as his tongue and lips set every pleasurable sensation afire in me.
Then he lifted me easily in his arms and moved out of the room, outside into the grassy lawn where athletes did their running exercises.
“What, you psycho,” I breathed out as the chill of the evening slithered over my skin, underscoring my vulnerability with being here, outside, in the arms of a man. “What the fuck are you thinking? Someone could see…”
“That's the fun of it,” he said with a cackle.
“I knew I was dealing with a loony,” I protested, feebly trying to break out of his grasp.
But he swept my efforts aside as he positioned me on the grass and proceeded to pull down his trousers. Then he took my legs and rested them squarely on his shoulders, sheathed himself with a condom, and then, with a quick sweep, his dick was embedded inside my ass. I let out an instinctive howl of pain; his dick head was just too big.
“Please take it out,” I gasped in pain.
“Relax, you'll adjust to it,” he said.
He didn't move and after a while the painful sensation was gone, to be replaced with a little sourness and the beginnings of pleasure. And then, he began to move, his pacing at first controlled and slow. Then he gradually increased his speed, and then he was fast. His dick was hitting my ass muscles, and I was vibrating in an out of controlled ecstasy, totally mindless of the uncomfortable feel of grass and soil beneath me.
“Call me master,” he grunted.
“Master,” I gasped. I was beyond redemption at this point.
My gaze was fixed directly upon the tranquility of the moon shining down upon us. I reached up to his nipples and squeezed hard, causing him to give a tiny squeal of delight and to hit at my hole harder with his dick, so hard I could almost feel it pushing into my stomach. His muscles glistened in the night like a god’s and his perspiration mingled with mine as my bodies turned slick with sweat.
“I'm close…” he breathed.
“So am I,” I panted as I feverishly worked on my dick with my hand.
He intensified his speed, and then suddenly he gave a jolt that was a strong indication that he had peaked. His muscles were so tense and his face stamped with an expression I probably would never forget. And then he gave a small howl as his bucked and jerked against me, his dick pulsating inside me. The sensation of his spasming dick pushed me over the edge and I was ejaculating as well, my harsh groans intermingling with his.
A few moments after our shared orgasm, he pushed off from me and got to his feet. He slipped the loaded condom from his dick and dropped it carefully on the ground as he picked up his trousers and began to pull it on. I caught a rare glimpse of his bare buttocks. It was a thing of beauty.
He didn’t say another word to me as he got dressed. And then he picked up his things, including his condom, and walked away. I was sitting up on the lawn and didn’t bother to say anything to him either. Soon I could hear voices at the gate man’s quarters’ Ahmed must be back. And then I heard the groan of metal as Ahmed pulled the gates open. I also heard the purr of car engines and saw he sweep of headlights. And then I heard Rufus – the man whose name I still didn’t know – drive off.
And I stayed there awhile, looking up at the moon.
As someone who had always been a power player all his life, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d been soundly beaten at whatever game this hunk of a man had just played with me.
Written by Foxydevil