Holy Decline Press, Batman!

I really hate the modern image of what constitutes attractiveness: if you're a woman, it means you don't eat and if you're a guy it means you eat small meals 6-8 times a day and workout for two hours 4-6 times a week. Unless you're one of those assholes gifted with good genes and have to do neither. Fuckers.

Unfortunately, I fall into the former category, in that I am NOT gifted with good genes, and I'm a guy. I'm stuck packing little meals, protein shakes, waging a constant battle to make sure that I am on schedule with both diet and fitness to stay in shape. While the payoff is nice, who doesn't enjoy being gawked at, the amount of time and effort it requires to have such a body is enormous.

There are, however, perks.

After getting over the daily "am I going to go, fuck I don't want to go... I just want to nap!" internal conversation about the days gym attendance, I went to the gym on base for my workout. I alternate between the base gym, a local gym off base, and a gym I belong to in Seattle, depending upon where I am and what I am doing that day. No, I will not describe or mention the particular gym; I enjoy my workouts inquisition free, thanks.

Anyway, gyms are a great place to cruise. As everyone there is narcissistic to some degree and either staring at themselves or people who are bigger in envy and determination to one day look like that, you can always make eye contact with a hot guy. Tonight, I thought, was a great night to lift some weights, eye some hot cock, then head home and rub one out.

I got to the gym, changed out of my uniform, and started out with some stretching and 10 minutes of light cardio to get the heart beating. As I ran on the treadmill I noticed this cute young guy staring at me. I glanced over at him and he quickly looked away, an almost-blush hinting on his cheeks. At about 19 or 20, he was a toned 5'9" and 160 pounds. With black hair and green eyes, he had a compelling look that had me telling myself to remember I was freeballing it. Getting a woody would be a bad idea. Staring at guys. On base. Yeah.

So I turned up the volume on my iPod shuffled clipped to my wrist and focused on whatever Sum 41 song was currently blasting my hearing away. I finished my cardio and headed over to do my chest sets.

I always start with the bench press on chest days, going on to free weights and ending with the press machine and cable cross. I alternate regular, incline and decline bench presses every chest day, allowing greater variety in my routine. Today, unfortunately, was the decline day. I really, really, hate the decline press. It always feels like I'm going to get a hernia or pop hemorrhoids from the exertion.

Regardless, it was decline day. I started with a light warmup set, about 155, got up from the bench, drank some water and without realizing it locked eyes with the boy. Again.

Fuck.

With the first twinge of my shorts snake, I whirled around, sat back down on the bench and closed my eyes thinking of Rosie O'Donnel naked and asking me to fuck her while she ate a tub of Ben and Jerry's. Eww.

With my cock going back to sleep, I got up, put on my working weight, and went to it. The sexual frustration I felt at that moment had me a bit wired to try more weight than typical, and I loaded on 315 for the first working set.

I started strong, knocked out 5, but as I started to put up the 6th rep I felt the difficulty and quickly wondered if I was going to need to call for a spot.

Apparently, my difficulty was more obvious than I knew, or else the boy was paying more attention than I had realized. Either way he was there spotting me before I could call out. He smiled down at me as he put his hands palm up under the bar, and the weight went up. Easily. I returned his smile, glanced towards the ceiling and got a quick glance up his shorts. Apparently, I wasn't the only one freeballing today.

Nice. Very nice.

In between the first and second set we introduced ourselves and I thanked him for his help. We quickly decided to workout together for the rest of the day and discussed what to hit next. We went through our chest exercises, doing exercises from each of our routines, and as we made our way back to the locker room discussed grabbing dinner.

We never made it to dinner.

As we both needed to "shower", an action I typically did at home to cut down on the amount of clothing changes I needed to carry around, we decided to head back to my place first before hitting a local restaurant. When we got there, I offered him the shower first as was fitting for a guest. Declining, he insisted that I go first.

I was in the shower for all of two minutes, washing my hair in the most porn-setting of circumstances as it were, when I heard the door open and felt his hands on my back.

The rest of the shower was spent primarily with my holding him up against the wall, legs wrapped around my waist as I made out with him.

I spent the next 2 hours exploring every inch of his body and milking two loads out of each of our cocks before he finally dropped the bombshell.

"Mike, this is fucking hot, but I need to get going... my wife is going to be expecting me soon, I'm already late."

Well, fuck.

I let him finally get dressed, his hole considerably looser now than when he woke up this morning, and walked him to the door. We didn't bother to exchange numbers; we knew we'd see each other around. With a wave from his rolled-down window, he headed home to a wife who couldn't give him what he really wanted.

Which is good, because I'd gotten what I'd wanted. I'm going to sleep very well tonight.

As I finished writing this quick note, I checked my various e-mail accounts for this weekend's hotel fun. I've gotten 5 replies from some of the notes I sent out thus far... 4 of the guys, in further pictures, looked very fuck worthy, while one looked not considerably less good. Amazing what changes when you get pictures larger than a postage stamp.

3 more days to go!

~Mike

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