Sam pressed the heavy weights above his head, pausing before letting them fall. His workout was interrupted, as he was briefly distracted by the boy walking past him. It was the same kid for the third time this week, Sam noted, as he checked him out, while trying to carry on with his weight lifting. Just as the boy neared him, Sam averted his gaze, focusing on the ceiling. In that instant, the boy turned his head and glanced at Sam. The man hoped that he hadn't been caught staring; he certainly didn't need that kind of reputation, but he figured the risk was low. Pat was the kid's name, he knew, as he'd heard the boy introduce himself to a gym employee. The trainer was giving him some suggestions, in the hope that he'd get the boy to sign up for a few sessions. Sam had seen Pat around the gym for the past couple of months, but his own schedule had kept him from the mid-morning time slot until recently.
Sam was a straight-acting computer professional with his own business. At age 42, he had to work hard to keep his muscular body from fading. Recently, belly fat was his challenge - that and higher than ideal cholesterol. His consulting business kept him working variable hours, in order to meet his client's demands. His preferred time at the gym was mid-morning, after all the early morning office workers were gone. He'd get up early, check his email before heading out to the gym around 9:30; put in a forty five minute workout; and then be back at it for as late as it took to get the job done.
From the weight machine Sam had selected, he had a clear view of the kid, regardless of which exercise machine the boy selected. The young lifter was obviously trying to put some muscle on his skinny frame. Sam estimated the boy to be around 5 foot 8 or 9, 3 or 4 inches shorter than himself. Pat's slight build accentuated his slim body and long neck. Having seen Pat shirtless in the change room, he thought of the kid as a stretched 14-year-old, but he knew that couldn't be true, as the minimum age in the gym was 16, but the next question in his mind was what would a high school kid be doing in a private gym during school hours? Sam considered that he could be a drop-out, or perhaps Pat was 18. He watched the boy lifting, listening to his soft grunts, as sweat formed on his body. Sam imagined him in some porn film, one of the one's he downloaded from the various `barely legal' sites that he perused frequently. Sam did have sexual partners, but those relationships were short lived, as both parties often had separate agendas. For the time being, Sam's sexual adventures were confined to the 18-21 year-olds on his computer screen.
He watched the boys angular face grimace, as he pushed the weights up for 2 or 3 reps, before grunting to a halt. Sam focused on Pat's nose, seemingly too small for his face, making his brown eyes appear large. He couldn't quite categorize the boy's hair colour. It was brown - that much was clear, but it was so fair that it might be considered border-line blond, but that was when the kid arrived properly groomed. Once the weight-lifting started, it turned into a sweaty, brown mop. Pat's hair was too long for Sam's liking; it was dominated by a large fringe that stopped just at his eyes. It was likely fine when the boy went through his morning routine, but once the day began at the gym, it was rather messy. Sam considered Pat quite cute; not prefect, but he would make an excellent bottom boy in any of the videos that he'd seen.
Pat sat up, looking directly at Sam. The boy seemed exhausted, after trying to lift over-heavy weights; his skinny arms were just not up to the task. Sam, however, was concerned that he'd been caught staring again.
"You ok?" he asked, in an attempt to excuse his staring.
Pat just nodded, as he sat straddling the bench, with his back hunched over. Sam went back to his own workout, noticing that Pat was now the one doing the staring. It wasn't unusual for guys to watch his large biceps as he lifted; he'd often get compliments from straight men, so he rarely gave it a second thought, but, somehow, this kid watching him seemed different.
"Do you know how to lower the weight on this thing?" Pat blurted out.
Sam was instantly irritated with the question. There were staff here for that kind of request, and the boy didn't bother to address him with `excuse me, sir', or something that Sam considered appropriately polite. He thought about just ignoring Pat, but figured that would be impolite on his part, and perhaps counter-productive. When Sam was a teenager, he would never have considered talking to someone 20 years his senior, without being polite, but this was a different generation, he lamented. He got up and walked over to the lifting machine the boy was on, and changed the setting to one much lower.
"Dude, you got pipes!" Pat gushed, as he stared at the 200 pound man.
"Dude ... lower weight, more reps, and maybe, someday, you'll have pipes," Sam dismissed, as he pointed to the machine. He also took the opportunity to examine the kid's face, now that he was so close. Pat had a sprinkle of freckles along his nose and on his cheeks - they weren't obvious from a distance, and were somewhat obscured by Pat's flushed complexion. He imagined himself thrusting his cock out of his shorts and onto that face, but his fantasy was cut-off when his watch announced that his time at the gym was over.
As Sam walked away, Pat called out,
"Are you going now?"
Sam just waved, without turning around. After all, he was interested in the kid's body, not conversation. If Pat got too clingy, it might cause people to start asking how they were related, or thinking something worse - the truth.
It was next week before Sam bumped into the boy again. He'd made an effort to arrive mid-morning, in an attempt to catch the young lifter in action, but it seemed both their schedules had made that difficult. Sam had been there the previous Friday, but Pat didn't show. Yesterday was a heavy work load for Sam, so the gym was out of the question; but today, he practically cut a client off, just to make the gym on time. Sam felt it was justified, as the client hadn't given him any business in a while.
Sam's excitement level jumped, as he saw Pat, in his usual spot, lifting weights. When he approached, he heard the boy's soft grunts, as he pushed the weights up; at least, this time, the kid was getting more reps with an assumed lower weight load.
"Hey, how's it going?" Sam asked, as he passed the teen, taking up his own preferred spot in the gym. He hadn't thought about what to say to the kid, and, in fact, just blurted out the greeting, as he found himself unusually excited to see the kid. Sam had ogled other young men in the gym before, but Pat seemed to captivate him with his young features and enthusiasm.
"Hi," Pat chirped, as he stopped his workout immediately. "I wondered where you were," he continued.
"My schedule is crazy," Sam offered. "I was last here on Friday," he advised.
"I see my mom on Friday's, but I'm here pretty much every other day, except for the weekends," Pat replied.
Sam wondered about Pat's comment about seeing his mother. The inference was that he didn't live with his mother, and most likely stayed with his father. Sam felt the need to `man up' the situation, as Pat's father might well be a member here himself; it certainly seemed likely, given the kid's apparent age. He could imagine a man dropping his scrawny son off at the gym to get him bulked up.
"I'm Sam Thomas," he greeted, offering his out-stretched hand. When Pat took it, he squeezed hard, in a manly grip.
"I'm Pat," the boy squeaked, as his fingers were crushed. Sam instantly regretted over-compensating the grip.
"Your dad a member here?" Sam asked. He felt it best to know if he should be prepared for a possible encounter with a suspicious father.
"I don't have a Dad," Pat replied casually.
Sam was happy to hear it, yet confused about the kid's situation. He didn't have a dad, and visited his mother on Fridays, so just who did he live with?
"I thought you had to be 18 to be a member?" Sam pressed. It was a personal question that he hoped wasn't too cryptic, but he had to know. It was critical to determine the kid's age before deciding whether there was any point in getting to know him. Sam knew that there was little chance that Pat was gay, or that he'd be into an older guy, but perhaps he could have a young lifter as a protégé. It somehow seemed more desirable to be near a kid he'd never be able to take to bed, than to just continue to watch barely legal boy porn whenever he got horny.
"Yeah ... I'm 19. I know I look young; I get it all the time," Pat lamented sheepishly, as he hung his head.
Sam was instantly sorry for pushing the issue; he'd made his potential young friend feel embarrassed about his age.
"Well, when you're my age you'll be happy to look younger," Sam offered, as weak consolation.
Sam took up his workout without further comment, as Pat seemed to disengage from the conversation. Sam figured the kid was either embarrassed or suspicious of the personal dialogue. He decided that he'd just let it lie, and wait for the kid to talk to him the next time.
Pat's workout seemed to be over, as the kid was just stretching out, but he appeared to be taking his time doing it. Sam's watch alarm went off, signalling the end of his exercise; it seemed far too quick to the man, but he confirmed the time, as he brought his watch up to his face. He got up and headed toward the showers, with Pat quickly following. Pat began to prattle on about video games, as they both entered the communal shower. As they washed, Sam tried to steal a glance at the kid's body, finding it relatively easy. Most men faced the wall when they showered, but this kid was facing out and, in fact, faced Sam for the most part, as he carried on a one-sided conversation.
Sam checked out the boy's equipment, finding him about average for his body size, but certainly small for his age. Pat's skinny frame would be perfect for the role of bottom boy to his daddy in the film that Sam was making in his head. He had to be careful, lest he become erect in the shower. There was just the two of them in there right now, but someone could come in at any moment. It was also likely that Pat would be the type of kid to make an out-loud comment, should he see such an erection, and it was just as likely to be a negative one.
Sam left Pat in the shower, and went to his locker, but Pat trotted out quickly and got his stuff out of his own locker, then walked over and set his clothes on the bench near Sam. Pat seemed to be getting a little too clingy already, Sam noticed, as he had hoped for a discrete casual friendship.
"What do you play?" Pat quizzed.
Sam hadn't been listening, and had just noticed the pause in the conversation.
"Play?" Sam quizzed.
"Do you have an Xbox or a PlayStation?" Pat pressed.
"No, I'm not a video game kinda guy," Sam cautioned.
"Oh," Pat replied, in a soft disappointed tone.
"I just got on Facebook this year," Sam noted, in hopes of getting a giggle from the boy.
"Do you have Myspace?" Pat wondered.
"No ... Listen, I have to make a phone call, if you'll excuse me," Sam said, in his formal business tone, as he took his cell phone out and exited into the hallway. But he just dialled his voice mail and listened to the messages; it seemed the easiest way to end the conversation.
Sam caught movement out of the corner of his eye, as Pat emerged from the change room, his hair seeming to shine, as it whisked around his head. It was almost as if in slow motion that Pat strode by, turned his head, and beamed a big smile at Sam, before pushing the exterior door open. Sam was caught by a sudden urge to run after the boy and find a way to prolong his time with Pat, despite having just consciously ended it. He quickly found himself rushing out into the spring day, to find that his boy was nowhere to be found. He sighed in disappointment that he'd delayed a moment too long, but then considered it all for the best; after all, he wasn't really going to have anything more than a fleeting acquaintance with Pat.
That evening when Sam got home, he found a `new friend' request in his Facebook inbox. Pat had wasted no time in sending it. Sam wondered how the kid knew his full name, as he struggled to remember if he introduced himself using it, as he would in his business dealings. He must have, Sam decided; it was the only way the kid could have found him. Sam accepted the request, and quickly reviewed Pat's profile. He looked at a couple of the kid's photos; one that struck him was a moody picture, with Pat looking up at the camera. It seemed to transmit a feeling of loneliness, as Pat's image stared at him.
Sam didn't need to download any material to sexually arouse himself. Instead, his memory of Pat's naked body in close proximity was all that he needed. He imagined the boy noticing his arousal, and kneeling down in the shower and asking if he could help out. Then, as he imagined the boy taking his cock deep, he exploded in a strong ejaculation. Sam realized that Pat was now just more than a boy he'd seen in passing; he had to admit to himself that he was fully infatuated. He knew himself and he knew that could be dangerous; it might be wiser to avoid the kid, but he didn't want that; he wanted Pat to want him. The question was . . . would he take the chance and get to know the kid better, with the hope that Pat might be willing to taking things to the next level?
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