"Perving at the Gym"
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This is a `true tell' of events that took place over the last couple of weeks at the gym where I work out three or four times a week. I've masturbated again and again thinking about this and decided to write it down in hopes it arouses someone else, too. See, I'm hard again just from typing this preamble... I hope it gives you a boner, too!
(This is HOPFULLY part one of a story I very much want to have a follow-on, or part two... I'll explain at the end.)
I wandered into the gym a little after lunch one day and opened a daily-use locker that I thought would be empty, since there was no lock on the hasp. The first one I tried was full of somebody's street clothes- - obviously the tenant' was working out and either forgot to bring a lock or just didn't care; probably because there was no wallet or other valuables stored there. I just moved on, looking for an empty one... so far, nothing unusual,' I thought. `Keep looking.'
Next, I headed for some over in the corner of the room, furthest from the door, hoping to find more empty ones down there. I pulled open another one with no lock; there hung just a pair of gray Calvin Klein trunk'-style underwear made of thin nylon. It seemed unusual that this would be the only thing left in a locker, but I didn't think much of it and tried the one next door. Aha... at last an empty locker.' I stripped down and hung up my work clothes. Then, still naked, I opened my bag and pulled out a pair of spandex trunks, some nylon running shorts, a t-shirt and my running shoes to get ready for my usual beach walk.
As I pulled on the tight, black trunks, I marveled at how the spandex caressed my package, compressing not only my thighs and ass, but forming a delightful tightness around my cock and balls. I usually wear tightie-whities all the time anyway, but the spandex somehow provides an extra caress' of my genitals that always gets me a little hard right after I slip em on. I also think they accentuate my cock and balls, so I strut around a bit in just the trunks before pulling on the nylon shorts to cover up. Don't get me wrong, I'm not that well hung- - I sport about 7" and am pretty thick when hard, but soft, there's nothing particularly noteworthy. However, I think my balls are fuller' than average- - about plum-size- - and the combination of their heft' and the `spandex squeeze' makes me more aware and proud of my junk. There are a couple of obvious gay guys that I occasionally see and their eyes always drop to my crotch when I walk by.
Anyway, this time, no one was around, so I squeezed my package a couple extra times, enjoying the sensation; my penis surged a bit and I enjoyed the semi I was now sporting... I even secretly hoped someone WAS watching and might give a squeeze on their own package when I walked by on the way outside- - you know... THE SIGNAL! No such luck that day, however.
When I crossed over the dune and got down onto the sand, the smooth, flat beach at low tide provided a firm walking platform; the warm Florida sun soon got me all sweaty. I shed my t-shirt and rolled it up to use as a sweat rag to keep my eyes clear as I worked through my 5-mile `power walk.'
With each larger-than-usual step, my contracting thigh pushed my package back and forth as I moved down the beach. That subtle nudge with each stride was almost like a gentle `secret' masturbation that kept me semi-aroused as I walked. Now and again when no one was around, I either squeezed it again or reached down inside to pull my nut-sack up so that my whole package bulged out even more- - just in case someone wandered by or was watching me as we passed. Again, no such luck. The beach was pretty deserted and I was lost in my own thoughts for about an hour. This is probably a little bit weird- - sorry- - but I also look forward to peeing on the beach whenever I walk as well. The sensation of pulling down the shorts and trunks, hauling out my cock and balls and relieving myself in the sand always arouses me somewhat. I always give it an extra pull and shake or two just for good measure before putting everything away. (Secretly, I hope someone does see me and says something- - come on, guys!).
For some reason, as I walked, I kept coming back to the image of those gray Calvins hanging alone in that locker. Who'd leave just a pair of shorts in a locker,' I thought. Were they walking around commando right now? How long had they been there? How do you forget to put on your underwear after you shower? Maybe they wore them to work out in- - much like my black spandex trunks I was sweating up right now- - and forgot to take them home when they were packing up. Who knows.'
I finished my walk- - still sporting my semi-erection- - and headed back to the gym for some light weights before hitting the shower. There were two hot girls in the weight room when I entered. They were showing off in their tight little sports bras and skimpy nylon shorts, strutting around breathing hard with their hands on their hips. There were also half a dozen muscly guys also showing off in a similar manner for those girls; it was obvious each was harboring fantasies of fucking the other... you know, the usual' for a gym full of young, single people showing off their trim, toned bodies to potential sex partners. The gym staff keeps the weight room pretty chilly, and I noticed that everyone's nipples were erect. It was highly erotic to see those thick leathery nubs pushing out on the sports bras, enhancing the girls' overall fuckability' immeasurably. I found myself wondering if they pulled down the front of those bras, what would the tan lines look like around the white part of their tits... were their nipples pink or brown... and how big around were the aereolas? The guys' nipples were also pretty hard as well; all their tight little erasers stood out prominently. I wondered the same about the guys... if they pulled their shirts up over their heads to expose their pecs, were they tan or lily-white, hairy or smooth, brown- or pink-nippled. My own were probably really sticking out- - even more than everyone else's if that's possible- - since I came in all sweaty and wet from my walk on the beach. All I remember is they ached with the cold.
As I did some curls, presses and flys, I fantasized about how awesome it would be if there was a gym someplace where everyone had to work out naked. I boned up a little thinking about that while watching these young nubiles strut and grunt and ogle each other.
Whatever... I wiped down all the stuff I'd handled or laid on and headed for the locker room. I retrieved my bag and got out my soap and towel. After stripping down, I wrapped the towel around myself, grabbed my soap and turned toward the shower room. Almost as an afterthought, I remembered those gray shorts hanging in the next locker; I popped open the door. Sure enough, there they hung. I looked around to make sure no one was looking and I took them out. Dry and cool, so not sweated in- - at least not today. I wondered if I could determine an answer to my question about why they got left there if I inspected them a bit more. They'd obviously been worn- - the waistband was rumply and the pouch on the front was pooched out. Almost without thinking, I brought them to my nose and breathed deeply. The manly funk near the elastic band was intoxicating, but nothing compared to the musky ball smell down by the pouch and fly. I surprised even myself by sniffing again and again- - my cock twitching with each sniff!
I heard the doors open at the far corner of the room and quickly hung them back up and shut the door. I tried to conceal my boner as I moseyed toward the shower room, walking a circuitous route to avoid the new arrivals.
I scolded myself as I hung up my towel and stepped into a stall. Who does that? Who sniffs dirty underwear in the locker room?' I thought... and why did you find that so arousing? What a pervert! What if someone had seen you sniffing somebody else's funky shorts?' But as I soaped up I couldn't seem to get that crotch smell out of my head. My penis remained pretty hard- - especially when I soaped my cock and balls for the third or fourth time thinking about those shorts- - and whose balls had been in that pouch last. This was one of the few times I was glad my gym had renovated to single shower stalls with plastic curtains. Standing here all boned up would have been hard to conceal! Let me digress for a moment... I HATED it when they converted the open shower room to these individual stalls. One of my favorite pastimes was surreptitiously ogling the beautiful people' in the shower; I even saw on more than one occasion semi-erect penises being very carefully soaped' and cleaned' when guys were comparing or hitting on each other but trying to remain nonchalant about their obvious arousal. Oh how I missed the good ole days!'
In any event, I eventually got soft enough to get dried off, wrap the towel around myself and slink back to my locker. As I pulled on my tightie-whities, I looked around again... no one around. I popped open the door and there they were. My boner started to return, so I slammed the door shut and quickly finished dressing before anyone discovered my secret. I didn't even get another sniff.
To get on with my story, I finished out my work day, headed home and enjoyed an evening with my wife, watching some tube and hitting the rack around 11. Up early and back at it, I really didn't think about those shorts until it was time to go to the gym again. Almost like a haunting, the image of those shorts hanging in that locker- - and the smells they harbored- - had me chubbing up again as I drove to the gym.
I purposefully strode to the back corner, past obviously empty lockers and popped open the door with the shorts- - I'd memorized the number, don't you know!
There they were in all their glory. I couldn't tell if they'd been moved at all, but I desperately wanted to inhale their essence once more... but alas, two or three other dudes were close by in various stages of undress. Even when I took longer to strip down, get out my stuff and dress- - again in my spandex trunks, nylon shorts and t-shirt from the day before- - I was never alone enough to take another whiff.
Unable to linger any longer- - I did have to get back to work- - I headed out to the beach and again bate-walked' my 5 miles, longing for a chance to smell that funk again. I think I adjusted' myself about twice as often as I usually do, but again, to no audience whatsoever- - completely deserted beach. Two extra tugs after pissing that day.
I walked right past the weight room when I got back, though, anxious to get back to the locker room. ALONE! I couldn't believe my luck and went straight to THE LOCKER and popped open the door. I pulled out those shorts and deeply inhaled the pungent nut-scent again and again. The fumes' were somewhat less now- - it had been another day, after all- - but my penis again surged to semi-hard in an instant. A quick sniff of the waistband; I think I detected a faint Polo' or `Brut' cologne smell this time, but I wasn't sure (come on guys, some of you remember Brut, don't you?).
Just then two guys rounded the corner of the row I was in, chatting away about some baseball game or something- - how did I miss them earlier?!? I thought I had the whole room to myself. In any case, I didn't have time to put the shorts back, so I just dropped them to the bench and started undressing, my back to the new arrivals so they wouldn't see my hard-on. By the time I got down to my spandex, I was only semi-boned up, so- - still keeping my back to them- - I slipped them down, kicked them off and got my towel around me. I plopped the sweaty, wadded up trunks up onto the bench, grabbed my soap and turned to hit the showers. Almost as an after-thought, I grabbed the gray shorts and carried them with me to the showers.
After hanging up my towel and drawing the curtain, I once again took a hit of the funk and instantly throbbed to full erection. Breathing deeply and stroking my penis, I was in heaven!
I remembered one time in high school after football practice, some practical joker had come through the locker room and took stuff out of some of our lockers while we were out on the field. In my case, they thought it would be funny if they rubbed atomic balm'- - that heat gel crap- - inside my tighties. We suspected some of our teammates' that had been recently cut from the squad, but could never prove it. Anyway, they took my socks, too- - thank God they'd left my pants, shirt and shoes! I knew it would feel weird to wear my sweaty workout socks with my leather shoes, but at least I had some spares.' I did NOT want to put that sweaty old jockstrap back on after showering, so with our towels wrapped around ourselves, the few of us that had discovered missing- - or sabotaged- - stuff headed for the lost and found box in the coach's office. Being the first one there, I snagged a pair of gnarly looking red tighties from the bottom of the box- - the only pair of underwear I saw in the box. They'd obviously been put there months or years earlier, but I didn't care. I'd never gone commando' before and I thought wearing these one-size-too-small red shorts would be better than flopping around wearing nothing- - something I now enjoy now and again- - but I digress. Anyway, I remember the strange feeling that came over me as I pulled them up- - my balls were now being caressed by the exact same cloth that caressed some other guy's balls! My teammates teased me about my too-tight whore-red' panties, and I blushed as I realized my penis was thickening up thinking about the whole ball thing' right then.
Almost giddy thinking back to those red tighties, I slipped those gray Calvins up my thighs. They were about one size too small- - just like the little red ones. As I pulled them up all the way, my balls settled down right in the stretched-out pouch just made for a set of nuts; I reveled in the sensation that my balls were now again being cradled by the very fabric that cradled someone else's not long ago. My funk was mingling with his funk now, RIGHT DOWN THERE! The fabric was poking out uncomfortably and I had to stick my now-rock-hard 7-inch penis out the fly; I watched it throb as I caressed my body through the soft nylon everywhere. I felt my ass cheeks one at a time, exploring how the thin fabric felt when I pushed it deep in my butt-crack and rubbed it against my puckered asshole. I caressed my fat, contracting scrotum through the nylon and everything felt marvelous!
I had an urgent need to masturbate in these beauties, so I turned on the water, soaped up and rubbed soap into the fabric everywhere- - between my ass cheeks, down under my chod and all around my balls and thighs. With soapy hands, I reached down inside the shorts, too- - front and back- - and rubbed my body everywhere; even slipping a finger up into my ass a couple of times. Then back to caressing everything through the soapy cloth. Grabbing my cock now, I was losing control... I went two-handed, full-stroke grunting masturbator right there in the stall, clad only in some other guy's funky underwear!
Needless to say, I sprayed semen all over the shower walls and floor; some even got on the plastic curtain. Somehow I got the shorts off, used them to wipe semen off the curtain and my feet, then threw them down into the corner while I came back to earth and finished showering.
Now I had a dilemma... did I leave them there in a wet, sperm-soaked heap, wring them out and hang them back up in the locker to dry, throw them away, or take them home. You guessed it- - I took them home in the plastic bag I usually carried in case I got rained on while walking and my other stuff was wet.
I'll skip over all the sneaking around I had to do to get them into a load of wash unnoticed and back into my gym bag. Suffice it to say that the next week I brought them back freshly laundered and hung them back where I'd found them. But before I did, I took the liberty of slipping them on once more- - clean this time- - and took pictures of my burgeoning cock and balls sticking out of the fly. I was full-on rock hard; my nuts were fully contracted I was so excited. But I got four awesome pictures of my junk protruding from the fly of some other guy's shorts before I took `em back.
The next day, I re-hung them in the same locker and went about my routine. A day or two later, I checked... THEY WERE GONE! Had the gym staff cleaned out the unclaimed stuff from all the lockers? Had someone else decided they wanted to try them on? Had the original owner retrieved them? During my whole `bate-walk' on the beach that day, I pondered the possibilities and found myself back at my locker, checking to make sure they were indeed gone. They were. Damn.
I showered and dressed and- - almost on a whim- - had an epiphany! I pulled my own sweaty, funky-smelling walking spandex trunks from my gym bag, uncurled them and hung them RIGHT THERE in the same place where I'd found those gray Calvins a week earlier.
Now, I'll explain why I DESPERATELY want this story to have a part two!
The next day I went back to the gym and was giddy about checking on my trunks. I popped open the locker and there they were... however, they'd been turned inside out from the way I'd left them and they were now hanging on the opposite side of the locker! They were dry now but clearly still gnarly and unwashed; I pulled them out to have a closer look. I could smell my own ball funk on them as I pulled them out and sniffed, but I also detected another odor as well- - that same cologne I'd detected on the gray Calvins- - Polo? Brut? As I pulled them open to look closer, they crunched as I pulled the cloth apart and I was hit with yet another smell- - this time more pungent than my own sweaty ball odor. SPERM!! The unmistakable smell of dried semen! In my own sweaty shorts! Someone had cum in my shorts and hung them back up for me to discover!!! Please, God... Let there be a PART TWO! If you're the guy that decided to put your funky balls where mine had been right there in my trunks, and then got so turned on that you spermed in my shorts, PLEASE HANG SOME OF YOURS UP AGAIN... but make sure you leave some funk in `em first!
To be continued... I hope!