Post Workout

He was seated on a wooden bench perpendicular to mine. I would catch him casting a searching look toward my direction, and my eyes would wander pointlessly around the room---to avoid his gaze, yet barely resisting the intoxicating air that the room was breathing out.

His hands started fondling a growing bulge underneath the towel around his waist. My head nodded, so automatically as if it was instinctive, in an invitation for him to come closer.

I wrapped my hands around his manhood. It was rock hard, far from what I have come accustomed to. He returned the favor and moved his fist up and down mine. His fingers later flickered around my nips, and then gestured me to have a taste of his cock.

I dove into his crotch like a famished man. What it lacked in length was compensated by the girth---in no time, my mouth felt so full, savoring the sturdy hardness that my tongue no longer gets to taste. In parallel, his hand traveled onto my hole, tempting and teasing, requesting for entry.

We moved in a shower cubicle. The man worship continued: I devoured as much meat my throat could handle; he wanted entry but having no rubber, I declined; and found ourselves shooting our loads in no time. Having satisfied a destructive fantasy,  I left him inside the cubicle to shower.

I unlocked my locker and pulled out my phone. As I replied to a message left by my boyfriend, everything around me seemed to dissolve into darkness.