What Happened in the Gym Showers That Night

Bruno went to the sports center whenever work allowed it. Some weeks he managed to go three times, other weeks barely twice during the week and once on Saturday. It depended on his mood and, above all, on how much free time he had left after long shifts. He liked to alternate: running on the outdoor track when the weather cooperated, swimming a while in the indoor pool, or staying with the weight machines until his arms trembled.

That Friday he arrived late, almost at closing time. The two main men’s locker rooms were packed with people leaving, so he had to make do with the one at the end of the corridor, the most tucked-away and quiet. He finished his routine with his shoulders heavy and his body begging for hot water. He had gone weeks without touching himself, trapped between work and exhaustion, and he could feel that built-up tension pressing inside him.

When he walked into the locker room he saw a couple of gym bags resting on a bench near his locker, but no one was in sight. He grabbed the shower gel and shampoo and walked barefoot toward the showers. It was a long corridor, with a dozen shower heads fixed to the wall and no partitions between them. He turned on one of the middle taps and let the water run down his back.

With the heat over him and the feeling of being alone, as he soaped his stomach he noticed himself hardening. He wasn’t fully erect, but hard enough to show. A noise at the far end startled him. He turned his head and saw an older man, broad-backed and bearded with gray, turning on the tap a few showers away.

Bruno turned toward the wall to hide his arousal, but it was too late. The man had seen him, had noticed how he had grown half mast. He kept soaping himself with his back turned, pretending not to have noticed. That was why he didn’t notice the stranger’s movement, as he shut off his tap and came up behind him without making a sound on the wet tiles.

An arm went around his neck, firm but not too tight. The man’s mouth brushed his ear.

—I see you like being in a shower with other men —he said quietly, while the other hand came down and grasped his balls.

The shock shrank his erection for a moment. But when he felt the man’s hard, hot cock pressed against the small of his back, his body responded on its own. It stood up straight, throbbing in the air.

—Do you like using this —the stranger asked, squeezing a little— or do you prefer having it in you?

He said it almost as if he already knew the answer, reading Bruno’s surrendered posture, the way he didn’t pull away.

—I’m only a bottom —he answered, his voice tight.

There were no more words. Ramón —that was his name, Bruno would learn later— shoved him against the wall with an open palm between his shoulder blades. He bit his earlobe and licked his neck slowly, from bottom to top. He took some gel from the bottle Bruno had left on the floor and smeared it on his cock, then ran slick fingers over the crack of the young man’s ass, working his way between the cheeks.

He placed the glans at the entrance and pushed. Slowly, but with a steady force that allowed no retreat. Bruno’s body yielded, the burn opening its way centimeter by centimeter until the head passed the ring and slid all the way in.

Ramón stopped. He waited a few seconds, letting the body adjust. Then, gripping him by the nape, he gave a sharp thrust and sank all the way in in one go. Bruno’s cry would have echoed through the whole corridor if the man had not covered his mouth with his free hand. He started fucking him without pause, holding him by the shoulders, the chest, the hips, with a measured brutality that kept building in rhythm.

—I know half your family and I had no idea you liked it this much —he growled in his ear.

Bruno couldn’t answer. The water kept falling over both bodies, mixing with the steam and with the moans that escaped him despite the hand over his mouth.

***

When Ramón was driving in harder, another man walked into the showers. He was tall, dark-skinned, with a gym-honed body, and he carried between his legs a cock that seemed impossible. He watched the scene for a moment and then smiled.

—Fuck, what a little ass you picked up —he told Ramón—. You’ve got to lend him to me.

Bruno listened to the conversation with a shiver of excitement running down his back. Ramón made him get on all fours on the tiles. He shoved into him from behind again while the newcomer, who introduced himself as Omar, came up front with his dick in his hand. It was so enormous he couldn’t even wrap both hands around it; there was too much meat or not enough fingers. He brought it to Bruno’s face and Bruno stuck out his tongue, licking what he could reach, running slow licks from the base to the tip.

When Ramón felt he was about to come, he pulled out and motioned for Omar to take his place. He moved behind him. The other man had left him nicely open, so Omar didn’t have to work too hard. His wasn’t especially long, but it was thicker than most. He pushed it in slowly, millimeter by millimeter, until only a few inches remained, and then he slammed it home in one stroke.

It didn’t hurt. On the contrary: the thickness brushed his prostate and pleasure shot through him to a point he had never felt before. Length bothered him, but girth drove him crazy. When Omar pulled almost all the way out and shoved back in, he hit that spot again, and that was enough for Bruno. He came in several spurts onto the tiles, shaking, while Ramón, jerking off in front of his face, began to empty himself and filled his cheeks with semen. Omar did the same shortly after, withdrawing to finish over his face.

Afterward the three of them showered as if nothing had happened, dried off, and dressed in silence. As they left, Ramón walked with Bruno to the sports center door.

—What are you doing this weekend? —he asked him—. I’m alone all weekend. If you feel like it, we can do this again. I can drive you right now if you want. You thrilled me, kid. I’ve known you all your life and I had no idea.

—Well, I liked it too —Bruno admitted—. I’m alone all weekend, so it’s fine by me. But first I have to go home for clothes.

—I don’t think you’re going to need clothes —said Ramón, opening the car door and throwing his bag onto the back seat.

***

Bruno did the same and got in. Ramón drove toward his place, but before they got there he suggested stopping by a cruising area he knew on the outskirts, and Bruno agreed without thinking. They parked far from the start of the path, as a precaution. Among the trees there was a truck parked. Ramón knew the driver: an active guy who usually showed up there in summer and on the occasional weekend.

—I want you to climb into his truck and let Andrés fuck you —he suggested.

Everything inside Bruno lit up. He knocked on the cab door and the man opened it. The inside was spacious, with a small bed in the back. Andrés helped him climb up and, below, Ramón was gesturing to the trucker, indicating that the boy was his if he wanted him.

Bruno sat in the passenger seat, but Andrés ordered him to move to the bed while he took his clothes off. When he was naked he went to the back, grabbed him by the arm, and made him lie face down. He climbed on top of him and picked up a tube of lube from a shelf. He generously coated his cock and slid cream-slick fingers over the young man’s hole, already loosened from before.

He spread his ass cheeks and, with almost his own weight, worked himself in until he had it buried to the hilt. He fucked him, pulling his hair, with a violent rhythm that made the cab’s bed frame creak, until he tensed and came inside, filling him.

Bruno climbed down from the truck with semen sliding down the inner sides of his thighs. Through the brush he made out Ramón fucking another boy, as young as him, almost a college student. He approached just as he was finishing. Ramón motioned for him to follow and they went deeper among the walls of an old half-ruined building.

Inside there were more people than he had expected. Several knew Ramón and came up to him, but he kept turning them down until he settled on one wearing gray sweatpants. He yanked them down and shoved into him right there. Bruno watched the scene, enraptured.

—Guys, this one never gets tired —Ramón announced, pointing at him.

A bulky man positioned himself behind Bruno, who was already naked, and made him lean forward. He braced himself against one of the stone walls. The guy, seeing how open he was, slid into him in a single thrust. In front of him, another huge man, blond and broad-shouldered like a Viking, presented his cock to Bruno’s mouth.

They didn’t let him suck in peace: they fucked his throat with hard, direct thrusts. Behind him, the first man was penetrating him with less and less restraint each time. The blond couldn’t hold back and, burying himself to the hilt, made him choke as he came; semen dribbled from the corners of Bruno’s lips. The man behind alternated between softer thrusts and brutal surges, playing with him, until he tensed completely and burst in a long, hoarse orgasm.

When everyone was done, Ramón and Bruno went to a nearby fountain and cleaned themselves as best they could, in the dark, before returning to the car. They dressed in silence, with their bodies exhausted and their skin still hot, and headed home.

It’s a completely imaginary and fantastical story, but I hope it excited you as much as it did its protagonists.