The Hot Guy at the Gym
Mindfucked, training on my knees, and distracted by a muscle jock.
At the gym, I believe it’s best to focus on myself rather than waste my attention on eye candy. Hot guys can be distracting and that can hurt my performance if I want to get the most out of my workout. It’s also not polite to stare and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. But sometimes that’s easier said than done. Here is a case in point.
Before even talking about this hot guy, I should note that I started the day a little worked up from listening to an X Space by Master Cashtwunk. I discovered him through the Dangerous FinDom, who was hosting a duo Space with him.
House Slave Fag
I was reluctant at first, because I knew sending would make the Dangerous FinDom unhappy. Master control_twink — whom I've been sending to lately — might not be happy either. I sent Master Cashtwunk $6 anyway. The whole topic of findom monogamy, findom flings, and findom sluts is worth exploring, but I’ll do that in chapter 4 of my new findom story: The FinDom I Chose.
House Slave Fag
For now, the topic at hand is how I handled myself around a hot man at the gym today. I offered this context just for you to know that I was horny. I had a hard time leaving Master Cashtwunk's X Space and going to the gym.
But now I was finally at the gym for an abs workout. I was doing cable crunches and a muscular guy in his 30s was using a cable on another cable machine a few steps away from me. He was wearing a light green-brown tank top with deep cuts on the sides, revealing his pits and just a bit of his obliques, but still covering his nipples.
I pushed through my challenging workout, but I couldn’t help ogling him. As I watched him strain so hard, I got more motivated in my own workout. He was doing a cable chest fly, pulling the cables from both sides forward, and the muscles on his shoulders seemed so perfectly sculpted. I understand that to get in such beautiful muscular shape, you have to keep training hard and when it gets easier, you just increase the weight. Just as I’ve been doing with my workout plans, slowly but surely, with discipline and consistency.
Finally he walked away to do another exercise somewhere out of my sight. But there were still hot muscular men around me. They weren't as hot as him, but they were a little distracting nonetheless. I was also texting with Master Cashtwunk, and feeling desperate to get fucked by him. Or at least let him fuck my brain, since there's an ocean between us, and perhaps a thousand dollars.
Then I got on the floor to do some planks on a mat. My Owner had just replied to a text message I'd sent him an hour earlier to ask for his permission to cum. You see, when I’m feeling vulnerable and sending, that’s when I know I had better release, unless I want to spiral deeper. I mean — sure I want to spiral, but I shouldn’t, right? My Owner granted me permission to cum, but also ordered me to prepare a video for him telling him what I missed about him. I said I’d do it later, as I was at the gym. And I added that I was on my knees. To do planks. He’d be happy about either of those — being on my knees or working out, as he’s the one who set the goal for me to get a flat stomach. I think he’s going to be very happy when we meet in a couple of months. I'm making great progress, having lost more than four inches off my waist so far.
Then I switched to a Russian Twist with a kettlebell. I was on the mat, on my sit bones, moving the kettlebell from side to side. Then came the hot guy again, asking me if I was using the cable machine. I wasn’t, so he started using it for an overhead triceps extension, facing me with his back to the machine as he pulled a short bar forward above his head, revealing his pits with every pull.
Before he arrived, I had deliberately positioned myself with my back to the other guys to avoid the distraction, but now I had to endure watching him as he flexed his arms repeatedly almost directly above me, as I was lying on a mat, just one step away.
I was wondering if he was gay and tried to discern if his gaze went to men or women. I got a look from him too, but I couldn’t really tell what interested him, as unlike me, he was better at concentrating on his own workout.
His large muscular pits were hairy but not unruly and they were all I could look at. Except for that small space between his shirt and his chest, which I kept watching in the hope it would reveal his nipple. He had a handsome face too, with a strong jawline. I was curious to know if that was something that developed as he became so toned, and if I could hope for more perfect facial features as my fitness improved. Not that I’m bad to look at. I get called handsome often enough. And I shouldn’t put anyone on a pedestal as perfect anyway, right?
More than I wanted to know if he was gay, I was interested in knowing if he might be Dominant, because I’ve come to learn that it's possible to worship men without sex. First there was that Master I served in London. He was gay but sex wasn't on the menu. Then there were the FinDoms I learned to send money to even though they’d never fuck me, even if meeting in person was a possibility for a high enough tribute. The other day, at the same gym, I also saw that very muscular handsome Master who was ready to use me just for chores but wouldn’t agree to send pictures to my Owner for me to get permission to meet him.
House Slave Fag
Somehow I managed not to stare at the bulge of the guy training above me. It wasn’t especially big but of course I would’ve preferred to spend more time studying it and forming a more certain opinion. I did get a look at his brown shorts, though. They seemed soft, probably made of cotton. I couldn’t help but think about touching them and wondering how they felt against his skin. I imagined them being comfortable and that he might even go freeballing on occasion to enjoy the smooth fabric against his cock and balls.
Finally, my exercise was done, including my post-workout stretches. I couldn't stretch forever, and eventually I had to leave if I didn’t want to seem weird. But don’t we all have this fantasy of eventually getting caught and finding out that the object of our gaze and salivation was ready to take advantage and use us however he wanted? He looked at me earlier and if our eyes had met once more, he would have clocked me. I could write a whole story on how that might play out.