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Gavin clocked Angus almost as soon as it was too late, when the nice girl on the front desk of the gym was already processing his and Barry’s sign-up fees and handing them forms, crudely photocopied from old photocopies. To the right of the desk, Gavin heard the plastic gates hiss open and, turning, saw two men stride through to the changing rooms with casual, serious intent. Even from behind, they were unmistakable, like male models leaving a fashion shoot, one for a range of teenagers’ gym-wear, the other for mature men’s business suits.
“Just fill out some personal details, detailing your own personal bodies and fitness,” yawned the girl.
“Did you know Finlay and his father used this place?” Gavin hissed to Barry.
“What? Yeah, whatever, Dad,” said Barry, fumbling his glasses out of his pocket. “Of course they do. How do you think they ended up looking like He-Man and He-Man Junior? Five fruit and veg a day?”
“But this place, specifically?”
“It’s local. It’s subsidised. It’s good.”
“Aren’t you worried about running into them?”
“I see Finlay at college every day. It didn’t bother me when I was 13. Now that I’m 18, I can probably handle running into him another couple of evenings a week.” Barry was filling out the form quickly. “You’re not worried, are you?”
“It could be a bit weird if we’re getting undressed together.”
Barry looked up. “Oh, for goodness sake, if that’s going to worry you –”
“Not worry, exactly –”
“You’re going to be getting undressed in a whole room of other men,” said Barry. “And then working out in a room with them, and women too, in their skimpy leotards. Really hot, sweaty, fit women, not like Mum.”
“It’s just new,” said Gavin. “All this. I was never the sporty kid at school.”
“Well, snap!” said Barry. “That’s why I’m here! I want to feel different about myself before I head off to uni in autumn. I want to be able to hold my head up around other men!”
“I’m on board with that, soldier,” said Gavin gently, playfully punching his son’s arm. “I just thought, you know – you and Finlay have a bit of history, don’t you?”
“We used to be friends, if that’s what you mean,” said Barry, handing his completed form back to the girl and filling Gavin’s out for him. “People grow up, though. And I reckon I could still beat him at chess if he ever wanted a game.”
“Fat chance of that now that he’s ‘ze Terminator’,” laughed Gavin, scrabbling the form away from his son, who also burst out laughing.
“Bloody hell, your cultural references are medieval! Finlay’s more like – Zac Efron,” said Barry, putting his glasses away again.
Laughing and chatting, the pair of them went through the same hissing doors to the right of the gym desk, and on into the changing room.
As they entered the room, it all came back to Gavin in a rush – the school changing rooms, the sense of being exposed and judged, and that breathless, sweaty atmosphere. It was calm and quiet, and there were one or two men in here, half-naked, nothing like the schoolboys of Gavin’s sixth form in Croydon. But yes, there were Angus and Finlay, already nearly changed into their sportswear. Angus, in a skin-tight sky-blue top that showed every ridge of his abdominals, was just standing there in his crisp white boxers, his gym-shorts in one hand.
Gavin didn’t know why he checked out Angus’s packet. It was an instinctive thing. Almost like he was compelled to. Perhaps because he knew that the stronger, older man would also be the more well-endowed. He needed to take a look, check that it was true, and by how much.
Angus’s long, thick, flaccid cock printed a clear outline of itself in the crisp white material. It looked almost as if he was hard, that’s how big it was. Gavin looked away, but couldn’t resist looking back. Openly staring.
With a jolt, he realised that the stare had been noticed, by young Finlay. The eighteen year-old almost had a smile on his face. Gavin blushed, caught in the act, although, in the act of what, he didn’t know.
Barry had already shed his checked, plaid shirt, revealing pale, scrawny teenage flesh. Gavin decided to follow suit, as nonchalantly as possible. At least, he told himself, there was no chance of Dom coming in here. Dom was another gymgoer, as every man under fifty seemed to be these days, but he would probably be going to some fancy establishment in Chelsea in his lunch hour, before selling some desirable properties in Kensington, then driving back to his luxury apartment in Clapham and fucking Gavin’s wife, Deborah.
Fucking her so good that she had stopped loving, indeed respecting, her husband, Gavin. Fucking her so that she fucking feels something for once, as she had told Gavin to his face.
Wouldn’t it be funny, thought Gavin, if he committed to the gym – if he enjoyed working out here and building himself up. Wouldn’t it be funny if Deborah came home one day and found her husband in bed with a body like Angus’s, broad-shouldered, thick-chested, big-biceped, shagging a nice girl like the one working at the gym counter?
If only he had a cock the size of Angus’, though. Fuck, that would show her.
He found he was getting a hardon in his new white gym shorts. He sat down and covered his lap with his hands.
“Alright, fellas,” Angus called over his shoulder, in his rich Scots baritone, walking past them to the door. “Have a good one.”
His son gave Gavin a knowing smile, and squeezed Barry’s shoulder in a way that could have been supportive, but felt slightly bullying, especially the way Barry just let him do it and waited to be released. “Good to see you here,” said Finlay, adding, "I like a laugh," before almost pushing Barry away, before following his father out of the room. Gavin was sure he heard him add, "Little bitch," in a low laugh as he walked out.
"What was all that about?" he said, looking at his son. He couldn’t quite believe this young man was the same age as the confident, athletic teenager that had just stalked out of the room.
“Come on, Dad,” said Barry. “We’ll be late for our induction.”
And with no further words, they headed out onto the gym floor.
[To be continued...]
“Just fill out some personal details, detailing your own personal bodies and fitness,” yawned the girl.
“Did you know Finlay and his father used this place?” Gavin hissed to Barry.
“What? Yeah, whatever, Dad,” said Barry, fumbling his glasses out of his pocket. “Of course they do. How do you think they ended up looking like He-Man and He-Man Junior? Five fruit and veg a day?”
“But this place, specifically?”
“It’s local. It’s subsidised. It’s good.”
“Aren’t you worried about running into them?”
“I see Finlay at college every day. It didn’t bother me when I was 13. Now that I’m 18, I can probably handle running into him another couple of evenings a week.” Barry was filling out the form quickly. “You’re not worried, are you?”
“It could be a bit weird if we’re getting undressed together.”
Barry looked up. “Oh, for goodness sake, if that’s going to worry you –”
“Not worry, exactly –”
“You’re going to be getting undressed in a whole room of other men,” said Barry. “And then working out in a room with them, and women too, in their skimpy leotards. Really hot, sweaty, fit women, not like Mum.”
“It’s just new,” said Gavin. “All this. I was never the sporty kid at school.”
“Well, snap!” said Barry. “That’s why I’m here! I want to feel different about myself before I head off to uni in autumn. I want to be able to hold my head up around other men!”
“I’m on board with that, soldier,” said Gavin gently, playfully punching his son’s arm. “I just thought, you know – you and Finlay have a bit of history, don’t you?”
“We used to be friends, if that’s what you mean,” said Barry, handing his completed form back to the girl and filling Gavin’s out for him. “People grow up, though. And I reckon I could still beat him at chess if he ever wanted a game.”
“Fat chance of that now that he’s ‘ze Terminator’,” laughed Gavin, scrabbling the form away from his son, who also burst out laughing.
“Bloody hell, your cultural references are medieval! Finlay’s more like – Zac Efron,” said Barry, putting his glasses away again.
Laughing and chatting, the pair of them went through the same hissing doors to the right of the gym desk, and on into the changing room.
As they entered the room, it all came back to Gavin in a rush – the school changing rooms, the sense of being exposed and judged, and that breathless, sweaty atmosphere. It was calm and quiet, and there were one or two men in here, half-naked, nothing like the schoolboys of Gavin’s sixth form in Croydon. But yes, there were Angus and Finlay, already nearly changed into their sportswear. Angus, in a skin-tight sky-blue top that showed every ridge of his abdominals, was just standing there in his crisp white boxers, his gym-shorts in one hand.
Gavin didn’t know why he checked out Angus’s packet. It was an instinctive thing. Almost like he was compelled to. Perhaps because he knew that the stronger, older man would also be the more well-endowed. He needed to take a look, check that it was true, and by how much.
Angus’s long, thick, flaccid cock printed a clear outline of itself in the crisp white material. It looked almost as if he was hard, that’s how big it was. Gavin looked away, but couldn’t resist looking back. Openly staring.
With a jolt, he realised that the stare had been noticed, by young Finlay. The eighteen year-old almost had a smile on his face. Gavin blushed, caught in the act, although, in the act of what, he didn’t know.
Barry had already shed his checked, plaid shirt, revealing pale, scrawny teenage flesh. Gavin decided to follow suit, as nonchalantly as possible. At least, he told himself, there was no chance of Dom coming in here. Dom was another gymgoer, as every man under fifty seemed to be these days, but he would probably be going to some fancy establishment in Chelsea in his lunch hour, before selling some desirable properties in Kensington, then driving back to his luxury apartment in Clapham and fucking Gavin’s wife, Deborah.
Fucking her so good that she had stopped loving, indeed respecting, her husband, Gavin. Fucking her so that she fucking feels something for once, as she had told Gavin to his face.
Wouldn’t it be funny, thought Gavin, if he committed to the gym – if he enjoyed working out here and building himself up. Wouldn’t it be funny if Deborah came home one day and found her husband in bed with a body like Angus’s, broad-shouldered, thick-chested, big-biceped, shagging a nice girl like the one working at the gym counter?
If only he had a cock the size of Angus’, though. Fuck, that would show her.
He found he was getting a hardon in his new white gym shorts. He sat down and covered his lap with his hands.
“Alright, fellas,” Angus called over his shoulder, in his rich Scots baritone, walking past them to the door. “Have a good one.”
His son gave Gavin a knowing smile, and squeezed Barry’s shoulder in a way that could have been supportive, but felt slightly bullying, especially the way Barry just let him do it and waited to be released. “Good to see you here,” said Finlay, adding, "I like a laugh," before almost pushing Barry away, before following his father out of the room. Gavin was sure he heard him add, "Little bitch," in a low laugh as he walked out.
"What was all that about?" he said, looking at his son. He couldn’t quite believe this young man was the same age as the confident, athletic teenager that had just stalked out of the room.
“Come on, Dad,” said Barry. “We’ll be late for our induction.”
And with no further words, they headed out onto the gym floor.
[To be continued...]