The Workout Buddy
I needed a workout buddy really badly. Although the college gym where I work out was usually packed, I didnt know too many of the guys and those I did know had different routines from mine. But when I saw messages on the locker room notice board from guys seeking workout partners I decided to check it out.
I found the perfect partner, described in the note as: Wayne Caffrey, age 21, 5 foot ten, 175 pounds; works out 4 days a week in the late afternoons; split routine arms and shoulders / legs and abs on alternate days. He seemed perfect, so I called him immediately and arranged a trial workout the next day. Later, I reported to my girlfriend Alice the results of the workout:
It was great, were the same age, our routines are the same, we lift the same, hes a nice guy
What does this Wayne guy look like she responded. This question puzzled me. Why should she ask what he looked like? Then I thought of the times she would mention a new girlfriend of hers and I would respond by asking if she had large breasts. I was always partly joking, of course. I guess Alice was just trying to get back at me for being juvenile. Fair enough.
Nice build, thin waist, moderate tan is that enough? I said.
For now Alice responded.
A couple of weeks later Alice and I were lying in bed reading when she caught me staring at the ceiling.
Whats wrong?
Nothing (How do chicks know these things?)
Tell me whats wrong.
Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh.
I promise.
Its Wayne. Hes the perfect workout buddy. We lift the same. Our schedules match. Hes serious
Well then, whats wrong?
Its just that at the end of the workout we always end up in the shower room at the same time and
Go on.
Well, as you know Im a little on the small side in the dick department. I studied Alices face for signs of a smile; I would not continue if I thought she would find this amusing. Her face was impassive so I continued:
Well, Waynes got a real long one. I mean real long. And he always stands next to me in the shower room facing outward so all the guys can see him. I face the wall as much as possible. Today he says to me, get this, he says to me: Turn around, Gary. What are you, chicken? Thats what he said! Can you believe it? He said it with a little smirk on his face.
Alice then burst into laughter. I wanted to hit her. When she composed herself she said:
Come on, its no big deal. He was just having some fun with you, thats all. Tell me, is this guy cut? After I shook my head she continued:
How long is it, exactly?
I should have been angry with her. Instead, the image of Waynes long prick in the showers crowded out my thoughts. I said:
How the fuck should I know? We dont measure them in there. Guys shouldnt even admit they look. All I know is that his dick is long and it curls around his balls almost like an inverted question mark.
Wow!
For some inexplicable reason I began to describe Waynes cock in greater detail to my girlfriend: Its colored a light brown its very smooth, no bumps or bulging veins average thickness; his knob must be smaller than the shaft because I didnt see any telltale bump.
I eagerly awaited her reaction to this last piece of information because, although my dick only measures 5 and a quarter inches erect, I am moderately thick and possessed of a big knob. I expected praise for this from Alice but instead she said nothing. I thought it odd that she seemed so interested in Waynes cock when in the three months we had gone together she never once said I had a nice one myself. My previous girlfriend Monica practiced cock worship on me, praising it, saying she wished she was a guy so she could have a prick too and we could have swordfights with them, that sort of thing, crazy of course but ego boosting nevertheless. My last thoughts before falling asleep included the troubling recollection that not once did Alice initiate a blow job; I always had to suggest it. One time her excuse for not wanting to give head was that she had just brushed her teeth! And was it too much to ask her to swallow, just once? Monica, on the other hand, once licked my cum off my finger when I presented some to her, although she spit it out without really tasting it. My last thought before drifting off was the image of Waynes long brown uncut prick.
I hurried my sets in next days workout with Wayne, but since we were partners it didnt speed things up. Finally it was over and I said Lets hit the showers. After stripping down in the locker room I headed to the showers with my towel over my shoulders instead of modestly twisted around my waist as I usually did. And I faced outward from the wall in the shower room, the same as Wayne. He noticed my changed behavior and commented:
No more Mr. Candy Ass, I see. Of course, the rooms empty except for us
Look Wayne, you have no right to talk. What about when you want to wash under your foreskin, then you face the wall so no one can see your precious dickhead.
Wayne was taken aback at this remark but he forced a smile anyway. Of course, what I said applied to all uncut guys: for some reason they hated to make a show of cleaning their knobs. Their preferred position in the room was a shower head at the corner so they could face inward and thus foil sideward glances.
Wayne just gave me the finger and then proceeded to clean under his foreskin. I had only seen this procedure done once before by a guy in high school. The odd thing to me was that it was performed with the fingers of one hand only. And now Wayne did the same one hand motion. Amazing! I simply stared as his soapy cock was being manipulated. I was violating shower room etiquette by staring of course, but the room was empty and I sensed that Wayne didnt mind, that in fact the two of us had entered a higher level of intimacy and trust as we stood naked together. As Waynes reddish cone kept bobbing in and out of its brown sheath, partially smeared in white soap, I felt a stirring in my groin. I had to turn away and think of something else. I had planned on asking him, in a joking way of course, how long his prick was when erect. Perhaps some other time.
I needed a workout buddy really badly. Although the college gym where I work out was usually packed, I didnt know too many of the guys and those I did know had different routines from mine. But when I saw messages on the locker room notice board from guys seeking workout partners I decided to check it out.
I found the perfect partner, described in the note as: Wayne Caffrey, age 21, 5 foot ten, 175 pounds; works out 4 days a week in the late afternoons; split routine arms and shoulders / legs and abs on alternate days. He seemed perfect, so I called him immediately and arranged a trial workout the next day. Later, I reported to my girlfriend Alice the results of the workout:
It was great, were the same age, our routines are the same, we lift the same, hes a nice guy
What does this Wayne guy look like she responded. This question puzzled me. Why should she ask what he looked like? Then I thought of the times she would mention a new girlfriend of hers and I would respond by asking if she had large breasts. I was always partly joking, of course. I guess Alice was just trying to get back at me for being juvenile. Fair enough.
Nice build, thin waist, moderate tan is that enough? I said.
For now Alice responded.
A couple of weeks later Alice and I were lying in bed reading when she caught me staring at the ceiling.
Whats wrong?
Nothing (How do chicks know these things?)
Tell me whats wrong.
Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh.
I promise.
Its Wayne. Hes the perfect workout buddy. We lift the same. Our schedules match. Hes serious
Well then, whats wrong?
Its just that at the end of the workout we always end up in the shower room at the same time and
Go on.
Well, as you know Im a little on the small side in the dick department. I studied Alices face for signs of a smile; I would not continue if I thought she would find this amusing. Her face was impassive so I continued:
Well, Waynes got a real long one. I mean real long. And he always stands next to me in the shower room facing outward so all the guys can see him. I face the wall as much as possible. Today he says to me, get this, he says to me: Turn around, Gary. What are you, chicken? Thats what he said! Can you believe it? He said it with a little smirk on his face.
Alice then burst into laughter. I wanted to hit her. When she composed herself she said:
Come on, its no big deal. He was just having some fun with you, thats all. Tell me, is this guy cut? After I shook my head she continued:
How long is it, exactly?
I should have been angry with her. Instead, the image of Waynes long prick in the showers crowded out my thoughts. I said:
How the fuck should I know? We dont measure them in there. Guys shouldnt even admit they look. All I know is that his dick is long and it curls around his balls almost like an inverted question mark.
Wow!
For some inexplicable reason I began to describe Waynes cock in greater detail to my girlfriend: Its colored a light brown its very smooth, no bumps or bulging veins average thickness; his knob must be smaller than the shaft because I didnt see any telltale bump.
I eagerly awaited her reaction to this last piece of information because, although my dick only measures 5 and a quarter inches erect, I am moderately thick and possessed of a big knob. I expected praise for this from Alice but instead she said nothing. I thought it odd that she seemed so interested in Waynes cock when in the three months we had gone together she never once said I had a nice one myself. My previous girlfriend Monica practiced cock worship on me, praising it, saying she wished she was a guy so she could have a prick too and we could have swordfights with them, that sort of thing, crazy of course but ego boosting nevertheless. My last thoughts before falling asleep included the troubling recollection that not once did Alice initiate a blow job; I always had to suggest it. One time her excuse for not wanting to give head was that she had just brushed her teeth! And was it too much to ask her to swallow, just once? Monica, on the other hand, once licked my cum off my finger when I presented some to her, although she spit it out without really tasting it. My last thought before drifting off was the image of Waynes long brown uncut prick.
I hurried my sets in next days workout with Wayne, but since we were partners it didnt speed things up. Finally it was over and I said Lets hit the showers. After stripping down in the locker room I headed to the showers with my towel over my shoulders instead of modestly twisted around my waist as I usually did. And I faced outward from the wall in the shower room, the same as Wayne. He noticed my changed behavior and commented:
No more Mr. Candy Ass, I see. Of course, the rooms empty except for us
Look Wayne, you have no right to talk. What about when you want to wash under your foreskin, then you face the wall so no one can see your precious dickhead.
Wayne was taken aback at this remark but he forced a smile anyway. Of course, what I said applied to all uncut guys: for some reason they hated to make a show of cleaning their knobs. Their preferred position in the room was a shower head at the corner so they could face inward and thus foil sideward glances.
Wayne just gave me the finger and then proceeded to clean under his foreskin. I had only seen this procedure done once before by a guy in high school. The odd thing to me was that it was performed with the fingers of one hand only. And now Wayne did the same one hand motion. Amazing! I simply stared as his soapy cock was being manipulated. I was violating shower room etiquette by staring of course, but the room was empty and I sensed that Wayne didnt mind, that in fact the two of us had entered a higher level of intimacy and trust as we stood naked together. As Waynes reddish cone kept bobbing in and out of its brown sheath, partially smeared in white soap, I felt a stirring in my groin. I had to turn away and think of something else. I had planned on asking him, in a joking way of course, how long his prick was when erect. Perhaps some other time.
