So it was in that late afternoon slot of the weekend, when the pool was busier than it had been earlier but the lanes were not so crowded that a decent swim was impossible. I didn't do a lot as I was actually intending to head to the steam room: I wasn't counting on any action, but I knew there would be some decent glistening bodies to admire, and I needed some visual stimulation. I hopped out and went for a piss, almost colliding with smaller Spanish bear as I went round the corner. We did the jig and smiled at the daftness of that. I thought I noticed a little twinkle.
A minute later we were both in the showers. It's an old fashioned pool with a large, open-plan male changing room, including an open gang shower at the far end. It's more shabby than your average corporate gym, but that just makes it feel the more authentic - like those you find in sports clubs, or from back in the day. He was a good looking guy if not entirely my type, in that he was shorter than me. Everything else, mind you, looked great. Solid and muscular but with that masculine flab that most gym blokes are hell-bent on turning into lean muscle – which looks good but is less fun to grapple with. Pale golden skin liberally matted by dark hair. Hefty thighs and glutes – and a healthy looking speedoed package. We didn't look at each other, directly, but I was fully aware when he pulled down his trunks and began to soap his cock. I looked – I always do (who doesn't?), and soon looked again. He wasn't massive: maybe 4" soft, but it was a lovely looking cock: dark, smooth, plump, with neat but not overly pruned bush and a nice little foreskin hang. A good looker. He stayed flaccid for the entire time he was soaping it, which is what he did for most of the time he was in the shower! By this time I was naked and soaping and looking –and he looked back. Not lasciviously, just with interest. We were both aware of the other showering. I love that sense. Towards the end our eyes meant, and I saw that twinkle again...
Heading back to the lockers, him 30 seconds before me, he ducked into a changing cubicle. He pulled the door to, but didn't lock it, I noticed. I wasn't sure - but what the heck.... So as I went to pass I slipped on in. There he was, behind the door, speedos on the ledge, cock in hand. Now he was hard: probably about 6.5" of solid girthed dick, on top of a healthy set of bull nuts, which on his 5'6" looked huge! I locked the door, took hold of it and squeezed. That's a great feeling, right, when you first hold another man's dick. I had to taste it, and it was delicious: incredibly clean but still with the essence of man about it. It obviously worked: his hips buckled within seconds! But it wasn't what he wanted. He pulled me up, kissed me briefly, and then went down to work on my own, less substantial (but good looking!) cock. And man, was he good. As many uncut men, he knew what to do with an uncut cock – and certainly my uncut cock! I probably only lasted about two minutes before I looked down and gave him the signal: you want this? And he did. He seemed to employ a technique whereby he swallowed my dick and lapped at my balls simultaneously without increasing the pressure, which somehow made the orgasm last for about a minute! Superb. He'd shot himself onto the floor, a pool of thick opaque cum, which he scooped up with his speedos. We both grinned broadly and I patted his meaty, furry arse, before slipping back out and rejoining the rest of the fellas in the changing room. One bloke, who had also been in the shower and now was practically dressed clocked it, I think. I couldn't quite work out his expression. Wonder what he did with that thought later, though....