Sunday, May 11, 2008

Sunday MopUp 05/11/08

YAY! It's Sunday! The coffee is kicking in, the laundry is washing away, my iPod is syncing up, and I feel a productive poop looming in my future! Welcome to my Sunday MopUp. Be sure and ask your server about the Hard Nipple Discount. No coupon required!

Gym-y City

When last I left off, I had taken a swan dive off the ass end of a treadmill at the YMCA and twisted my back, an ankle, banged up my shin in about three places, and probably screamed like a little girl as I thought I was falling to my death (can't really be sure about that last part - just a hunch).

Well, the next day I was back up on that horse and was determined to conquer any further fear of the thing. My lesson from the fall was to not allow anything to distract me from focusing on what I was doing: left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot... always being aware of where they are falling upon the tread, making sure I don't slow down and creep to the back of the machine. If the iPod offers a tune that is not to my liking at that particular moment: tough tits, mister! I vowed to never attempt to DJ and exercise at the same time. Cuz, let's face it, walking and chewing gum is a trick I never really mastered.

I did fine the next day. And the next.

[deep sigh of relief]

So, Friday night I head to the gym right after work. If there is a "slow" night at the Y, it's on Friday night. I guess everyone goes out and parties that night, drinking up all those calories that they spend the entire previous week burning up. To each his/her own. Point is, I nearly had the place to myself.

When I went into the locker room it was empty, but I heard a shower running in the communal shower room, just off the locker room. The shower area is separated from the locker area by a big, tiled area (for drying off), and a glass door. The intention is for you to shower and dry off in these areas, so that the locker area (carpeted) remains mostly dry. Through this glass door you can see into the shower area from the locker area and vice-versa, however the door in between tends to fog up pretty well from all the hot water being used to scrub those sweaty bodies down. As I passed by this glass door, I glanced into the showers. All I could see was a hairy, beefy butt through the foggy door, as someone was standing under a shower head and was largely out of view.

Nice ass! I said to myself. And this informed my decision as to where to choose my locker for that day. I picked a locker that afforded me the opportunity to stand and dress in front of it and still be in the line of sight of the shower door.

Now look, I want it understood that I do NOT go to the gym to hook-up. In fact, I chose to get a membership at the YMCA because it is so UNcruisable. The gym of today is the gay bar of the 80s. It is where the hot, gay guys go to meet and hook up. I have had many conversations with homos who tell stories of hot man-sex in the steam room and the shower and the locker room and the handball court and the swimming pool of nearly all the franchised gyms in this town. Those fitness clubs that are open 24 hours? Wanna guess what is going on in there in the middle of the night?

Me, I'd rather work out with the blue-haired women and the Mexican families and keep my mind on what I am there for: the Work Out. Who needs the rejection and the judgement from a bunch of perfectly sculpted bodies with elitist attitudes? No thanks.

That being said, however, let's face it: I'm a gay man and one of the motivating factors in getting my fat ass to the gym is the opportunity to lay eyes upon naked men. I admit it, okay? Trust me here, I don't stare or even make much eye contact, I'm not overly friendly. I am careful not to be inappropriate in ANY way, but in any and all events, I am completely aware that I am surrounded by naked flesh, and I LIKE it. If you think I've never had the fantasy of a hot locker room sex scene, you are friggin' nuts. But it's just a fantasy.

So, positioning myself in the locker area so that I can get a fleeting glimpse, here and there, of a hairy butt getting soaped up is about as cruisey as I would ever get at the YMCA. Never a look long enough to arouse me (God forbid!), but certainly a little visual reminder of why going to the gym aint that bad an idea can't be a horrible thing. Right?

Well, I find a good place to set up shop and begin undressing. As I am taking off my street shoes, I glance in the direction of the shower again. This time, the hairy buns have changed into a full man. The guy had stepped into the center of the shower area and was facing out. The Full Monty.

I immediately averted my eyes, but in that nano-second my Gay Terminator brain could determine the following:

*Young guy, mid-to-late twenties

*5'7" to 5'8"

*Tiniest paunch of a belly. Weight guesstimate: 170 pounds.

*Full head of jet black hair, longish by today's standards. Thick eyebrows, bordering on uni-brow. Coarse chest hair on his pecs, hair around his navel. Treasure trail leading to his crotch. Cock that looked like the faucet of my bathtub. Nice!

* Thick, tree trunk legs, covered in dark, wet fur.

As I was running and compiling this analysis, I was back to undressing myself.

As my work shirt came off, I looked up momentarily again. To my shock and amazement, he was still standing in the middle of the area, still looking out in my direction. But this time, he had begun soaping and lathering up his crotch. He was making big, deliberate circles in and around his crotch. Things swung and flopped as he worked.

I looked away within two seconds. My mind began racing.

Holy SHIT! This guy is showing off for me! He is looking out into the locker area, he MUST see me here, and he is posing and displaying his cock to me!

The speed at which I was undressing/dressing slowed down considerably. Hey, I told you that I can't do two things at once! I needed to think this through! Instead of pulling clothes off and cramming them into the locker, I began folding my clothes and placing them into the gym bag. I needed time here. Was what I thought was going on REALLY happening?

I looked up again. Still, with the cock washing! His legs were spread a bit and he was getting WAY back there, from the looks of it. The fucker was ALL frothed up. Soapy, bubbly goodness!He was still in the center of the room, away from the shower head, and facing directly into the locker area. Directly at me. I gulped hard, began to perspire, and looked back at my locker.

Holy SHIT! This can't be an accident. I can't be reading this wrong! Look, it's Friday night, the place is a morgue. Maybe this kid knows that the best time for hot GymSex Fantasy Fullfillment for Fat Fuckers is Friday night at the YMCA. What should I do? Maybe I should make eye contact, just to let him know that I know he knows that I know!

I looked up again, and he was still there, the soaping exercise had moved up his chest and he was lathering his pecs. He seemed to be swirling lather around his nipples, staring out at me.

I looked at him, fully. I held his gaze for ten, maybe fifteen seconds. I nodded at him, smiling.

He didn't respond in any way whatsoever. He just kept rhythmically soaping up in a circular fashion and staring out at me. It seemed to me that his cock was engorging a bit. Dude, it was impressive, his cock.

What the FUCK? Maybe this guy is just a tease and he wants to freak me out or show me what I can't have.

-(Gay guys can be like that. Look at me! Look at what YOU'LL never get!)-

Or, maybe this is some kinda sting operation! Yeah! Maybe he's trying to get me to make some kind of move, and then arrest me, or have me thrown out of the facility! He's just taking a shower, for cryin' out loud. Maybe he's an undercover cop on Shower Patrol! What should I DO?!?

I looked up again and this time he had his back to me, still in the center of the shower area, and he had begun soaping up his ass crack. Up and down, he scrubbed into that crack. Deep into that crack. Slowly, methodically. I was HYPnotized.

This time I had to look away for fear of getting hard. I looked around the locker room, I was still in there all by myself. Not a single other soul was around. How easy would it be to just strip down and walk into the shower? Pretty easy. I could just soap up and get next to him and see if he starts talking to me. Chatting while showering is something straight men rarely do with each other. Strictly business, the communal shower, ya know...

Jim, I reminded myself, you are here to work out. Exercise. You are not here to hook up, or have Hot Gay Sex in the shower with a stud with a cock the size of a kitchen appliance! Knock it off and get into the gym!

I looked again. He had vanished off to one side of the room. Obviously, it was time to finally rinse off. Maybe he had given up on luring me into the shower and had lost interest. I finally pulled my work out shorts on and looked into the shower one last time. No sign of any part of him.


I fired up the iPod and headed to the Equipment room. Completely deserted. Just me and four treadmills, five stationary bikes, a rowing machine, some ellipticals, and a bunch of weight stations. I turned on a treadmill and started walking.

As I walked, I kept wondering about that guy.

He took forever to soap up, maybe he needed to rinse off longer. Maybe he stepped back after rinsing off and was disappointed to see that I had left. Maybe he thinks I wasn't interested. Sure, I smiled and nodded at him, but maybe that wasn't enough of an acknowledgement. He had, after all, been helicoptering his genitals in my direction, maybe I didn't respond strongly enough...

Yes, folks, this is life in my head. Aint it pathetic?

I decided the thing to do was to give him a few minutes. Give him enough time so that he simply MUST be out of the shower, dried off, and in the locker area. Then I would just act like I needed something out of my gym bag, return to the locker room, and see if he says anything to me. If he doesn't, I just fumble in the bag for a second, then come back out here and get on with my work out. No harm, no foul. Let's give this fantasy one last chance.

So, twelve minutes on the treadmill later, and I bolt off of it and head back to the locker room, patting and fumbling with the pockets of my shorts, like I was missing something.

As I approached the entrance to the locker room, I noticed a guy sitting on the bench, just outside the entryway. He hadn't been there earlier, But immediately my gaydar went off. This guy had the total gay gym rat look of the type that you find in the 24 hour facilities during the off-hours. You know the look: perfect haircut, product in place, Nautica t-shirt, ripped off sleeves, showing a tribal tattoo in a band around a bicep, five day growth of beard, perfectly trimmed and framing his chiseled jaw. This guy was checking his watch and looking up and toward the locker room. In other words, he was the boyfriend of the Shower Stud and he was waiting for his man to get dressed so that they could get to the disco before the drink specials ended for the night.

I was disappointed to be sure, but still wanted to know if I was reading Shower Stud correctly or not, so I continued into the locker room to see what would happen. When I stepped in, I found the Stud standing at the row of sinks along one wall within the locker area. He face was lathered with shaving soap and he had about half of his face done. When I walk in, he smiled big a me.

I walked to my locker and opened it up, jubilant.

He smiled at me! I KNEW it! This guy was flirting and showing off to me! I wonder if he knows the boyfriend is waiting just outside...

I heard the other guy come into the locker room and say, loudly:

"Charlie, are you okay? Is everything all right? We have to get going pretty soon. Everyone is waiting for us at the Wing Stop. you don't want to miss your CHICKEN WINGS, now do you?"

And Charlie, the Shower Stud, replied:

"Look, Robbie! I am SHAVING all by myself! I TOLD you I could shower and shave all by myself now! I am doing a GOOD job!"

Uh huh.

Robbie said "Yes, Charlie, you are doing a VERY good job! But hurry up now, we've got to get going! We have to have some dinner before the bus takes us back to the school. Remember to shave WITH the grain of your beard. Yes, just like that! Can you even see what you are doing? You can't see ten feet in front of you without your glasses. Where are your glasses, Charlie? Did you lose your glasses?"

"I see Charlie and I see Robbie!" the Shower Stud pronounced loudly and gleefully. And then he fell silent again as he concentrated on shaving WITH the grain of his beard.

I closed my locker and headed back to the treadmill, shaking my head. I had been trying to cruise someone who was mentally retarded.

I got back on the treadmill and began to walk. I was scolding myself.

That what you get for trying to turn the gym into a sex club, you idiot! What is the rule? NEVER cruise at the gym! Never. Ever!

And that was my mantra with each step :

Never. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never...

And I walked for 45 minutes before I stopped for the night.


Sue Doe-Nim said...

Oh my goodness.

You poor dear.

Your poor ego.

But thanks for the giggle. The filthy giggle.

Ice John's World said...

What a Friday for you, Jimmy! All the exciting and twist ending! Wish my gym visit can be that interesting like yours. :)

Dick Small said...

Um, you didn't happen to get Charlie's phone number, did you??? I'm not doing much these days, and if he likes subs.....

jimmycity said...

Sue: The sad part was how caught up in it I got so quickly. Good grief!

ice john: I'll trade ya gym visits, then, because I can't handle all this drama!

Dick: Ya know, I'll bet he can dial the phone ALL BY HIMSELF as well! And, shame on you, by the way.

Dick Small said...


Allen said...

I really enjoy the way you write Jim. You have a gift for writing.

Grant Miller said...

At my old gym, there was an old guy that looked like Leonid Brezhnev who always took forever washing his junk. And there was another old guy who would dry his junk with the one hair dryer in the locker room.

At my new gym, there's a sitting area with magazines, TVs and leather couches in the men's locker room. The old guys always - always - sit their hairy asses nude on the leather couches.


La Catcuracha said...

I thought I was the only one injured in treadmill accidents. I fell INTO mine though. While trapped in an ironing board.

at least non one was there to see me

You are a brave man!

jimmycity said...

Allen: Well, thanks!

Mr. Miller: I guess one man's junk is another man's helicopter

la catcuracha: you obviously possess a level of sophisticated clumsiness that I could only dream of having. Sounds like a sequence from "Final Destination".

Falwless said...

This was utterly hilarious. I will never forget this post as long as I live.