Chapter Text
I never directly made a move on Evan. I knew he was married to a woman, but I think I have a good sense of these things. His wife, Anna, was living in North Carolina temporarily, helping take care of her ill mother. They saw each other once per month at most, sometimes only every other month.
Evan never really talked about his wife positively. He didn’t say negative things either, but the tone of his voice when he talked about her was lightly dismissive.
One time after work, we grabbed drinks with a group of colleagues, and after we’d both had a few, it ended up just being us left at the bar. Somehow, I got us onto the subject of dick size – and he was loose enough to talk about his dick and that he thought he had a pretty big dick. He was normally very docile or reserved, so it surprised me he even answered my probing questions. But maybe that docility benefited me.
In a subtle way – possibly too subtle, I would later learn – I said if he ever missed his wife a lot and needed someone to hang out with, I’d be happy to fill that role. He said that would be great – we could grab drinks or go on a ride together. I thought he was deliberately redirecting away from what I was suggesting, so I dropped it. After all, we worked together.
And working with him could be its own pleasure and torture. He could be needy – but I loved feeling needed. He would come by a few times per day and talk about what he was working on, and after about a year, he moved into the office right next to mine once he was promoted to a position that got an office. We were in Finance, and we were colleagues on the same team, but my title was always one higher than him. I didn’t supervise him at all, but I offered advice as needed. And he needed it. Not because he wasn’t smart – he was wicked smart when he was confident – but he lacked confidence to make decisions, which was a key part of our work. (I later would blame this on the way his wife treated him once I got to know them both better.)
Evan was handsome to me, even if maybe he was not everyone’s cup of tea. To my 5’10”, he was probably 5’9”, just a hair shorter. He had that naturally darker skin tone that some Jewish men have, and his dark, short-cut and heavily textured – but not quite wavy or curly – hair was receding. But I found his face to be handsome – a prominent nose, a cut jaw, and dark eyes that were always open and eager. I wanted to reach out and rub his light stubble sometimes, and once he grew out his beard just a little and I almost couldn’t look at him at work because I pictured the dirtiest things, like my cum splattered all over it and his lips. After a few weeks, he shaved it down to a mustache and he looked like an 80s porn actor. I enjoyed those images in the shower, or in bed, or when I was getting blown by some random guy I met at a bar.
For a few months at the peak of my obsessive attraction, after we had worked together for about two years, I even hooked up with a few guys who reminded me of him, but it was always dissatisfying because they weren’t him. And I find most men I meet to be conversationally uninteresting, too uncaring about their work or purpose in life, or too full of themselves. There’s only room for one egomaniac, and it was me. I’d bang these Evan-look-a-likes and then usually kick them out quickly after filling their guts with my load. One time after we had fucked in my kitchen and we had cleaned up and sat on the couch, I even got angry that he wasn’t Evan, as if it was this guy’s fault. He was talking about his job – something retail but at a high-end store – and it sounded so far away from what Evan and I did, it broke any remaining fantasy I had left. As soon as he stopped talking, I got up and said, “Well, I better be getting to bed. Can I call you an Uber?” I was a gentleman, after all. He seemed pissed, but what did he expect from us meeting on Grindr? Some people have no self-awareness.
When Evan and I were both working at that first employer together, I went to the gym regularly before work or during lunch. And it was a nice gym – it was an old club-style gym with high membership fees but great amenities at multiple locations. Of the three I went to, each had cardio, weights, and various machines, but one was also a pool and clubhouse, another was a big tennis facility, and then the one I went to during lunch was at the bottom of an office building. High membership prices kept the place in great condition and not overpopulated, and the locker rooms were well-supplied with high-quality soaps, hair products, and effective, high-quality, and bountiful towels. In all the men's locker room facilities, including the steam room, sauna, and hot tub, nudity was allowed. There was always an attendant in the large locker room, keeping everything sparkling clean, refilled, and relaxing, and the steam room always smelled of eucalyptus.
Evan had never been to this gym, but he liked to work out. His wife and he had memberships at one of those cheaper gyms that provide the basics and nothing else. I’m not knocking that, by the way, but I was making good money and did not plan to have kids, so I spent on the gym. Because I had guest passes, I offered to bring him with me some time, and he was eager to come along. When he sounded excited about it, I will admit that my heart beat faster. A few days later, he brought his gym bag and off we went during lunch. The whole time, I was eager to see him in less than short sleeves and long pants. At that point in my attraction, I would have taken naked knees to increase my knowledge of his body.
I won’t get too into the weeds on the story – nothing dramatic happened – but there were some cock-hardening moments for me. One was that he chose a locker just a few down from mine, instead of going off to an alcove away from mine, which was to me the assumed straight-guy etiquette for someone you work with.
Another moment – after we had both worked out for about forty-five minutes, staying in different areas at different times, I told him I was going to shower and get ready, but he didn’t need to rush. He said he was just about to quit as well, so I stayed there a few minutes while he finished a set of crunches. His gym shorts had ridden all the way up his legs as he lay on a mat with his knees bent and his feet flat on the ground. I got a long look at his underwear. And folks, I have an underwear kink. A light one, I would say, but it’s prominent. Ok, it’s not that light - I better admit it before you read on. Regardless, when I saw that, I looked away and pretended to be checking myself in the mirror. “Please don’t pop a boner,” I told myself.
He got up and we walked back to the locker room, and then came the third moment. But first, let me explain this – I am not shy about my body. I have a swimmer’s build – broad shoulders, narrow waist, and solid thighs. I have a few tattoos here and there – shorts and a t-shirt can cover them. And I swam throughout my youth and was on a club team in high school (which has its own stories, but we’re trying to focus here). And my family was also quite liberal – and so nudity was never really a problem for me. In short, I had no body shame – I know, somehow I lucked out there – and in the gym, I only covered up the extent it was necessary to not parade around inappropriately. I never wanted to seem like I was showing off or inviting comments – I’m not that kind of guy.
As we got back to our lockers, each having chosen one on the higher row of lockers – seriously, who chooses the bottom-row lockers? And why? – we got settled into the locker-room routine. I removed my sweat-soaked shirt, uncovering my toned and hairy chest, and the two tattoos on my chest and two on my arm. I glance over and Evan was turned, nearly facing me, but he wasn’t directly looking my way. Interesting. Most straight guys I knew deliberately turned their backs on other guys while changing.
I decided to just, well, see what happened. Casually removing my gym shorts and tossing them on the pile of clothes I was developing near my feet, my actions were bigger and slower than they would be normally. I stood around in my sweaty boxer briefs that clung to my body, and I dug through my bag that was at the bottom of the locker, pretending to look for my toiletries bag or something. I stuck my nicely shaped butt out some as I leaned closer to the locker. I hoped he was watching. After a few moments of this, I reached a hand down into the front of my underwear, grabbed myself, and adjusted things around. I did a little side-step as if making room in my underwear. I pulled my hand out and went back into the locker and finally pulled my toiletries bag out and put it on a space on the bench that was between the two of us, which gave me a chance to check in on him. He appeared to be deliberately not looking, but his body was still turned about half towards me, so he could have watched me from the corner of his eyes or even turned his head slightly to watch.
I then turned back and slowly, but not too obviously, pulled down my second-to-last layer of clothing. I stood there nearly stark naked, just my socks left, about one-quarter hard. This meant my dick was about six inches and thick. I just held my underwear for a minute before grabbing my dick and balls with it and rubbing it a bit, as if I was drying it off. This plumped me further. I noticed in my periphery that his activity had slowed. I went for the last of my clothing, and I turned away from him and lifted one leg further than it needed to go to pull off one sock. This meant I flexed my ass and the other leg’s thigh and presented him with a gorgeous view, if thought my hairy, thick ass was a treat. I deliberately took my time, as if also stretching. Then I switched and did the other leg. His view would have included my hairy crack and firm, sculpted ass – were it me in his shoes, watching him put on this show, I’d be hard and ready to grab these globes. If he had any bisexual or gay tendencies, this was guaranteed to activate them, unless I wasn’t his type at all.
That done, and socks in the pile, I turned back around fully and went to grab the toiletries bag from its spot in between us. I looked up as I stood, my dick was arguably not hard – so I had some deniability – but it was still quite full.
Evan looked a bit dazed. He was holding his workout shirt in front of him, awkwardly, as if he had just taken it off but hadn’t thrown it somewhere yet. He had fallen far behind me in the clothing-removal process, despite my delays. The positioning meant I couldn’t see if I’d caused his camper to pitch a tent. Shame.
He looked up and caught my face, which caused him to turn towards his locker, and even a little further, hiding his face and front.
“On second thought, I didn’t really get that sweaty, so I think I’ll just change and get back to work. I have to finish the quarterly reporting by the end of the week and my queue has gotten full. See you there?” His voice cracked on that last line.
I held back a chuckle. “Ah yeah, makes sense. Glad I got to pass some of mine off to you,” I joked, which worked in our work context and had a pleasant sexuality to it too, as a coincidence. “See you back there.” And with that, I walked away – still nude – to the showers with a towel and my toiletries bag. Normally I would have wrapped the towel around my waist, to avoid being overly revealing, but I hope my show could continue just a bit longer for him. I wish I could have turned around and checked if he watched me go.
In the shower, I quickly blew a huge load into my hand and washed it down the drain. (I rarely jerk off in the gym showers – but when I do, I try to ensure there is no evidence and I don’t make someone else step in my cum. I’m not a monster…well, or not in that way at least.)
Unsurprisingly, I asked him later if he wanted to come with me again, as I have unlimited guest passes. He declined, saying it was a great gym, but he didn’t want to get too used to how nice it was. Felt unlikely, but I didn’t push him on it, given that I did not in fact have unlimited guest passes, so it would have started to cost me a not-insignificant amount to have him join often. But I’d easily have paid for that just to have the chance to make him hornier and eventually get what I want.
Since that method didn’t work, I needed to either lose the crush or put another plan into action. I weighed the options, considered the likely outcomes, and most signs pointed towards this being disappointing for me and unfruitful.
So, I let the crush go as best as I could. I tried to put some space between us and stopped going out to work happy hours. I avoided men who looked like him and went with taller, blonder, more forward men and tried to make sure they looked and talked obviously gay. They were not my traditional type, but it helped me rediscover men that weren’t like my coworker.
Unfortunately, it was not perfect, and Evan had no idea what he did to me sometimes. Like one time – and I really cannot explain this and I promise this happened just as I am telling it now – I was standing at the door to his office and he was in his office chair. There was a culture at this company of sitting oddly at our desks – many of us would put a leg up on the desk or sit on our legs. I don’t know why, but we did. In this case, he placed both legs on the desk in front of him – the soles of his shoes facing me directly, and bent his legs so that, and I am really not kidding, his ass was presented right to me. If he was not wearing pants, I would guarantee you that I would have seen his hairy hole or at least his balls hanging down over his taint. I was shocked and couldn’t help but stare, trying to will my eyes to develop lasers and burn a hole in his jeans and straight-guy underwear.
That night I jerked off three times – once in a flurry as soon as I got home, a second time after I had made dinner (but before I ate), and then before bed I broke out a fleshlight that was supposed to be some male pornstar’s ass – a gift from a friend – and fucked it hard. The whole time I pictured Evan moaning on my cock as I pounded his straight-guy, virgin asshole. And I must admit that I pictured him struggling and telling me to slow down, that he wasn’t ready to take all of my nine inches.
I came picturing him on his back below me, his arms trying to push me away perfunctorily, as I held his legs and slammed into him. His chest was red with the pain, and his face sweaty and pained. I pictured his dark eyes pleading with me to both stop and continue, the conflict visible in his face. I pictured myself releasing my load deep into him with a growl and several final slams.
After that night, I tried to forget about him. But every time I used that fleshlight, I had the same general vision, my imagination strong. After I came, I always thought, “someday. Someday.”