A Pair of Jockstrapped Men at the YMCA

A few years back I was at my local YMCA. I had decided to rejoin the establishment after being away from it for more than a decade. I needed to get back into some semblance of athletic shape. For a 51-year-old man I had begun to pack on some extra weight (after a minor auto accident and the mounting ascent of age). Not much. Mind you. But the muscles had begun to lose some of their tautness and the alluring luster of my youth. I aimed to change that. Wanted to change it. Needed to change it. You know. For my health. And for the sex. I needed more of it. As most men do.

I noticed on a few visits that a handsome and muscular young Adonis kept making eyes at me. And smiling. I love a man’s eyes. His are a deep ocean blue, so I was hooked. I admit I was envious of this hot and hairy young, muscled man with his ripped tank top and snug shorts that hugged every crevice and muscle of his legs and elsewhere. His shirt is barely able to contain him. I wished he had not even bothered to put it on. But the rules are the rules and he had to wear it and abide by them. Damn! Damn! Damn! I often uttered to myself.

I must also admit I kept a constant hard-on knowing he was eyeing me. His admiration was more than welcomed. I was constantly adjusting my erection in my weathered and worn jockstrap inside my own very-short workout shorts. I was dripping much of my rich juice into them and onto the mesh of this jock that I have had for over 10 years, now. I had worn it back in the earlier days when I was a member of the YMCA in that previous time. It was and still is one of my most favorites to this very day.

I huffed and puffed after my workout and was ready for a shower and a long soak in the hot tub in the MEN’s locker room. So, off I headed to this abode of manhood in the deep recesses of this spacious YMCA which is so full of the most perfect specimens of men.

As I pulled my sweaty tee over my head, I felt some eyes on me. You know, that feeling you get when someone is watching you. This was it. I turned to meet the gaze of this alluring young man. Again. My admirer I had seen so often seen out there on the gym floor. He smiled at me. I returned one to him as I saw his right-hand drift down to his shorts and give himself a hearty tug on the apparent rise, I mean, erection, which was so clearly visible there.

I felt my cock pulse inside my jockstrap. And a droplet of my cream expels from my wide piss-slit into it. The dampness was gushing from me as more droplets joined the first one. I was wet.

By this time, the young man’s shirt was off him. And I was slobbering over his defined muscles and the glorious blonde hairs that fill every mountainous crevice of his chest. Another droplet leaves my piss-slit and soaks into the mesh of my ages-old jockstrap. He then drops his body-hugging shorts. And I see his jockstrap. It is not like the old school one I have on but one of those new ones. I do not recognize the name, but I did what is inside of it. It looks wonderful on him as his ass cheeks peek out from its spacious elastic leg straps.

I feel more droplets of my juice empty into the mesh of my jock. My cock is throbbing inside of it. Gushing. And the noise of this echoes in my ears. Drip. Drip. Drip.

It is then he walks towards me. With the biggest smile on his face. Pearly white teeth and his handsome unshaven face looking dead-on at me. I am entranced. As the drips of my juice rang in my ears. I felt like I was ready to fully erupt at any second.

“I am Jackson.” He says as he stands within inches from my almost naked body and introduces himself.

My hand goes to my shorts, as I must adjust the erection pulsating inside of it. Again.

“You. Okay. Sir.” Jackson says to me. “Sir? Sir?”

“Yes. Yes. I am okay. I am Bill. By-the-way. Nice to meet you. It is nice to meet you, Jackson.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Sir.”

I then yank down my shorts. My bulged jockstrap barely able to hold my bulbous cockhead within its cottony mesh confines.

“Whoa! Whoa!” The young man excitedly says in aghast at my splendor. “Whoa!”

I have gotten that same reaction since I was a boy in my teens. The sight of my bulbous cockhead has aroused many a such reaction to those privy enough I allow to see it.

I nod my head, in a most exuberant ‘yes.’

“You have a hard-on, Sir?” Jackson asks me as I feel more of my juice leak from my enraged fleshy member. “And your jock can barely hold it.”

There is a noticeable wet spot on the front of my jock. I have been leaking for a while now. Some of my juice soaking through the mesh that holds me within it.

“I always get one when I work out. It happens every time.” I tell the young man. “Every fucking time.”

“Me. Too, Sir. Me too.”

“I can tell.” I told him. “Yes, I can.”

“Can you?”

“Yes.” I say as I whisk my tongue across my lips. “Yes. I can.”

There is a noticeable bulge in the pouch of his strained jock, too. I had seen it from across the room and thirsted for it as he walked towards me in this hallowed den of masculinity.

“We are two jockstrapped men in the locker room. At the southside YMCA.” I tell this young man. “But it must be removed. I need a shower and a long soak in the hot tub.”

Jackson nods his head in solemn agreement. I can almost hear him begin to pant like a dog as I grab either side of the elastic of my strained jockstrap.

“And to the steam room.” Jackson adds.

As I do another spurt of my juice burst, no…it erupts from the piss-slit of my engorged cockhead as I pull down the wide elastic band of my worn BIKE jockstrap. This cream drips, little by little, from my piss-slit as I right myself and step out of sweat-soaked and cum-drenched jock. My hard-on is leaking my juice like a spigot as I stand gazing at this younger man.

“And to the steam room.” I add. My cock still expelling more of my potency in front of this muscled Adonis. I am so fucking horny. I want to fuck.

Jackson grabs both sides of his stylish jock and yanks down to the floor. And steps from it. His discarded jockstrap.

“Whoa!”

“Thank you, Sir.” He tells me as I gaze upon his masculine splendor. “I see both of us share some similarities. Nice ones, I might add.”

“That we do.”

And we did. Do. Both of us have enormous blood-fueled engorged cockheads and throbbing erections. Jackson smiles at me. What else will happen in this locker room, today? More. I hope. Much more.

 

End Part 1.