Jan 24, 2017

The Smiling Boy at the Gym

The other night at the gym, a college boy cruised me.

This might not seem unusual.  I've been a twink magnet for years. I picked up the waiter at a restaurant in Indianapolis just a couple of weeks ago, and last week I picked up a guy at the campus food court.

But this was different.

1. In the straight world, no one cruises at the gym, except for little kids who haven't learned the norms yet.  Some of the guys are homophobic, and will respond with violent rage.  You check out biceps and bulges with very brief, nonchalant glances, and never make eye contact with someone you don't know.  I rarely pick up guys at straight world gyms.

2. It was at the YMCA, not the campus gym.  Very few college students go there.  The cardio center is occupied primarily by older men, the free weight room by serious bodybuilders and an occasional group of giggling high school boys.

This was a twink.  Around 20, cute, with a long face and sharp features.  Wearing a red baseball cap, so I couldn't see his hair.  Too far away to see his physique.

On an exercise bicycle that faced the weight machines, staring at me while I did incline presses.  Smiling.

At me, or in my general direction?

One way to find out: the preacher curl was the only other machine that faced the exercise bikes.  It wasn't nearly time for biceps, and I don't use the preacher curl, but I sat and did a few sets.

I have nice biceps, but you can't tell from a distance.

But the twink kept smiling at me.

There were half a dozen buffed older men in the weight machine room.  Why me?

I went back to the free weight room, did three set of butterflies and some ab crunches, and returned.

The twink had finished his cardio and was on incline press machine.  I chose another incline press a few feet away.  Both looked directly at a mirror.

He was wearing one of those slit-side t-shirts.  Pale skin, pinprick nipples, tight but not muscular -- I could see his ribs, and some tattoo writing on his chest.  He was lifting only 130 pounds (I do 270).

Smiling at me.

I looked away, flustered.

How could I concentrate on my weight training with this kid gaping at me like a lovesick puppy dog?

The full story, with nude photos and explicit sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

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