Just Another Locker Room Fantasy
Author's Note: the following is a work of furry semi-fiction and is mature in nature. While it is based on events in real life, it has been enhanced and things added to make it read better. It may contain yiffery, including but not limited to acts of a sexual nature between two characters of the same gender but of different species If this squicks you in any way or you are too young/squeamish/immature to deal with it, go take a cold shower. If not, then please read on and enjoy...
FEEDBACK always welcome to: [email protected]
(This story is another adaptation of my "P.O.V." style of writing, where I write a story from one character's point of view, and then write a companion story from the opposite perspective. You can choose to read one or the other, or both and compare...even more ways to get off!)
Just Another Locker Room Fantasy ©MMV Whyte Yoté
PART 1: EXHIBITOR
I stood just outside the fitness center's main doors, trying to smoke as quickly as possible. The sweat was already starting to freeze the tips of my ears, and my thin workout clothes did little to protect me from Winter's unforgiving chill. Looking up through a haze of smoke and blowing snow, I watched as people hurried from their parked cars through the blizzard and through the automatic doors, letting out a rush of warm air every time they opened. It was the first snow of the season, and it had been accompanied by a blast of arctic Canadian air.
With one long, last drag I ashed the cigarette to the filter, threw it into a waste bin and turned, shuddering, to reenter the building. My head, still sweaty from a hard workout, was chilled and aching. I supposed I could have gone directly from the aerobics area to the locker room, but I had decided to get a quick smoke in before cleaning up.
Walking back to the lobby I turned right instead of going left and up a set of stairs. That would have led me back up to the weights and aerobic areas, the place from which I had just come. My legs felt rubbery, the muscles stretched and overworked. The sauna would feel especially nice tonight.
I stopped to relieve myself before I got to my locker, then continued to the back of the locker room. It smelled faintly of chlorine, antiseptic and the mingled smells of males of all ages and species. I punched my code number into the door number 160 (my lucky number), heard the beep and pulled it open. As I undressed I glanced around me: most of the people at my gym are either young and gung-ho about being beautiful and fit, or old and trying to undo what bad eating and heart attacks had already done. College athletes and beer-bellied lawyers and wrinkly old men...not the best selection, you would think, but I don't mix business and pleasure. And I consider my fitness very serious business.
My jock strap came off and I walked over to a cabinet to retrieve a towel for the sauna, catching a glimpse of my body in the wall-length mirror. I knew I was getting stared at, but by now ignoring it has become pretty much second-nature. Standing six-foot-four and weighing 285 pounds-all muscle-it's hard not to get noticed when you're nude among males, even if they are straight...mostly. I let 'em look, if they want to. I am a bodybuilder, and have honed my purebred Dalmatian body to its maximum potential. My broad shoulders and bulky arms taper down to slim, rock-hard abs, just above my massive thighs and calves. Tendons and veins show up easily through my coat of fine black and white spots...even the veins in my sheath, which happens to be my most valuable endowment.
Dark yellow eyes gleamed back at me through the mirror, and the hard fluorescent lights made the diamond stud in my folded left ear glitter a small spectrum of color. There were little beads of frost in the fur there, and I shook myself hard, showering the immediate vicinity with a mist of perspiration. My fur fluffed out a bit and I patted myself down, wrapped the towel around my waist and paced down the short hallway to the sauna.
It was as if I had walked onto the surface of the sun. Immediately, my eyes started to water and my skin tingled from the sudden change in temperature. There were two other furs in the hot room, both on the second-tier wooden bench reading a newspaper. I crawled my way up to the corner, where it was hottest, and sat down with a heavy, wet sigh.
The fur to my right was a young wolf, about eighteen, black except for white gloves on his paws. Like most of the other younger gym-goers, he wore his swimsuit into the sauna and spa. For some reason, all the good-looking ones want to cover up while all the old fat guys have no problem baring it all and parading around the locker room. Maybe they're trying to hide something inadequate. With what I carry between my legs, it's no wonder. I don't brag; sometimes it's more of a curse than a blessing.
The other fur, to my left, was a lion, soaking wet and looking thoroughly worked over. He seemed to be around forty, but he could have passed for five years younger. He sat, stooped over, his towel laid out underneath him, scratching his balls unselfconsciously. His tawny fur was made darker and looked dirty with all the moisture on it; his mane had all but been plastered to the sides of his head. A belly that told of too many beers as of late protruded from his slumped posture. In fact, he was bigger all around. Solid, yes, but undefined and pudgy, the typical middle-aged body type. Studying the paper carefully, he made no move to hide himself, and the tip of his tail tapped idly beside one thigh.
I unwrapped myself and leaned against the hot wood, wiping a wet paw over my head and closing my eyes. My groin was the only thing left unexposed; usually when I share a sauna I tend to respect the modesty of others and keep myself covered, but only as much as necessary. The only sounds were some heavy breathing, the occasional shifting of cloth from the black wolf and the flaccid rustling of newspaper. My heart beat in my temples like a racing engine; I was giving myself a workout just sitting there in that heat!
Eventually the wolf, obviously overheating due to his dark coloration, stood and padded out of the room, leaving myself and the chubby lion. An air of tension seemed to evaporate after the door closed, and the lion put the newspaper down.
Maybe it was because the wolf had been wearing a suit, and he didn't want be too familiar, but I heard the scratching again...a soft, wet sound. I knew the lion was readjusting himself. He let out an audible sigh, and through my closed eyes I could envision his belly becoming bigger with air, and then collapsing again as he let it out. I smiled slightly, squeegeed my forehead again with a paw, and spread my legs over the "L" made by the corner of the sauna. The hot air hit my groin and crept up from below to caress my tailhole, and it was a very comfortable feeling. So comfortable, in fact, that I felt myself hardening and had to force it back down. Unsheathing in front of this burly-looking feline would not be the most proper thing to do.
I heard the lion pick up another section of paper and begin reading again, adjusting himself a third time. I decided since he was obviously uninhibited when it came to nudity, he wouldn't mind me airing out my male bits. Letting the hot air invade my lungs, I had to keep my muzzle open and pant away some of the excess heat. Soon my mind began to wander to thoughts of a naughty nature and I had to keep detouring to something else...thoughts of my mother. Those are guaranteed to stem even the strongest erections.
A flush overcame me and I started to feel that I may have switched temperatures too soon for my body to accommodate. I could feel the blood in my face and ears; it practically roared around me. Little dots of light danced in front of my eyes, and I gripped the shelf and waited for it to pass, almost ready to leave and take a cool shower...
And that's when it got interesting.
The roaring passed quickly enough, but the little dots remained. I blinked my eyes open and stared straight ahead, and a familiar sound came to my ears. It was that same slick, flesh-on-flesh sound of the lion adjusting himself...but it had taken on a different, even more familiar quality: it had become regulated, like a metronome counting time. I knew what it was before I thought to look to my left, and I knew what I would see before I saw it.
I wiped my forehead again, water and sweat dripping onto my already soaked chest. I took advantage of the movement to narrow my eyes and shoot a glance over at the lion, and my suspicions were confirmed: he sat straight up, eyes locked on me (well, one part of me, at least), his paw gliding over his now-hardening penis. His other paw held the newspaper at an angle so as to block outsiders from becoming unwitting voyeurs. I reclosed my eyes, pretending to not have noticed my companion's new intentions.
Suddenly something occurred to me: my heart had just jumped a couple notches closer to my throat, and I found myself actually nervous. Sure, this was a public place, where decent people came with their families and friends to keep fit and maintain healthy lifestyles, a place far removed from the YMCAs of yesteryear where you were more apt to find a good fuck more often than a good workout. But now here I was, only a couple of feet from a man in the sauna who was every bit the pervert parents warn their children about.
But the fact was, he didn't look the part. He was overweight, middle-aged, and probably ten times as nervous as I could possibly be. I wondered how many evenings, how many countless hours he had spent in this very sauna, playing a risky game of low-level sexual tension, just waiting for someone to reciprocate by not leaving disgusted or reporting him to security. He didn't seem to be the predatory type...just a lonely guy looking for other lonely guys to have a little fun with. Hell, he probably wasn't even gay! I felt a little sorry for him, actually...and I had an idea.
If he wanted some action, I supposed it wasn't any fur off my back to play a little game with him. Being the current object of his paw-off fantasy, I would be the one in control, and it made me feel better and my heart slow back towards normal.
As nonchalantly as I could, I spread my legs just a little wider, and to my unexpected pleasure my towel slipped from my leg and dropped to the bench below. A muffled "mmmm..." rewarded me for my efforts. I rubbed my head with one paw; the other braced me against the wall. I cast another incognito glance at the lion; his cock was fully up and receiving quite the workout. Just looking at it made my own member want to escape, and this time I did not try to stop it.
Now, it's no secret to those who know me that I have a very active sex life. When you have a cock like mine, you tend to get noticed. My dad used to tell me back when we played sports together that I had a gift. He wasn't a perv or anything, but when we changed after each activity he would always comment on how big I was getting "down there." He said the girls would be all over me, and warned me to play it safe. It was guy talk that made me feel like I was more on his level. I have to admit he was disappointed when I came out to him, but all he did was tell me that I would be beating away pretty near everyone with a stick.
I don't tend to refuse many people; I like sex and I like having it. As long as I get off I'm not picky as to who does it. It's amazing the people you attract when you're known for having a foot-long cock and a knot the size of a navel orange. The attention is great, yeah, but I've only actually yiffed guys twice, and tied with neither of them. There is such a thing as too big.
But for this particular occasion, a simple exhibition would do. Smiling sultrily, I shifted my hips about and angled myself just a bit so that the lion had a better view of me. By now, he had realized that I was privy to his manual labor and didn't mind...in fact, I welcomed the attention. So did my cock, whose tip was just now showing itself to the world. The lion saw it and let out a ragged breath. Droplets shook from his head as his fist worked between his chubby legs.
I started thinking about past guys I'd had, and memories of the things I'd done with them. There was my first blowjob, which had taken place in my Aunt's Lexus in the parking lot of an IHOP in the dead of night...a college study session with one of my straight friends that had ended up with us pawing each other off...and, of course, the time I had paid a surprise visit to a pen pal's house on his eighteenth birthday. That little fox hugged me so tight; we talked for so long about a lot of things before he climbed into my lap and begged me to tail him. I had objected at first, but my cock had said differently.
I could still remember how the leather harness and ball gag blended so well with his fur...
My fantasies evaporated as I realized how good of a job they had done. Looking down, my sheath withdrew from each inch of flesh as it emerged from within my body by itself. There was a good six inches now laying on my lower belly, leaving the fur it touched matted and sticky. Just inside the sheath it looked like I was growing a tennis ball, and as sensuously as I could I took both thumbs and index fingers and pulled the skin down over the bulge. I had to stretch pretty far and winced at the sudden pain, but as the last of my cock came into the open I sighed at the heat on me.
"Oooohhh...nice, big, cock..." came from the lion in a low utterance of awe. I tensed my groin, making my member lift almost perpendicular to my chest and fall again, and the big feline's paw lost its momentum. His tail swung lazily over the bench, its tufted end wagging in small circles. I was now certain I had his undivided attention. The paw that was holding the newspaper upright faltered a little, and the lion had to struggle to keep it raised while jerking himself to me at the same time.
Blurry figures walked past the sauna windows, on their way to the steam room or the pool. Four males sat in the hot tub just outside of the room, in plain view save for the paper. It occurred to me that we were not making much of an effort to remain hidden, but from what I could see anyone looking in would be hard-pressed to guess our illicit actions. Actually, we could have switched to the lower bench and been completely hidden, but I didn't want to move and spoil the moment.
The lion, on the other paw, had no trouble moving. I swiped my forehead again, and practically yelped when I felt my cock being stroked. I stiffened visibly, in both senses of the word, my eyes watching the golden paw moving up and down, trembling over my length. It seemed he couldn't contain his lust and just helped himself to me. Before I could control myself, I thrust lewdly into his paw, felt the sharp twinges of climax and a warm spray in my face as I let fly the first of my prolific precum. With a big cock comes a lot of cum, and anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a leaker.
"Fuck, that was hot," muttered the lion, reluctantly removing his paw from my member and milking his own, letting a fairly large drop of pre fall onto the bench under him. It was lit from behind by the light of the locker room, and to me it was very erotic indeed. Smiling now, and enjoying myself watching the lion's reaction, I decided to give him more of the same. With one paw holding up my left side, my other paw went to my now aching erection, first gripping it by the knot and slowly running my fingers over all twelve inches. It was hard to keep from closing my eyes like I do when I'm masturbating, but it felt indescribably good to be sharing myself with another man like this. The pads on my fingers were warm and smooth, tracing a line along the underside over the veins and the urethra, feeling the bulge where countless sperm traveled to their doom each day. I squeezed and pulled up, holding shut and then pushed at the last moment to get the desired effect. Once again, beads of thin pre coated my muzzle and nose and the lion swore under his breath. He would never know how much practice had gone into perfecting that little trick.
I locked my gaze on the lion's, which switched constantly from my face to my crotch and back. His muzzle was open, unsmiling, the sharp teeth within licked by his roving tongue. He would use his whole paw to make long, hard strokes over his entire length, making its tapered shape shake and swell. I continued to paw myself, each time gaining shots of pre on my neck, chest and abdomen. All too soon I ran out of fluid, and I pushed forward on my cock so it stood straight up and swelled with fresh blood.
Suddenly the lion jerked his head away, casting a worried glance out the sauna window. His eyes were everywhere, looking for any way someone could see. I looked too, but there was no one outside beside those in the hot tub. The feline turned back to me and the newspaper went to his side. He leaned over, and I was perfectly ready for him to grab me and use me like a joystick again, but this time his paw served only to steady my canine cock as he opened his maw and swallowed half of me.
This time I couldn't help as a stunned moan escaped my lips. My paws automatically went to the back of his shaggy head to help guide his already talented muzzle. There were no teeth and no rough tongue, only his lips as they sucked hungrily on my meat. After only a few seconds though, he came back up with a wet pop, leaving a little trail of saliva from my tapered head to his fangs. He licked his lips, looked furtively out the windows again and went back to his own cock. Now I followed suit; I didn't care about leading him on any longer. I played with my spotted balls as I tried to bring myself over for a mutual climax.
"Mmmmm, tastes so good," the lion of few words said, laying back against the wall and unabashedly speeding up. "Getting close." His eyes were fixed on me. My paw glided easily over my red flesh, soaked in feline spit and precum, and getting wetter with every stroke.
The lion sat stiffly on the bench, bent on the achievement of one thing and one thing only. The muscles on his legs stood in relief beneath his tawny fur; his feet flexed, trying to give him that last little push. He was so involved that he didn't notice my foot edging closer to his along the lower bench. I lifted it over his and set it down, pushing my toes in between his, using my claws to scratch along the insides of them.
He sucked in a chestful of air and stared at the ceiling in wide-eyed disbelief. A series of whimpers accompanied the bucking of his hips as the feline gave in to orgasm. He stroked faster, cupping his left paw under the head of his cock. His big belly purrumbled satisfaction; I could feel his toes curl and dig into the wood. His face looked like a fish needing water, but I was watching his paw filling up rapidly with white lionseed. There was plenty of it, but miraculously none leaked out as evidence on the floor. I watched the windows while the lion finished coating his paw and shook the last drops out, finally letting his shrinking member go.
I patted one thick thigh and shifted back into the corner, realizing I was losing my hardon too, even though I hadn't come yet. I decided that the lion had done enough for both of us, and it wouldn't take anything at all to finish the job at home. My heart still raced from the heat.
"I'm gonna hit the showers," I said, aloof, as if nothing had happened at all. Wiping his paw on his towel, the lion wrapped himself up quickly. It was clear that the post-pawjob letdown had made it known how precarious a situation we had been in. He made to say something, but I got up too fast and pushed the door open, letting in a rush of relatively chilly air.
I made quick use of the shower, turning the water on cool to quell the rest of my erection into submission. After a quick soapdown and rinse, I exited nude and dripping to pick up a fresh towel. Punching my code into the locker again, I noticed the lion across the room from me, toweling himself into a fluff and avoiding my glances.
It was clear that he was still watching me, and I felt like I was part of some peep show. I dried off and dressed slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to watch me as I moved. Out of the corner of my vision I saw his eyes darting quickly over my body, trying not to look obvious. He was so nervous and looked so guilty that I had to suppress an urge to roll my eyes.
Shouldering my duffel bag, I strode over to the lion's locker and leaned back against the wall across from him, one leg propped up. As he pulled a very middle-aged looking cardigan sweater over his head, I said, "Well...that was fun." I did not look at him.
"Heh, yeah. Yeah, it was. So, uh, when do you usually work out around here?" I knew immediately where this was headed, but something I had seen earlier prevented me from being as friendly as I otherwise would have been. After all, having fun is quite different from having an affair. I had to nip this in the bud.
I stepped over to him, and he surprised me into a growl by blatantly swiping a paw over my groin, cupping my equipment beneath the thin fabric of my jogging pants. I grabbed him by the wrist and held the paw at muzzle level, saying, "You're a nice guy. Really. You're candid, cute, and-" I leaned a bit closer- "you have a very nice cock. But I don't think your family would approve of me, no matter how much they love you." I held up his paw for him to see and he flinched upon seeing the gold band that had been conveniently forgotten during our interlude.
"I...um, I'm not...shit," he started, but I shushed him by raising a finger. He looked like a little kid who had been caught experimenting with the family pet.
"Do you at least feel better?"
The lion nodded, looking at his feet.
"Everybody gets one," I said, smiling, "but you're out of luck when it comes to next time. Now go home and love your wife like she's never been loved before." At first, the lion looked offended, and anger flashed momentarily behind his eyes. Then he understood what I was saying, and resolve made him stand up straight...so did a certain part between his legs.
"I'm sorry, I was desperate."
"Don't apologize; I'm sure that, whatever the reason, you needed it. You're allowed."
"Okay. Yeah, that was fun. Thanks...a lot."
I patted him on the cheek, thinking how funny it was to look at a middle-aged lion acting like a once-bitten-twice-shy teenager. "Good boy." I left him to gather his things and made my way quickly to the front door.
My cock pressed needfully against my thin pants, and I had to walk stooped to keep it from being seen. I knew exactly what I was going to do the minute I got home. I replayed the scene in my head, adding an erotic variety of new twists and outcomes. Yeah, it wouldn't take any time at all to spray a load all over myself.
Before I got in my car, I pulled a well-used pack of cigarettes from my back pocket and lit one, savoring the first drag and blowing smoke up into the cold winter air. Maybe, just maybe if I caught up with him again I would let him look but not touch...just watching seemed to satisfy him plenty.
There's nothing wrong with wanting to put on a good show, is there?
FIN
1/6-1/31/05
PART 2: VOYEUR
I was a desperate man in a situation of the ultimate temptation, and it seemed to me that everything I did and saw only served to taunt my already fragile state of mind. Not since I left puberty had I felt this intimidated by my own fears.
My heart pounded hard, pushing my pulse up into my face, which was flushed and dripping profusely. I stared straight ahead, my eyes locked but unseeing. My body was a machine built to run forever, hard and durable. Nothing short of a brick wall could stop me.
At least, that's what I was trying to tell myself. Half the workout is initiative and positive thinking, they say. It seemed the more I tried to encourage myself, the more I glanced down at the green digital readout, only to see that less time had passed than I had thought. Little by little I could sense my mental strength waning, wanting to just give it up and pack it in for the day. I told myself I couldn't give up so easily, but my aching knees and heaving lungs told a different story.
Finally I looked into the mirror which faced the workout room, and saw my reflection. Clothed in full exercise gear, I was an oxymoron: a middle-aged lion with a sweatband around his mane, making it fluff out above and below; a white wife-beater soaked through so I could see my nipples and the surrounding puffy flesh; my tubby stomach like a bouncing waterfall over the waistband of black shorts that used to fit about two years ago. That was enough to kill the mood entirely, and with a groan of defeat I unhooked the magnetic safety key and let the treadmill coast to a stop.
Planting my paws on the rails, I caught my breath and reached for my towel, wiping up what perspiration I could and slicking the fur back out of my face. I put the towel around my neck and made my way on rubber legs to the locker room...anything to get off my poor feet.
For such a late time of night, it was surprisingly busy at the fitness center. Most people I talk to who work out usually do so in the morning before work, so they can start their day off right with energy. I'm not like that; I prefer to put my day's worth of work in and then get my exercise, not having to sit and worry about money matters or anything else. What's more, I can end my long days with a nice soak in the hot tub and a shot of the sauna...that, and checking out some bare male ass.
It may sound blunt, but that's what it comes down to in any locker room, whether you're just comparing cock sizes on the sly or looking for a bed partner. I had been spending more and more time away from the treadmills and ellipticals and free weights to be in the locker room, around all those male bodies and their assorted scents and...parts. Yes, I joined the gym to get fit, and yes, I had lost a bit of weight in the two months I'd been there, but every day I would linger just a little bit longer if there was meat to be watched.
My wife would kill me if she knew what I was doing. Thankfully, only my therapist knows of my attraction to males. It's not easy waking up one day when you're forty-three years old, underwear soaked through with semen from a wet dream you had about a guy, and then masturbating right next to your sleeping wife thinking about it again. All of a sudden you don't know who you are...but something's changed. I still love my wife and daughters dearly; still find her attractive and sexy, only now I have a different craving. Sometimes I think it's a kind of cruel mid-life crisis. Why couldn't I just buy a Viper and call it good?
These thoughts were a million miles from my mind as I staggered down the stairs and walked into the locker room, sweat still dripping from my mane.
"Hey, buddy, what's up?" called a voice from beside me. I turned to see one of my business associates, a stocky bear, standing nude and toweling himself off after a shower.
"Not much. I didn't know you were a member here. How can you afford it on your salary?" I joshed, trying to keep eye contact. After a nice shower, the penis can be reluctant to stay sheathed, and I was rather enjoying seeing flashes of pink as the bear ran the cloth over his body.
"I have my ways. Hell, you don't get paid much more than me. So, what do you think about Tiffany?" Tiffany was my new secretary.
The bear looked away for a moment, and I took advantage. "She's great. Very nice and outspoken, types seventy words a minute, and she may be the only person left on the planet who knows shorthand." The bear ran the towel over his crotch, the friction of it pulling about an inch of ursine cockhead into my view. I shuddered inwardly, my own cock well on its way out, mercifully hidden behind my shorts.
"Nice little tail, too. You ever notice how she carries it up a little when she sees you?"
"I didn't hire her for that and you know it."
"Just thought you'd like to know."
"I don't care."
The bear shook his head. "Suit yourself. It must be a drag being married." You don't know the half of it, I wanted to think, but I loved my family too much for it to be true. I waved goodbye and went three sections down to my locker and pressed my PIN. Making quick work of undressing to hide my half-erection, I wrapped the towel around my waist and walked down the hallway to the sauna.
Immediately I felt the fur on my head drop as if weights had been tied onto my mane. The air was intense and wet, and my lungs struggled to cope with the heat. I saw a black wolf (young, thin, but unfortunately in a swimsuit) who nodded to me and resumed sitting quietly. I stepped up to the second shelf, where the air was hottest, drew my towel away and draped it over one thigh, leaving me uncovered. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who isn't humble enough to be nude in front of others shouldn't be in the sauna in the first place...but I don't make the rules.
Rubbing sweat out of my eyes, I saw a newspaper sitting disheveled in the corner. It felt wet and droopy in my paws when I picked it up, and I wondered idly if the ink would rub off onto my pads. Turning to the stocks section, I adjusted my equipment absentmindedly and lost myself in the numbers, not minding the fact that I was taking the only free time I had to try and improve my portfolio.
My heartbeat increased steadily, adjusting to the extreme temperature. The wolf cleared his throat and lay back against the wall. The wood was starting to dig into my back, so I leaned forward, grunting and taking the paper with me. My back thanked me by loosening just a little, but enough to bring relief from my almost-constant backaches. I almost didn't look up when HE walked in.
Now, I had agonized with myself during many a long night in bed next to my wife, trying to justify what I had been attempting for quite some time. It is a subtle and dangerous game, trying to find someone to play around with in the sauna, the steam room or the Jacuzzi. Most of the time it's purely hit-and-miss, a battle of body language, eye contact and towel placement. There were a few times when I had been able to pretend I was reading the paper when in fact I was using it to shield my pounding paw and resulting shots of cum. I wanted to thank those few males for staying still long enough to let me to masturbate all the way to climax, but I just chalked it up to the giddiness of having done something inherently "bad" in a good place.
I still can't believe I haven't been caught or assaulted because of my insuppressible libido.
When that unbelievable hunk of a canine walked in I had to consciously keep from staring. He was a Dalmatian...and one of fine breeding, I could tell. His black-and-white spotted coat was evenly groomed and shone in the low light. His body was my definition of perfection...easily a head taller than me, not a hint of fat anywhere, everything toned to that hard-to-find spot right between swimmer-slender and Incredible Hulk. He moved with a grace made easy by his build, and I even caught a glimpse of a pair of honey-hazelnut eyes as he hoisted himself up onto the bench in the corner and wiped his forehead, flipping one of his ears back and forth as he did so.
And I'm supposed to be attracted to women...right.
I rustled the newspaper and pretended to be unbothered by his entrance, but suddenly the stocks were the most boring thing in the world and the paper had become more of a shield by now. I shifted and scratched my balls, adjusting them to a better position.
The black wolf coughed heartily, wheezed a little and pushed off the bench. His tongue, long and pink and waggling, dripped profusely as he panted to keep cool. Wrapping his towel around his neck, he loped out the door, leaving me and my fantasy alone. All of a sudden I was close to a panic; the black wolf had been the only thing keeping my roving paws in check. Now I was sure to make a fool of myself and get kicked out of the fitness center for my troubles. Part of me wanted to run out the door, shouting, "Please come back so I don't make a pass at this guy, please! He's hotter than hell!" That would go over well.
Breathing deep to maintain some bravado, I glanced over at the lounging Dalmatian. Curse of all curses, he was nude except for the part that counted. I could see he was being modest, but I could also see the giant bulge that couldn't be just another fold in the towel. This dog was packing some serious meat. I yearned to touch him so badly, but I was content to just look and keep my sheath from revealing what I really wanted. I adjusted myself again, hoping I wouldn't have to use the newspaper.
Like the lupine before him, the canine's tongue was out and dripping already, and he looked like he might spend even less time than the wolf. But he smiled, his eyes closed, and leaned back into the corner...and off the towel came. The first thing I saw was the Dalmatian's thin tail wagging slowly beneath him, but my eyes soon traveled upward. His balls were so round, and not oversized, which is a big turnoff for me. But you can never have a big enough cock, and I had never seen anything like what this dog had.
Ever since childhood I've had a certain fascination with firefighters. I don't know if it's the uniforms, the whole hero thing or what, but more than anything else I think it's the men who do the work. That, and the fact that a great many are Dalmatians, have teamed up to give me quite the sexual complex. For a moment I imagined myself in a burning building, yelling out for someone to come to my aid, and having this stud of a dog come rescue me. He would carry me (never mind the fact that I weigh close to 250 pounds) out of peril, lay me down in the ambulance and make sure I was okay. Then he would do muzzle-to-muzzle just to be doubly sure. And it might turn to a kiss and, well...
I shook off my fantasy before my cock could react to it and scratched myself to cover up any impending arousal. Against my better (read:sound) judgment I took advantage of his nude state and studied his ample sheath. It was the biggest I had ever seen on a canine, and stretched almost to his perfect innie of a bellybutton. I knew he could suck himself off easily and without much effort. I fought to suppress a whimper and realized my tailhole was literally aching to be taken by such a wonderful organ. Suddenly my toys, safely hidden at home, seemed unable to fill the void.
The canine shifted a bit, never opening his eyes. Now his legs were open, and he was sitting there in an even more provocative position, if there could be such a thing. Any moment he would look at me, take his sheath in one paw, and say, " I don't mind sharing." Oooohhh...I shuddered at the very thought, and brought the newspaper over my crotch to cover my growing arousal. Either I would find some way to control the outlandish fantasies my oversexed mind was thinking up, or I would simply have to leave before I became indecently exposed.
Looking down, I was dismayed to see almost half of my tapered cock out and getting redder by the second. I have a nasty little habit of not being able to control my erections beyond a certain point; I can't remember the number of times I've been late to dates, meetings, and countless other appointments because I had to find a convenient place to paw off. There was no way this hardon was going down unless I pounded out a quick one right there and then...and I could, too, easily behind the newspaper. I didn't really have a choice.
I let my mind wander, and it was glad for the chance after all the mental blocking I had done. It welcomed thoughts of the Dalmatian and me...in various scenarios, positions and roles. There were many different images that came to my mind, but the main thing was that canine and his huge cock, tied inside my ass and filling it with seed. My imagination tends to go towards the extreme, if you couldn't already tell. My cock came fully out and I did not hesitate to stroke it, sitting straighter to allow a better bloodrush to the already turgid flesh. The first droplet of pre gleamed at the tip, just waiting to flow over the head.
Staring at that spotted sheath, I willed it to move, to grow, to separate just a little and show the thing I craved most at that moment. Just a look, and maybe a little taste...and to my shocked surprise, the Dalmatian relaxed and let his legs drop freely over the edge of the bench. The towel was gone, fallen out from under his leg. His hips came up just a little, and it was impossible to miss the half-inch of cock sliding out of its hiding place. He was looking more relaxed then ever, and I was beginning to think that he might not be as straight (or, maybe, as hung up regarding guys "hanging out" together) as I thought he was.
Continuing to paw myself, my eyes traveled the length of his chest and upwards, following the varied patterns and outlines made by his spots over his well-defined chest. I could feel myself beginning to sweat in addition to the heat of the sauna, and almost had a heart attack when I saw him looking at me.
Our eyes met, but not like in the romantic stories you read. I'm sure I looked like a cornered rabbit or something, but I realized two very important things: one, he knew exactly what I was doing, and two, I was holding the paper in the wrong paw. It was blocking people outside from seeing in, but there was nothing to hide my right paw from his eyes. Currently it was masturbating me, and I couldn't stop. I felt very old then, and exposed. There were all of my forty-three years right in front of my eyes, the sad shame of what I was willing to do to get a little sexual satisfaction, everything...but the Dalmatian didn't react for a long time. His eyes were focused on me but slitted, as if he were secretly peeking and liked what he saw. The corner of his muzzle turned up just slightly, and it took some thinking to realize that he wasn't going to do anything to stop me. A welcome rush of relief washed over my flushed body; I just couldn't believe it was finally happening! All those weeks spent hoping there would be someone to play with me...it all seemed so easy and trivial to me now, and I willingly forgot all the agonizing I had done over it.
I felt my lips draw up into a pleasure-clouded grin. The Dalmatian's head was turned away in profile, moisture dripping down the side of his nose and off one fang. His nostrils flared, and my paw continued its slow flogging of my feline member. I took in every detail of him; even though he sat across from me on the bench a good three feet away, I saw it all: the way one ear was mostly black and cocked up while the other drooped down almost over one eye, the twitching of his whiskers, the gentle rise and fall of what I knew was a very hard chest.
My muzzle went dry when I happened upon his crotch again. The only thing better than a hard cock is watching one get hard in front of your eyes without any manual help. Before my eyes, that beautiful sheath started to retract of its own accord from the growing red flesh underneath. At first, only an inch was out, but little by little the black and white fur parted and tightened to reveal more cock. It was as if my staring helped his erection along. It went from a two-inch pale tube to six inches and half-hard in about thirty seconds, and I stopped pawing myself from oversensitivity. Oh man, was I ever horny!
Jaw loose, I watched in growing fascination as the Dalmatian suddenly opened his eyes and looked at himself pensively. He grimaced, the first real expression I had seen on his face since he had come into the sauna, and pulled his sheath over a massive knot. His legs came up a bit to ease the pain, and I got a very vivid image of him on his back in my king-size bed, legs spread and raised, inviting me over. That got me pumping again, completely unaware of the little beads of saliva dripping from my muzzle and my own awe-struck murmurings. I felt like I was twelve years old.
"Oooohhh...nice, big, cock..." It came out as a whisper of wonderment, as a crow or raccoon would appreciate a new shiny object to play with. In all my years, I had never actually seen a twelve-inch-long cock before, but one was right in front of me now. The mythical goal that practically every male on the face of the planet strives for, or wishes he had, was now within my reach. The erection tensed and flopped back down, making me temporarily lose feeling in my lower back. With a small whine I struggled to make this last as long as possible.
I couldn't believe the canine looked so relaxed while my heart was going insane inside of me. My stomach was doing backflips from anxiety and excitement; I knew at any moment someone could walk in and see me jerking it...bye-bye membership. Of course, the Dalmatian would claim he didn't notice and seem horrified at the thought, thereby preserving his own skin. Suddenly I hated him, but quickly came back to myself, thinking it would be better to stick to the task at paw instead of daydreaming silly things.
But how dare he taunt me like this! I thought indignantly. He knows he can play me, and he will unless I up the ante and show him how much I mean business. And before I knew it, I was clutching my cock so tightly it hurt and made blood pool near the head. Frustrated, I let go and licked my lips. My mouth was so dry, and all I wanted was one little taste...just to touch him would be like touching a god, like something from a dream. So before I could think of anything more practical, I just reached over and grabbed onto him. He jumped and uttered a small grunt through his nose, and the thick shaft in my paw grew noticeably harder.
My fingers just barely surrounded his girth; I lifted it from his body and gripped with my whole paw, amazed at its moist warmth and slight give despite its rigid state. This was so much better than trying to go to a bar and picking up a one-night stand; too bad we were in an unprotected public place. At least my wife wouldn't give me twenty questions for coming home late again. I caressed his knot, running a claw around the edge of his sheath, feeling him actually start to hump in response. I gave him a nice hard jerk upwards, and saw a line of clear fluid arc from the tip of his cock and land across the top of his muzzle. I'd never seen anything like it.
"Fuck, that was hot." For a second I thought he had gone off right then and there, but the absence of additional spurts told me it was just precum. But now that I had opened the floodgates, so to speak, a fair amount now drooled onto his fur. I was reminded of my own need and went back to pawing myself, deeply aroused by the combined scents drifting up from my paw and the fact that the Dalmatian's juices were helping to lubricate my way.
There was no doubt now that it would take little more than a few minutes to set me off; I felt wetness on my pads besides the air of the sauna and it reminded me of how my wife felt after I had given her a good ride...the result of good, rough sex. I looked to my right and found the canine watching me with undisguised appreciation as he started to masturbate himself slowly, making sure to cover every inch and milk out the seemingly unending fluid coming from within him. Every time he would get almost to the top, hold it, then let go another volley into his face. I had been reduced to a teenager watching a porn flick for the first time, all my concentration on the figure next to me. Fuck anyone who came in; they would have to either join us or walk away!
I felt no guilt, yet something in my mind told me it would be a good idea to keep an eye out for trouble; I could still get off as long as I was careful. Abruptly I turned to the windows, saw no one, turned back to the Dalmatian, my nervousness for him almost totally gone. I felt my balls begin to boil, but I didn't want it to end yet, not with a premature orgasm from a randy feline. Again I forced my paws away and back to the canine, this time going for broke.
Pulling myself over on one thigh, I took a deep breath and widened my mouth as much as I dared, feeling the slick tapered flesh part my lips and an unprepared gasp from above. I could tell my impromptu partner had not expected this, and the rest of his aplomb was now gone. Two fistfuls of claws raked over my head and through my mane, encouraging me and hitting that sweet spot on the back of my neck. My moans only served to make him force me down further. At that moment I was grateful to have lost my gag reflex long ago...but I had to breathe sometime.
Regretfully, I drew myself away from him and sat back up, returning my roving paw back to its proper place. "Mmmmm, tastes so good." The words came out, but I was helpless to stop them. The lack of sensitivity I had expected from holding off was not there, so I didn't have to go to the trouble of working back up to a feverish level. All I wanted was to finish what I had started, to show this magnificent dog my appreciation for just...well, being in the right place at the right time. I shut my eyes. "Getting close..."
I seemed to move upwards through levels of arousal I never knew I had; as soon as I reached a point where I was certain my balls would give out, I would top a plateau and have to work even harder. It wasn't my paw, but the power of memory that finally did it. I felt clawed toes working their way in between mine, reassuring in their warmth and authority.
I was whisked back to a day when I was an overweight cub of thirteen years, masturbating in an airport bathroom in between flights one summer. Sure, the guy in the next stall was a pervert and a pedophile, but when he stuck his head under the divider I felt not ashamed, but sexy. When he reached under to caress my ankle the effect was instantaneous. I had to watch the stall door as I opened it to make sure no one saw the large white splotches coating the graffiti.
My muzzle open in a silent scream, it took two short strokes before I had the presence of mind to cup my free paw over the head just in time to catch the first jets. The relief I felt was a welcome wave, and when my body finally collapsed I knew that tomorrow morning every single joint would be screaming at me. It was worth it. When I managed to look back at the Dalmatian to thank him, he was already getting up, his cock resheathed almost halfway.
"I'm gonna hit the showers," he said, padding to the door and disappearing, a cloud of steam escaping behind him. I cleaned up as best I could (oddly hoping that they wouldn't be able to trace the cum-sticky towel to me) and, a bit disillusioned, went to my locker on shaky legs.
I felt scared then, like our act would be discovered no matter what...like they had cameras in the sauna, or that the sexy Dalmatian was really an undercover cop who, by his good looks, had been hired by the fitness center just to catch sickos like myself. The purr-fest I had been enjoying earlier had turned into a jumpy heartbeat in my throat. Part of me wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible, but I had to face him...whether it was to thank him or give myself up. Fear does weird things, doesn't it?
He made quick work of toweling off and drying his short, sleek spotted fur, and I still couldn't help but watch, forcing back a second erection. Eventually I gave up on soaking the last out of my unruly mane. When I pulled a sweater over my head I came muzzle-to-muzzle with him and had to stifle a startled cry, averting my eyes and feeling every bit the vanilla cub.
"Well...that was fun."
"Heh, yeah. Yeah it was." At least if he was a cop, he wasn't making a big deal out of it. "When do you usually work out around here?" Color rose to my cheeks immediately; that stupid sex-driven part of my brain refused to give up even in the face of guilt. As if to punctuate the statement, I got one last feel before he pushed me to the side with force, his grip crushing.
He smiled, but it was a sad and even respectful expression. I thought I could see the same regret in his face as I felt at that moment. He looked up, saying, "You're a nice guy. Really. You're candid, cute, and you have a very nice cock." I had to smile back; no one had said that in a long time. "But I don't think your family would approve of me, no matter how much they love you." Flabbergasted, couldn't figure out how he knew about me until my own paw came up to eye level. My engagement ring, the one thing that had never left my body in seventeen years of marriage, sat accusingly snug on my finger.
"I...um, I'm not...shit." What was the use? The canine deserved more credit than I was giving him, whether or not he was at least ten years younger than me. His warm smile did not falter.
"Do you at least feel better?" I allowed that I did, despite the unusual circumstances.
"Everybody gets one, but you're out of luck when it comes to next time." Wow, there's a sign of the times for you. I admired his understanding. "Now go home and love your wife like she's never been loved before." That tone of authority set off a momentary flashpot of incredulity in my middle-aged mind, but it was I who had committed the error here. Making up for it would be fun, I thought, if that's what it would take. Maybe I could convince her to wear that leather gear I had bought for her birthday recently...
"I'm sorry. I was desperate."
"Don't apologize; I'm sure that, whatever the reason, you needed it. You're allowed."
My composure regained, I felt more than a little relieved, and a bit hard as well. It was like having a conversation with the big brother I never had. "Yeah, that was fun. Thanks...a lot."
"Good boy." With a final, platonic pat, he shouldered his duffel and walked in easy strides out of the locker room. I played the last twenty minutes back in my head, going over each move, each emotion I had felt during what had to have been the most erotic pawoff session in my life. Standing up, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the large wall of mirrors above the sinks. At first I thought it was some smudge on the glass, but when I got closer there was no denying it: as much as I squinted, the crow's feet around my eyes were almost gone. I looked awake, for once, and even though my belly was still its usual size, my face seemed to have gotten younger.
I'm too old to believe in things like that, but even if the effect was psychosomatic it still served to illustrate a few things. The way the Dalmatian acted and spoke to me, it was clear he didn't do what he did out of pity...I could even venture to guess that he had been flattered by my attentions. Even males like me need to feel sexual, need to recharge every once in awhile, and that dog had seen the need and filled it. Quite well.
Crow's feet or no crow's feet, I had a smile on my muzzle which drew my whiskers back and up above my eyes and showed my fangs to the world. Work would be a breeze on Monday, but for now I had a promise to keep. I would love my wife like she had never seen since our honeymoon, when I'd had more energy and weighed fifty pounds less. The children would be all too eager to go to friends' houses instead of doing their usual homework until bedtime...in fact, they had not slept over in ages.
Is there anything more erotic than an empty house at night? I guess I'm just a horny old fool after all.
FIN
1/31-3/12/05