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As part time jobs go, working at the front desk of a gym isn't bad. The place is near campus, I can work around my classes, and the owner, J (short for Jim, which doesn't work for obvious reasons), doesn't mind if I do my homework. It's a cool place, small but modern, and I get a discount on my membership. When fitness companies come in to do promotions I can usually snag gear, power bars, supplements, whatever they're giving away, and the trainers are happy to give me advice when I use the equipment before or after my shifts. So it's not an internship at a Fortune 500, but it's a cool, relaxed gig that helps me pay rent.

My second year there, when I was a sophomore, I learned the place wasn't always without it's drama, though. One of the cell phone selfie guys got caught taking pictures of a couple of the gym rats in the locker room. Apparently the shutter sound gave him away when one of the guys bent over. There was a fight, a smashed phone, and a couple black eyes, but since J knew everyone involved no charges were filed. He gave the two muscle mountains six months free and the voyeur got a year ban. Some of the regulars thought it should have been life, but rumor had it the guy grew up with J, so a year it was. I was sorry to see him go. His name was Aaron and he always seemed happy to see me when he came in. Just a nice guy who made a bad decision while his dick was hard. And I missed him in the showers. He had a nice piece and he took his time soaping up.

The trouble didn't stop when Aaron left, though. J's smooth talking couldn't keep rumors from spreading that management didn't care that gay guys could take pictures of you in the showers without legal consequences. Membership took a nosedive. I'd come in some days and you'd think the place was closed. Other days it looked like a women only place. Desperate, J, the poor guy, instituted a cell phone ban. No phones in locker room. Getting caught meant a month ban, no refunds. That staunched the flow of regulars bleeding out the door, and then a few started coming back. That seemed the best we could hope for.

Then the local paper caught wind of it, wrote a little culture piece with interviews that applauded J's Gym for its "stand against the ubiquity and invasiveness of cell phone use in public places". Membership began to tick up again, then the place got a reputation with a certain crowd and suddenly we had a new crop of regulars. Encouraged, J took it a step further: no cell phones anywhere in the gym. You take your phone out and you'll be asked to either check it at the front desk or leave. People loved it. The place got busy again. Not worried about making payroll anymore, J, surprising us all, even instituted my suggestion: check your phone voluntarily when you arrive and get a free towel.

So that makes me, the front desk guy, phone warden and towel jockey at a gym full of people who love to tell their friends they work out at a no-selfie gym. I check people in, hand out towels, and if you've got a nice smile and time to chat up the little people, I'll let you know when that important call lights up your cracked iPhone. Sometimes, when I don't have homework, I'll help out a few of the original regulars, the ones from before the phone ban who have blogs or a "ton" of social media followers. I'll snap a few pictures for them in an out of the way spot and maybe let them sneak a few of their own.

There are still slow days, though, especially around the holidays. Christmas eve and the night before Thanksgiving are usually dead. The college empties out and the townies start their drinking and eating and almost no one wants to spend time on an elliptical. I usually volunteer for those days. I get some pleasure reading in, J pays me extra, and we usually close early anyway.

The Thanksgiving of my junior year, Eric, the last trainer to leave, did an early walk through. He had a party to get to, the place was empty, and it was snowing. Between the two of us we decided that no one else was coming in.

"Just saw one guy heading into the showers," Eric said, rounding the corner from the back room. "Should be done soon. You ever do the lock up?"

"No," I said. "I'm just the pretty face at the front. Being master of the keys is why you get paid the big bucks."

"Yeah, right. Well I gotta go. Cherie's texts are all coming through with scream-lock because I said I'd be there an hour ago." He walked to the front doors and locked the left side. "All you have to do is lock the other door after you hit the lights." He over handed the keys at me. "We'll skip the alarm. I don't have time to show you how it works and I open on Friday anyway." He winked at me. "Our little secret."

I tossed the keys on the counter in front of me. "J would kill me if he found out I left without setting the alarm. What's in it for me?"

"Seriously? Help me out."

I shrugged.

Eric puffed out his chest, fired up his best bro voice, and gave me double finger guns. "Free towel next time we train. Got you güvenilir bahis covered."

I stared at him.

"God, you're such a shit." He took a few steps closer to the desk, lowering his voice even though there was no one nearby to hear him. "Stress relief package next time we close together, alright? Now I gotta go."

I smiled, tossed him his coat from the peg beside the cell phone rack. "Tell Cherie I said hi."

"Fuck you," he said, pulling his coat on as he walked to the door. "You fuck this up or lose those keys and I'll string you up on the climbing wall."

"Happy Thanksgiving."

He waved his middle finger over his shoulder until the door closed behind him.

I sat back in my chair and smiled.

J was a great guy and we all liked him, but he didn't compensate his full time trainers as well as he might, and that meant some of the guys needed to find creative ways to supplement their income. Eric was one of the more creative thinkers. A few months earlier I had caught him giving one of his more affluent customers what he called the "Stress Relief Package." It was, essentially, a post-workout happy ending. He claimed it motivated his clients because the Package bought you some sort of "relief", but just what you got was up to Eric. The options ranged from touching and fondling to a full on fuck, all based on workout performance-and, Eric told me later, he always rewarded hard work.

I walked in on him rewarding one guy in J's office while I was looking for blank membership forms. Eric stood behind the desk, his arms crossed behind his head while he slammed his hips hard against the ass of the guy bent over the desk in front of him. All three of us froze, Eric mid thrust, the guy choking on a moan and hiding his face behind his arms. Then Eric was bending over to cover himself and I backed out the door.

I wouldn't have ratted him out, probably wouldn't even have told most of my buddies, but Eric didn't take any chances. After I backed out of the room and closed the door, Eric came right out into the hallway after me. He got real close, started kneading my shoulder with one strong, warm hand, and began to explain. In his rush to catch me he'd only had time to pull on a pair of mesh shorts and his hard dick still stood at attention between us, tenting the thin fabric and showing me the wide, round shape of its underside. The scent of lube rose off him in waves and drops of perspiration traced lines down his abs, soaking into the wet, matted hair at his navel. He smelled incredible, powerful, and the look in his eyes was earnest, searching, filled with caged panic. I didn't understand everything he said at first, but then he made his offer.

"I see you looking," he said. He stood a little straighter. "You like this?"

All I could do was nod. My dick was pressing against my jeans so hard it hurt.

"Alright," he said. "You keep this between us and I'll give you the full package, full treatment." He squeezed my shoulder with one hand and gestured at himself with the other. "Just say the word and you get all this."

I thought about the man standing naked in J's office, half fucked, hole waiting to be filled again, and realized that could be me. I nodded again.

"OK," I said.

Eric clapped me on the back and smiled, the tension melting out of his shoulders. After a quick glance down the hallway behind me, then another at the closed door behind him, he hooked his thumbs in his waistband and pushed his shorts down to his ankles. We stood there for about five seconds, Eric in his glory, confidence returned, and me starting to feel dizzy. His dick was long and perfectly straight, and it matched the long, lean hardness of the body beneath the hair that ran in a thin line from his chest and flared out at his navel. He took a half step closer and laid his warm, damp hand on my shoulder again. He reached down to grip the thick pole that had begun to dance slightly to the beat of his heart. He stroked a few times, leaning on me, and I watched the head stretch and bulge.

"That's just a preview," he said, squeezing the base of his shaft so the head flared huge and purple. "I'd say we start now, but I've already got a client and he doesn't like to share."

I just nodded, swallowed a moan as Eric squeezed my shoulder again, and watched as he retreated back into J's office. After the lock clicked I waited just long enough to hear a muffled moan, then made my way back to my desk. I sat there with an invincible hard on for the rest of my shift.

My first taste of Eric's stress relief services was great-a quiet, intense fuck after hours on one of the benches by the free weights-but it got more fun once Eric understood I didn't have any intention of ruining him. Now we made a game of it. I'd find some sort of flimsy leverage and threaten to put him in a tough spot. He'd put up a token resistance, then offer me an extra stress relief session. I'd been fucked on almost every kind of machine in the gym, and as Eric türkçe bahis started withholding oral and anal for after my top training sessions, I'd started to see better gains. It had been a good semester.

I wandered around the gym, turning off lights and squeezing the bulge straining at the front of my jeans as I passed the equipment Eric and I had repurposed for our after hours sessions. When all the lights were out I sat behind the desk and waited for the guy Eric had seen heading into the showers. As I waited I considered what to do about my hard on. I'd never jerked off alone in the gym before. Maybe after I locked up I'd give it a try. Maybe I'd start by the free weights and finish in J's office. I could never go in there without thinking of Eric bending a sweaty, eager man over the desk, and the sight of him standing in front of me in the hallway, hard and smelling like sex as he offered to fuck me, was still my favorite jerk off image. As soon as the last guy in the shower left, I figured I'd revisit it.

Except the guy was taking his sweet ass time. After ten minutes my hard on had disappeared and I started getting irritated. I checked the phone sitting alone on the rack. I could match some phones to patrons by their protective cases, but I didn't recognize this one. He must have come in while I was on my last break. He could be anybody.

I waited. Another fives minutes dragged by. Maybe he was appreciating the empty showers on a slow night, enjoying the water. Or maybe he'd fallen asleep in the sauna. That had happened before. Or, since Eric hadn't told him, maybe he didn't realize we were closing early and had decided to move through an unnecessarily lengthy bathroom routine entirely inappropriate for a public shower.

I grabbed the phone from the rack and headed toward the locker room. I wanted him out before someone else showed up and I had to stay open all night. Might as well give him his phone while I was in there. Efficient that way.

I could hear the shower running as soon as I walked into the locker room and the door clicked softly behind me. That made things tricky. I couldn't really hand him his phone while he showered, and it seemed rude, now that I was in there, to rush him out if he hadn't even finished rinsing off. J would be pissed if he ever found out.

I considered my options while I made my way toward the sound of running water. Why I didn't just turn around then and wait at the desk I don't know. Stubbornness, maybe, or just inertia. Whatever the reason, it brought me around a line of lockers and placed me squarely in front of a perfect, wet, round ass shining in fluorescent light. I froze. Just ten feet away naked man stood in the showers with his back to me.

I'd seen plenty of men naked. I showered at the gym after working out and back on campus I got probably more than my fair share of ass, but something about the sudden appearance of that hard, toned man, his face turned up into the spray hissing out of the shower, spiked am exceptional surge of adrenaline through my heart and down to my dick.

I stared for a moment, admiring the curves of his ass, the thickness of his legs. I imagined what it would feel like to put my lips on the soft, wet skin of his shoulder, to taste him through the water.

Then he shifted beneath the spray and I panicked. Terrified he would turn around and find me staring, I sidestepped behind the lockers and froze. I listened for his voice, for the water to stop-some indication he'd seen me and intended to investigate. But the hiss of the shower continued, punctuated by the splashing sheets of water that fell from his body and landed on the tiles. I barely breathed. Slowly, silently, I backed my way down the row of lockers until it felt safe to turn around and move more quickly. I made for the door, grateful not to have been caught ogling.

I only got halfway there before I slowed to a stop. Despite the anxiety of a close call, my dick strained hard against my jeans and I couldn't get the sight of that body out of my mind. It was an everyman's body, broad in the shoulders, narrow at the waist, with just a hint of hair hanging above his ass. It was an intoxicating, magnetic exemplar of the male form. I turned back before I quite knew what I was doing.

I put another row of lockers between me and the shower this time, getting close enough to enjoy a clear line of sight while giving myself enough room to get out without drawing attention to myself. I waited, listening to make sure the water was still on, then slowly peeked around the corner.

He still had his back to me, but now he was running his hands over his body, spreading a thin white lather over his shoulders, across his chest, down his stomach. When he bent his head to look down, as his hands reached between his legs and slowed, I reached down between my own legs and slid my hand into my jeans. I gripped the hard length of my shaft and squeezed. I wondered what he had in his hands, whether he had a thick mat of hair to run güvenilir bahis siteleri his fingers through, whether he was teasing the beginnings of a hard on. I wished that he would turn around, hoped he wouldn't.

I tweaked the head of my dick, gave it a tug, and shifted my attention to his ass. It was firm, round and smooth except for that thin patch of hair at the small of his back. It flexed and bounced each time he moved, and I wondered again what it would be like to press my lips against his back, to warm that cool wet skin with my mouth, to work my way from his neck, across his shoulders, down to those two mounds of hard muscle.

I squeezed my dick again, tempted to pull it out. Eric's promise of a fuck the next time we closed had primed me, fired my imagination, and now this sight, just a few dozen feet away, came close to pushing me over the edge. I considered stroking off then and there, tugging and massaging my shaft, fucking my hips forward against my hand as I watched this unsuspecting man soap up in an open shower. I could climax in short hot bursts, fill my trunks with warm seed, then head back to my desk and wait for him to leave. I'd hand him his phone with fingers still slightly damp while the load in my underwear soaked out onto my jeans, a dark stain on my crotch beneath the desk.

Or I could pull my dick out right there and stroke to a finish while the object of my lust pushed soap up and down his legs and dug a hand into his ass to massage white foam into the trough between those perfect globes of muscle. As the water washed the suds from him I could shoot and then go, leaving little steaks of white dripping down the lockers, puddling on the blue tiles where men changed and stood naked everyday. I could relive that intimate moment, that secret climax, every time I walked into this room and stripped to wash away the sweat of a session with Eric.

But instead of jerking off as I watched a man shower across the room, I opted for a more extreme option. My sex addled brain reasoned this way: if I took a picture of this scene, took a few pictures, I could save them and relive the experience whenever I wanted. I had always wanted a picture of Eric in the act, would have committed a felony for a chance to preserve an image of him standing before me with those little shorts around his ankles, but he wouldn't allow it. Too risky, he said. He trusted me, but he had to be careful. It took just one mistake to unravel a life.

He wasn't wrong, I knew that, but with my dick in my hand I felt in the most visceral depths of me that if I didn't seize this opportunity I might regret it forever.

The only problem was that I didn't have my phone on me. I only had the phone in my hand, and it belonged to the naked man in front of me. But if his phone was unlocked-it was, I discovered with a thrill-I could take a few pictures, text them to myself, then delete both the images and the messages while I waited for him at the front desk. He'd never know.

It was an absurd plan, the height of hormone soaked stupidity, but I did it. With one hand down the front of my pants I aimed the phone carefully and waited for the right moment. Drunk on the possibilities, on the heat of that illicit maneuver, I actually found seven moments and I preserved each of them with a tap of my thumb. Too many, I knew, but my thumb was taking orders directly from dick and in less than thirty seconds I had a series of photos I could savor at my leisure. I tabbed open the messaging app, typed in my number and...off they went.

I would have turned then and hurried back to my desk to erase the evidence of my voyeurism, but a hand clamped over my mouth and an arm gripped me around the waist. Too shocked to move, I froze. I let myself be tugged backward away from my chosen view and into a vice-like embrace. I felt a stubbled chin rasp across my neck.

"Fucking pervert."

Eric.

I relaxed, but only slightly. Unable to remove my hand from my pants, and my right arm still held out in front of me, the damning images were plain to see on the screen in my hand. I was caught. My mind went blank.

"I leave you for twenty minutes and this is the shit you get up to?" His lips moved directly against my ear, his voice barely a whisper. "You could have fucked us both, you know that? I need this fucking job."

I nodded. I tried to work my jaw, knowing I couldn't speak without drawing attention to us, but wanting to explain. Eric shook me slightly and pulled my head back.

"Not a word."

A moment later Eric released his grip on my jaw. I expected him to push me in the direction of the door but his hand descended to the front of my jeans. He deftly undid the button of my jeans.

Confused, I looked down to watch as he unzipped my fly. While my heart beat faster I turned to whisper into his face.

"What are you doing?"

"You like taking risks," he said against the side of my face. He hooked his thumbs into my waistband and pushed both my jeans and my underwear down to the middle of my thighs with two strong, swift tugs. My dick sprang out into the space between me and the locker and I could feel the fabric of Eric's training pants rasping against my bare ass. "So let's take a risk."