Ebb and Flow

I have been on this elliptical machine for a while. I have about five minutes left when a guy jumps on the other machine next to me. He wears a bright blue tank top and types incessantly on his phone before getting on with his exercise. 

I pay him no attention until the whiff of his underarms starts drifting my way. I’m very sensitive to odors, especially at the gym. It is not rare for me to stop my exercise to just step away from someone reeking like a dog. I swear, some people are allergic to deodorant or something.

However, this guy, it turns out, I don’t hate. I am okay with how he smells. I watch him from the corner of my eye. I try to discreetly inspect the bush he’s sporting under his moving left arm. Then, my twenty minutes are up, and I get off the machine.

I try to go to the gym five times a week. I don’t really have a goal, just have nothing better to do after nine p.m. I don’t actually like doing exercise, but it helps get my mind off things. The other thing that helps requires a partner.

Golly! What day is it today? Why am I so on heat?

The guy in front of me doing bench press in a sleeveless oversized tee is so hot. His biceps are almost the size of my head. He could easily crush my neck with his thick thighs. If he wanted, well, he could.

The good thing is, I am quite certain that he is into guys. I see him often here. I have caught him multiple times stealing a glance at some guy’s rear. He never chats with girls for too long, despite almost all the hot birds of the gym obviously flirting with him from time to time. With guys, on the other hand, he’s super friendly.

The bad news is, I don’t know if he is into someone like me.

I have decided that I have to stop my training. Any longer and I will definitely drop a dumbbell onto my face. I need to get away from this hot guy. No. I need him to get on my face, but perhaps not in this free weight area.

So, to the locker room I go. I pull my phone out of my pocket and quickly go on Grindr. I hate this app. It bugs every time I open it. I have to force stop it and reopen it to get it working. Despite that, it usually gets the job done nonetheless.

Someone in the gym is on here, too. No profile picture. No name. No age. Just some basic info about his build and what he is into. Considering his height, he could be that hot biceps guy. But, there is no other way to verify other than, hi!

Hey, he replies a minute later. What’s up?

My dick, I type. Of course, it is technically a lie. But that’s flirting.

He sends a laughing emoji. The rolling one.

You at the gym?

I am.

Down for a quickie? I send him my album. There are five pictures in it. Two are of my torso. Flexed, although I tried so hard to look as relaxed as possible. The other two show off my butt cheeks, and the last one my flaccid member. None of them has my face.

He sends a fire emoji.

I smile a little. You have pic?

He sends one. Of him in front of a mirror. A bit blurry, but you can clearly see the veins bulging in his arms. His biceps look huge. I hope he is the biceps guy.

Looks hot, I compliment.

Thx.

So, you down?

Gimme two minutes, he says.

Okay, I say. I am waiting in the locker room.

While waiting for him to come, I am checking the room. No one else is here. It is unusual that the gym is this dead at this hour. I am not complaining, though. This is good for me. This is good for me and the biceps guy.

Hi, he says. Standing in front of me is the guy in the bright blue tank top.