My Best Friend Said It Helped His Workouts 02: Sperm Donation (Patreon)

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My Best Friend Said It Helped His Workouts

Chapter 2: Sperm Donation

Over the next week, the massage gun stayed close by during every workout sesh, behind a coffee can full of drywall screws, and neither of us brought up out loud whatever the fuck we were doing.

What happened instead was that the recovery block developed its own place in our workouts, after squats or deadlifts, and before food, Max would rack the bar and go straight to the bench and pull his shorts off, facing his bare ass to me. He'd lie down face-first on the vinyl with his forearms crossed under his forehead, and wait for me while I got the collars off the bar. I'd wash my hands at the sink in the corner because that felt like the responsible thing, and then I'd kneel on the mat by the bench and do whatever needed doing to his glutes.

And once I got home, I would have myself a pleasure session of two or sometimes three loads re-living this bizarre new twist in our physical connection. And when I was finally done, I would throw my cum rag across the room and pretend like none of it ever happened, scrolling reels and turning off my brain until I fell asleep.

····[]····

It went from the gun to my fingers over about three sessions, and I could not tell you which one was the switch. My memory of this week in my life is a blur, but I know that there was no conversation about it. One day the gun was "too aggressive" on the deep tissue, according to him, and after that it was my hand, and soon after that, my fingers were working inside him, using my spit to "get it inside".

He'd tell me "deeper" or "left" or "hold it". He'd tell me to brace him. He got hard against the vinyl every time, and the second time I got my fingers inside him, I found what I thought was an internal "knot" and pressed it deeply and repeatedly, feeling him appear to enjoy the sensation. Then I felt him clench hard on my fingers.

Thinking I had hurt him, I pulled my fingers out of him. 

"No, put it back!" he urged my in a tense, high pitched tone. 

Sensing the urgency, I shoved my fingers back in, finding the spot, and holding it. That's when I felt him pulse. 

I bit my lips and said nothing as my friend's hole tensed rhythmically around my wet fingers, like a mysterious, benign creature attempting to consume my fingers like a sardine.

When I felt his body relax, I finally slipped them out, stepping back to the sink to wash my hands again. And we didn't say anything about it.

····[]···· 

After that, he'd finish sometimes, without either of us acknowledging it, and there'd be a wet spot on the bench that he wiped with his shorts before he went to eat.

"Bench went up ten pounds," he said one of those afternoons, still face-down, my hand still between his butt cheeks, massaging his button with three fingers now. "Ten in two weeks. That's not normal for me. That's extra."

"That's extra," I echoed, only half registering what he was saying.

"There's another I read on reddit." He turned his head to the side so I could hear him better. "You're not supposed to jerk off. At all. Like ever, not just before a competitive event. Every load you spend is straight testosterone leaving your body. You're throwing it in the trash. There's guys who haven't jizzed in like eight months, and their bloodwork is insane."

My hand was still slick, two fingers in my best friend and coconut oil out of his mom's pantry running down my wrist, when he said it.

"Eight months," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm at nineteen days." He said it like a bench number. "It's why the strength is coming so fast, bro. It's all connected."

"So you don't count when you cum during massages?"

I saw his face turn a little red, like I had broken the rule of not mentioning what we were doing together. 

"No," he said slowly. "That doesn't count."

And he turned his head away from me, as my hand continued to massage his insides with increasing pace, until he began to breathe hard, leaning back into me.

—[]—

He asked one day, mid-set, with chalk still on his hands. "So I found out something else. About testosterone levels and working out."

"Okay," I said, trying not to show that I was internally rolling my eyes.

"So the problem with the no-nut thing is I'm not producing anything new I can use, right, I'm just conserving. Which is good, but it's defensive." He said defensive with real weight, like a coach. "But there's guys taking in another guy's testosterone directly. Like... directly. Straight in. It skips the whole recovery window because you're not waiting on your own production, you're getting a donation."

I looked at the bar. There were four plates a side and one of them had a chip out of the rubber. I felt myself start to smile, even as I tried to suppress it.

"A donation," I said.

"If you donated to me," he said. "...you'd still make enough for yourself, right? Yours doesn't count against you. You're not lifting heavy enough for it to matter." He wiped his palms on his shorts. "Mine's locked up. Yours is just sitting there, probably squirting it all down the drain every night."

"Okay," I said.

"Cool." He nodded at the bar, as if I had agreed to whatever he was asking already. "One more set and then we'll do it."

I chuckled slightly as we began the next set. I already knew I was going to do whatever he asked of me. What was funny was that he seemed to believe what he was saying. He couldn't admit that he just enjoyed getting stimulated in the ass, as much as I had learned to enjoy doing it to him. But if he wanted to get fucked, who was I to say no?

····[]····

I let go after his final rep, and went straight into his house, through the kitchen and up the stairs, turning into his mom's bathroom. I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but I knew a lady would be more likely to have it, and I spied my prize quickly. 

There was a bottle of baby oil on the back of the toilet tank with the label going soft from steam, and I put it in the waistband of my shorts under my shirt and came back down. I don't know why I took that instead of the coconut oil. I think it was because the pantry was in the kitchen and the kitchen had a window, and I was feeling somewhat paranoid that people were going to "know" somehow.

I walked back in, and found him waiting for me, his big, white ass pointing directly at me. The boy was hungry for this, regardless of what he said about it being for the workouts. He had racked his weights, pulled off his shorts, and gotten onto the bench. He had set the incline higher this time, up two notches, and he knelt on the seat part and put his forearms on the pad up top and braced. I paused when I noticed the change in orientation.

"This is a better angle," he said. "For absorption... probably."

"Okay."

"What did you grab?"

I showed him the bottle. He nodded at it, and turned his face forward, holding still.

I got the oil onto my hand, and spread it on him, feeling his little hairs flatten under my fingers. I pushed into his hole, which felt more ready for me than normal, easier to get into, and then I stood behind him on the mat. My hands were shaking, which he did not see because he was facing the wall with his forehead down on the pad. He was already hard. I could see it from behind, hanging down and forward from between his thighs, the big vein on it, swaying a little when he shifted his knees on the vinyl.

"Just go," he said. "Don't make it weird."

I pushed forward, making contact with his skin. The muscles of his cheeks tensed briefly on their own, and that alone already felt so good I wasn't sure if I was going to cum or not. He went up on his toes and dropped his head as I pressed forward, and swore into the pad when the head of my dick popped into him. 

I stopped, and he said, "No, keep going, that's the same as fingers, just bigger. Keep going." 

So I kept going, until I was all the way in. He was so hot inside that I felt my body spasm, and I had to grab his hips with both hands to hold still.

"Okay," he said, into the pad. "Yeah. Okay. Go. Now."

I started to move, the first time a body was taking my dick, and felt the wave of pleasure rush through me. After a few seconds of slow pushing and pulling, he began to direct me.

"Slower on the way out. Control the eccentric." His voice came out shaky and broken up but he kept saying the words anyway. "Yeah. Full range. Don't cut it short at the top, go all the way, all the way in, that's the stretch."

He leaned back hard into me, almost knocking my smaller body over, but I held on, adjusted my legs, and drove into him exactly like he asked.

I had one hand spread on his lower back with my thumb sitting right in that dimple I'd had memorized since sophomore year, and the other on his hip, and I pulled him back onto me on every rep because that's what he was telling me to do. 

His back was wet with sweat, and my palm slid on it. He pushed back at me every time I came forward, meeting my body with his momentum, his knees squeaking on the vinyl, the bench frame beginning to squeak under our weight and movements, and his ass was heavy enough against my hips that I could feel it move on impact each time, rippling into his glute muscles. I looked down and watched my shaft disappear into him repeatedly, and I watched the small of his back arch the exact same shape it made at the bottom of a squat.

"Harder," he said. "Come on, it's not gonna absorb if you're gentle on me."

I almost chuckled as I got a fistful of his shoulder for leverage and gave it to him even harder. He shoved his forehead into the pad and his whole back locked up, both lats flaring, and his breathing turned into short hard grunts on my rhythm as he almost stopped talking entirely.

"Bro," he muttered, his breath sounding strangled. "Bro, hold on."

I didn't stop. His right hand came off the pad and grabbed the frame of the bench and his knuckles went white on it as I felt his hole tense up on me. I recognized the event now, the exact cadence of pulses his hole made as it approached orgasm. 

He squirted all over the vinyl underneath him, three, four pulses, neither of us touching his dick, his hips jerking forward and his hole clamping down on me so hard I was concerned for a second. I finished about two seconds after that, quietly pushing as deep as I could get and holding it there as his lingering internal throbbing milked my nut out of me. I kept both hands locked on his hips, my forehead  falling down between his shoulder blades, my open mouth meeting his skin, tasting the salt on him, breathing in his aura.

We stayed like that for a minute as our bodies pulsed asymmetrically, our orgasms reaching peak and cresting together. His back went up and down against my face.

"Okay," he said finally. "Keep it in there a minute. Don't pull out yet. It needs to sit."

"Okay."

"Like a minute, minute and a half."

So I stayed in him and I put both my hands flat on his back and he let his head hang down off the pad, and I stood there in that garage with my best friend's cum drying on the bench under him, and my dick, still fully hard, sitting inside him while he absorbed my cum into his "internal system".

Then he leaned forward, letting my dick fall out of him, and clenched his ass. I still saw the gape as some of my nut leaked out of him. He adjusted his stance, and reached over to grab his shorts off the floor and wipe down the vinyl with them.

"Thanks for the donation, man," he said. "Seriously. I felt that."

"Yeah."

He started for the door, as I struggled to find something to say. 

"I'll put it in the log."

He stopped and turned, nodded once, and headed into his empty house, fully naked, letting the door shut behind him.