24-Hour Gym (Patreon)

Author’s note: All characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the characters.

I got there a little after two in the morning.

The gym was one of those 24-hour places on the edge of the city — fluorescent lights, rows of machines, the low hum of the air conditioning, and almost no one inside. Just the way he wanted it. He’d sent me the address an hour earlier with a simple message: Come. Door code 4821. Wait by the free weights.

I did exactly that. We met on Grindr. He knew exactly what he wanted.

I was already on my knees on a folded towel when I heard the front door open and close. Heavy footsteps crossed the rubber floor. I kept the blindfold on like he’d told me to. All I could see was darkness, shadows and the occasional shift of light under the edge of the fabric.

He stopped in front of me.

I could smell him before I even touched him, sweat, masculine powerful deodorant, and that sharp, warm scent of a man who’d just finished training. My hands found his legs first. Thick, powerful, covered in coarse blond hair. I ran my palms up over his calves and the solid muscle of his thighs until I reached the hem of his black running shorts.

He was already half-hard when I cupped him through the fabric.

A low sound left his throat. He didn’t speak. He just reached down, took my wrist, and guided my hand higher — under the tight sleeveless basketball shirt he was wearing, over the hard plane of his stomach, up to his chest. The fabric was slightly damp. When my fingers brushed his armpit I felt the heat and the residual wetness there. I smelled my fingers without being told and breathed him in.

I stood up. He let me.

I dragged my tongue over the soft skin of his underarm, tasting salt and deodorant and pure male sweat. His hand settled on the back of my head, not pushing yet, just holding me there while I licked and inhaled. The muscles in his arm flexed against my face.

Only then did he step back just enough to shove his shorts down.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, already fully hard. I didn’t need to see it to know the size. I felt it when I wrapped my hand around the shaft — solid, veiny, the kind of cock that fills your mouth completely. I opened up and took him in. My blindfold was moving so I was starting to see more and more.

He exhaled hard through his nose.

I sucked him deep from the start, letting spit run down the shaft, working my tongue along the underside. His hand tightened in my hair. The wet sounds of it echoed a little in the empty gym. Every time I took him further he made a low, rough noise above me, the kind of sound a man makes when he’s been holding back all day.

After a few minutes he pulled me off by the hair.

“Stay,” he muttered.

I heard him spit into his palm. He slapped my face with his hard cock. I loved the feeling. Then the thick head of his cock pressed against my lips again and he pushed back in — deeper this time, using my mouth properly. I gagged around him. He didn’t stop. He started fucking my throat with short, controlled strokes, both hands framing my head, the wet choking sounds loud in the quiet space.

“That’s it… take it.”

I did. I kept my hands on his hairy thighs and let him use my mouth exactly how he wanted. Spit poured down my chin and onto my shirt. My eyes watered under the blindfold. The smell of his sweat and the clean rubber of the gym floor mixed together every time I dragged in a breath through my nose.

He lasted longer than I expected.

When he finally got close his rhythm turned harder, less careful. He drove into my throat with short, deep thrusts, holding me there for a few seconds at a time until I was choking and drooling all over him. Then he pulled out completely.

“Tongue out, slut.”

I stuck my tongue out and waited.

He stroked himself fast and tight right in front of my face. The first thick rope of cum hit my forehead and the bridge of my nose. The second landed across my open mouth and tongue. He kept going, aiming carefully, painting my face in heavy pulses until it was dripping down my chin and onto my shirt. One long strand landed in my hair and stayed there, warm and sticky.

He didn’t stop until every last drop was on me.

For a few seconds the only sound in the gym was both of us breathing hard. Then I felt his thumb drag through the mess on my cheek and push it into my mouth. I sucked it clean without being told.

He pulled his shorts back up. I heard him grab his phone and keys from wherever he’d left them.

“Good boy. Good job. I’m out.” he said quietly.

Then his footsteps moved away across the rubber floor. The front door opened and closed. I stayed on my knees a little longer, blindfold still on, face covered in his cum, the taste of him thick on my tongue, before I finally reached up and pulled the fabric off.

The gym was empty again.

Just me, the fluorescent lights, and the slowly cooling mess on my face and in my hair.

Was it all a dream or a perfect reality?