There was this white Russian PT named Oleg who used to work at the club where I worked-out. His overall muscle development was quite good (that which I could see sticking out from his shorts and stringy vests anyway). I call him the white Russian as he was really white, not even close to a so-called “flesh colour” that is used for Caucasian people. So white actually that he leaned to being almost transparent.
We did not engage a lot and if we did it was usually quick chats on the floor and discussions centred on training or diet regimes. I was his senior by at least 30 years but because I am quite muscular and trim myself, guys interact with me on a daily basis so I didn’t think this was out of the ordinary. We also bumped into one another from time to time in the Village where I stayed but this never went further than polite greetings and a bit of talking shit.
One day I was done with my training, went to the change room, showered, dressed and was busy packing my gym bag to head off to work when he came and stood real close to me. I noticed he wasn’t wearing a top and I suspected he was completely naked. We talked a bit and he then told me that this was his last day at the club as he was off to work as a PT on cruise ships in the Caribbean.
I could not suppress the urge to have a look to see if he really was naked and what the whole picture looked like but felt it would be just too obvious . . . albeit I suspected he was cruising and would thus not mind. I am married and although I am curious I have not had any form of sexual encounter with another man since I reached adulthood. I did, as most boys I know about, embark in the odd bating session with class mates while still in school.
So I dropped the keys of my bike.
It fell right between us and as I stooped to pick them up I satisfied my curiosity . . . and more!? On my way down to pick up my keys I could not see a single strand of body hair visible anywhere on his torso, arms, under arms, pubic area or legs.
He was very well built and proportioned and had a really thin skin (not as dry as Ghandi’s flip-flops but he had practically no sub cutaneous fat). My eyes first travelled over his balloon shoulders where the separation between the front and lateral delts were clearly defined. Blue veins run down his, not too excessive, bulging biceps – just in the right proportion to his shoulders and overall development. He did not have what is sometimes called and armour-plate chest but he had nicely sized square pecs with a well-defined top-, mid- and bottom chest line. As my eyes moved further down his body I noticed he boasted an eight-pack nicely framed by a series of little hillocks made up by his oblique abdominals and serratus muscles. Below that were two serious veins running down his lower abdomen escorting my eyes towards the “point of interest”.
When my eyes finally encountered this cocksure dude’s dick I was not disappointed and felt the interest in what I saw, also rising in my pants. He was cut, semi-erect and with just the right amount of visible veins which I imagined would really pop during a full erection. Due to his overall (lack of) pigmentation his mushroom was the colour of a very pale lilac. Two average-sized, semi low hanging balls completed the picture of his manhood. As my face moved past this zone of pleasure he pushed his hips forward slightly thereby bringing the whole package to around a centimetre of my face . . . a clear invitation if there ever was one?
I smelled his musty manhood mingled with the aroma of fresh perspiration and really wished I could bury my face in his crotch but the change room was fairly packed and it would definitely have not been a good idea so I continued with my downward motion to retrieve my keys. At this stage I noticed his ripped quads had the perfect sweep and teardrop development to not only create good thickness above his knees but also to expertly frame what was dangling between them.
After retrieving my keys I started to come upright and when I reached what I at that stage knew he so wanted to interest me in, I obliged and in one fluent movement licked his balls and underside of his now even more erect cock from the bottom to the tip of his glans. Apart from a slight shiver there was no other movement in his body at all but it immediately seemed as if his dick exploded and reached its full and glorious potential even before I managed to come fully upright (and erect myself). My theory about the veins proved to be correct as his cock now resembled quite a substantial pure white dinner candle printed with the image of a countryside roadmap whilst his glans had transformed itself into a slightly darker purple and glistening mushroom.
I took my gym bag getting ready to go, shook his hand, wished him well with his future career in cruising and left him standing there with his manhood on full display and the first drops of pre-cum making their timid appearance. I didn’t look around to see if anybody noticed the brief interaction but did see a few sideways glances at what he had to offer and made no attempt to hide.
Hopefully Oleg, wherever you are cruising now, you will have some pleasant thoughts about the potential you left to long to explore and develop . . . . Perhaps I would have been a Daddy by now