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It started as a perfectly ordinary Thursday;
nothing untoward seemed likely to happen. I had just finished two long days at work,
and was now enjoying a well earned and welcome day off. I had slept in till about nine
in the morning, and woke up without the alarm clock. I got up, chose an interesting
pair of blue underpants and put them on, but they did little to control the hard-on
that I had woken up with; I’d love to know what I had been dreaming about before I woke up.
It was summer, so it was warm enough to to go downstairs without wearing anything else,
and if anybody looked in through the windows, that was too bad. They’d see a guy with a
reasonable body walking around in his underpants!
I made a cup of coffee, and sat down to plan what I was going to do that day.
My conscience told me that I had fallen behind in my programme of going to the gym.
I had decided a few months previously that it was time I started looking after myself,
and enrolled at the local fitness centre that was fortunately only a few streets away.
So that was to be the first event of the day; and after that, the rather boring day to
day necessities of shopping, cleaning, washing and other household tasks that none of us
like to do.
Another cup of coffee beckoned, and I was in no hurry, so I put the kettle on again,
and waited for it to boil. I collected together the gear I needed for the gym, towel,
trainers, singlet, and shorts. But then I thought further, why don’t I wear what has
made me lust after other studs doing their exercises. I thought for a minute, and
remembered one particular guy, who always wore swimming trunks, which contoured the
bulge of his cock and balls in a very erotic manner. Not the brief trunks that barely
cover anything, but the longer ones cut off square on the leg. Yes, I’ve a nice black
nylon one in that style. And a loose singlet, to show off my sweaty armpits to
whoever might be watching. I’d read about stories of guys who had met other guys at the gym,
and ended up playing with them, but, more’s the pity, such fun had never happened to me.
I drank my coffee, got dressed, and headed out into the morning sun.
I got to the gym, showed my membership card, and noticed a poster explaining
that the gym had been open for exactly five years. There was free juice to drink,
and - “other special surprises”. I couldn’t work out what that would be; after all,
how could you have a surprise concerning fitness in a gym that would be applicable
to both sexes? I went into the men’s locker room and started to get changed.
My attention was distracted by a guy who had just finished his workout,
nd had started to take off his kit. Having taken off his T-shirt, he removed his bright
blue shorts, and just stood there, wearing only his jock. I could feel my cock stirring
at the sight of the two mounds of his arse neatly outlined by the white straps of his
jock. But nothing more came of it, he just removed it, and went into the shower.
For a moment, I cursed myself for not wearing my usual jock, but remembered what
the guy with the trunks looked like, with a sweaty patch around his cock and
balls from the exertion.
Just then I heard a faint sound that I instantly recognised. I was unmistakably the
screech of a balloon being scraped with the fingers. I hurriedly looked into the exercise
hall, and saw what was one of the “surprises”. Balloons of various colours were strewn
about the floor. They were, I think, twelve inch balloons, and I guess there were about
forty or fifty. Someone had been busy blowing them up, I wondered if they had blown them
up by mouth, or if they had been inflated with a pump. I was going to enjoy this workout!
I could stay here for hours; forget the mundane household tasks still waiting at home.
One thing I hadn’t bargained for when I put on these swimming trunks, was to get a stiffy.
That’s what happened, and now it showed, complete with a wet spot caused by a dribble of
pre-cum. I’d have to pass off any comments by saying it was the strenuous exercises that
had caused it.
A tall, stocky guy finished his workout and came into the changing room with an
orange balloon which he was holding by the neck. He sat down and began idly hitting it
against his other hand, making the characteristic “boink” sound. Either his thoughts
were miles away from everything, or he was concentrating solely on playing with the balloon.
It wasn’t blown up particularly hard, as the neck was not yet inflated. I guess that the
person doing the inflating was of the nervous type, and scared of one bursting.
couldn’t take my eyes off it - just watching this hunky guy playing with the balloon,
sometimes hitting it gently, and sometimes hard. I hoped that it would burst with an
almighty blam, but knew it never would with this sort of treatment.
Suddenly, he shook his head, as if coming round from a trance, and put the balloon
down on the bench beside him, and started to undress from his hot, sweaty workout gear.
Off came his vest, which was stained with sweat on his chest and back, probably from his
time on the rowing machine. He removed his shorts, just leaving his jock and shoes.
There was something erotic about a muscular guy sitting there casually, wearing just a
jockstrap, to contain his equipment, and trainers. He undid the laces of his trainers,
and carefully took them off. His next move surprised me - he took hold of one of the
shoes and bashed the balloon with it, squashing the balloon for an instant between the
sole of the shoe and the wall. It bounced away from the wall onto the floor, where it
must have landed on something sharp, because there was this satisfying bang as the
balloon burst. I swear I saw his cock twitch inside his jock when it burst -
perhaps with delight, or, sadly, more likely from the surprise. Mind you, when he said
“Shit”, and grinned, I did wonder. He took off his jock, and went into the shower,
leaving the shards of orange rubber from the burst balloon on the floor.
I had to go into the gym proper, both to do my exercises, and also to get a good
look at all the balloons, (I suspect the latter was by far the driving force in getting
me started). I opened one of the double doors that led from the changing room to where
the exercise machines were situated. The draught from the opening door whisked a yellow
balloon into the locker room. My gaze followed it as it skated along the floor towards
the showers. The balloons were scattered around the floor. Some people were avoiding them,
walking round them, as they went from machine to machine, whilst others (myself included)
were happily kicking them into the air and out of the way.
I made my start with the warm-up exercises, standing in a corner that had more
than the average concentration of balloons. Usually, I would just look blankly at the wall,
counting the repetitions until they were done, but not this time; I couldn’t keep my eyes
still at all. I was in front of the wall that was largely mirrors, so I could not only see
the balloons around my feet, but also in the rest of the room, and shit, did I have a boner,
which I couldn’t live down! When I was finished with the warm-ups, I gave a blue balloon a
gentle squash with my foot, watching my shoe sink into it, forcing it out of shape and
pushing the neck of the balloon out hard. It was so tempting to bring all my weight down on it,
making it suffer until it finally burst, but I didn’t have the nerve to be the first to
deliberately burst one.
I made my way over to the exercise bike, noticing along the way, that the guy with the
swimming trunks, who had given me inspiration as to what to wear today, was also here.
He nodded, in acknowledgement that another guy had been daring enought to wear tight fitting,
shiny trunks. I must say, his bright red trunks were far more outrageous than my comparatively
sombre black ones, but mine were more adventurous than most people’s shorts. He looked again
at my trunks, and suddenly his eyes quivered. He must have seen my stiff prick, and that all
too obvious wet patch. He smiled, and playfully threw a balloon (white) at me, and it hit me
on the face, making a sexy “bonk” sound. The feeling and the smell of the latex instantly
gave me a delirious smile, which he must have noticed, because he smiled back, raising his
eyebrows.
Ten minutes later, when I’d finished my gruelling session on the exercise bike,
I got down and went over for a drink of water, kicking the balloons as I went. I was
conscious of drops of sweat running down my legs, so I figured that my black trunks
would be well soaked. I started to wonder if it had been a good idea to wear them rather
than shorts, but I decided that after coming this far as an exhibitionist, it would be
defeatist to back out now! Weight lifting next; as it’s never been a strong point of mine,
I have to keep telling myself that it’ll do me good, even if it doesn’t feel that way.
Lying on my back on the weightlifting bench, I made another inspection of the guy with
the red trunks, upwards this time. He had a quite a good bulge for his cock and balls,
and I wondered what it would look like if he were to get a hard-on. One thing for certain,
he knew what I looked like with an erection, much to my embarassment.
I managed to finish my session on the weights, with some difficulty, as a couple of
guys were kicking balloons at each other; I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.
The sight of the all these balloons was getting just too much to take, and I just had to
sit down and rest.
I sat down on one of the comfy chairs near the juice bar, with a glass of orange,
ice cold, to try and calm me down. I absent mindedly picked up an orange balloon, and was
playing with it, digging my fingers and thumb into it (as you do), watching the indentations
as I pressed into the taut rubber. Just then a big hunk of a guy started to walk over towards
me. He must have been six feet tall, with a chunky body to match. His shoulders and arm muscles
were massive; his black chest hair was clearly visible above the top of the vest that he wore.
I could only imagine what his chest would look like covered in hair, that I had only seen a
tantalising sample of.
He sat down beside me and started in an angry voice. “What do you mean by trying to
burst that balloon. I’ve just blown it up.” I wasn’t ready for this, I didn’t think I’d find
out anything about the history of these balloons. He spoke again in his gruff voice. “I have
just spent hours blowing up all these balloons, and a dirty little shit like you comes along
and tries to burst them.” I secretly rather enjoyed this verbal abuse, but wasn’t quite sure
what was going to happen next, so just sat looking blank. I suppose I could have offered to
blow up some more, but I was somehow completely taken in by the power of this tall stocky
man sitting next to me, who could have kicked the shit out of me if he’d wanted to. I was
entranced by the strong man smells coming from him, the hot smell of his sweat, which had
soaked into his vest and shorts, now showing very obvious wet patches. And if I wasn’t
mistaken, there was a faint smell of cum from somewhere as well.
His next move startled me. He started to look very menacing, and looked at me very
closely, with his face about two inches in front of mine. I must have shown an expression
of fear, and he withdrew with a smug smile on his face, no doubt pleased to be having the
upper hand. He picked up a balloon in the same manner as I had done, between the fingers
and thumb of his giant hand, and prodded his fingers in, as I had previously tried.
bringing it to about an inch from my face, he dug his fingers in, and then released slightly,
watching the tension and fear on my face. He was clearly enjoying being in charge of the
situation, watching me quiver. However, I was getting off on it as well - the sight of a
balloon so near to my face, and it being on the point of bursting. I could smell the aroma
of the latex, mingling with the smell of the hot guy who was terrorising me with it.
He squeezed it more, and released his grip slightly, over
and over again. “This is how I treat guys who mess around with my balloons,” he said.
Little did he know that I would mess around with his balloons for evermore if I he would
punish me like this. Eyeing the fearful expression on my face, he continued, “You’re lucky
I don’t get you to tidy the fucking gym at the end of the session. I might just lock you in
until the end of the day, and then set you to work.” The prospect of tidying up and cleaning
the changing room did raise the possibility of finding a discarded jockstrap, or used
underpants, so I nearly volunteered. But I badly needed to go home and have a session of
my own, with a few latex toys; I was getting too hot to manage without. After all, there
was this balloon just in front of me that I couldn’t help staring at, and this hot guy
torturing it so enticingly. I just gave a non-committal grunt. He continued, “All right,
I’ll just have my fun,” with a decided emphasis on the word my. He continued, “ you’re to
sit perfectly still, and you’re not to flinch; or else you’re in real trouble.” I think I
realised what he was going to do. He carried on squeezing the hell out of the balloon,
digging his fingers in really hard - I could see the indentation through the other
side of it. He did it still harder, and I was certain of his plan. Suddenly it burst,
with a loud blam, and I felt a shard of rubber flick against my cheek. I wanted to let
out a sumptuous groan of pleasure, but didn’t quite fancy the punishment he might have
in mind if I didn’t obey.
“Good boy,” he said and walked off. I wasn’t sure what to think - half of me wanted
to burst another fucker, and see what he would do next. But I wasn’t planning on being
here all day - he might threaten me with worse if I didn’t do as he said. So, reluctantly,
I made my way back to the changing room. I wasn’t going to get anywhere sensible with any
of the other exercises, so it was time to get changed and go. Still very conscious of this
full blown hard on caused by this stud bursting the balloon and frightening me with the
threat of punishment, I peeled off the shiny black swim trunks, hoping my white vest would
cover my cock, and hide my embarassment from other men getting changed. It didn’t! I wrapped
myself with the towel, walked over to the shower, hung up the towel, slinked inside and
turned on the water. Oh, I so desperately wanted to shoot my load now. I wondered what he
had meant, when he said good boy to me. Was he really enjoying a power trip over me, and
did he realise that I did too?
I washed myself, paying particular attention to my still rigid rod,
letting my thoughts wander back to the balloons. In the end, I had to set the water to be as
cold as I could bear it - that was the only thing that was going to bring down my cock.
I left the shower, dried myself, and got dressed again. Whilst packing up my gym clothes and
towel, I couldn’t help but notice the pronounced wet patch on my trunks, where the end of my
cock had been oozing pre-cum. I walked out of the gym, wondering how long the balloons would
survive. Looking in through the window on to the street, I could just see into the exercise
area through the blinds, and saw the balloons again. I wondered how I had missed them walking
past the window, on my way into the gym an hour earlier.
I walked through the park on the way home, with a big smile coming on my face every
now and then as I recalled the events that had just happened. At least, or so I hoped,
evidence of my erect cock wasn’t visible to all and sundry now. I stopped and sat on a
bench in the sun - the weather was so summery, that I had to sit and enjoy it. Not for too long,
as my cock and balls kept reminding me - I wanted to get home, blow up a biggy, and
sit on the bastard, watching it get out of shape until it finally burst. Oh well, never mind
the peculiar looks, I decided, I pulled out a red sixteen inch balloon from my pocket
(I always carry a small collection, you never know when they’ll be needed). I looked at
it, smiled, and put the neck to my lips. I started to blow it up, breath after breath,
until it was a good size, but by no means fully inflated. I examined the partially blown
up balloon, looking at it from all sides, and felt pleased with myself. I wondered if
there was anybody else nearby who would notice when I blew it up to bursting. Still,
weird perhaps, I wasn’t actually doing anything wrong!
I sat looking forwards, and started blowing into it again, and it was approaching
full size, with the neck stretching out. Suddenly, without any warning, a hand came from
behind the seat, and stabbed the balloon with something sharp, causing an almighty bang as
all my hard work was destroyed in an instant. “Don’t look round” boomed a stern voice.
Instinctively, I looked round to see who was there, only to receive a slap around the face
from a big guy's hand. Shit, this guy meant business, whatever that business was.
“Did I tell you to blow up a balloon?” was the next short sharp comment. I grunted a no.
“No Sir,” you mean, with another slap on my face.
.............................................to be continued
If you enjoyed this story, let me know!
And if you have an idea how chapter two should run, give me your suggestion!
