The Kid At The Desk

Like many men turning 50, I had been getting restless. So much in my life felt stale or routine -- my job, for one thing. But I realized with a shock that my marriage, and more specifically my sex life, had gone stale, too. Although I still loved my wife, and had no idea at all of breaking up our 28-year marriage, I had to admit that our sex life was boring.

That was partly because my wife had lost the edge on her sex drive, and seemed to endure my advances rather than welcome them, but also because -- I hate to say this -- I wasn't as aroused by her body as I had once been.

For all I know, she felt the same thing about mine. But I was vain enough to doubt, because I knew I was still in pretty good shape. I ran and swam regularly, watched my weight, was fairly careful about what I ate, so I carried no more than a few extra pounds. The only drawback, as far as I could tell, was that my hair had gone prematurely white -- a family trait -- which I thought made me look older than I am. My body hair was still mostly gray, but if anything I thought that looked worse, and there were times I thought about shaving it all off.

But whatever my looks, I wasn't getting enough, sexually. I was horny a lot, and it seemed like I wanted to masturbate all the time. Actually, I did masturbate all the time. I had a pretty vivid fantasy life, involving lots of women with big breasts and voracious sexual appetites, and that was usually enough to give me a good solid boner. But I'm guessing I watched a lot less porn than many men. I just didn't feel I needed the extra boost.

Nor did I consider having an affair, although there were one or two women who hinted at their interest. It wasn't really a moral thing, although that was part of it; I was just too scared of getting caught.

So for several months after realizing how bored I was, I tried to work off my sexual energy by exercising myself to exhaustion and beating my meat whenever I could.

I swim at our local Y. It has both an indoor pool and an outdoor pool that is covered with a big canvas bubble in the winter. I usually swim at the latter, because there's lap swim every day and if I get there first thing in the morning I can almost always get a lane to myself.

For a long time the person working the front desk was a friendly older woman who I got to know on a first-name basis, but a couple of months ago a college-age guy started working two or three mornings a week. He wasn't as friendly as Margie, or at least not as talkative, and all he ever said was, "Good morning, sir," when I walked in, and "Have a good day, sir," when I walked out.

After a couple of weeks of this, I stopped one morning and stuck out my hand.

"My name's Jim," I said.

"Tom," he said.

"Nice to meet you, Tom," I said. "Are you working here while you're in college?"

"Yes," he said. "State."

So far, nothing but monosyllables. I was about to ask him if he ever used the pool himself -- just to be friendly --- when someone else walked in the front door. I gave him a quick smile and walked into the locker room.

Another week went by without my seeing Tom. The next time I did, he said, "Hi, Jim," as I approached the desk, and I said hi back. He seemed about to say more, but I was in a bit of a hurry that morning and just smiled as I went to the locker room to change.

It was unusually cold that day, and the locker room was not well heated, so after my swim I took a long hot shower to warm myself. The showers, by the way, are all in one room, with half a dozen nozzles but no curtains or dividers, so there's no privacy. The drying area is off to one side, and while you're in that area you can see down the hall to where the lockers are and have a partial view of the mirrors above the sinks.

I was standing in the shower with my eyes closed, letting the hot water run over me, when I had a sudden urge to stroke my cock. I opened my eyes, glanced around quickly to make sure no one was around, squirted a bit of soap into my hand and gave myself a few languid strokes. My dick began to harden.

I desperately wanted to finish myself off, but it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught, so I rinsed myself instead and turned off the shower.

I still had a boner when I stepped into the drying area, but I thought I was alone and wasn't worried about anyone seeing me. I started toweling myself off, looking down while I dried my hair, and when I happened to glance up I realized someone was standing at one of the sinks.

It was Tom, and he was watching me in the mirror.

I looked back down, and when I did I realized I was still mostly erect. For a split second I was horrified to have been discovered in such a state. But that feeling gave way immediately to another one; without quite knowing why, I felt, well, excited, that someone had seen me with my cock hard. I had never been an exhibitionist, but I felt a sudden thrill.

During the second or two that all this was going through my mind, I had not looked again in Tom's direction, but somehow I knew he was still there. I continued drying myself, and as I did some perverse impulse made me brush the towel against my cock in such a way as to make it flop heavily from side to side.

I looked up again, and this time caught Tom staring. He quickly looked away, then made a show of washing his hands, pulling down a paper towel and tossing it into a basket underneath the sink. Without looking my way again he walked out of the locker room.

I was alone again, and now totally hard. Stepping back into the shower, I began jerking myself furiously. In less than a minute I felt my balls contracting and watched as three huge wads of cum shot halfway across the shower and landed on the floor. Two more spurts coated my hand and dribbled down the head of my cock before the convulsions finally stopped.

Knees shaking, I let go of my still-throbbing cock and turned the water back on. First I washed the cum down the drain, and then I stepped under the nozzle to cool myself off. I stood facing the wall, breathing heavily, letting my pounding heartbeat slow.

Eventually I turned the water off, dried myself off again and headed toward the lockers. No one had come in during the last few minutes, so I took my time getting dressed, taking a chance that someone coming in might see my still red and swollen cock.

When I was ready to go, I stopped just inside the locker room door to collect my thoughts. I wasn't sure what to say to Tom on the way out, or if I should say anything at all. Finally I pushed the door open and headed for the front door, hoping to escape without being seen.

Tom wasn't in his usual spot at the desk, and for a second I thought I might get away without having to see him. But just as I reached the outer door, I heard his voice.

"Bye, Jim."

I turned around. He was standing in an alcove a few steps away from the front desk, which is why hadn't seen him before. His face was flushed. Something made me glance downward, and I noticed that he was wearing tight-fitting sweatpants, and that he clearly had an erection. I swallowed hard, and managed to croak out, "Bye, Tom."

I hurried out to my car and drove away.

******

Driving home after leaving the pool, my mind was swirling with conflicting emotions.

Uppermost at first was embarrassment over my sudden bout of exhibitionism. A guy my age wagging his dick at some kid barely out of his teens? What the hell was that? Bad enough that he had seen me playing with my stiff cock. What if somebody else had, too? Or worse, seen me jacking off in the shower?

Underneath the shame and embarrassment, however, was a tingle of excitement. If I were honest with myself, I had to admit the thrill I felt, standing in front of another guy naked with a hard-on. I felt it still, because the mere thought of it was making me hard again.

What the hell?

I thought about the kid -- Tom -- stopping me on my way out of the building. He had obviously waited till I came out of the locker room, making sure I saw him before leaving. Did he also want me to see that he had a boner?

Suddenly it hit me: We're talking about a guy here. The sexual spark that had just passed between us -- there was nothing else to call it -- was not between a man and a woman, but between two men.

How could that be? I'm not gay, I protested to myself. Not once in my life had I ever had a sexual experience with another man. Not even as a teenager or in college, when I knew lots of guys experimented.

I had to admit, though, that I had thought about it -- not often, but enough to make me wonder why gay fantasies occasionally cropped up among the straight ones.

But I had never acted on any of those fantasies. I couldn't even remember jacking off to one of them.

As soon as that thought passed through my head, I realized I had another hard-on, and I desperately wanted to jack off again.

By this time I was pulling into my garage. My wife's car wasn't there, thank God. She must be out on some errands.

I grabbed my gym bag and went inside. Dropping the bag inside the door, I hurried into the bedroom, shucked my clothes and flopped onto the bed. My dick was like stone.

Shit, I thought, I'm never this hard so quickly after a cum.

I put my hand on my cock and started to stroke, forcing myself to go slowly. In my mind I was back in the locker room, and Tom was standing about six feet away. This time I was jacking off in front of him, watching his face as I did. His eyes were riveted on my big, throbbing cock.....

I came with what felt like a bang. Not as big a load as in the shower, but still enough to make a mess.

I got up, went into the bathroom and took the third shower of the morning -- this time a thoroughly cold one.

When I had calmed down some, I got out, dried off and got into some sweats. What the fuck is happening to me?

I went into the kitchen, made a pot of coffee and sat down to think. It was time for me to get to work -- I work at home -- but I am my own boss and work could wait.

First I thought about Tom. Was he attracted to me? I am old enough to be his father. What could he possibly see in someone so much older?

He was a nice-looking kid, I had to admit. A little scruffy-looking -- slightly tousled reddish blond hair, a hint of a beard -- but yes, nice-looking. Blue eyes. No, green.

I found myself wondering about his body. He was about 5'10'' and definitely not overweight, but beyond that, I could only guess. He was always wearing winter clothes, because the front desk area was close to the door and it was usually drafty.

After a minute or two I realized I was wondering what he looked like naked, and that I was getting another boner.

Shit, I thought, this is out of control.

I drove the image from my mind and tried to think rationally.

Why had Tom appeared at that particular moment? Did he come into the locker room just to take a leak, and happened to see me while he was washing his hands? Or did he follow me in there, standing at the mirror till I came out of the shower? The latter seemed unlikely, given that he couldn't know how long I would be in the shower and that he couldn't leave the desk for long. But he could have been standing there a while before I noticed him.

One thing, however, was beyond doubt: He wanted me to know he had seen me and was excited by the sight of my naked body, of my cock. Why else would he have made sure I saw the bulge in his pants?

I had been sitting there about 20 minutes, drinking coffee and brooding, when my phone rang: Work stuff I couldn't ignore. I went into my study and sat down at the desk, willing myself to get busy.

I opened my laptop and started answering emails. My wife came home an hour later, and I managed to interact more or less normally with her. I also managed to put in a decent day's work, although thoughts of Tom kept intruding.

In bed that night, I lay awake for a long time thinking about what had happened in the locker room. I couldn't make sense of it, really; it was all so strange and unexpected, frightening and thrilling at the same time. Thinking about it gave me another hard-on, and when I was sure my wife was asleep I slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom to jack off yet again.

All the time I was thinking about being naked in front of Tom, about his seeing my cock. About the little show I put on for him. Because that's what it was, a show. I wanted him to see my stiff cock.

Afterward, I dragged myself back into bed and eventually got back to sleep.

The next day, a Thursday, I was really busy with conference calls and other work. I was so busy I hardly thought of Tom, for which I was kind of grateful. That night I watched a basketball game while my wife read. I tried to follow the ebb and flow of the game, but I couldn't get his image out of my mind.

"What the actual fuck is happening to me?" I wondered.

When my wife went off to bed I sat for a long time, looking at the TV but not seeing what was on it. I thought of Tom again, and lost myself in a fantasy about what he might look like naked. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke an hour later with a massive hardon. I was pretty sure my wife was asleep by then, but at that point I didn't really care, so I unzipped, pulled out my cock and stroked till I came all over my shirt.

"Shit," I thought.

I got up, wiped the shirt half-heartedly with a wet paper towel, threw it in laundry and went to bed, thoroughly disgusted with myself.

The next morning I nearly skipped going to the gym, but after thinking it over I said fuck it and headed over. I had planned to go for a run on the treadmill, but at the last minute something made me turn into the pool parking lot instead.

I started having second thoughts, though, as I got close to the building, and was on the point of turning back to my car when I realized that Margie was working the front desk, not Tom. Relieved, I went in, said hello and headed for the locker room to change.

Forty-five minutes and 1500 yards later, I felt much better, calm and relaxed. But as I was climbing out of the pool, I happened to look over and saw Tom getting out of the water a couple of lanes over.

He hadn't seen me yet -- at least I didn't think he had -- so I had a second to look him over, and boy, he looked great. A perfect swimmer's body -- broad shoulders, narrow hips, fit and trim but not overly muscled. He was wearing one of those Speedo-type racing suits, and when he bent down to pick up his towel I couldn't help but admire the firm muscles of his butt and the backs of his thighs.

Embarrassed at myself, I turned away to get my own towel and slipped through the door to the locker room. I hoped Tom hadn't seen me -- but I also hoped he had.

I walked straight to the shower, hung my towel on a peg and turned on one of the faucets. I stood there under the water, took my suit off and began rinsing it. I heard the locker room door open, so I turned to the wall and put my head under the stream.

I heard someone approaching, and then the sound of another faucet turning on behind me. I turned my head just enough to see out of the corner of my eye that it was Tom. His back was turned to me.

I turned a little further in his direction, then watched as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his suit and pulled it down, baring his ass.

My cock gave a little jump.

He stepped out of the suit and turned around. Seeing me, he reddened and covered himself with the crumpled suit. He obviously hadn't seen me till this moment.

"Oh, hi, Jim" he said, still blushing.

"Tom," I said.

My heart was pounding, but in a way I still felt calm and in control. I turned to face him fully, aware without looking that my cock was swelling.

"Should have figured you were a swimmer, too," I said.

He swallowed hard.

"Yeah," he said. "Used to swim in high school, now I do it just to stay in shape."

He was trying to maintain eye contact, but I saw him glance down. When he saw my semi, he gave a little start.

He looked back up. I'm not sure I can describe the look on his face. It was ... yearning. For what? I couldn't be sure, but I sure as hell knew what I wanted.

"Go ahead," I whispered.

Hesitantly, he let his hands fall to his sides, letting the swimsuit fall to the floor.

His cock was a big one, not quite as long as mine, but thicker. His pubic hair was thick and redder than the hair on his head. I don't know if a cock can be beautiful, but his sure was.

As I watched, his dick began to rise, and in seconds was sticking straight out in front of him. By this time mine was, too.

We looked at each other. I was about to say something -- what, I don't know -- when we heard someone coming.

We both turned back toward the wall. A guy walked in and turned on the faucet next to mine. I turned away from him so my boner wouldn't show.

I soaped myself again, stalling for time. Behind me I guess Tom was doing the same, because I could hear his faucet still running. I was desperately hoping the other guy would go away, and guessed that Tom was hoping the same.

Thankfully the guy was in a hurry, and after a quick wash he turned off the shower and left.

I turned around. Tom did, too. We were both still hard.

I grasped my cock with one hand. Tom looked like he was going to as well, but hesitated.

"Go ahead," I whispered.

He squirted some soap on one hand and took hold of his dick.

We looked at each other, then at each other's cocks, and started stroking.

A part of me couldn't believe what I was doing, standing in a semi-public place jacking off with another guy. Someone could walk in at any moment. But another part of me was thrilled, excited beyond expression at the sheer nastiness of it.

Tom kept his eyes on my cock. I stroked it slowly with my right hand, squeezing my balls with my left. He stroked quickly, bending forward slightly, his mouth open, his face still flushed. I glanced from his cock to his face and back again, watching him as he was watching me. I was so turned on, filled with a lust I hadn't felt in ages.

He was stroking faster now, approaching his orgasm. I desperately wanted to touch his cock, to feel it swelling as the cum built up in his balls, to give him the final stroke that sent him over the edge.

I was just about to take a step toward him when a shot of cum flew out of his cock and landed on my foot. When I saw the second shot pour out of the slit, I came, too, hard, in a huge spurt that spilled over my hand and dripped on the floor. He spurted at least three more shots of cum, and I did another two.

We looked at each other. Tom was if anything redder than ever, and his breathing was ragged and uneven. I was calmer, my breathing more measured, and I kept watching him as he gradually collected himself.

Then he smiled. It was a beautiful smile, I thought, open and warm and, well, somehow innocent.

We turned our backs and rinsed ourselves off. I left the shower first, but lingered in the drying area so I could get another look at Tom's beautiful body. He joined me a few seconds later, and as we toweled off he kept looking at me.

Nobody had looked at me like that -- with that hunger -- in a long time.

It was getting late. I had to go. I headed down the hallway and into the locker area to get dressed. Tom let a minute go by before following me, but he was dressed and ready to go before I was.

"Bye," he said, not quite looking me in the eye

"Bye," I said.

He walked out.

I finished dressing in something of a daze. I am not one to analyze my feelings, but I felt a mixture of post-orgasmic glow, relief that we had not gotten caught -- and a growing awareness that I was seriously attracted to this kid.

The sight of his naked body aroused me in a way I hadn't been aroused in years. The tautness of his muscles, the smoothly shaven skin, the thatch of reddish pubic hair....