The gym daddy

The gym was almost empty, the only sound being the echo of weights crashing against the floor and the humming of machines filling the air thick with sweat. It was late, almost midnight, and the fluorescent lighting flickered weakly above the mirrors that covered the walls. I was finishing my routine, drenched, with my t-shirt clinging to my torso and the heat rising up my neck. Across from me, in the free weights area, he was there. An older man, in his forties, with a body as solid as a rock, covered in dark hair that peeked out from the edge of his sleeveless shirt. His arms were thick, veins marked beneath his bronzed skin, and every time he lifted a dumbbell, the muscles in his back tensed in a way that made me swallow hard.

I had seen him before, always in silence, with that intense gaze that seemed to pierce through me. Today, however, something changed. When I finished my last set, I caught him staring at me through the mirror. He didn't look away. His eyes, dark and hungry, scanned me from top to bottom, stopping at my tight shorts. I felt a shiver, but not from fear. It was something else, something that ignited me from the inside.

I approached the stretching area, more out of instinct than necessity, and he dropped the weights with a sharp clang. He approached me slowly, like a predator that knows it doesn't need to rush. Without saying a word, he positioned himself behind me while I was bent over, stretching my hamstrings. I felt his presence before I saw him, the heat of his body mere centimeters from mine. The air grew thick, charged with a tension that made me hold my breath.

—Good effort today —he said, with a deep voice that vibrated in my chest. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. I stood up, turning slightly, and there he was, so close I could smell his sweat mixed with a trail of strong cologne. His eyes didn't leave mine, and a crooked smile drew on his face.

—Thanks —I replied, with a firmer voice than I expected. But my body was already reacting, my pulse accelerated, a pressure building beneath my shorts.

Without a word, he placed a hand on my shoulder, firm, heavy. He guided me towards the back of the gym, where the lights were dimmer and the cardio machines were turned off. There was no one else. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the sound of our footsteps and my ragged breathing. He pushed me against the wall, not with violence, but with an authority that made me obey without thinking. His hands, large and calloused, slid down my waist, reaching the edge of my shorts. I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, brushing against the sensitive skin of my hips.

—I've seen you train —he whispered, his mouth so close to my ear that his lips grazed my lobe—. I know what you want.

I couldn't respond. My body spoke for me, arching against him, seeking more contact. He understood. With a qu...