DIARY OF A GYM BROTHER 1

I've never been a boy who excels in studies. Nor have I been a dimwit. No. In class, I was always average. If I excelled, I wouldn't even show up for repeat exams. But what has always cost me is developing my ideas in writing. Language teachers have always been driven crazy by me with that, until one time, in my first year of high school, I met one who proposed something that has made writing one of my passions today. After training, of course.

— Luca, I think it would be very good for you to write a diary. You could do it about your daily life in the gym and during training. Since that's what motivates you the most.

And so it was. It worked. I started writing almost daily about my training, my diet, etc. And while at first, I dedicated it more to focusing on it like a book where I could capture my physical evolution, later it became a friend to whom I revealed my most intimate secrets without being judged.

Now I dare to share some with you.

These fragments are from when I was 17 years old and had just started my second year of high school.

Diary of gym — Friday 17/02/2017

Today the gym atmosphere was more charged than usual, despite there being fewer people. The cold makes the ratio of people decrease, and that's what I like. I don't have to wait for others to finish on the machines; I almost have them available when I want.

However, the smell of sweat was more intense than other times, which had me a bit more horny than usual. That intense smell of humanity training hard always gets me going.

It was leg day, a living hell, which is why I had decided to put my music on full blast. So much that I didn't hear what they were telling me until they touched my shoulder on the hip thrust machine.

— Excuse me, how many do you have left?

It's a question that will sound familiar to those of you who go to the gym, but at that moment, I started to stutter like an idiot without responding to anything comprehensible.

And that's when a man of about 35 years old appeared before me, dark-haired with a bit of a pompadour, a three-day beard, a black wooden earring in his left ear, and wearing a gray t-shirt and black shorts that were so tight they were almost bursting. He was very muscular and started to have those beads of sweat that come with the first minutes of warm-up. With a soft smile, he tried to understand what I had said.

— I'm sorry, I didn't understand — he said with a kind voice.

— Excuse me, uh... two repe... repetitions and that's it.

— Great, I'll wait then.

Those were the two most tense repetitions of my damn life. That piece of muscle looking at me, and I trying to concentrate on not getting an erection. I think I managed it, but I was so tense and nervous that I don't remember it clearly.

All I know is that for the next few minutes, I dedicated myself to trying to remember if I had seen him...