“Thanks, Marty,” Xander said. He smiled appreciatively as he accepted a bottle of water.
Heading back to the locker room, the former marine looked back affectionately toward the old man. He had never been accustomed to kindness, yet despite his best efforts, he had found Marty anyway.
Every morning Marty opened the boxing gym two hours early, just for him and his trainer. Although getting on in years, the old goat never seemed tired. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, he was always ready with a cold bottle of water for his favorite client. He even washed Xander’s gym clothes with the towels. Fresh clothes! Every day!
How did I get so lucky?
He stepped into a pair of tight black underwear as his trainer Howard entered the room.
“Ready to put ‘em up, big guy?” he said with a laugh.
“You bet!”
While the men sparred, Marty watched with baited breath. Xander was covered in thick layer of muscle. The sweat gave it a shine. Mixed with intense definition, it looked almost like rubber.
Xander reminded the old man of himself, once a prized boxer in his hometown. Watching Xander throw a punch— or better yet— take one like a champ, was an honor. Not only an honor, but an unbelivable turn-on.
As the training session progressed, Marty would shout, “Drink your water!”
Xander would smile and nod, sweating out as much liquid as he took in. Marty’s water always had a slightly bitter taste… but hey. It was free!
When the session was over, Xander left his sweaty protective helmet and gym clothes in a pile by the locker room door, as instructed.
Both men waved to Marty as they left. The old man walked to the door and watched them hop into their cars. When they drove off, he engaged the lock and flipped the sign on the door to ‘CLOSED’.
As was his custom, he ran as fast as his feet could take him to the ring. Throwing himself onto the bouncy mat that was drenched in a thick layer of sweat. He began to frantically lick at the puddles. He was searching for the taste of Xander— easily identified by the chemicals laced in his water.
Suddenly a bitter taste invaded his tastebuds. Bingo!
He began to lap up the thick puddle. In response, his tongue began to swell. Marty crawled around on all fours, searching for more. With each flick of his tongue across the dirty mat, he expands further. His oversized t-shirt, the same one he wore every day to work, began to cling to him like a second skin.
Marty felt Xander’s sweat already leaking through his pores as his skin tightens and muscles harden. The desperate gasps he released as he searched for more fluid grew deeper. Huskier.
A familiar pulling in his pants distracted him. His balls became heavy, powered by the intense fuel of testosterone by a much younger man.
That was the signal.
He looked up into one of the mirrored walls and saw Xander beaming back at him. Like a child on Christmas morning, Marty stripped off his clothing and jogged toward the locker room. He had to be quick! He had about an hour before all of his borrowed sweat leaked through his pores.
As he rounded the door, Marty placed Xander’s helmet, still damp with perspiration on his head. He collected Xander’s underwear and took a deep whiff. It was musky and drenched with sweat. He examined inside and found a dirty stripe along the rear. Marty took in another breath slowly, savoring it.
He slid on Xander’s soaking wet underwear and took a seat on the bench across from a large mirror. Xander’s pumped-up body greeted him. Balling up a fist, he thumped a tattoo on his chest. Xander got it during his stint in the Marines. Although this ink and the young man’s history was borrowed for now, Marty swelled with pride.
It didn’t take much to get him off. He watched himself play with Xander’s sensitive nipples before getting down to business. Just jacking off in another man’s underwear — while wearing the other man, always does the trick. He would like to manage a playdate in the future, but that would b tricky.
Sweat poured from Marty as he worked his magic on Xander’s cock, before he noticing that his wide shoulders were already starting to thin out. He was running out of time!
Marty listened to Xander’s low, musical moans as his muscular neck strained and balls threatened to burst. As he came, he made sure to tuck his cock back in the underwear and blow his load directly into the fabric.
This pair he would save for later. Xander would get the fresh pair hidden in Marty’s desk.
The old man’s form returned as he placed the dirty underwear in a ziplock bag. He looked at the clock hopefully. Only 23 hours until he gets to do this all over again.
How did he get so lucky?
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