"Man, They Say Cutter's Gay"
"He ain't gay," Mark says. "Ain't no way. Look at the man."
Cutter's the best thing that this gym has going for it. Cutter's the guy that all the other guys want to be. We want to move like him, we want to box like him and don't let anyone tell you any different, we all want to look like him. Cutter's fucking gold, man.
"Derrick!" I hear my name and look over to see Billy, the assistant coach, waving at me.
"You and Cutter."
"Cutter's training," I say.
"Cutter's treading water," Billy says. Billy and Cutter spend a lot of time together. This morning they arrived together.
Boxing with Cutter isn't like boxing with Rico or Mark. Those guys don't hold back but they're not very good, either. Cutter holds back, I can tell he's holding back, but his blows are precise and quick and I don't comprehend how he moves. I can't focus. I swing at him and think about kissing him. When my fist connects, I think only of how much padding there is between my hand and his chest. How I wish it wasn't there.
I've been around guys and gyms all my life and I have always been in love with everyone my eyes happen to graze across but not like Cutter. Cutter makes my heart want to explode. Even now, when his fist connects with my face and my headgear doesn't stop him from almost breaking my nose. I taste the blood before I feel it. Billy calls an end to the session. I want to fight but I can't. There are rules.
Cutter puts an arm around my shoulder and walks with me to the locker room. My nose keeps bleeding. Cutter wads up a piece of tissue paper and says "Here, stick this up your nose. Hold your head back." I sit down on the bench and do as he says. I can hear him moving about the locker room, but I can't see what he's doing. After I sit for a couple of minutes, he steps behind me and looks down at me. He's just as beautiful upside down as he is right side up.
His smile makes my dick hard. It strains against the warm hard plastic of the cup.
"How you doing?" he asks.
"I think I'm good," I say. Cutter steps around in front of me, looks at my nose.
"I think you'll survive," he says.
"I think so, too."
Cutter slaps me on the chest. "You're a tough guy. Good boxer. Sloppy, but you'll get there."
As his hand pulls away it grazes my nipple and I nearly cum right then. "Come on," he says. "Hit the showers. Get some of this blood off of you before you go home and your Mom shows up to kick my ass."
Cutter pulls his shirt up and over his head and tosses it onto the bench across from me and sits down, pulling off his shoes. I catch myself staring at him. I start to take my own shoes off.
Cutter stands and reaches into his shorts and pulls out his cup. He pulls his shorts and jockstrap down in one swift moment and then I'm sitting only a few feet away from his exposed dick and I don't know what to do with myself. I wish I could smell him. My nose throbs. All I know is that my dick sure as shit won't go down now and there's no way I can strip off in front of him.
Cutter smiles at me and then heads to the showers. As soon as he's behind me I reach into my shorts and pull out my cup. My hard dick snaps up. I wrap a hand around it and squeeze and I will it to go down, but squeezing has the opposite effect. A small bead of precum forms at the tip.
"You coming, or what?" I hear Cutter yell over the sound of the water. I undress and decide to face the music. I can't just leave. No way Cutter's not going to see my stiffy, but I do my best to cover it up as I join him in the showers, first with my towel and then with my hands. I quickly turn my back to him. I fight the urge to watch him. Cutter is everything I have always wanted and he's showering four fucking feet away from me. I cover my face in soap and work to wash the dried blood off of my face.
"How's your nose?" Cutter asks and he's standing right next to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Here, let me take a look at it." He turns me so that he can see me face to face but he quickly glances down to look at my dick and sees it standing hard and proud. I do not feel proud. Cutter laughs. "I don't know about your nose," he says, "but your dick's definitely fine."
Is it just a joke or a come on? Is it true, what the guys say about Cutter?
"I remember when every fight used to give me a stiffy, too," he says. "I spent so much time in this locker room trying to hide my erections from dudes, it wasn't even funny."
"So what'd you do?"
"Took care of it," he says and he makes a jerk-off motion in the air between us.
"You never worried about getting caught?"
"Shit, ain't that half the fun?" Cutter smirks and my dick twitches between us. I want him to reach out and take ahold of me. To stroke me, to kiss me. I look down at his dick. It is definitely thickening. My knees are shaking. If only...
"You know, I been meaning to clean out my locker. I'll see what I can do about making sure nobody else comes in here." Cutter steps away and cuts the flow from his shower. He grabs his towel and disappears. For a moment it's just me and the sound of my shower. My thumping heart. My unsteady knees. My hard dick.
I listen to the sound of Cutter's bare feet on the concrete and I match my strokes to the rhythm.
I think about his smell, his smile, his cock. I think about him standing here jerking off like I am, and I cum.
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You can find this story and more in the ebook collection Hard Lessons:
If you're curious about Billy and Cutter, their story can be found in Rough Love and other stories:
This story was originally published by Cleis Press in Brief Encounters: 69 Hot Gay Shorts.
©2010 Johnny Murdoc