Date: Wed, 2 Aug 2006 10:26:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: E. Rex <speedorex@yahoo.com>
Subject: Real or imagined part 2

Up next: more reality, or fantasy?  From my early life...  

That Summer, I was looking at colleges.  Just where does the hot, toned,
buff, young jock go to stretch his mind, body, abilities, and to pursue an
even greater love life?  My parents allotted me some funds, and I had spent
many hours working at the local Y to save up for some trips to look at
colleges.  The Bay Area was a strong possibility.  I had heard that
California at Berkeley was prime location for the stud ent who wanted to
discover himself and check out other hot jock students.  I had seen it
rated online as the top spot for fashionable studly guys.  So I had to
visit.  Stanford was also a possibility.  With all that eucalyptis in the
air, it was like a balmy castle in the air.  I have to admit, there was no
chance of scholarship for either school for me for water polo.  National
champs seem to burst out of both school's pools year after year, even tho
the water polo studs at USC and UCLA made occasional forays to the top of
the speedo heap.

Water Polo challenges you in many ways, and builds up your muscles.  From
your bulky chest and thighs, to your glutes, which have to compress
together for just the right burst of speed in kicking, all of the muscles
get toned up!  I didn't have the tuition money for Stanford, but was
keeping Cal in mind.

A friend suggested the New York area, and I had just got a slick mailing
from West Point. Free Tuition, it said, "serve your country and challenge
yourself!"  "Be an Army of one."  My uncle was career military and had been
a great influence on my life.  So, when I went to New York to visit West
Point, and of course NYU, and to see the City.  NYU was like a fashion
catwalk, gorgeous babes and dressed out studs in the middle of a weekday
afternoon.  The programs were OK too, but expensive and not really what I
was looking for.  West Point had it all for me.  Tradition, history,
fraternity, great location, all the great cadets in uniform, and although I
could never make it in Water Polo for the California schools, the Point was
offering me a place on the team.

Anyway, this is not about that, it's about what happened when I was staying
in the City.  A friend had suggested a cheap place on the east side, cheap,
but functional, and best of all it was connected to a Y with all the
athletic & swimming facilities anyone could ever want.  Six floors of
athletes, from the speedo clad dudes on the lowest levels, the hung dudes
in the locker room, the body builders and runners on the upper levels, to
the speedo clad dudes laying out on a sun deck all the way up!  Who would
have thought of this, right in the heart of the lower east side!

I did my usual workout, and the laps in the pool, and after decided to look
for some fun in the lockerroom.  This locker room had it all, with lockers
all over the place, corridors separating different sections of the locker
room, two shower rooms, one more remote, a steam room, a dry sauna,
everything athletic boyz of my age fantasize about.  My locker had a
strategic location, I found out, from there I could look into the major
size mirrors over the sinks and see down two other rows of lockers, of
thoroughly hot jocks, and some old guys we have to admit, getting natural
and cleaning up.  The first time I walked in it was teaming with guys, like
that locker room in John Tucker Must Die, or like on a Joe Boxer ad, four
or five dudes in each bay of lockers, some in speedos, some with dicks
hanging, some getting ready to work out.  It looked like they were about
ready to break into a chorus of YMCA.  I guess I picked the right time of
day for my first visit.

Anyway, after finishing my own workout the crowd had thinned, but still had
enough hot jocks to make it worthwhile.  Stripping off everything but my
speedo, I headed for the steamroom.  I wanted to sweat out some water and
look really buff.  Not too many guys were there, a couple came in and left,
some eyeing each other, but there was not anything going on. I stayed for
just a couple of minutes before I headed for the showers.  I chose the
showers nearest the steamroom so that I could check out the action.  There
sure was action.  As I was washing the chlorine out of my hair, two studs
were preparing to make their own soap, or so it looked.  One was a shorter,
darker, Italian looking jock with great pecs, covered with enough, but not
too much, hair.  The other was a blond dude, also respectably built, not a
nordic god, but mebbe the great grandson of one...  Both were getting hard
as they rinsed off under the warm water, and were stroking themselves on
the sly.  I rubbed my own dick a few times, and then they openly started to
rub their soapy hands all over their bodies, and up and down their dicks.
As I watched, they went into the empty steamroom.

This steamroom has got to be the primo location of the steamrooms I have
seen.  Just outside the wide entrance to the showers is the changing room,
and along one wall is the steam room.  From the steam room you can see into
the showers and into the changing room.  The steam fills the room with a
warm haze.  The front of the room is all glass, but you cannot really see
into it from outside.  It gives such a good view from inside out, tho, that
it is great for those inside, to check out those in the showers, and other
jocks walking through that part of the locker room.  There are two tiled
benches, an upper one and a lower one, which run in an U shape along the
walls.  Just enough room for jocks to sit on the upper benches, and for
others to sit on the lower benches.

>From my shower I could see into the steamroom.  The two dudes in the
showers headed in there, into one corner, and the steam cleared enough so I
could see one, the nordic dude, sitting on the upper bench in the corner,
and the other, the Italian dude, on the lower bench, facing at an angle.
The one dude had his feet under the other's leg, they were so close.
Suddenly through the haze, I could make out that the one guy on the lower
bench was getting himself off while he sucked the other guy's dick.  I
couldn't see the nordic dude at all, but could tell that some oral action
was going on.  I could hear muffled moans coming from the steamroom.  The
glass did not block the noise completely.  I started to stroke myself, as
the hot water cascaded down over my head and down my back.  I grabbed some
more soap and stroked and stroked.  I adjusted myself under the shower so
that a stream fell over my pecs and onto my dick.  It felt so good I was
getting harder and harder.  I could tell the action in the steam room was
picking up, as I could make out that that head was bobbing faster, and the
groans were more intense.

I had wanted to save myself for the steam room, but I could hold back no
longer.  My nips were tingling from the water and soap, the rest of my body
seemed to be on the edge, even the soles of my feet were seeking release.
I felt my body releasing as I arched my neck and back.  A fantastic feeling
surged through my whole body, as I shot loads of cum onto the shower wall.
I groaned quietly as over and over my cock shot like a hose and the stream
of water washed the cum into the pipelines of the City of New York.  I was
warm all over.  Although I had finished, I could see that the dudes in the
steamroom were still going at it.

Just then a big black dude with majorly size pecs and washboard abs came
into the changing area, his manhood wrapped in a bright white towel.  He
gave absolutely no indication that he was on the down low.  Through the
haze I saw the one dude, the dark Italian dude, on the lower bench of the
steamroom, stand up quickly, wrap his towel around himself and move toward
the window.  Since he was right next to the window I could see him clearly.
He looked all charged up.  His dick pressed hardly, and very much in the
upward direction, on the towel.  Obviously he had been caught half cocked.
The black dude went in the steamroom, and the Italian dude quickly went
out, escaping detection, at least for now.

Since I had wanted to take a steam anyway, I left the shower, wrapped my
towel around myself, and went into the steam room.  The nordic dude had his
obviously engorged cock covered by his towel.  The black dude sat on the
other end of the bench, looking studly but not looking around at all.  I
let the steam wash over me, cleansing my pores of the left over chlorine,
the nordic dude quickly left, and headed to another part of the locker
room, the black dude and I stayed in the quiet warmth of the steam.

More later...

Don't worry dudes, I saw the nordic dude and the Italian jock come out of
the dry sauna a little later, looking very satisfied...