Date: Mon, 22 Feb 2021 17:27:53 +0000 (UTC)
From: corpusdawg88@aim.com
Subject: Tales from a Jock: Additional Training Chapter 2

Thank you for reading my stories. Comments and questions are welcome at
corpusdawg88@aim.com. These stories are fiction, any similarities in names
and locations are purely coincidental. They involve intimate interactions
between above the age of 18.

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Tales from a Jock: Additional Training Part Two

His name was Conner and he was a farm boy. He was born and raised in
Cottonwood, Kansas, population 900. He had joined the Marines fresh out of
high school and so far has been questioning his decision.

The funny thing about guys like this, once you loosened the lid, everything
tended to just fall out. I explained my dad was in the marines and he liked
it well enough. He asked why I had joined the Navy and I answered my ASVAB
score was too high.

It took him a second to get the joke and laugh. That's a good sign, self
deprecating humor is good for the soul and keeps the ego down. I have a lie
about how I wanted to do my own thing instead of being in his shadow and
Conner nodded like he understood that perfectly. He explained his dad
hadn't thought Conner could tough out the marines so he was on a mission to
prove him wrong.

Daddy issues. God it's too easy.

We worked out as we talked, I kept up with him pound for pound. It was
important that I don't show him up yet but also not fall behind to keep his
opinion high. It's a tight rope sometimes, keep their ego down while
playing to their vanity, it's super easy to drop the ball so I paid close
attention to his body language.

He was impressed a navy guy could keep up with him but he didn't want to
say it. Which was fine, as long as he was thinking it i was making
progress. We were equals until we got to the end and did our abs routine.

Most guys work their abs for social clout. It is the definite sign of
superiority, over biceps and chest. A six pack could trump a body builder,
an eight pack could win against anything. I didn't do crunches for clout or
ego. I did crunches for the same reason an assassin sharpens their knives;
you always keep your weapons at their best.

My abs were tight and I knew it. Under a baggy shirt you couldn't tell,
which was even better when I used it to wipe my face and flash the gym my
goods. It was a humble brag and no one could call you on it but everyone
knew why you did it.

So when I started my second set of crunches today, he looked on in shock.

"Whoa," he said unabashedly watching my stomach, "Dude where did you get
those?"

I gave him my Ocean's 11 grin that made him think that I was just as
desperate to impress girls as he was and said, "Hard work."

Another bullshit statement. I had thin skin and a fantastic metabolism, I
worked them hard sure but they stood out on me because of genetics. But a
lot of guys don't know that, they see a hot guy with a perfect body and
believe all they need to do is work out and they'll look like that.

Conner was instantly envious and humbled at the same time.

"Let me give you some pointers," I said gesturing for him take my place. He
laid down and he eagerly waited for my instructions.



God I love straight guys.

So I go through my routine, which will help his abs but they won't look
like mine. This isn't about giving him instructions, it's about teaching
him to follow them. As he grunts with exertion I throw in, "Dude, do what I
say and you'll be fighting the pussy off."

He nodded, unable to talk but he was listening and learning like the good
boy he was.

After about 30 min he let out a sound of defeat and rolled off the table. I
looked down at him, best he get used to this sight now, and shook my head,
"Not bad for a beginner."

He blushes appropriately and I hold out a hand to help him up. He comes up
to my shoulder, a fact he is acutely aware of but I say nothing.

"Dude I am beat, there a steam room here?" I ask making a face and rubbing
my shoulder.

He nodes, "Upstairs. By the locker room."

"Sweet, I'm gonna go die in there."

I don't ask him to join me, because that would mean I want him to. Instead
I take my time grabbing my towel and he pipes in with, "Yeah I might join
you."

I nod and walk towards the locker room, my little marine in tow. I see the
wooden door and small glass window but ignore it and head into the locker
room.

"This is it," he says pausing.

I look back, "Yeah, but I'm gonna run cold water over me so it hits my
pores better."

No I have no idea what that means but he nods in agreement like he agrees.

I kick my shoes and socks off and toss them in my locker. He's three down
and I see him doing the same. I strip, tossing my sweaty clothes in and
grabbing a fresh towel. I make a show of trying to put the towel around my
waist without flashing my dick but damnit. I dropped the towel.

I see him give a side glance, because that's what guys do. If there is a
chance to see a guy's dick you look, because you have to. It's true, all
straight guys will look and then turn away quickly, but not before taking a
mental snapshot to compare to later. Conner is no different but his eyes
get wide before he turns away and then REALLY concentrates on undressing.

Let me tell you something, I love having a big dick. I know I sound
conceited and cocky but I don't care because it's true. My dad may be a
complete asshole and made growing up in his house a living hell, but he did
give me a fantastic cock.

I assume he has one too, only way a motherfucker like him could keep a
woman because it sure wasn't his attitude.

I had been bigger than most guys since junior high and I can say for a
fact, it was awesome. I assume that guys stopped being obsessed if their
dick was big enough in high school but the fact is, every guy worried about
it.

Well I didn't but most guys.

Conner was having a crisis of faith now. I was as strong as him, I had
better abs, I was taller and now the last straw. I had a bigger dick. As I
walked into the shower area he followed a few steps behind. Something in
his mind had clicked, we weren't two guys competing to see who was the best
anymore. No, that game was over.

And he had just given up.

I showered like a porn star. You know, hands up, abs clenched, making sure
the water his every single one of my muscles. I knew the water would
cascade off the head of my cock, making a little waterfall in front of
me. I couldn't see if he was watching, because I was too busy soaping
myself up, but I had a feeling he was because when I rinsed my eyes out and
looked over at him he looked away quickly.

"Whew, better. You ready?"

"Sure," he answered turning his shower off. He had a tight little body on
him. Built wide, nice waist, fucking dump truck ass.

We walked towards the steam room and I asked, "You wrestle in high school?"

He nodded, "Yeah, how did you know?"

We walked into the steam room and in the few seconds of light that leaked
in I could tell it was empty.

"Your ass, you got that wrestlers ass the girls lose their shit over."

He chuckled and I knew the compliment had hit home. We sat down on the
bench and I waited for my eyes to adjust. He sat across from me and seemed
confused at what you do in here.

I leaned back and spread my arms wide on the bench and sighed, "This hits
the spot man."

"Yeah feels good," he said with no enthusiasm. He was here because I was
here and he didn't know why. But he also knew he had nothing else to do,
the guys back at the barracks weren't gonna hang with him, so why go home?

I spread my legs like I was on a subway and I felt my towel unravel at my
waist. It was still draped over me but it wasn't tied anymore. I waited a
few more minutes and sat up, "It's not hot enough right?"

He shrugged and I stood up to pour some water over the rocks. When I did my
towel dropped to the floor. I ignored it and went about my business like it
was perfectly normal to be naked.

"What about you?" He asked, "You play any sports?"

"Baseball," I said turning around and flexing, "That's why I have these."

He stared at my naked form flexing in front of him. I could see the look on
his face and knew exactly what was going through his mind. I looked like he
wanted to. I was tall, lean, cut and hung. I was outgoing, assertive and
obviously not shy. He looked at me and saw the perfect him and he wanted it
badly.

He just didn't know it yet.

"That makes sense, you look like a baseball player."

I gave him a wicked grin and sat down next to him, "And what's a baseball
player look like?"

He stammered some from my proximity. I was sitting right next to him but
the steam was building in the room, I had an excuse if he asked. But he
wasn't going to ask. Instead he looked down and said, "You know, that all
American jock look."

I did know, and I knew he didn't think he looked like that. I mean he
didn't, but he thought that was a deficiency when it really wasn't.

I nudged his shoulder, "Aw I bet you were beating girls away with a stick."

He shook his head, "Nah, I can't talk to girls."

"With that ass?" I laughed, "You should be able to."

He looked over at me with a smile, "You're really going on about my ass."

I shrugged, "It's a nice ass."

We both laughed and I decided to move things to the next level.

I turned towards him and grabbed at him with my hands, "Come here wrestler
boy, give me that cake!"

He burst out laughing pulling away, but not getting up.

I reached down and grabbed his towel, "I must have your cake!" and pulled
it open.

I was not surprised to see he was half hard.

He grabbed at the towel to cover himself back up but I pulled it back, "See
something you like?"

He grabbed at it again, standing up this time. I tossed the towel up, and
he followed it with his head. I grabbed his waist and pulled him back into
my lap, "I got you now."

"Jack...." he half whined, embarrassed.

I hooked my knees under his and spread them open, "Why wouldn't anyone go
after you?" I asked, reaching around him and tracing his chest.

"Jack..." he sighed quietly, "Don't."

I traced up and tweaked his nipples and he gasped and jerked in place. I
pulled him back against my chest and whispered in his ear, "They'd be crazy
not see you..."

He turned to face me and I moved my Mouth over his. He moaned as he felt my
tongue slip over his.

Like shooting fish in a barrel.