Compliments
May. 11th, 2004 01:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaneramosMy gym partner, "Bruce," is a hot little number: smaller than me, shoulders like heaps of rope, his ass looks like it could crack walnuts, and he has a sexual aggressiveness that turns me on from afar. We fooled around once six years ago, but it didn't work out. Besides the fact that we're both bottoms (not a big problem by itself), I'm a cuddler and Bruce is from the don't-touch-me-just-fuck-me school.
Apart from that he's a nice guy, a massage therapist. I'd love to let those strong hands work my muscles (that's probably how he diffuses his need for touch), but Bruce's business is so successful he's not taking any new clients. Besides, I couldn't afford it. Sometimes I speculate about playing on his terms just for the helluvit.
Anything more would be out of the question, anyway. Bruce is always in a hurry, always impatient with the car ahead of him or the dawdling gas station attendant. We have great talks about life, sex and love, but he would drive me crazy in anything more than quick, potent doses.
He just drives me to the gym two or three times a week. We don't work out together. He has a gruelling cardio routine, while I like to lift weights semi-aerobically. I started a couple months ago after nearly a nine month hiatus. We haven't been able to hook up as often as I would like. According to my log, I have lifted weights 10 times since the beginning of March, but I'm making some progress.
"You're looking good, brother," Bruce said when he came downstairs to the weight room to retrieve me this morning. He has never given me a compliment like that before. "You're already losing some weight."
"Actually I haven't lost any weight," I said. "It's just my abs firming up, and my arms have bulked up slightly."
"So what's the occasion? Do you want to look good for Pride?"
"No, I just like how it feels," I said. "I wouldn't mind looking good for the summer, but I want to do it all year round. There are little incentives, like I enjoy swimming more when my muscles are stronger."
"You should get a bike, then you could do more cardio."
"I don't really care to do a lot of cardio. You see how much weight I lose just lifting weights semi-aerobically?"
"Don't you eat much?" he asked as we walked outside.
"I eat plenty. I just have a high metabolism."
"I hate people like you."
"I don't want to lose a lot of weight, anyway," I said. "I like bears after all."
"And here I am slaving away to get a 28-inch waist," said Bruce.
Then he did something else he has never done before: unlocked my door first, before walking around to the other side.
Apart from that he's a nice guy, a massage therapist. I'd love to let those strong hands work my muscles (that's probably how he diffuses his need for touch), but Bruce's business is so successful he's not taking any new clients. Besides, I couldn't afford it. Sometimes I speculate about playing on his terms just for the helluvit.
Anything more would be out of the question, anyway. Bruce is always in a hurry, always impatient with the car ahead of him or the dawdling gas station attendant. We have great talks about life, sex and love, but he would drive me crazy in anything more than quick, potent doses.
He just drives me to the gym two or three times a week. We don't work out together. He has a gruelling cardio routine, while I like to lift weights semi-aerobically. I started a couple months ago after nearly a nine month hiatus. We haven't been able to hook up as often as I would like. According to my log, I have lifted weights 10 times since the beginning of March, but I'm making some progress.
"You're looking good, brother," Bruce said when he came downstairs to the weight room to retrieve me this morning. He has never given me a compliment like that before. "You're already losing some weight."
"Actually I haven't lost any weight," I said. "It's just my abs firming up, and my arms have bulked up slightly."
"So what's the occasion? Do you want to look good for Pride?"
"No, I just like how it feels," I said. "I wouldn't mind looking good for the summer, but I want to do it all year round. There are little incentives, like I enjoy swimming more when my muscles are stronger."
"You should get a bike, then you could do more cardio."
"I don't really care to do a lot of cardio. You see how much weight I lose just lifting weights semi-aerobically?"
"Don't you eat much?" he asked as we walked outside.
"I eat plenty. I just have a high metabolism."
"I hate people like you."
"I don't want to lose a lot of weight, anyway," I said. "I like bears after all."
"And here I am slaving away to get a 28-inch waist," said Bruce.
Then he did something else he has never done before: unlocked my door first, before walking around to the other side.
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