Keep cycling for a bit longer
From Create Your Own Story
You keep pedaling on the bike, legs churning faster, the resistance biting into your quads as sweat soaks your shirt and your heart pounds. Breaths deepen, each stroke sending heat surging to your groin, the gym's clanks and grunts blurring into white noise as you push the cardio burn.
The stocky Black man finishes squats and moves to the nearby deadlift platform, closer now—his sweat-scent sharp in the air, tank top clinging to his soft belly and broad back. He loads the bar heavy, plates clanging, chalks his thick hands, then bends to grip it, feet wide.
Your gaze fixes as he hinges at the hips, dark shorts stretching tight over his full ass cheeks, fabric hugging every curve. He explodes up, yanking the bar off the floor—glutes clenching hard, thighs like pistons with bulging veins driving the lift. At lockout, he growls deep, hips thrusting forward, making your cock twitch and stiffen in your shorts.
He lowers it controlled, then pauses, bending to adjust—shorts riding up, material wedging deep into his crack, outlining the deep cleft between those ample cheeks.
You crank harder, bike whining, your cock now fully hard and leaking against the seat, friction teasing it raw. He grips again, bends over—ass on display, cheeks parting under the wedged shorts—lifts with a grunt, thighs quivering, bar scraping shins as he stands tall, ass flexing with each rep.
Sweat drips from you both, your breaths ragged, arousal throbbing as you watch him dominate the weight, the wedged fabric pulling taut obscenely. After the set, he wipes his face, flashing his hairy underbelly, then chalks for more.
Your balls ache, workout haze mixing with lust—no one's noticing your stare.
You legs burn from the cycling now and you feel you have to stop and rest them for a bit.
That’s when you notice the man you have been watching walking towards the locker room - his work out seemingly complete.
Do you
