Working up the courage

A few weeks later, and after many more slightly embarrassing interactions with Tony's shirtless body, I'm ready to ask for his help. After dinner, while enjoying a bowl of my favorite frozen treat, Tony walks in. With his cellphone to his ear, I catch the tail end of his conversation. He's slurring his words a little bit and sounds frustrated. I think his friend cancelled last minute and has left him free for the evening. I see my opening and take the plunge.

"Heya, Tony. Did your friend cancel on you? I'm sorry to say that I was hoping we could hang out for a bit. Will tonight work?" My voice was so shaky, and my inflection went way up. Tony looked me up and down, and I nibbled the corner of my bottom lip and looked away. Sometimes his eyes found feelings I never knew I harbored.

"Sam, Sam, Sammie," he booms, sustaining on the 'A' of my name. Yes, he is intoxicated. "Yes, ma boy, I'm actually free tonight, and I'm glad you asked. We haven't had an opportunity to really bond, have we?" It's a rhetorical question, because he goes on, just as I open my mouth to agree. "What did you have in mind?"

I'm so damn nervous, but Tony has been nothing but welcoming for this first month, and that reminder emboldens my words. "I was hoping you could show me your workouts and help me. I've heard you exercising with your friends when they show up, and it all sounds like a good time." With a breathy finish, I add, "and you're so chiseled!"

Tony laughs and laughs, with a nod. "Sammie, we'll see if you can handle my workouts." His grin says something, but I just don't know what it could be. I've never been friends with an older man, one as cool as Tony is, and haven't been given a nickname before. I feel comfortable and also giddy. "Before we start, you're going to have to catch up with me. I've had a few drinks, and I want you to be on the same level." He darts into his room and comes back with a few bottles of alcohol. "You're guaranteed to do well with a good buzz. I'll start you with a few shots of this tequila." Looking up, he continues, "Are you ok for that? No salt, or limes tonight." I'm not used to this energy but I'm totally falling under his spell. I like cool, calm and collected Tony; Excited and energetic Tony is also very fun to be around.

For the next thirty or so minutes, he encourages me to do five shots. We chat a bit about work and my city experiences, and if I've met anyone for romance or otherwise. I'm not a big drinker, and the first four hit my taste buds something fierce. I convulse and grimace, while he's egging me on. "Atta boy, swallow those up! I'm going to put you to work tonight!" After the fifth shot goes down much smoother, I tell him I haven't yet found a partner. Or at least one as fit as he is.

With a big grin, he says we have to change into appropriate work out gear. He admits that he's nearly always wearing gym clothing and pulls at his shirt and lifts it over his head. My own head is certainly abuzz, and my heart is fluttering, and my pulse is quickening. I can no longer look away from his body. He grabs a pair of gym shorts for me, ushers me down the hall, and tells me to get out of my grey sweats. Grabbing them, I turn to go towards my room, but Tony is direct. "Change here, buddy. It's cool. You're all good." For the first time tonight, I'm hesitant. I think shy is a better word for it.

He observes my uncertainty, and says he'll change first. "Soon enough, Sammie, you'll be obeying and following all of my directions. Don't worry, I'll take the lead." He pulls off his jeans, reminding me that we're friends and just a couple of guys working out. There's nothing to be afraid of.

There I am. Frozen. Transfixed. Locked on to his body and its every move. The jeans come off. And I am awed. His briefs are white, and my stare lasts a lifetime.

The bulge in his briefs is so damn big. My face is going through a dozen thoughts nearly at once. That bulge can't be real. But if it is real, then why were my genetics so pathetic in comparison. And what kind of person can even handle a man with such an endowment. I wonder what it looks like under his briefs. I don't even question that thought. It feels normal to be so curious about that hidden wonder.

Tony steps closer. He adjusts his bulge with his hand. It's very flexible...can it still be soft? "Ok, Sammie. Now it's your turn. Change. Now." I feel compelled to change. I hear a tone in his voice. My eyes stay locked on his member, and my hands mechanically pull off my sweatpants. I'm about to pull his shorts on over my tighty whites, but Tony stops me. "This workout is going to get sweaty and messy. Take everything off and then wear these shorts. Got it?" Eyes wide and mouth agape, I hurriedly nod. I'm so distracted, I don't realize or even care that my penis is briefly visible.

"We'll warm up, first. Stretching is very important. Don't want you tearing anything." He pauses after the word stretching. And before the word tear. My head is stuck on that bulge, and those two words. Stretching. Tearing. Bulge. Stretching. Tearing.