My imaginary cat ears fold back, annoyed.
What does Danny possibly see in a guy like that?
“Thanks so much for helping out, Romeo,” Danny calls out to me as I head for the door, the phone tucked between his shoulder and neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“See you,” I say back, then quietly head out.
But it’s a lot sooner than tomorrow that I see Danny.
That night as I cuddle under my sheets, ready for bed, I can’t get Danny out of my mind. For some reason, I keep hearing the grunting and slamming down of weights, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s what Danny sounds like when he works out. I can picture him in a pair of tight compression shorts, a matching super-tight sleeveless athletic top, sporty socks, and athletic shoes. He’s lying back on a workout bench and grunting as he works out. I’m sure pushing that barbell over his chest again and again is nearly effortless for him. With all of his strength and limitless virility, it’s no surprise. Yet his muscles bulge and tighten from the efforts, drawing my eyes and making my heart gallop excitedly.
His skin is glossy from sweat. His scent is irrationally clean and inviting. Intoxicating, even.
I throw my bed sheets off, reach into my nightstand, pump some lube into my hand, then free the beast that is my now raging-hard cock. My hand wraps around it, feeling its firm yet silky-soft skin, now slick, and I start to stroke it.
It’s incredible, how sensitive my cock gets when I’m so into my fantasy that I feel like I’m imagining something that really happened.
Something that could happen.
I don’t know where I physically am yet in this fantasy, except that I can see every inch of Danny perfectly, from his shapely calves, to his tight thighs, to his veiny arms, to his tightened face as he grimaces with each rep.
It’s devastating, how badly I want him.
My jerking speeds up. My cock responds, flexing and throbbing in my hand.
It’s not going to take long.
Then I discover exactly where I am in this fantasy: I’m straddling him as he works out. He either doesn’t notice me, or doesn’t mind that I’m now sitting on his lap as he continues doing bench presses on his back.
I realize his dick is getting hard in those tight shorts of his, with my ass pressed against it.
Maybe he does know I’m here.
As I jerk off, my free hand touches his firm, tight abs, feeling them flex, like moving granite. My hungry fingers slide up the smooth material of his sleeveless shirt, then cup one of his meaty pecs as it swells with every push and lift of the barbell over his chest. He must enjoy the way I’m greedily feeling him up, because now with each rep, he lingers at the top before bringing the barbell back down, as if to show off how strong he is, how puffed up his chest can get, and how he never tires.
His dick throbs against my ass, pushing against it. I start to move my hips as I jerk off, encouraging him. He rocks his eyes back and moans as he continues pushing that weight, determined to finish his set—before one of us finishes.
His confidence is so fucking hot.
Is this an exotic gym-boy precursor to how it will be when we have sex?
Will he show off in bed, too? Will he puff up his chest and make me his completely?
Will he never tire, going long into the night, sweaty, glistening, grunting?
I’m close, jerking off with unending desperation. He grunts and flexes and pushes the weights harder now. I feel my insides swiftly coming undone as my hand slides up and down the smooth, silky skin of my achingly hard cock. His dick pushes against the confines of his tight shorts and my gyrating ass, throbbing, tormented. His muscles struggle for the first time as he bites his lip and his breaths become vocal, nearly reaching the end of his set. I bite my own lip, reaching the end of mine.
“Auugh!” Danny growls out as he pushes that weight with all he’s got, just to finish that one last rep.
“Mmmph!” I cry out, racing toward the edge, urgent and happy.
Then without warning, I erupt. The fantasy vanishes at once as I unload wave after wave into my other hand, and I moan out with delirious, head-spinning pleasure. When I finish, shockwaves of delight bounce around inside of me, and I smile into the darkness of my room, relieved.
I feel so undeservedly happy right now.
After I clean up, sense returns to me, and I find myself sitting at my small table by the window, naked and pensive, unable to sleep. Thoughts of the totally untouchable, unavailable Danny are far away—as far away as I can push them, at least. I drum fingers against my chin as I give a long, hard look at my dating profile pic on my phone. When I finally decide to replace it with a new one, it isn’t the lame cardigan pic Prisha insisted I use. Instead, I choose a smirking selfie I took earlier in the gym bathroom. Sweat drips down my face. My hair is a cute mess. I look like I’m ready for someone to finally take me off this dating app for good. Then I set my phone down and smile at a sputtering streetlamp outside the window, satisfied with myself.