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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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*Threesome, mmf, bisexual*
Part One
I run a lot. That is to say, if I don't run I find myself bursting with energy. Hell, if I DO run I find myself bursting with energy. So what is a guy to do? Such an unbearable surfeit of vigour and vitality is how I came to pick-up a tri-suit and start training. Finally I thought, a more exhausting regimen that could adequately tire me... So I thought.
After getting home from work I enjoy nothing more than slipping into my trisuit and, with trainers on and swimming goggles wrapped about my wrist, pounding the streets of Liverpool for 5, 10, 15 miles before stopping at a swimming pool and doing a mile or so of lengths before jogging back home. My soaked trisuit drying in the balmy summer breeze before winding down for the evening.
This day was no different. Today, after leaping from the three-piece suit (some might say over-dressed for the weather, I say fuck 'em and their informality), I looked at myself in the mirror. My naked body taut and lean after months of running, swimming and cycling. Months of effort are really beginning to pay off. As I regard my reflection and admire the V-shaped lines of my iliac furrow I trace these lines to my rapidly lengthening cock.
'Fuck' I think to myself, 'I really am narcissistic getting turned on by my OWN appearance...'. That said I couldn't help but notice that as I have slimmed down, as my body fat decreased and muscle tone improved, by cock did at least appear larger. The erection was certainly hard, 'prouder', standing taller.
Turning in profile to the mirror the muscle fibre of my thighs tremble and I notice the particularly defined contour of my arse. A perfect half-moon shape. Despite the running and lack of squats I have at least maintained my 'bubble butt', a feature which has been called one of my most pleasing.
Cutting short this visual feast, this indulgent self-worship I slip (or rather squeeeeze) into my trisuit and set off for my run-swim. The miles pass quickly and the rivulets of swear roll down my neck and, when along the beach, down my bare chest as I fartlek until 10 miles later I arrive at the pool. Once checked in and alleviated of my shoes I shower the beach from my body. The salt and salt washed away I step to the side of the pool and there is a very different lifeguard by the poolside this evening.
Different in all regards when compared with the other lifeguards. Tall and brunette with slender legs and shoulder length hair he had a gorgeous smile that elicited an equal reaction. The three-days growth of facial hair looked so deliciously rough and dense I found my gaze lingering on him as I sought to take in every aspect of his face and muscled arms stretching his yellow t-shirt tight and his powerful, bronzed thighs filling his red tiny shorts - you know the type that lifeguards seem to wear so well.
Handing my pool pass our eyes meet and while his busy hands scan the card, his gaze never leaves mine. Asking me if I have gone far this evening I can hardly reply. Conscious that I am stood in front of this man in a one-piece trisuit that leaves little to the imagination, water and sweat evaporating from my body.
Answering that 'I haven't gone too far. I'm just about warmed up. But - it is very hot out there you know?'. Without missing a beat, as he returns my pass, he answers 'Its hot in here too, you know?'. Biting my lower lip it is all I can do to say 'I do' before turning away and walking to the other end of the pool. I can feel the guard's eyes on me. Almost burning into the back of my head, while I can't stop thinking of his bearded face grating against mine, his legs wrapped about my hips and our lips emeshed.
As such thoughts are not at all conducive to maintaining one's dignity in the lycra I put them from my mind, dive into the pool and begin my lengths...
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