Closet Fag In The Gym

At the gym where FuelMix worked out, was a fag. He showed up every couple of weeks. Fag was white, nothing to look at, married with kid. He approached FuelMix for work out tips, then to watch FuelMix do his sets, and then to compliment FuelMix’s body parts. It was only a matter of time before fag revealed he was a "closet cocksucker" – his words – and that every couple of weeks, he would show up at the gym hoping to run into FuelMix. He offered FuelMix the opportunity of taking his mouth for a discreet test drive to see if it might turn into a semi-regular thing.

It was quite literally, a test drive. Fag only felt safe in his car and had to find somewhere secluded. Initially, fag was not such a great cocksucker and FuelMix was unimpressed. But fag begged FuelMix to continue using him periodically as he needed to learn.

So for a few months, every couple of weeks all sweaty and pumped after the gym,  FuelMix ended up in the fag’s car and would test drive fag’s mouth hard, like a performance driver. In the early stages, fag would thrash around like a snuffed fish as his head was trapped between FuelMix’s muscled thighs.

Fag fully understood that FuelMix was a relentless and ruthless throat fucker. Fag ended up gagging for breath, tears running down his face. FuelMix unloaded deep into fag's grateful and spasming throat and wouldn't release fag's head from his thighs until fag swallowed. That was part of the deal.

Fag confided that his secret encounters with FuelMix kept him sane in a miserable marriage. FuelMix couldn’t have cared less. 

After a while, FuelMix got bored being the fag's sexual therapist and switched gyms.

Originally published 7 May 2006
Amended and Republished 30 January 2014 | 5 March 2017

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