I’m Definitely Not Gay, But…

Damn, what a workout. Nothing is more masculine than the feeling of a stiff iron rod in my palms and sweat dripping onto my skin.

But did you see that guy benching 315 in the corner? I mean, damn. That man was doing something right. He looked like he was handling the bar so gently too, like it was light as a feather. Yeah…firm but gentle. I like that. But, like, in a straight way.

I mean, I’m definitely not gay, but I guess I could see how a gay person would call his glistening pecs and bulging quads attractive. They also would have probably noticed how you could see the outlines of his hard nipples once he started to sweat through that white tank top.

God, his form was so good. His weightlifting form. No, no, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Anyways, I thought he could give me some tips so I decided to do my reps right behind him once he moved to the dumbbells.

Yeah it was a really good decision. Every time he started his set, his lats did this little twitchy thing. I could tell he’d done this many times before—he knew exactly what he was doing. What tips did he end up giving me? Oh, I got too nervous to talk to him after he used his shirt to wipe off his sweaty forehead and I caught a glimpse of his sixpack.

Eventually, he finished up headed for the showers, which was around the time I decided to shower too. No, it was empty except for him, but he was using the one next to my favorite. Of course I didn’t try to sneak a peek. Do you think I’m gay?

If it was you, you probably would keep going on about his deodorant or some gay shit like that. But I’m definitely not gay though, so I’ve pretty much forgotten about how his biceps looked ridiculously defined and had these really subtle veins showing as he toweled off.

Holy shit that guy had a great physique. I go to the gym for bodies like that. I mean, to get a body like that.

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