The Source - Part 2

[Proteus]

Again, no growth, but I'm trying to take my time setting up this one.

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Part 2

The next day I got to work, looking into whatever leads I could find. Most of Sam’s Facebook profile was private, but his ‘Likes’ were public, so I was immediately able to see that he was a fan of Molimen’s Gym on Maple Avenue.

The gym was fairly crowded when I arrived around four in the afternoon, under the guise of a prospective member touring the facilities. One of the trainers, an Irish-looking redhead with the body of a fitness model, showed me around the various rooms populated mainly by college students—I guessed that Darnell probably worked out here as well. Not everyone was in the best shape, but all of the young bodies started to make me feel old. I am only 28, but I still felt like the odd one out.

The trainer (Rich, I think his name was) finished showing me around and told me that I had a day to evaluate the place. Anticipating this, I had brought a bag of gym clothes. A few minutes later, I had changed into dark green basketball shorts and a loose white V-neck.

The gym was mostly a large open area with machines filling the bulk of the space and free weights along one side. I made my way to a separate room to do some cardio, taking in the gym patrons around me. No one in particular caught my eye as suspicious or out of place. And I guess I was able to blend in okay, myself (I was thin, though not very lean).

Unable to gather any information, I went to leave, but the trainer stopped me and asked if there was anything he could do to convince me to join. I told him that giving me a free week might work, and he obliged. I suspected that going back at a different time when other people were there might yield better results.

When he asked me if anyone had recommended the gym, I saw an opportunity to get some information; I told him that Sam Roth had suggested I start working out.

“Sam?” said the trainer, “he hasn’t been a member here for a few months.”

Now there was something interesting.

The next place I checked out was Sam’s place of work, a small pizza place with very thin crust and watered down sauce. By asking a few questions to the girl running the register, I was able to learn that Sam had been repeatedly late to work and outright called off the past few times he was scheduled. Darnell had made no mention of this, so the picture forming in my mind was pretty simple: Sam was telling Darnell that he was at work when he was fooling around.

A couple of days later I decided to check out the gym around one in the morning. So far it was only substantial lead I had. The gym was quiet, except for the top-40 music pumping out of the speakers and the occasional clang as one of the handful of nighttime patrons re-racked a weight.

One guy caught my eye immediately. He was bulky, like a powerlifter. He looked Italian and had so much chest hair that it peeked up over his shirt collar. There was something intriguing about him as he set up a bar with heavy weights to squat, something that drew me to him, almost like animal magnetism.

I proceeded to make a fool out of myself, doing some basic bicep curls—pretty much the only free weight exercise I knew—keeping an eye on the guy all the time. I picked relatively light weights, but after a while my arms were burning from the constant effort.

After one of the other people there left for the cardio room, the man approached me, sauntering over with a masculine swagger that threatened to make me weak at the knees. What was it about him that was so appealing? I usually went for guys closer to my own size.

“I see you’re new at this,” he said in a gruff voice.

“How could you tell?”

“You’ve been doing the same exercise for twenty minutes. And watching me, no?”

I felt myself blush a little. I needed something to say quick: “Well, I’m very impressed by you. I don’t suppose you have any tips for an eager beginner?”

He looked around to make sure we were alone and leaned in to talk softly to me. I could smell his sweat. Normally I hate the smell of sweat, but there was something almost… alluring. In fact, I could somehow tell that his smell was what was making me attracted to him.

“If you wanna’ make some real gains,” he said, “meet me in the locker room after the guy on the treadmill leaves.”

Once a college kid had left the cardio room, and entered and left the locker room to go home, we were almost completely alone. Only an older man remained, using the machines. I went to the locker room and a few moments later, the hairy man arrived.

“Roger knows to keep his mouth shut, so we’re safe,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, sending a jolt of sensation through me. I felt myself getting stiff. He continued, “you want the stuff, you gotta’ help me out with something first. Quid pro quo, ya’ know?”

“Alright…” I played along. I did not know what I was getting into, but part of me was willing roll with whatever this man wanted.

He unlocked a locker and pulled out a small black bag. It looked like a fabric lunch box—the kind I took to high school. Inside, nestled among light blue icepacks, were skinny rectangular boxes. He opened one of the boxes to reveal a neat row of plastic vials, filled with some opaque liquid.

I’m no square, but I draw the line at synthetic drugs. But part of me was compelled to go with the flow; I really felt like I wanted to please this guy.

He unscrewed the black cap on a vial and gently tapped a viscous drop of the substance onto the tip of his index finger. He motioned for me to come closer, and I obeyed. I know what you’re thinking—this is stupid. Why would I do this? It’s hard to explain, really. I wish I could say I was willing to take risks for my investigation, but honestly, I was just very in the moment and very attracted to the big guy.

I opened my mouth and he slowly smeared his finger on my tongue. There was not enough of the liquid for me to lock onto a particular taste, but something did seem familiar about it.

What happened next is a blur. Not because I was high. The most accurate way I can think to describe it is that I was turned on. It was a state of heightened sexual energy. My body felt electric and my partially hard penis sprung to attention. I remember the hairy man smiling, then taking off his clothes. His hair—he had so much hair, thick and curly on his torso, and on his arms, and on his legs. I was intoxicated with lust. I do not remember everything that we did, but I do recall that I was eager to do everything. At some point my hands grasped the thickest dick I had ever seen in person while my mouth worked on the hot, engorged head. I was so into it that when he came, I also blew my load without touching myself.

A short time later, I was leaving the gym with a grin and a pocket of three small vials.

[GTlifter]

Please take your time you can't rush something that is already got us on the edge of our seats