Thirty Minutes Longer

A story from the Suzanne Portnoy archives 21st March 2009

We were standing naked next to each other in the communal showers. I’d noticed him from the moment he walked in the place and not being very discreet, had followed him with my eyes every time he passed by me. It was hard not to look at him. He had the perfect male physique - wide shoulders, muscular arms, toned legs, perfectly flat abs and a gorgeous cock that even soft was thick and long. He looked like a youngish Clint Eastwood with his angular face and short, dark hair. A tribal tattoo on his upper arm completed the hard man look. He had the body of a soldier or perhaps a labourer or an athlete. I couldn’t take my eyes off him but he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to me. The thought occurred to me that he might be gay. He was naked and wandering from sauna to steam room, back and forth, back and forth and I kinda assumed he might be looking for cock. Guys that hot just don’t exist in straight land.