First Time(s) 6: Roger and Henry

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Part 1

The first time I set eyes on Henry I was already a little bit peeved. It was the first day of classes at UWF and I was hoping to get in a brief workout / shower before my first class later that morning.

Unfortunately, even though the Field House was open, the weight room was locked, and dark. I wasn't overly thrilled to be there, for that matter. Getting kicked out of Vanderbilt for being (openly) gay still rankled and my failed visit with Jim in New Jersey had my ego feeling bruised; living at home with the parental units to save money wasn't helping either.

"Uh, who do I talk to?" I asked the kid at the front desk. The place was deserted, which wasn't all that odd given that it was 1980 and the fitness craze hadn't quite caught on in Pensacola.

"D.L. or Henry," he said and before I could say "and where would I find them?" a deep, masculine voice added "Yo, Buddy, whatcha need?"

I turned and found myself looking at one of the most beautiful men who ever lived. About an inch taller than my 5'10 1/2" and built like a brick shit house: powerful shoulders, sculpted chest, bulging biceps, all topped off by a thick neck and a face worthy of an Ethiopian prince, flawless medium brown complexion, high cheek bones, strong jaw, well-proportioned nose, long curly eyelashes.

Instant boner material, in other words, and I instinctively positioned my gym bag so it wouldn't be obvious.

"Hey, there," I said, "I'm Roger, by the way, and I'm hoping you can let me into the weight room."

He grasped my outstretched hand and gave it a good, strong shake.

"Sure thing, Roger," he replied. "It's down this way. I'm Henry."

As we headed back to the weight room he told me that he was working there full-time as a custodian while finishing up his degree in the evenings.

"My tour in the Navy paid for a lot of it but not all of it," he pointed out. "A fella's gotta eat."

I laughed.

"At least you're not living off your parents like I am," I told him. "A couple of more years, though, and I'll be done."

We arrived at the weight room.

"Not much," he pointed out, "but we've got the basics. I'm not sure if it's going to be much of a challenge for a guy like you."

I had the decency to blush.

"Look who's talking," I said. "You must spend half your work week in here."

He chuckled.

"That IS one of the nice features of working here," he agreed. "So long as I keep things shipshape D.L. is cool with my using the weights during work hours, although I keep out if there's a class or something going on."

I went to the squat rack and started loading on a few plates.

"Jeez, man," he said, "you don't believe in warming up, do you?"

I winked at him.

"Oh, sure, I do," I added. "315 is my warm up!"

Just to impress him a bit, I cranked out 30 reps, then added two more 45 lb. plates and did 20 more.

"Sheeit, boy," he said, "no wonder you make me look like a piece of spaghetti."

I snorted.

"Yer crazy," I said. "You're arms are bigger than mine, spaghetti my ass."

After that we actually compared. Turns out I did have about 20 lbs. on Henry but his bodyfat was way down in the single digits whereas mine consistently hovered in the low double digits. Despite the difference in our weight his arms were 18 inches to my 18 1/2.

"See," I told him. "Definitely NOT spaghetti."

My legs were quite a bit thicker, though. His certainly weren't skimpy but he didn't have my thunder thighs or killer calves.

"And let's face it," I added. "I'm big and beefy but I don't look like I'm carved out of marble."

You wouldn't think that Henry's blushing would be so noticeable with that gorgeous milk chocolate skin but it was indeed. So was the growing bulge in his track pants.

Oh, ho, I thought to myself, maybe UWF won't be such a come down after all.

"Oh, hey, I gotta run, I remember something D.L. wanted me to do," Henry said, obviously looking for an escape.

I clasped his hand again.

"Cool beans, dude. Maybe we can catch a workout together some time," I added.

He considered that.

"My main work out is usually right after I get off work at 5," he noted. "If you're ever available, come on by. It would be nice to have a fellow muscle head to hang out with."

That's for damn sure!


Part 2

I was back at the gym shortly after 5 p.m. and there was Henry in the weightroom, already dressed out in a skimpy tank top and a pair of gym shorts.

"Jeezus," we both said, at the same time, then grinned.

"I think I'm gonna hafta call you 'Bull,'" Henry said. "'Roger' doesn't do you justice!"

I snorted.

"Really, man," he continued, "some people have calves but yours are prime beef. Not to mention those shoulders..."

Well, what can I say? I stood up straighter, squared the shoulders, locked the lats into place.

"And I still say your carved from granite," I pointed out. "You have muscles I've never seen on my body."

True enough. His serratus were razor sharp, the cleft between his pecs was like a canyon, when he flexed you could see striations.

He laughed.

"Ok, Bull, enough of this jibber-jabber, let's get to work."

I think we egged each other on.

Two hours later we were both totally soaked, both totally pumped. I think we had done about 30 different exercises, including finding out that we were both capable of doing one perfect bench press rep with 405 lbs.

"Dude," I said, finally, "I am NOT going to be able to do that every day."

He chuckled.

"I'm not sure I'm going to be able to move tomorrow," he added.

I looked at him, he looked at me.

"Well, I guess I better..." I started.

"So, what you doing for dinner?" he asked, interrupting me.

"Oh, I dunno," I said. "I'm sure Mom has left something in the fridge. Thing is I need to take a shower before I head home; she hates it when I come home like this..."

He acted like he had a brainstorm, although I could tell he'd been thinking up this line since I'd met him this morning.

"Well, hey, you know, I was gonna grill up a couple of steaks when I got home. I live about five minutes from here. If you want, shower at my place and I'll fee you."

Ooh, and wouldn't I like being fed, I thought to myself.

"Hey, that'ud be great," I answered. "Shall I follow you over...?"

As it turned out, he lived close enough by to walk so I gave him a lift to his apartment.

"Here," he said, "you can take the first shower while I get things started. Then I'll do a quickie while the steaks are cooking."

I was in and out in under 10 minutes, walking into Henry's kitchen with a towel and a big grin on my face.

"Damn boy..." he said, looking me up and down, his lips slightly parted.

"Those steaks smell good enough to eat," I pointed out, scooting past him, my hand touching his bubble butt as I went by, looking for plates.

"And I was just thinking..."

I turned and looked at him, a plate in each hand, the towel slipping down to my pubes, my hard cock the only thing holding it up.

"That you look good enough to eat..."

I put the plates down, grabbed his waist, pulled him to me.

"I think it's your turn to take a shower," I purred in his ear. "Want me to wash your back?"

He nodded and I led him into the bathroom.

It was a long shower.


Part 3

He was so frickin' hot and down below was just as beautiful as the rest of him, long and thick and more than that just perfectly shaped, perfectly proportioned, a work of art.

We lay in bed a long time afterwards.

"I love you," he whispered in my ear, and I gasped.

"No one's ever said that to me before," I whispered back.

"I mean it," he said.

I told him about Jim.

"You're still in love with him?" he asked.

"No," I answered slowly. "I'm not sure now whether I ever was."

He looked at me, waiting.

"I don't know yet whether I love you, Henry, or if I'm just in lust with you."

He chuckled.

"Well, lust isn't a bad thing," he pointed out.

"You deserve more," I replied. "I can tell you that you're just about the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on and as far as I can tell, you're as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside."

He stretched and my dick hardened again. The play of muscles under his beautiful, nearly luminous skin took my breath away.


"So now," I said, finishing for him. "It's time for me to go home."

* * *

That was the start of our time together and it pretty much defined the rest of the semester. School, gym, work, gym, dinner, sex, study, sex.

Our time in the gym was, well, magnificent. We each pushed the other to the max. In four months we each put on 30 lbs. of solid muscle. By the time Christmas rolled around, Henry was 230 lbs. of prime beef, I was a 250 lb. hulk. There was usually no one in the weight room at the Field House when we worked out and the few who ventured in when we were there tended to hightail it and run out.

"I think we scare people," he told me one evening.

I pointed to his upper arm, 21 inches cold.

"THAT scares people," I said.

"So does that," he said, pointing at mine.

"I love you, Henry."

He gaped.

"When did that happen?"

I laughed.

"From the moment you said it first," I pointed out. "Actually, probably from the moment I set eyes on you. Or maybe from the moment you said, 'Yo, Buddy, whatcha need,' since I heard you before I saw you and just your voice made me hard."

He laughed.

"And so...?"

"Want to get married?"

* * *

Hard to believe it's been nearly 30 years.