I'm dripping with sweat, my dreads bouncing with each rep, and my mind is elsewhere - on the plethora of hot guys surrounding me, their muscles rippling beneath their skin as they lift weights and grunt with effort. It's a feast for the eyes, and I'm famished.
I try to focus on my own workout, really I do. I mean, I'm here to get a good pump going, to feel the burn in my muscles and the rush of endorphins in my blood. But damn, it's hard when there are so many delectable specimens of masculinity strutting around, showing off their goods. I'm not even ashamed to admit that I've caught myself staring more than once, my eyes locked onto a particularly impressive set of biceps or a chiseled jawline.
And the topless ones? Forget about it. I'm a goner. My imagination runs wild, conjuring up all sorts of scenarios where I'm on my knees, worshiping at the altar of their magnificence. A surreptitious glance here, a fleeting fantasy there, and I'm hard as a rock. Who needs a personal trainer when you've got a gym full of Adonises to motivate you?
Of course, I have to be careful not to get too caught up in my daydreams. I mean, I'm here to work out, not to get caught ogling the other gym-goers. But it's hard to resist the allure of all that testosterone and muscle mass. I find myself wondering which ones might share my particular... proclivities. You know, the ones who might appreciate a strong, black, submissive bottom like myself.
The shower is always the best part, though. Steam rising from the floor, the sound of water pounding against the tiles, and the visual feast of all those gorgeous bodies, slick with water and soap suds. I try to play it cool, to act like I'm not scoping out the competition, but let's be real - I'm totally checking out the other guys. And if I happen to catch someone's eye, well, that's just a bonus.
My mind starts to wander, fantasies of being dominated by a handsome white master floating to the surface. I can almost feel the rough touch of his hands, the gentle grip of his fingers as he guides me to my knees. My heart starts racing, my dick throbbing in anticipation. It's all I can do not to let out a little moan of pleasure, right there in the shower.
But I manage to keep my cool, composing myself long enough to get dressed and head out. As I make my way home, I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Not just because I got a good workout in, but because I know I've got a whole arsenal of fantasies to draw from, just waiting to be explored.
And who knows? Maybe someday I'll find that perfect master, the one who'll take me in hand and show me what it means to be truly submissive. Until then, I'll just have to keep dreaming, and keep working on my physique - just in case.