Eye Spy

He was in his late 30s, in my guesstimate. He had the darkest skin among those who regularly work out in the morning; not African-dark, just indio-dark. What I found mildly distressing is that he loved exposing his butt for all to see when he puts on his underwear. Nothing distressing about seeing butt (heller?!), but seeing a lighter-toned ass beside a very dark back that’s smothered with Johnson’s Baby Powder? Ick! Yes, he’d dump almost half of the contents of the baby powder bottle on his whole body—arms, chest, back, legs. I’ve always wanted to tell him, “Sir, powder is just white; it doesn’t make you white.” And his movements are so lazy and languid while putting on his boxers (never briefs), I suspect Powder’s really putting on a show in the locker room. Plus his eyes are always so busy wandering here and there, glancing, peering and staring. Con-feeermed, as my AE Poma would say.

A semi-regular morning gym person is this Caucasian who reminds me of Dolph Lundgren, so I’ll call him Dolph here. His face doesn’t resemble the has-been actor’s, but he could pass for a body double. His demeanor—and the fact that I rarely see him wear something more formal than a polo shirt—makes me suspect he’s a body guard of one of those ambassadors holding office at our building. Actually if you tell me he’s with the Russian mafia, I’d nod my head and say, “So that’s why.” Like most Europeans, Dolph has no problem exposing himself for a brief second or two in the locker area. But either he’s become sensitive to Asian modesty, or he’s realized that pink prying eyes abound the locker area; he limits his exposure to a butt-bearing 2 to 3 seconds only. That’s how fast he slips his briefs (never boxers) on (and his dress-up-quickly skills make me suspect even more that he really is a body guard, or perhaps even a spy). He never lingers at the locker area; dress up, pack up, and he’s outta there.

So this morning I had the honor of dressing up together with Dolph whose locker was immediately across mine. This morning I also had the misfortune of having Powder two lockers away, towel wrapped around his waist, and delaying whatever it is he’s supposed to do just so he can steal a glance the moment Dolph drops his towel on the floor. Normally I wouldn’t mind stealing a glance at Dolph—hey I’m human, sue me. But with Powder lingering so obviously (in my eyes, at least; everyone else was too far away and so oblivious to what was happening near my area), it suddenly struck me: it’s like the paparazzi waiting for Britney to come out of her train wreck. It felt weird.

Then Dolph dropped towel.

There was no audible intake of breath, no gasping for air. Heck no way, otherwise the Russian mafia will come here and rub Powder and I out. But since this is the McVie Show…

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Imagine the biggest pinkish bratwurst you could think of, with a downward curve; its head dangling so much lower than his two enormous balls. Not so thick, brownish pubes—does he trim it himself? Even at its relaxed stage his long shlong could gag someone stupid—or lucky—enough to trip and fall headfirst with his mouth open straight into his crotch area. The shaft was amazingly smooth and vein-less, and—I averted my eyes before Dolph could sense the heat coming from them.

Then I saw Powder’s eyes. They were riveted. They were hungry. They were recording everything they were seeing in hi-def and in slo-mo, ready to be replayed again and again (with no gen-loss!) in Powder’s mind whenever he’s feeling horny. They were taking in every inch of Dolph’s love-meat, down to the smallest detail.

It was quite an embarrassing sight to behold. Weird, ‘no?

So I did what I thought I could do at that point. I looked straight into Powder’s eyes. At first he was too enthralled by the euro-cock to even notice that someone had noticed him. But then he glanced up and saw me looking at him. Gotcha!

As far as Powder was concerned, he didn’t see me looking at Dolph; all he saw was someone who caught him staring at some mighty meaty. He turned, almost violently, to face his locker.

Despite Dolph’s quick dressing-up speed, Powder was first out of the men’s locker room this morning.