Hetero

Pushing up some weights at the gym, a necessary chore. To relieve the boredom, watching other weightpushers, all of them men. Sweat gleaming, muscles bulging. For every minute of weightpushing, five minutes of lolling around looking in mirrors.

The company of semi-naked men, cue for imputation of homoerotic frisson, hence homosexual tendency. You can see the point but it’s nothing I can ever personally find resonance with. My focus of interest, I wonder whether women would find those muscles attractive. Mostly women proclaim otherwise, but you never can tell.

Thoughts turning to Christelle, my French student lover. She saying, homosexuality is fine but it’s obvious you don’t have a homosexual particle in your body. Well then, she and I think the same. Not a matter of any importance, just, can’t quite square it with the consensus that everyone has some homosexuality.

Christelle going on, that’s good because it’s also obvious you don’t do drugs either. Which means that those little diseases that travel with the fluids, I don’t have to worry, if no nasty fluids enter you then none will enter me.

Looking at me across a white pillow. Continuing. But I don’t want to get pregnant, so if you want to cum in my pussy, put a condom on. Utterly matter-of-fact in her tone and words. Otherwise, you can cum in my bum or cum in my mouth.

A practical arrangement of some significance, we had a lot of sex during the year or so I was with her, only used about five condoms.

Moving to the bench press, loading on some iron. Settling back, feeling my pectorals tighten. Wonder if any of the other weightpushers are homoerotically looking at me. If so, forget it boys, I’m just now immersed in my own little heteroerotic daydream about Christelle.