We left a forlorn man the books named Eugene alone on a bench not far from a building whose spotless facade and empty blinded windows said as well as ...he words chiseled over the columns that genuine or spontaneous emotive capacities had been depleted. The forlorn Eugene did not seem aware much less care about the frosty frenzies and freezing frays that blanketed the city and it’s possible even Eugene didn’t feel how forlorn he really was, that something so saturated him he couldn’t feel his. The dirty fucking stench of that hot man sweat.I got behind the bench and was spotting the Coach as he did a couple of reps. Every time he lifted the bar up and down I could see those sweaty hairy pecs of his pumping and flexing. My cock had started to get slightly stiff in my pants. The Coach had finished his reps and told me it was my turn to lift. As I laid flat on the bench, you could see a little bulge starting to form. I wasn't ashamed and I wasn't trying to hide it at all. The Coach went. More

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