I always saw him around the neighborhood. It didn't matter what time it was, he was always there. Always with a sweaty face and a slightly shrunk t-shirt from wear. The Moor was about 40 years old and had a typical construction worker's body.

When I crossed paths with him at the burger joint, the Chinese restaurant, or the supermarket, he would stare at me. He did it from a distance and politely: he would maintain eye contact for a few seconds, smile, and turn around, insinuating a flirtatious gesture despite his loose-fitting pants. If he got close, you could smell his masculine scent. He probably showered frequently, but he didn't smell like deodorant, cologne, or cosmetics. He smelled like a man, sensual. Sometimes he smelled like masculine shower gel, like Adidas or similar.

With the bikini operation around the corner, I signed up for a gym near my house. Due to the hours, I had to go as soon as it opened, and many days the Moor was there training in just running shorts and old sneakers. In the locker room, he would stand in the center, visible to everyone, and take his time changing. He would walk back and forth from the shower completely naked, showing off his flaccid and fat cock and two large balls. He was very hairy, especially in the lower areas, and was muscular and well-defined, except for his abdomen, where you could notice a bit of fat. I almost always saw him doing squats from my elliptical machine. It seemed like he chose the best position to show off his ass to everyone. Additionally, the bastard lifted kilos and kilos of weights without even breaking a sweat, and fortunately, he wasn't one of those annoying, whining guys who embarrass everyone. One day, when I strained myself on a machine - and let out a little scream, not that I'm a sissy or anything - he quickly dropped his 50-kilogram dumbbells and helped me.

Once he knew I was okay, he proposed sex in a normal voice so the other guys at the gym could hear:

"I want you to fuck my mouth and ass and feel you inside me. And I know you want to try my little Moorish ass in heat."

The trainer approached, and the Moor looked at him as he usually did. When the trainer was next to me, the Moor told me:

"He already missed his chance, and you shouldn't miss yours."

When the trainer showed interest in me, I did the same:

"Well, I'd get a kick out of fucking an ass like that, but this guy is a bit crazy."

"We're all the same," said the trainer, pointing to other guys at the gym, each one more handsome than the last. "We've made a bet, and whoever fucks the Moor and wins the bet will have the gym paid for all year and a party paid for by everyone each month."

The trainer was the typical type, a gossipy pretty boy with a very good body (thanks to anabolic steroids and tricks, mostly) and had striking blue eyes. I asked him to give me some reflex cream for my strain, and when we were in the locker room,...