It has been reported in various medical journals that amnesia victims never truly lose their memories, only the connections to them, and that their basic personality, histories, etc., will not change based upon this loss of memory. My experience two years ago refutes these reports, and was also one for the journals, even though I'm not a medical expert.
I had just started going to the neighborhood gymnasium, and had found that I really enjoyed working out there. Not only was I getting hard muscles all over my body, but one especially hard 'muscle' from all the studs around me. Since my gym was co-ed, it was predominantly hetero, although a few buffed guys gave me a couple of smiles and glances at my crotch as we checked each other out. My apartment complex also has a fully equipped gym room, but hardly anyone in my complex works out besides me, and I prefer to have something to look at as I pump.
'Something to look at' was just walking into the gym as I started my last set. He was about my height, roughly six foot, and was solid with muscle, but not vascular like the muscle heads that posed on television. No, this guy was proportional, with well developed arms and legs, especially his thighs and buttocks, two areas that I really like. His medium brown hair was cut longer than the current fashion, which gave him a rebel look without being messy or unkempt. He waited for the preacher curl machine as I finished my set, and talked to me in this deep bass voice that sent shivers straight down to my hardening pecker.
"Good definition there, guy. When you get done, may I use the machine?"
I completed my set and grabbed my towel my neck. Wiping down the machine (something that everyone was supposed to do, but hardly ever did) I used a corner of the towel to wipe some sweat from my face and looked into deep brown eyes."Sure, you're next. My name's Mike."
He held out his hand and said, "Good to meet you Mike. My name's Scott. You look like you've been here awhile, do you live in the area?"
I got up from the machine and watched him move his firm legs over the bench and bend forward to put his arms into the machine. Just seeing his butt stick out that little bit as he worked his biceps (which were also plenty to look at) almost tied my tongue in knots. "Um, yes I do, but I just started here only a few weeks ago. Thanks for the complement, though."
Scott smiled and said, "No problem, Mike, just calling them like I see them. Hey, check out the fox on the stairmaster."
I looked over to where he was staring, and of course one of the blond gym bunnies was there, her breasts soaked in perspiration in the flimsy tank top, her nipples pointing proudly through the damp fabric. "Wouldn't mind getting close to that," Scott said as he began doing the macho pump to impress the girl, who was now looking our way.
"Well, I gotta go," I said, tossing my towel back around my neck to hide my disappointment at finding out this guy was hetero. "See you around." He mumbled something back as he stared at the gym chick, and I went to the showers. As I dried off and dressed, I mentally shrugged and decided that while he wasn't going to be sexually interested in me, I could use a workout buddy, so the next time I was in the gym and he was there, I approached him on the topic.
"Sure, sounds great!" Scott said as he did squat thrusts with the barbell. "I was hoping I'd find somebody to spot me on the bigger weights, I'd like to get better at this, but was not willing to try it on my own. I'll spot for you, and you'll grow even bigger." We arranged the times we'd work out together, and finished our current time helping each other spot the weights.
About two months went by, and we became friends, doing more things together than just working out. We went to a movie or two, went to a ball game, and he came over a few times to watch a few specials since he didn't have cable and I did. One time he parked next to the complex's gym and asked me about it, since it was prime time at the gym down the street, but this place was dark. I explained how there wasn't anybody around that worked out, and that I preferred company, so that's why it was usually dark. He just shook his head and we went back to doing whatever it was we were doing.
A few weeks later, the neighborhood gym was bought out by a chain, and was closed for 'renovations.' Scott called me almost the very next day, and told me about the closure. "Now what are we going to do?" he said, worrying about his pump as if he'd start to waste away without his workout. "Hey, don't you have that gym where you live?"
"Yeah, I do, you want to come over and work out here?"
"Great! I knew having you as a buddy would work out fine!" We made plans and the next day he came over, gym bag in hand and ready for action.
We warmed up and got ourselves set up, and started our workout. Two hours later, we were taking a break before going into the last few sets, and Scott asked me abruptly, "Say Mike, are you gay?"
Stunned by the suddenness of the question, I blurted out that yes I was, and then waited for him to storm out. "That's cool," he said, adjusting himself in his shorts, "I just wondered, since you never seemed interested in the girls at the gym." He stopped a second or two, then looked at me with something like unease in his eyes. "You don't fancy me 'that way,' do you?"
I smiled and patted his big shoulder like a good buddy would, now getting over my first shock and knowing how to react. "Scott, you're a good looking guy, but I know that you're into girls, and I'm not, and I'm cool with that, OK? Besides, you're a good friend and I don't want to ruin that." He smiled and thanked me for the complement, and we completed our workout.
The next few months went by, and it was so comfortable just using our 'private' gym that when the new chain gym opened, we didn't go back. Scott had started showering in my apartment, first going through the phase of locking the bathroom door as he cleaned up, then gradually unwinding enough so that I could use the toilet if he was in the shower. He, too, would come in while I was in the shower, sometimes just talking to me through the clear curtain, even making comments on how well my body was muscling up. He even would hug me every so often, and would accept a hug from me if the situation warranted it. So, things were pretty good between us when the accident happened.
Remember when I talked about people in the gym not being careful about wiping up after themselves? Scott was no exception, and I had gotten into the habit of wiping down the equipment after him as well as before I used it. The complex's gym floor was of that space-age matting, the kind that becomes highly slippery when wet, and signs warned everywhere about this problem. Scott had just started working out barefoot, since he'd read somewhere that this would build better foot muscles, and had, to please me for some reason, also worked out in just his gym shorts and a jock. This one day he had arrived early, and I wasn't quite ready, so he was going down first to warm up. I gave him the key and one of the cold bottles of water we kept in my fridge, and left the apartment about fifteen minutes later. Just as I got to the gym, I heard this crash and a short cry, and when I opened the door, I saw the accident's results.
Scott was sprawled out beside one of the barbells, a damp spot on the floor where he'd spilled some water from the bottle as he'd sprinkled it on himself, since he couldn't have worked up a sweat that fast. He obviously didn't take the time to wipe it up, as the damp part of his left foot showed, as well as the folded towel on the bench at the side of the room. Fearing the worst, I carefully felt under his head and found the large bump on his head, but no blood was seeping out of anywhere. I wet one of the towels and put it over his eyes and forehead, changing it to keep him cool until he woke up. He groggily came to, and reached up to move the towel away from his head.
His brown eyes focused on me, and a frown appeared on his face."Where am I?" he said, attempting to sit up.
"Wait a minute there, Scott, you bumped your head and I want to make sure you didn't hurt your neck or anything before you move. Can you wiggle all of your fingers and toes?"
He did so, each movement painful, but able to be done. "Do you feel any pain in your neck or back?"
"No, I don't, only on the back of my head, OOOOHHHHHH!" He reached back as he talked and felt the bump. "What I don't know is who you are or who I am. Scott is my name?"
My head reeled briefly, then I helped Scott sit up. "That's right, your name is Scott. Let's go to the emergency ward and just make sure you're alright." We got into the car after he'd pulled on a shirt and I helped him into his shoes, and drove off to the hospital.
"I can't find anything wrong with him," said the doctor later after he'd x rayed and checked Scott out carefully, "He seems to be having a brief period of amnesia, which could have happened from the bump on his head. Let him rest for a few days and when the swelling goes down, he'll also regain most of his memories." I paid the good doctor and took Scott back to my place.
When we arrived he quietly followed me inside, and sat on the couch while I picked up the place. Noticing a gay magazine on the coffee table, he was thumbing through it when I checked in with him. "You're gay, right?" he said, his voice still that deep rumble I loved so well. When I nodded, he put the magazine down and said, "Do you love me?"
"Yes, I do," I said, sitting next to him and putting my arm around him, the doctor telling me that it was better to make them feel comforted and unthreatened while the memories sorted themselves out. "It's very frightening to discover that you don't know jack shit about anything," the doctor said, handing me a slim booklet on caring for amnesia patients, "so it's better to agree with them and let them choose their own comforting paths."
Scott moved closer to me, his bare, hairy muscular leg pressing against my own leg, and he hugged me tightly. "Then I must be your lover, since I think I love you too." He kissed me, and then started flipping through the pages of the magazine. He stopped, set the magazine down on the coffee table and turned towards me, his face moving closer until his lips pressed against mine.
I was in a trance, first from his declaration of love, and that he'd made it into being my lover, and then that he was making all the first moves. His tongue slipped between my lips and played with my tongue, and his right hand moved up my own hairy leg until it connected with my gym short covered cock. He pulled out of the kiss and looked down, an answering bulge in his own shorts to the bulge under his hand. "Looks like we need to take care of these things," he said, chuckling deeply as he reached out to pull off my shirt. "Let's get naked and see what we can do about these swellings."
In less than five minutes we were both naked and in classic 69, his virgin mouth expertly working my balls and cock while I worked the treasure between his own legs. I had seen his equipment before, but never had the nerve nor the opportunity to touch the heavy balls or long, thick uncut cock. Now this appendage, about the size of a large baby's arm, was slipping down my throat and his furry orbs were slapping against my chin.
I felt a finger move into my asshole, and reciprocated, feeling his tight pucker hole flinch, then relax suddenly and allow me entrance. I pressed forward, finding his prostate and being rewarded by a moan around the head of my cock, his finger relentlessly moving closer to my own love button. At the same time he found my prostate and gave it a good thump with his finger, I punched his, and it was like a circuit had been completed. Both of us quickly felt the rush of liquid in our mouths as we orgasmed together, and we both drank the sweet/sour liquid until no more came out. Gently we removed our fingers and Scott reversed his body so that we were now lying face to face on the floor in my apartment, chests gently heaving with the strain of getting oxygen to our well worked muscles. He smiled and stroked my chest idly, while I played with his foreskin and stroked his thighs.
After we had rested, Scott rolled over and pressed his asshole against my cock and began rubbing against me. "Fuck me, lover," he said, grinding his hips backwards into my hardening cock, "make me scream in love with you." I put on some lube and, after oiling up his asshole, slipped inside him.
I was amazed at how easy it was to enter him, I'd have figured that he would be tighter than the eye of a needle. But he just grunted once as my cock found his button, and I reached around to begin stroking his hard cock. He moaned with pleasure and I fucked him harder, then decided that I needed a better angle to do this right.
"Scott, we're gonna do a little athletic movement, so follow my lead." He nodded and first I rolled from my side to my back, Scott's body traveling with me, I pushed on his back and he sat up, groaning with lust as my cock moved within him as he did so. I had him carefully turn so that he was facing me, and then I slowly sat up and lowered his back onto the floor. When we were done, Scott's legs were in the air and I was mounting him, fully stroking into his butt and punching away at his button.
I lowered my hairy belly against his cock, and rubbed against him as I fucked him senseless, his mouth widening and making more noise as I brought the two of us to climax. As I felt his orgasm starting, I punched hard inside him and felt my own cum rushing forward as his asshole tightened around my cock. His eyes flew open, and the strangest look flowed over his face as I shuddered with my juices spewing into him. When we'd relaxed, I pulled out of him and fell to the side, his body seemingly frozen in place.
"What's wrong, Scott?" I said, tracing a small circle on his well-pumped left pec, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
He shook his head, tears trickling down from his eyes as he silently lay there. I just stroked him quietly, letting him deal with whatever was bothering him at his own rate, when I thought of one terrible possibility.
"Scott," I said, removing my hands from his body and moving slightly away from him, "did your memory just come back?"
With a sob, he nodded, and rolled away from me, the movement opening up his sobbing so that I could hear it. "Could you leave me alone for a little while?" he said, through the sobs. I told him 'yes' and got up to use the restroom. As I washed my face and stared into the mirror, I thought, well, that's it. After he's gotten over being raped, he's going to get up and, if I'm really lucky, he won't beat me up before he leaves me forever. The leaving part made my heart clutch, and I held onto the sink to get my balance. After a couple of minutes had gone by, I returned to the living room and found Scott sitting up, his back against the couch and thinking deeply about something. A small track of cum glistened on his broad chest, as well as spatters and dribbles over his thick thighs and over his entire crotch. I moved closer and he looked up, saw me, and nodded. "It's OK, Mike, I'd like to talk now."
I sat beside him, leaving a foot of space between us and rested my back against the couch as well and waited for him to start. "I'm sorry that I started crying back there, Mike," he said, shrugging his beefy shoulders, "but I first had thought that you'd broken trust with me and somehow managed to take my body for your pleasure, either with drugs or by hitting me over the head with something. I realized after I'd thought a little bit that I remembered my accident in the gym and that you weren't anywhere nearby, so I figured that you didn't take advantage of me."
"Please let me finish. I figured that you didn't take advantage of me because, after I'd thought more about the accident and then how you've always treated me, especially in bed after we'd fucked, I realized that you really do love me, and weren't taking advantage of me at all. What stopped me from being sad about this whole thing was that I discovered that I loved you, too, and that perhaps I wanted to have you make love to me."
He moved closer to me, his hairy thigh pressing against mine. "Mike, I do love you, and want to be your buddy, even if I can't always be your lover. Would you go slowly with me and help me find my way?"
I nodded, my own joy nearly bringing tears to my eyes as I put my arm around him and gave him a big hug. "You bet, stud, I'll give you all the time you need to get comfortable with our relationship, however you want it to be. Say, are you ready for a shower, either with or without me?"
Scott laughed and stood up, giving me a arm up and putting his arms around my shoulders. "After what we've just done, it'd be silly of me to want my privacy anymore. Let's go get cleaned up, buddy, and we'll see what happens after that."
Happily, I went into the bathroom with him and we showered, soaping each other up and carefully rinsing each other, our bodies touching erotically, yet not moving towards foreplay. When we were done, we dried each other off, got dressed and got some food and barbecued at my place. After a good dinner and a few hours of watching a movie on television, Scott said he was tired and was ready to go to bed. I yawned and agreed, and turned off the television, thinking that now I'd walk him to the door and he'd go home.
He just smiled and pulled me to my feet and we entered the bedroom together, sinking down into the bed and cuddling together. "Goodnight, Mike," he whispered in my ear as I snuggled against his hard body, "I love you."
I whispered back, "I love you too," and we fell asleep. We've now been together since that time, and each workout we do in the little gym in our new house brings back that time, when a terrible accident almost ruined everything, and enough love blossomed between us to pull us through it.
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