The Attention Hog, Part 1

My name is Carlos, and I’m an attention hog…at least when it comes to my relationships. I admit it – I like to be noticed by other guys. I get off on being admired, ogled, and treated special.

Growing up in a small town in Nebraska and going to a relatively small Midwest college made my kink very easy. I had dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair, and so I looked very different than all the very blond and pale folks around me. I was a bit taller than most of my friends as well, ending up at 6’2”, and had a ripped 180-pound physique from all my years playing sports. My looks were noticed almost everywhere I went, and I got a lot of dates. Like, a lot a lot.

But after graduation from college, I accepted a job offer with an accounting firm in Miami, so I packed up all my stuff and moved East. I found a decent apartment in the Wynwood area and settled in for a sure-to-be fabulous life in one of the best cities in the world. And most importantly, I was ready to be appreciated by all the new men I was about to meet.

The trouble is…guys like me are a dime a dozen here. Or more like a dime for ten dozen. Everybody not only looks like me, but also better than me. The guys are all sexier, taller, buffer, and wear much nicer clothes. They’ve all got fuckin’ perfect posture, too, and high cheekbones, tight asses, and massive cocks. I mean, is everyone in this town a supermodel? Or genetically engineered in a lab? It’s absolutely crazy how everyone is so gorgeous, and it’s a big blow to my need for attention. Thankfully I’m still a bit of an outlier at the accounting firm – I definitely stand out from the old white guys that work there – but it’s a whole different world from Nebraska.

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Ok, so I’ve managed to land a few dates in the past few weeks, and first I have to say the restaurant food here in Miami is SO MUCH better than what we had back in Nebraska. There’s just an incredible variety of menu items from all over the world, with spices and sauces and creams I have never tasted before. And man, the meat is all grilled to perfection…tender and juicy and insanely tasty. Even the desserts are incredible! After our dinner last night, my date took me to a place called Sugar Daddy that had this scrumptiously thick chocolate cake that I couldn’t get enough of.

I guess you can probably figure out by the way I led with the food that it was much better than the company. The guys I’ve been seeing were all nice, and attractive, and fun…but I didn’t feel a real connection with any of them. I felt like all of them were friend-zone material, and I would love to get them all together for brunch sometime, but none of them made me feel special. There were no sparks or magic, and I won’t settle for anything less.

Fingers crossed that tonight goes better. I have a date with a guy named Steven, who works in the same building as the accounting firm. He and I have been flirting for a few weeks now on the elevator, and he asked me to go with him to a new Cuban restaurant in South Beach. Hopefully, we will end the night back at his place, but if it doesn’t happen, I am going to drive over to Sugar Daddy and get more of that cake!

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Three months later and Steven and I are still together! I will admit that he’s not my normal type – a bit shorter and not quite as put together as some of my old boyfriends, but he treats me like a king. He works as a creative consultant and must make pretty good money because he takes me to the most expensive restaurants (and never asks me to pay) and has already bought me some nice clothes and this new watch I’m wearing. And in the bedroom, he likes to do most of the work…seriously! He gets off on pleasuring me, so I let him go ahead and have his fun.

Last night Steven slept over at my place, and this morning I awoke to the most intoxicating aroma. He had gone out early, shopped, and then came back to make me breakfast before I got up. A huge chorizo omelet, a stack of chocolate chip pancakes drowning in syrup, and the absolute best hash browns in the world were all laid out on the table waiting for me. I couldn’t wait to gobble the down, of course, as Steven sat there next to me watching me eat…first with his hand on my thigh, caressing it gently. As I ate more, he slowly moved his fingers up my leg and began playing with my cock through my sweatpants. And then, before I could finish the last of the food, he had maneuvered his hand into my underpants and was full-on jacking me off. God, I was throbbing so hard from all the attention, and the food, and his soft kisses on my neck. The man is just insatiable, and to top it all off, he cleaned up everything, including the dishes and the cum, when I had finished.

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Well, I guess it was too good to be true. I told you that Steven was insatiable, and apparently, I just wasn’t enough for him. I went over to his office today to surprise him with an early birthday gift, but some other guy was already under his desk giving him a gift, if you know what I mean. The man – who was kind of heavyset and looked to be about 30 – looked up at me, smiled, and said, “Oh, you must be Troy, the boyfriend.”

And I was like, “Who the FUCK is Troy?” I threw my gift at Steven’s head and stormed out.

So apparently there’s at least two other fuckers that Steven has been playing around with, even though he told me repeatedly that I was the only man in his life. Fuckin’ bastard! Here I am spending hours daydreaming about him every afternoon while he’s been busy getting action from anyone and everyone he bumps into. He’s texted me a few apologies, but I haven’t answered….I’m just too angry right now. I think I’ll blow off the rest of work and walk down to Sugar Daddy and drown myself in a few desserts to help calm me down. Well, it’s a bit of a walk – about a half-mile – so I’ll just call me an Uber. Then at least I won’t show up there all sweaty and gross.

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I stepped on the scale this morning and it read 205 pounds. Yep, up 25 since I moved to Miami six months ago. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, as I haven’t been to the gym forever, and instead was holed up in my love cocoon with Steven and being fed the most delicious (and probably the highest calorie) food day after day and night after night. But Steven never said anything to me, and he must have selected bigger sizes when he bought me new clothes, because the stuff I wear to the office still fits OK.

But my workout clothes are a different story – I never did any exercise during my time with Steven, so he never had the opportunity to buy me new ones. Everything I have is from when I was in college and weighed 180, and of course, I only bought stuff that was very form-fitting to show off my hot bod. Now that I’m at 205, however I could barely get one of the t-shirts on over my puffy chest, and it kept riding up on my little baby gut every time I took a step. And my shorts were so tight I bet you could see the outlines of my leg hair through the fabric. I thought about not going, but I didn’t want to put things off any longer…the sooner I started, the sooner I’d get back to 180 and everything would fit properly again.

So I walked into the gym and checked in, and Mike at the front desk didn’t even recognize me, and then he let out a little gasp when I told him who I was. Not a good start. I hopped up on one of the treadmills and adjusted the settings to what I would typically warm up with, but it became clear almost immediately that pace was not sustainable. I was already sweating profusely after two minutes, gasping for air, and my legs were on fire, so I slowed down the speed to a gentle walk. Fuck!

After I had time to compose myself and the dizziness went away, I realized I was surrounded by a bunch of ultra-fit men who could probably run a marathon without getting winded, and they were judging me for the fact that I couldn’t handle an easy jog. Some pointed, some laughed, and one even called me a hog under his breath (but certainly loud enough for me to hear). Ok, I’m not in peak shape anymore, but ‘hog’ seemed a bit extreme. I would have told them off but I was probably guilty of the same behavior whenever seeing a fat guy at the gym back in college.

As the ridicule continued, however, the strangest thing happened. I began to like it. Weird, right? But something about all the attention I was getting became quite titillating for me. The more guys gawked, the more I wanted to show off my new curves. I started to pull up my shirt to purposely show off my gut, and I stuck it out as far as it would go. I would jiggle it and stick my hand into my belly button. I got off the treadmill and walked around the free weight area, and I got stares like you wouldn’t believe. The big muscle men couldn’t keep their eyes off me. It was almost like I was back in college, and I loved all the attention.

My cock started to grow, and very quickly it became fully engorged. Even with my rounded belly sheltering it, there was no mistaking how turned on I was (especially since my shorts were so tight). And it wasn’t hard due to anyone I was looking at, but because of the looks I was receiving. I passed the guy who had called me a ‘hog’ earlier, only this time he called me a ‘fatass’ – and that’s when the precum started leaking. God I was so wet and so turned on that I hightailed it into the locker room, took off all my clothes, and masturbated (twice!) in the shower. After getting redressed in my street clothes, I ordered the highest calorie shake at the juice bar and decided I would definitely be coming back to the gym as often as possible….but not to workout.