There are rules around the hot tub at the gym. If there are lots of guys in it you don't get in cos it makes you look gay. If there are lots of girls in it you don't get in cos it makes you look a pervert. There are 4 guys and one girl, making it look gay, but my body is old and broken and I need the warmth of the soothing jets to untwist and unknot, so I slip in anyway and take my place.

A girl comes out of the sauna and walks past the hot tub. I glance at her, but don't stare as I'm a gentleman and gentlemen don't stare. Instead, I hold the glance in my mind and analyse it internally. Skimpy two-piece bikini, slim body, nice tan, small but pert chest, slight hips, toned stomach. On her face is that dour look that beautiful women always have in public...the face of someone sick of men staring at them. My peripheral vision tells me that none of the other men were staring either. They must all be internally analysing their own snap-shots.

She goes as far as to where the towels are hanging up...she turns her back to us to take her towel from the rack, and dries her face with it. Instantly every man in the tub now turns to look at her. Like synchronised flesh sharks who have all sensed the same single drop of skin among gallons and gallons of chlorine air. Synchronised sharks who have all seized on the weakness that we crave...a girl we can stare at without her knowing.

From the rear she looked a hundred times better. Her bum was full and solid with no cellulite, cheeks hanging out but still defying gravity, the bikini covering barely two thirds giving us all plenty enough to feed on, and feed we did. From my peripheral vision, though, I saw that there was an odd man out in the tub. The only man not staring was the one sat across from me, the man with his partner. Oh what superhuman amounts of self-control was that man exhibiting. Every pore in his body must have been aching to devour what we were devouring. Every fibre in his neck must have been taught as steel to fight the instinct to turn and stare. Fear and adrenaline were allowing him to do the seemingly impossible.

I focussed my attention back to our victim's arse. My lips drew back into a dirty, perverted grin, and my head slowly nodded in carnal approval...just to let him know he was missing something special.