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Like many other gay men, I’ve always had a weird relationship with the psychosexual minefields that were men’s locker rooms.
In high school, the locker room was the site of both my sexual awakening and social demise. It was the first day of senior year, and when gym class came around, I, like everyone else, went to the locker room to change. No big deal, nothing out of the ordinary. Except, as a bit of a late bloomer, I had basically gone through the whole of puberty all at once the summer before. My hormones had me thinking about sticking my dick somewhere at every moment, and I grew about a foot in a few different directions.
I had always thought that I was straight. Or, I hadn’t given the question much thought. I was a shy, awkward kid, and I didn’t hang out with that many guys or girls in anything even remotely close to intimate settings. I watched porn, yeah, but always straight porn. Straight porn that happened to always feature buff, hung guys fucking hard and long, but hey, there was still pussy in the shot, so that counted for something? Right?
Wrong. That day in gym class, when we all got back from playing dodgeball or whatever, I sprung the hardest wood I’d ever had in my life when Tommy Willcox, middle blocker on the volleyball team and renowned pussy-slayer, took the locker next to mine and dropped trou. I was sitting on the bench, futzing with the laces on my barely worn sneakers, so my face was pretty much at bush-level when Tommy’s sweaty junk flopped out. Truthfully, I could have been across the room and I still would have had that reaction. Tommy had the kind of cock that made time stop and drew every eye, no matter your sexuality or preference. Even soft, it was thick enough so you could just barely get your hand around it (which I knew because he liked to swing it around in front of me like a helicopter), and like four or five inches long, all draped over a beautiful set of hairless low-hangers. What you couldn’t appreciate from across the room, though, was the smell. Pure, undiluted, uncut (in both senses) man, the kind of ripe jock musk that practically forced you onto all fours with your back arched. Which, if you had asked me just an hour earlier, I would have said was disgusting, dumb idiot dirty jock shit. But that dirty jock shit flipped a switch in my gay lizard brain, my mind went brrrr and my dick stood at attention.
Unfortunately, Tommy noticed me staring (I had absolutely no power to be subtle about it, my jaw was on the floor) and also noticed that I was keeping a can of shaving cream in my pants. I looked up at him, pleading with my eyes to be cool about it. He made eye contact with me and winked, the cocky bastard. For a second, it seemed like he wasn’t going to say anything, so I started to rush to change and get out of there while the getting was good. I could be introspective about my desire to dive headfirst into Tommy’s bush and lick his pits later. And I would have gotten away with it too, if Tommy hadn’t looked down at my hard cock as I shed my shorts.
“Holy shit!” Was all I heard before I felt every set of eyes in our row on me and my hard, leaking dick.
“Nerd is fucking packing,” Tommy said as he hit his friend on the shoulder, as if his friend wasn’t already staring at me with a ridiculous smile across his face, a face that had “Bullying is my passion, and this is the greatest day of my life” written across it.
In another world, this incident could have been a social boon, as I had inadvertently shown that I, mere non-athletic regular person and triple-platinum virgin, had the second-biggest cock in our school after Tommy. But in that world, I wasn’t bricked up and practically drooling in a room full of sweaty jocks.
Tommy turned to face me with his hands on his hips, jutting out his crotch a bit so that his fat cock flopped once more in my direction. It even started to fill in a little, his foreskin pulling back just a tad, something only someone mere inches from him would notice.
“See something you like?” he asked, a shit-eating grin on his Austin Butler wannabe face.
Obviously, I couldn’t come up with any kind of explanation. I was as surprised by my reaction as he was. So instead, I changed as fast as I could and ran out of the locker room with my dick tucked painfully into the waistband of my boxers. That night, I blew a massive load all over myself watching my very first Sean Cody video. Coming down from the most powerful orgasm of my young life, completely covered in cooling jizz, I accepted that there were maybe some outstanding questions regarding my sexuality.
Tommy and his friends made a point to always be in my orbit during our next gym class. Like every other group of meatheads, their method of bullying queer kids was extremely homoerotic. We were playing volleyball that day, and I was subject to pits in my face as they spiked, crotches grinding against my ass as they moved around me on the court, and whispered taunts in my ears that were somehow both homophobic and also complimentary? I would feel Tommy’s bulge against my backside, and he would say something like, “Bet you like that, huh dick breath? Better not bone up, that thing’ll rip through your shorts.”
And it only got worse once we got into the locker room. Anticipating the sights and smells, I was already at a half-chub walking in. Tommy and his friends, obviously, all took lockers near mine, and they all made a point to wag their dicks at me as they changed. Not totally unappreciated, which is probably why I never moved or asked them to stop. Still, they weren’t doing it out of the kindness of their hearts. They were punching my one-way ticket to bone town, a ride I would take after every single gym class for the rest of the year.
A few weeks into this, Tommy’s friend Derek threw his sweaty jock at me. He aimed for my face, but he ended up tossing it just right for the garment to land directly on my cock. The boys burst out laughing, obviously. Tommy, ever the slightly brighter bulb in the box, used the image of that jock hanging off my dick to craft a masterpiece of a nickname for me. “Fagpole.”
Looking back, I have to hand it to him. That was a good one. After every gym class, at least one of them would try and get their jock to land on my erection, though about half of them landed pouch-first on my face. I intercepted a few of them at first, but I stopped trying when catching a thrown jock led to them laughing even more and calling me an underwear thief. The worst was when Tommy just walked up to me one day and draped the straps of his jock on my cock, all while looking at me straight in the eyes. I almost shot my wad then and there.
It shouldn’t be that surprising that all this led to me developing a bit of a jock kink. After years of torment with what amounted to dirty talk and dry humping, I felt like I had been edged for a year by hot, sweaty hunks, and I wanted nothing more than to finally bust with one of their jocks draped over my face, not my cock. Aside from a few guys slapping my boner or pinching my foreskin, I wasn’t getting any action, but I was constantly, hopelessly turned on.
Flash forward, I’m still a card-carrying Sean Cody subscriber, but I’m a lot less of a loser now that I’m in college. I have friends, which was a nice change of pace, and after spending a few years years giving under-the-bleachers blowjobs to desperate straight boys and DL jocks, I was a lot more comfortable with my sexuality. Which is why I decided to try to get to the university gym a few times a week. Turns out that the gay jocks out there, of which there were plenty, were, by and large, not looking for skinny twinks with massive cocks. They were looking for twunks with massive cocks. So, to fulfill my dream of getting a train ran on me by a bunch of horny frat boys, I needed to bulk up.
I was not excited for my first time in the university gym locker room. I had no reason to suspect that my habit of boning up in locker rooms was anywhere near kicked, especially now that there were just more, hotter, studlier jocks in there. I found a jock that did a decent job of keeping my boner concealed, but it could only do so much with meat like mine. But not having to change in the locker room was huge. I could arrive in my workout gear, leave in my workout gear, and go back to my dorm to shower and change. All I had to do was put my bag down and change my shoes. Because my uni is broke, apparently, you had to pay to rent an actual locker for the semester, otherwise, you just had to put your stuff in a wall of cubbies and hope for the best. A locker seemed like a bad investment, since I wasn’t planning on sticking around in there anyway.
My get-in-get-out plan was very successful. After a few weeks of exposure therapy, the idea of going into the men’s locker room was less daunting/arousing and more just plain arousing. It was a total meat market in there, and even though I was just flying by the cubbies, I still got my eyeful of male bodies in various states of undress.
My time in the gym was completely unmentionable for the first few months. I was starting to bulk up a little, made some gym friends, and felt good in my body and routine. Until one day, I went to retrieve my bag from my cubby and discovered that someone had opened the side pocket, where I keep my water bottle, and left a used jockstrap.
Who does that??? What the fuck?? Suddenly I was Fagpole again, trying in vain to evade a group of jocks who wanted to use my cock as a ring toss. The thought both made me angry and somehow extremely horny. Pushed into a corner, I might admit that I liked being Fagpole, that all those flopping dicks and musky jocks flying around me made for a sexy scene that many young gay boys would kill for, but that still didn’t change the fact that this right here was another in a long series of unprompted jock-ings. Yeah, I would love to huff some sweaty undies and jerk myself silly. Who wouldn’t? But I would also really like, this time around, to have asked for said jock and have the cock it once cradled be attached to a man who wanted to fuck me and not just fuck with me. Anonymous jockstrap in backpack seemed more like the latter. I had half a mind to turn around and accuse the boys in the locker room, but I didn’t really feel like drawing attention to the fact that I had been pranked or that I had someone’s used jock in my bag. I didn’t want to set a precedent or give myself a new reputation.
I took my unsolicited prize back to my dorm room and did exactly what I wanted to do with it, which was drape it over my face while I edged myself for like an hour. If its owner didn’t want some fag getting off on it, then they shouldn’t have left it in a horny fag’s backpack.
At first, I was unnecessarily gentle with it, as if the fabric would fall apart or its owner would want to reclaim it unmolested. I held it a few inches from my face, careful not to crumple or crease it. My cock throbbed, and my foreskin was well on its way to being flooded with pre as the smell hit my nose. Despite being used, and used recently, the smell was, I don’t know, cleaner than I expected? I pictured big, slick balls nuzzled up in the pouch, imparting their musky essence into the fabric, but not unshowered or dirty. Like it belonged to someone who changed his sheets more than once a semester, both because he knew he should and because he was fucking so much pussy in there that he just had to. The second I had an outline in my head of who this guy was, I gave in and pressed the fabric hard into my face. My plan to edge for an hour went right out the window, along with any dignity or shame I had left. I was now one of those jock sniffer gays who covered themselves in their own load while smelling some random dude’s cock. After a minute of harsh post-nut clarity, the jock was in my mouth and my hand was back on my cock.
Two days later, I was back in the gym locker room, placing my bag in the same cubby I always used with the side pocket unzipped, facing out. Bait. I went and did my workout—chest day—but all the while, I kept my eye on the door to the locker room, watching dudes come in and out. I don’t know why I thought I would be able to tell who my jock donor was just by looking at him, or why I thought that they would be here today at all, but I wanted to get a feel for the faces in the gym. If someone took the bait, then I would be one step closer to identifying my secret stud. And honestly, I would have been happy if it were any of the passing, sweating, high-fiving, chin-nodding boys who went through the locker room door. I started to daydream about some raunchy Cinderella kind of thing where I stood at the entrance to the locker room and sniffed every crotch that came and went, trying to find a match. Might as well suck every dick, too, while I’m at it. I felt my boner pop free from the side of my jock, my sign that I needed to fucking cool it, or I would have to give the fly machine a really good wipe down.
Flaccid, I returned to the locker room to find that someone had taken my bait. The zipper on the side pocket was zipped. I didn’t make a move for it, didn’t even look at it, just threw my bag on my back and got out of there.
My walk back to my dorm was a mix of “holy shit holy shit I can’t wait to fuck myself with a fresh jock in my face” and “I am currently being targeted by a dude who is making me into a jock sniffer for some unknown reason.”
It wasn’t a jock this time. It was a muscle tee, one of the ones cut down the side to be really open, with the school’s logo on the front. It was damp with sweat, just like the jock, so it was recently worn. I didn’t remember seeing anyone in the locker room or on the floor with this on. I would have noticed the side-pec view that comes with wearing that cut, and I didn’t remember seeing any partially hidden nip.
I brought the fabric to my face and inhaled deeply. I felt like I was getting a hug from someone who had just fucked me silly, all warm and satisfied and just sweaty enough. The smell got stronger and a little sharper as I moved towards the sides of the shirt, where the sweat from my mystery man’s pits would have soaked in. I shuddered at that one, remembering all those times back in high school when Tommy and his friends shoved their drenched pits in my face. Then I had whatever the equivalent of highway hypnosis is for masturbating. One second, I was sniffing this guy’s pits and fantasizing about my high school bully, the next, I had my lubed-up dildo balls deep inside of me. When did I get up? Which lube is this? Questions I couldn’t answer, not then, and certainly not after I had busted, my cock soft and untouched, from the press of my dildo against my prostate and the shirt in my mouth.
After doing all that again, I decided I needed to take more active measures. I needed to find this guy, and then I needed him to mount me on the gym floor, and then buy me dinner. My first idea was probably my worst idea, but that’s what I was going to go with.
My side pocket was not empty the next time I went to the gym. Instead, I had the mystery jock, the pouch of which was soaked in my fresh cum. I did exactly what I did last time. I left the bag in the cubby, went onto the floor, and did my workout. When I came back, my bag had been turned around. Got him.
Well, not got him. Proved he existed again. And if everything went according to plan, my side pocket should either be empty, telling me that the mystery man liked my addition to his athletic supporter, or it would still have the jizzed-on jock and probably a note telling me to fuck off.
Again, it was neither. Kind of. When I got back to my room, I saw that the jock was gone, replaced with another one. There was a note, though.
Thank you for my present, baby. Here’s something for you.
I picked up the jock and knew immediately what my present was. The jock was a little heavier than I expected, a little more damp. I unfolded the straps and, as expected, right in the middle of the pouch was a big ol’ wad of cum. I put the pouch into my mouth so fast I thought I would break the sound barrier. I’ve tasted a lot of jock cum in my day, and this was some premium, grade-A spunk. More sweet than bitter, rich and cloying. My mouth tasted like him for the rest of the night.
After another night of dancing on my own, I had to think of some even more active measures. And my brain was not firing on all cylinders.
This time, I went to the gym with one of my used jocks in my side pocket, loaded up again, along with a sticky note with my number on it. I thought about writing a message or something, but I figured he could text me if he wanted to talk to me in anything other than pheromones. The jock and the note were gone when I got back from my workout, but he didn’t leave anything in return.
Of course, my mind immediately went to the worst-case scenarios. Did he think my jock smelled bad? Did my cum taste weird? Was I too forward by giving him my number? Should I have left a real message? What if he sells my number on the dark web or doxxes me as the uni’s local panty thief? I stayed in this circle of fears based on nothing for hours, relieved only by the unmistakable sound of my phone buzzing on my nightstand.
Hi baby
Baby?? Yeah, maybe “musk slut” or “jock junkie,” but “baby”?? No one has ever called me that before, not seriously.
It’s probably too early to call you baby, huh?
Mind reader. My cock was throbbing in my shorts.
Me: A bit. But seeing as you left me such good presents, you can call me anything you want
Him: Sounds like someone enjoyed sniffing my jocks
Him: What did you do with them?
Do I tell him? Does that make me a slut? Well, I might prefer being called slut to baby, now that I think about it.
Me: Well, I jacked off so much with that first jock that I started shooting blanks. I fucked myself as I smelled your shirt, imagining being boneless and draped over you as you fucked up into me. And I ate your load as soon as I saw it.
Me: What did you do with mine?
Him: You mean, what am I going to do with yours?
Him: I’m finishing volleyball practice now, but I think I’m gonna start by wrapping your jock around my cock. I want it to smell like both of us.
Well, if that wasn’t a familiar feeling.
Me: So what’s with the dirty laundry deposit? What’s happening here?
Him: You looked at me once, idk, you looked like you would do anything to have me. Like you were starving for something, and you chose me to be the person to give it to you. I’ve been thinking about you ever since. And when I saw you leave your bag in the locker room, I just needed you to have a piece of me.
I had absolutely no recollection of that. Maybe he had the wrong guy?
Me: When was this?
Him: You don’t remember?
Fuck.
Me: Does it make a difference if I say no?
Him: Kinda. I mean, not really. You’re still a total dime. I don’t want to fuck you any less now that I know that I might have misread something.
Dime?? I sent him a link to my Instagram.
Me: Okay, just to be absolutely clear, THIS is who you are talking to. I’m a pale, almost-barely-twunk with the social skills of a houseplant.
Him: Yeah, I know. Aiden Quinn. Do you think I haven’t gone through every single pic on your profile? What about me leaving my dirty jocks for you said that I wasn’t down bad? And lots of people fucking love houseplants.
Him: And I don’t care that you don’t remember. No one has ever looked at me like that. I’ve always been a sucker for blue eyes, but damn, I see you looking up at me in my dreams. You were just as beautiful back then.
My fingers were frozen above my screen. I had no idea what to say to that.
Him: Fuck, that was too much, wasn’t it?
Him: I’m sorry, I’ve wanted to tell you this for years. I was afraid I was going to come on too strong. Can we start over? I don’t even need to call you baby.
Years??
Me: Years??
Him: ….
Him: Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.
What the fuck did that mean? Is this someone from high school?
Me: No, it’s okay, I’m just a little shellshocked. I never would have thought someone would feel… like that about me.
Him: Really? I see the way guys look at you. Pisses me off, them not knowing that I was there first.
Me: Well, no one has been anywhere first.
Me: Don’t worry about coming on too strong. We’ve been sniffing each other’s junk for like a week.
Me: Which I loved, by the way. This was the hottest week of my life. I just didn’t expect you to feel anything about it.
Him: I feel a lot of things about it.
Him: Wait, what do you mean, no one has been anywhere first?
Me: Besides sucking off some of our university's finest football players, I’ve never done anything.
Maybe I shouldn’t have mention that, but I wanted to see if it triggered anything. It did.
Him: Who???
Me: lol, does it matter? You wouldn’t have known them.
Me: And I’m not gonna out them to a stranger.
Him: Okay let’s put a pin in that.
Him: But it sounds like no one has really, actually touched you, have they?
Me: I mean, Tommy Willcox slapped my cock a few times in the locker room in high school, but that doesn’t really count.
Him: I thought you weren’t going to use names.
Me: Tommy doesn’t count. He’s the straightest person alive. If you knew him, you’d get it.
Him: So no. one. has. touched. you?
Me: It’s starting to feel like you’re rubbing it in.
Him: Nonono, this just might be the best day of my life. Can we meet up? I want to talk about this in person.
Damn, I wanted to so bad. I mean, why wouldn’t I? He either really wants to fuck me, or he’s going to make a suit out of my skin, and at this point I was so fucking horny that it didn’t matter.
Me: Yeah, sure. Where?
Him: Gym locker room? The athletics one, off to the side of the basketball court. Practice is over, and everyone’s gone but me.
Me: You’re just waiting around in the locker room?
Him: I waited to see if my baby wanted another present.
Well, didn’t have to tell me twice. I was out the door and running across campus before I had time to think twice. Fuck it. Thinking twice was for when I decided to give a stranger a jock full of my cum. I didn’t hesitate then, and I’m not gonna now.
I blew through the rec center’s glass doors with too much speed and enthusiasm for the late hour. The girl at the desk looked me over, probably thinking, correctly, that there was no other reason anyone else would be here this late except to fuck in the locker rooms. And I really hoped that’s what I was about to be doing and that I wasn’t going to be turned into a skin suit by a sexy volleyball player.
I had to psyche myself up for a second at the entrance to the locker room. This felt like the culmination of a years-long journey from Fagpole to… this. Whatever. Introspect later.
My heart fell out of my ass when I walked into find the locker room completely empty. There’s no way I had been stood up, is there? We made the plan seven minutes ago, tops. That’s when I really started to take the skin suit possibility a bit more seriously. Is there a better way to lure an unsuspecting little fag than by dangling a sweaty jockstrap in front of him?
As I was making peace with my god, the sound of someone clearing their throat behind me startled me so much that I thought I had actually died. And when I turned around to see who it was, I was sure that yes, I was dead.
Because leaning against a row of lockers was 6 feet 5 inches of familiar dude. Tommy fucking Willcox.
I felt my eyes start to tear up. What a cruel fucking joke. And I bought it, barely any questions asked. Why wouldn’t I? Someone was telling me everything I had ever wanted to hear from a guy. And either he was just fucking with me, which sucked, or he wasn’t, and I was going to have to deal with the fact that the only person who had ever expressed interest in me was the person who tormented me in high school. The originator of Fagpole. And I had no idea what dealing with that might actually look like. It might look like me just walking out of the room, returning to my dorm, and crying myself to sleep.
“No.” was all I was able to muster.
Tommy winced. “I did this all wrong, didn’t I?”
I scoffed. “Depends. Were you just trying to torture me again? Didn’t get enough?”
Tommy made to move towards me, but I backed away from him. He took the hint, his outstretched hand returning to his side and his tanned face losing a bit of color.
“No, Aiden, fuck. I meant everything I said in those texts, I—”
I’d never been so angry in my life. “One, how the fuck am I supposed to believe that? Two, where the fuck do you get off not starting with a fucking apology? Three, what was your plan here? Did you expect me to be happy to see you, to be so turned on by the fact that my high school bully was trying to fuck me that I would just fall to my knees? You’re fucking insane.”
Tommy took a second to gather his thoughts. He was starting to look less pained, more determined. A hot combo, between you and me, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.
“Can you just look at my Instagram real quick?”
I felt my eyebrows hit the ceiling. “Excuse me?”
Tommy’s eyes softened. “Please?”
My phone was in my hand before I could really think about it. I felt more than justified in leaving right then and blocking him on everything, but I guess my horny curiosity got the better of me.
My breath hitched when I saw the first post on his grid. I tapped it open. It was a selfie video of Tommy, posted a half hour ago. Right around when he first texted me. He wasn’t wearing his volleyball uniform or practice clothes, so he must have recorded it earlier.
Hi. So, yeah, this video has been a long time coming. Honestly, I don’t know if I would have ever made this video if someone important to me hadn’t just reappeared in my life. This is mostly for them. And for me, I guess. Whatever. I’m into dudes! Phew. Fuck, I feel so much better. I’m gay. Always have been. Tbh, y’all should have caught on. I was obviously overdoing it. It hasn’t been easy to keep this a secret, but it has been even harder for the people I took my frustration and fear out on. Especially this one guy, a guy I’ve known since high school. I’ve basically been crushing on him ever since he first looked at me. I didn’t realize that’s what I was feeling at the time, and I was so awful to him. Every day I chose to be an asshole to this guy, this sweet, beautiful guy, for no other reason than I was too much of a fucking coward. I’m not going to say his name, but I am going to say that I’m sorry. If you’re watching this, and I really, really hope you are, I wish I could take it all back. You don’t have any reason to forgive me, but I’m going to try and make it up to you anyway.
I tapped open the comments, happy to see that it was about half “good for you man” and half “who are you talking about?????” I looked up at Tommy. His lips were pressed together, caught between hopeful expectation and preparing for a beatdown. It was kind of adorable. More than kind of.
I stepped closer to Tommy, who leaned back against the lockers.
“Say it again.”
His eyes widened a bit, surprised that I wasn’t just leaving, I guess.
“I’m sorry, Aiden.”
“And the other part.”
“I’ve… I’ve had feelings for you for years. Ever since that first day in the locker room.”
I took a step closer. I could start to smell him now, the musk of his exertion and the sharpness of his anticipation. I poked him playfully in his plush right pec.
“Tell me why.”
“Why what?”
I looked him in the eyes, trying to make it clear that I wasn’t the one who was going to be answering questions just then.
He was squirming a little, uncomfortable with his new level of disclosure. Or maybe he was just turned on by a nerdy twunk staring him down. Probably both.
“You were the first guy I ever saw get turned on by me. Just seeing me, smelling me, got you so hard, right in front of me, and that was such a fucking rush. I felt like a fucking god when you looked at me. Powerful and wanted. Yeah, there were girls, but that felt different. Felt like nothing. I could barely get it up for girls after you looked at me that day. I just… fuck, I wanted to make you mine. I didn’t want you to ever look at someone else like that.”
I was both extremely turned on by that answer and extremely annoyed, a feeling I was starting to get familiar with. “So you started having feelings for me because I was drooling for your cock? Tommy, don’t you think that’s a little—”
He looked down at the floor, clearly a little ashamed. “Conceited?”
“Well, yeah.”
He sighed. “I was so full of myself back then. I probably should have led with how every day after that I would see you in the halls or in class and watch you. Even though you didn’t quite fit in, you never changed yourself or did anything different. You stayed who you were. But I could tell that made you, I don’t know, I guess, unsure? Like you were expecting the world to swallow you up at any second. You were confident but still hesitant. Just like me. I thought that, if we were ever able to actually have a conversation, we would both feel like we’d found someone who felt the same as we did. And if I knew what I know now, I would have wanted to do everything I could so that you never felt unsure or afraid of the world ever again. But I didn’t. I made it worse, and I’m sorry.”
I smiled, despite my best efforts not to. “That’s a little better. But what about the last few weeks? I didn’t even know you went here. Why didn’t you just talk to me?”
His lip quivered a bit. “I… You never would have talked to me. I knew that I had fucked it all up in high school, that I had these feelings for you that would never amount to anything because of what I did. I avoided you because I didn’t want to upset you. You would have hated seeing me again.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. “Fine. Then what about my little presents?”
Tommy’s face flushed, and he still couldn’t look me in the eye, but this time I could tell it was for a different reason. “I saw you come into the gym one day, and I almost didn’t recognize you. You were so much more confident, you smiled and looked at people and didn’t try to disappear. I wanted you so bad it made my teeth itch. I wanted you to look at me again, the way you looked at me back then.”
“But you knew I wouldn’t, so you settled for the next best thing?”
He nodded, finally looking at me. “If you wouldn’t want me like that again, I wanted… I needed you to… God, this is fucked up. I wanted you to want me even if you didn’t know it was me you wanted. The thought of you… with my… I've fantasized about that for a long time, since high school, about catching you with... I'd make you confess, and then I would let you take your fill of my body. So the fact that you might take some part of me home and use it to pleasure yourself, just thinking about that... that’s how…”
He trailed off, unable to look at me again, even though I was nearly pushing him into the lockers.
“How what, Tommy?”
Now, he really was squirming. I think he might have a bit of a humiliation kink. Logging that for later.
He threw his head back into the locker behind him. “That’s how I was able to fuck girls, okay! The only way I could get it up and fucking cum was if I was thinking about how you would touch yourself to the smell of my sweaty fucking balls.”
His demeanor changed instantly from a trembling, apologetic mess to looking at me with hot, hungry eyes.
“Aiden, I will explain myself, humiliate myself, do whatever you want me to, for however long you want me to. I’ll shout about you in the quad, I’ll take you out wherever you want to go, I’ll fuck you in front of a stadium of people if that’ll get you to believe me. But first, you need to make a choice. Now that I’ve spilled my guts, are you going to walk away? Or are you going to let me kiss you?”
Well, as long as there would be other opportunities to get back at him for Fagpole. He might never make it up to me or prove that he’s anything other than the boy I knew in high school. But right now, as I pressed my body into his and reached up to take his face in my hands, he was rock hard, amped up, and smelled like hot sweat and sex. I was no match for that.
I made him look at me one last time before we crossed the line.
“I don’t have those feelings for you, Tommy. I haven’t been crushing on you for years, and I haven’t been thinking about your fat cock and stupid perfect body every time I’ve fucked myself. You’re not getting my heart tonight, even if I let you fuck me against every surface in this place. But I’m willing to give you a clean slate. What you do with that is up to you.”
I had to stand on my tip toes to do it, but I was the one who kissed him first. His lips were softer than I had expected, a pair of warm clouds that parted for Tommy’s impatient tongue. I felt his hands on my waist, and I shivered as he slowly pulled me closer to his body. I felt so hot, like I was sweating through all my clothes, and Tommy felt even hotter, his whole body smoldering and slick.
I pulled away for a second to look into his eyes, just to make sure, one more time, that this was real, and that this was what I wanted. The eyes looking back at me were like nothing I had ever seen before. His green eyes, usually alight with cockiness or glee, had turned dark, half-lidded and unyielding as he stared into me. They were two deep ocean pools, churning with want, satisfied with their capture and refusing to let me swim back up to the surface. Not that I even wanted to.
His hands flew to my ass as I kissed his neck. He tasted like dried sweat and smelled like some kind of cologne, I had no idea what it was, but the combination had me leaking in my boxer briefs. He keened and moaned and thrust his hips forward as I bit his neck, his wrought iron cock desperate for friction. He slipped his hand inside the back of my shorts, gripping my ass tight, his fingers just barely over the crest of my cheek. I was a little sweaty from my run over and our little altercation, so my hole was slick as he ran the tip of his finger across my entrance. I yelped at the contact, burying my face in his chest as he gently stroked my hole.
I felt his labored breath on my ear. “That’s the first time anyone’s touched you there, right?”
I whined as he switched from passing back and forth to rubbing circles around the rim. “You already… knew that.”
I felt his smile on the side of my face. He pressed his nose into my hair and inhaled deeply, consuming yet another part of me.
“That’s. So. Fucking. Hot.”
I moaned again as one finger turned to two. “Why? You want to be my first so badly?”
Tommy bit my earlobe and licked up the side of my neck. “Yeah, baby. I’ve never wanted anything more in my fucking life. To claim you and mount you like a fucking dog. Do you think I only saw your massive twink dick in the locker room? What do you think I saw when you bent down? I saw your pretty, pink pussy. That little hole that I should have touched, licked, and fucked the first time I ever saw it. I’ve thought about your pussy every ten seconds for years. And then you tell me I’m the first to coax your hole open? That I didn’t miss my chance to ravish your virgin hole and make that pussy mine? Baby, if you let me in, there’s no going back. I’m not going to be able to stop until you’re so full of my cum that it's coming out of your mouth.”
This was too much. My head was spinning, and I slipped across Tommy’s chest as he prodded my hole, so I was practically huffing his pit. Which, having discovered what that was like, was something I now needed to do at least three times a day, or I might drop dead. But no matter how much he made me tremble, melt, burn, and drown in him, I still hadn’t forgotten everything. One last shred of me wasn’t ready to give all of myself to Tommy fucking Willcox.
“I don’t… have feelings for you, Tommy. Don’t think just… just because you’re making me feel like this… that I’m just gonna be yours.”
Tommy pulled his hand out of my shorts. I’m embarrassed to admit that my breath hitched, and I whined at the absence. I hated it, hated knowing that he could be inside me, but he wasn’t. With that same hand, he took hold of the back of my hair and pulled my face out of his pit. He had that same look in his eyes, and I was lost in an instant. Images began to flash through my mind—Tommy and I holding hands and walking across campus, Tommy’s arms wrapped around me as we watched a scary movie, Tommy fucking me in my bedroom at my parent’s house. A whole life I didn’t ever see coming with a person I never would have believed wanted anything to do with me.
Tommy traced the side of my face with his fingers, and I could smell a bit of myself on him.
“I don’t think that’s true, Aiden. I think you feel exactly how I feel. What’s happening right now, our chemistry, our bodies together, it’s undeniable. You don’t have to love me yet, but baby, you and I both know that your pussy is mine.”
Then, without breaking eye contact, Tommy took those two fingers into his mouth and sucked off my sweat and musk. The first person to taste me.
What was I supposed to say to that? Everything he said was true. I didn’t love him, not yet, but I was going to give myself to him anyway.
I nodded, as much as I could with his hands still gripping my hair. “Then take it, baby.”
I watched Tommy’s pupils dilate and felt his cock throb against my hip. A smile spread across his face, something I had never really seen before. I’d never seen him with a full smile, not with real joy or excitement, just a part of the performance of his bravado or charm. This wasn’t like that. And I only saw it for a moment before he slipped out of my grip and got behind me, pushing me into the locker. I barely had time to gasp at the incredibly sexy display of force before he was on his knees, pulling my shorts down.
He kissed the plush cheeks of my ass a few times, gently, starting from my side and moving towards my center. The kisses got more forceful, and eventually he just bit into me, hard enough for me to squeal but not hard enough to really hurt. He spread me open, and then I felt a hot slickness against my hole as he licked into me. I don’t know what I expected it would feel like, but it sent a warm shiver up my spine, and my knees threatened to buckle. I don’t think Tommy ever ate ass before, but I could tell he’s eaten a lot of pussy, the way he teased and speared me with his tongue. I felt him moan into me, as if he was being pleasured, too. Maybe he was.
As eager as Tommy was to eat me out, I was ready for the main event. I wanted to get fucked into next week by Tommy Willcox’s legendary dick. I pushed my ass back into his face and arched my back, presenting him with my hole. I could feel his smile again, and he lapped once more across my slick hole before standing.
I heard his shorts fall to the floor as he shed the rest of his clothes, and I threw my remaining clothes into the pile. Then he took me by the waist and laid me out on the bench. Tommy straddled the bench in front of me, his dripping cock moving towards my hole as if it were being pulled by a magnet. I put my hands behind my head, lifting enough to get a better view of Tommy’s body. It had been three years since I saw him naked, and he looked amazing. Teenage Tommy’s muscles were wiry and hard. Early twenties Tommy had more of a softness to him, his muscles more thick flesh than broad planes. Something to hold on to, bury yourself in. He was drenched in sweat, old and new, and it ran down his pecs and abs in drops. How was I ever going to do anything else but lick this man from head to toe?
I’d never seen his cock hard before, and it did not disappoint. Erect, it was about eight inches of fat cock, a plush smooth shaft leading to a thick head. His foreskin was pulled back, putting his flushed, soaked head on display. His cock tapped once against my hole as he lifted my legs onto his shoulders, and I almost came right then.
From somewhere, Tommy produced a bottle of lube, which he applied liberally to our cocks and my hole. I almost came again when he slid his hand down my shaft and teased my foreskin. He moved forward to align himself with my hole, and I reached up and touched his sweat-slick abs, stilling him for a moment. He looked into my eyes, a flash of fear across his face, worried I might call the whole thing off. If I had, he would have been well within his rights to send me to the psych ward.
Instead, my mouth twisted into a sly grin. “I’m the first guy you’ve fucked, right?”
Tommy nodded eagerly, nuzzling his face against my calf.
“So I’m the only guy to take that cock inside him? To claim it?”
Tommy’s head pressed against my hole more insistently now, desperate for the soft warmth waiting just beyond my rim.
“So say it.”
Tommy kissed my ankle. “Oh! I’m clear. I did a test a few weeks ago and haven’t been with anyone since.”
I laughed. That hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was always gonna let him hit it raw. “No, not that. Something else.”
He smiled at me and chuckled before leaning down and kissing me softly. “This cock is yours, baby.”
I laid back, satisfied. “Damn right. Now show me what it can do.”
Tommy began to push into me, facing a bit of expected resistance as my hole fought against his invasion. I didn’t think it was going to hurt much, I fucked myself enough to know what I could and could not take, but I was surprised when it didn’t really hurt at all. Tommy was huge, and he had no intention of going easy on me, that much I knew. Even so, once he was past that first rough part, he could slide right in. Even he was surprised, unable to contain a satisfied laugh as his pubes hit my ass.
It didn’t hurt much, but it did feel like a lot. A lot, a lot. I could feel every inch of him inside me, could feel how his twitching cock tapped against my prostate with every heartbeat. I felt warm, full, maybe even whole, like I had some fat cock-shaped gap in my being that Tommy easily filled.
I looked up and saw Tommy’s face, which could only be described as looking like a kid on Christmas morning, except with his tongue practically hanging out and his eyes nearly crossed. He looked so excited, so pleased with himself, so ready to lose his mind to fucking. I wanted to show off how much my ass could take, so I clenched down on his cock once, hard, to let him know I was ready. His breath hitched once, and then he took me by the hips.
Tommy was simply made to fuck. He had perfect control of his hips, he knew just when to change his pace or stroke, and he had one of the most expressive sex faces I had ever seen. He was animalistic but not thoughtless, panting and dripping sweat with beautiful exertion while also smiling and telling me how much of a good boy I was, taking his cock like that. I was completely lost in him, the slide of his cock against my prostate and the slap of his balls against my ass more than enough to make my brain go brrrr. I wanted to do this for hours. Days. I wanted to wake up and go to sleep with his cock inside of me. I wanted him to edge himself in my hole all day and flood my guts over and over and over. Neither of us was ever going to be satisfied. Looks like we could kiss our social life goodbye, we had other plans now.
“I wanna breed you, baby. Can we come together?”
I hadn’t even thought of my cock this entire time, much less my orgasm. I was having waaay too much fun. But yeah, I was ready to take a breather while we waited out each other's refractory periods.
I nodded, though I was unsure if I would be able to. I took my cock in my hand, stroking it in time with Tommy’s thrusts. My eyes were closed as I focused on getting there, so I didn’t notice when Tommy, somehow without missing a beat, picked up his jock from practice and shoved it into my open mouth. That’ll do it.
I screamed through the fabric as my cock exploded, sending about a dozen ropes of molten cum across my face, my chest, the bench, everywhere. Tommy finished at the same time, his grip tightening on me as his orgasm came with a roar. Tommy thrust himself inside me as far as he could go as he filled me with a flood of jockboy cum. I whined as I felt his warm spend coat my insides, half out of pleasurable release and half out of being upset that this round was over.
Tommy didn’t pull out of me, and I didn’t want him to. I wanted to keep his cock warm inside of me, and he wanted to keep his pussy nice and plugged. But he did lean down and kiss me again, taking my hands in his face. As forceful as his kiss was, I could sense something else behind his lips. Relief? Some trembling feeling, but softer than anxiety or fear. I think he was still in shock that this happened, that I accepted him and took him inside of me. Honestly, I was too.
He collapsed on top of me, his slick body pressing me into the bench. I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Before we go for round two, I want you to make another Instagram post. You can use my name this time, as long as you also call me ‘boyfriend.”
Tommy sat up straight, a goofy grin on his face. He looked like a dog that was just asked if he wanted to go for a walk. Damn it. This boy was going to kill me.
“Boyfriend?!”