Disclaimer: This story, unlike my previous stories, is based on actual events. Which events exactly? I'll let you figure that out for yourself. I've gotten permission to write this from some of the people who this scenario occurred to so I'm good in that sense. Names have been changed and/or completely left out for privacy reasons.
This is the beginning of (hopefully) a series of short stories based on the character Alex and his brief encounters with men from different scenarios. If all goes as planned, this will be a journey chronicling Alex and his many sides/lives/time periods. I think it will add much more excitement to this if he's put into various situations and locations rather than the same old setting every entry. So don't worry when you see him in college during this section then living Paris in the next or as an older man in the next. It'll be like reading an entirely new story based on him every time I update. Some will be loosely based on facts while others will be entirely made up. Just so there isn't any confusion. Hopefully you understand what I'm trying to convey. Now that that's out of the way, sit back, grab a snack, and enjoy the read.
I've never been one to go after a guy or initiate anything romantically between another person. I'm more of the laid back, go with the flow, wait-for-the-right-time kind of guy. At 21, I've only had one girlfriend (Jr. High) and one boyfriend (High School) and both times I was the one being asked out. Yes, even with the girlfriend. I know, I know. I'm a bit of a shy guy who you might say is extremely cautious when it comes to people but I've got good reason to be (that's another story) Of course, we all have a period in life when we outgrow our comfortable bubble that we're kept safely inside of all our lives. While some break out in the form of puberty or their first kiss, mine was at the local college locker room with a complete stranger.
It started when a good friend of mine became dangerously infatuated with the Craigslist website and it's personal ads. He had sent me a couple of the ads from other men around the city propositioning sex and casual encounters but I took it as his form of curiosity. I thought that you'd have to be pretty desperate to go through the trouble of posting an ad let alone go out of your way to answer one. The more my friend forward me listings from the site the more I realized that the he was obviously diving into the world of anonymous online sex. I thought he was insane for even thinking about answering and I made it a mission to tell him how I felt but he didn't care. My excuse was security: You never know who's on the other end of the computer screen or what they're real intentions are. I might as well been talking to a brick wall because he brushed me off as soon as a was finished.
During class one day, in the middle of the following weeks mid-term review, I received a phone call from my friend who was excited to brag about his recent online escapades. Another breakthrough in the world of online sex, I thought. I ran out in the middle of class with out causing too much of a scene and stood on the grassy knoll outside to answer in peace.
"I did it," he boast.
"What?" I replied confused.
"I went to meet one of the guys on Craigslist!" His voice was low and cautious as if he were around a group of strangers.
"Where? Today?"
"This morning after I went jogging."
"What happened? You didn't go to his house, did you?" I whispered as there were students walking around.
He went on to fill me in on all the dirty details: After a day of communicating back and forth through emails they settled on a time and place of meeting. It wasn't until my friend returned from his jog that he went to meet up with his 'date' Franklin who lived surprisingly near. They got to work right away; Franklin getting down on his knees to stuff my friends cock in his mouth. I was told that, by the looks of the family portraits hanging around the place and the wedding ring on his finger, brave Franklin was a married man with a young son. The whole thing was too bizarre for me to take in at the moment. I couldn't believe my friend would actually go out and do something like that but obviously I didn't know him as well as I originally thought. It wasn't until the following week that I realized I was one of those types myself.
The Tuesday of the mid-term was pretty stressful and unbearable due to the intense study group the day before. I'd hardly slept more than three hours that morning and running low on coffee (home brewed, none of that Starbucks shit) At around eight in the morning, while I was cleaning my room and getting out of my underwear to shower, I received an email on my BlackBerry from my friend titled 'URGENT!' I clicked on the link and it took my to another Craigslist profile. I rolled my eyes and humored him when I read the ad's title: "m4m - locker room hand job needed at northern community college!!" I read the headline with extreme interest: This guy was in my school. "Hey guys. looking for a good hand job at the college lockers in the gym. ill be there after football practice from 11am to 12pm. meet you there for some fun." I was intrigued. Of course, the picture sent along with the ad was enticing to say the least. The portrait of a guy, in what looked
like a laundry room, standing at a side angle with his red shorts pulled down to his knees, shirt tucked under his chin, right arm adorned in a tribal band and left hand gripping his stiff cock tightly at the base. My own penis slowly began to rise as I stood there peering into the screen of my phone. I hadn't beaten off in a while and sure that, with the help of this ad and my imagination, I would be able to rub one out in the shower to satisfy my lust and maybe even ease the tension from the exam.
I jumped in the shower and after cleaning myself off, I began to stroke my flaccid cock, trying to work it up but the thoughts about my coming mid-term were too bold and overwhelming to allow even a sprite of pleasure to seep through. Defeated and exhausted from pointless stroking, I got dressed and started to head out the door to make the class in time.
I hadn't forgotten about the email all day, not even while I took the exam. There was a period when the picture of the guy in the ad cloud my vision and my pants became increasingly tight. I had to wait until I wasn't showing before I could get up to turn in the scantron and booklet (By the way, the exam went well. Not as hard as I had originally thought thanks to all the studying) I was finished an hour early, at almost 11am when I decided to sit down and call my newly-spontaneous friend.
"Did you get the email?" He asked as soon as he answered.
"Yeah. Thank you for that, by the way." I replied calmly, my dripping and tumescent penis pressing enjoyably against my inner though.
"Are you gonna meet him?"
"No!" Surprised he would even think of asking.
"Why not?! I sent you the profile so you can go meet up with him. He'll be in the gym waiting for someone to get him off at the same time you'll be at school. Its perfect!"
"Nah. I don't think so," I pressed my palm against my expanding cock to tuck it down between my legs. "I'm not a whore like you."
"Whatever. You should do it."
"You just want me down on your level so I won't have anything to clown you for later."
"I sent it cause I thought you'd finally get your rocks off with someone other than your hand."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyways, ill call you later. I gotta use the bathroom." I hung up and stayed seated on the short concrete bunk to let the excitement in my pants die down. Leave it to a confused penis to sprung up during the worst time. I could begin to feel the cold spots of precum that were leaking out of the head, sticking my shaft to the side of my leg. Low and behold, now that the mid-term was over and done, my sex drive had come back ten times stronger and more persistent. If I stood up too quickly I could end up with a full blown tent pitched up underneath my pants so I had to be careful.
To kill time, and my growing erection, I sat around looking through the old texts and emails on my phone when I came upon the email from earlier that morning. Making sure there wasn't anyone around looking over my shoulder, I clicked open the message and re-read the entry before examining the picture a little closer. Of course, this didn't help the tightening of my jeans but urged it instead. Soon I was seriously debating on meeting up with the attractive stranger in the titillating photograph. I managed to catch myself contemplating this several times but always came back to the question 'what if?' It wouldn't be that big of a deal, I thought to myself. Just a quick hand job between strangers. Maybe he'd offer to give me one in return if he was feeling generous enough. We can both be in and out of there in no time at all. Besides, its not like we'd get caught. The lockers weren't ever used except by the sports department but they were all in the middle of renovating the some of the surrounding fields and even the pools; There would be absolutely no one in or around who needed the lockers other than my potential hook-up. "ill be there after football practice from 11am to 12pm," I read the line over and over in my head. It was nearly 11:12 a.m. and I was feeling astoundingly anxious. Fuck this, I thought, and stuffed the phone back into my pocket.
The sun was just starting to peek up over the fading morning clouds and the entire school was half lit by its prevailing heat. It was beginning to turn into a beautiful day. Quickly surveying the crowd, I could see the college football team running laps around the edge of the field, some in their blue and white jerseys while others wore casual workout shorts. I wasn't bothered about blatantly staring at the players because there were others laying around the grass watching the team as well. They were visibly there for very different reasons but at least I didn't look like a loser standing there on my own.
Then the time came for the team to break for the day. The coach bellowed some inaudible command to his flock followed by everyone starting for the parking lot across the way except for two players who walked in the opposite direction. One of them was the craigslister, I thought. Perhaps they both were. Maybe it was a double job. Maybe the author and applicant had already found one another; Teammates heading to the locker room for a game of slap and tickle. I was saved. A blessing in disguise. This was my excuse, my way out. Still, a little disappointed, I turned and began the long walk across the campus to catch the bus on the other end. It was then that I spotted the teammates knock fists and split ways. Was this my window back in? My stomach dropped to my feet as I watched the lonesome player slide off his jersey and dab the sweat off his face and chest. I could see a faint sign of a tattoo on his right biceps: 'X' marks the spot.
"That's him," I whispered to myself and headed for the locker room.
It was eerily quiet inside the tall building flooded with towering tin lockers and glazed wooden benches. My palms were moist and my heart was pounding out of my chest, moving north towards my throat. I wasn't sure if the guy was already inside as I didn't hear any running water but I found a bulletin board to keep me busy while I waited. Spinning the ring around my index finger in a nervous gesture, I commenced to read the bulletins posted randomly around the cork board: "Want to make more money in a week than what you'd make in a whole year!!!"
About a minute later I heard the door at the far end of the room pull open and slam shut followed by a tiresome, deep grunt echoing through the halls. Without thinking, and forgetting where I was, I turned and saw the guy with the tribal tattoo walking in and watching me before disappearing between the high stacks. Instantly, I started to twirl the ring around my finger again but I was more eager than nervous. Just get it done, I told myself. Go now! I swallowed deep and shifted my weight to start walking towards the lockers. All I could hear now was the sound of my boots hitting the concrete floor and a single locker rustling in the distance. I stopped short and contemplated getting out of there but my legs couldn't move. I stood in the middle of the isle, twisting my ring, looking at the exit but keeping my place. I needed to do this, I wanted to do this but my nerves were beginning to get the best of me. With a deep breath in and kick in my step, I
moved again and reached the stranger standing a few feet before me, shorts riding dangerously low on his hips and a under shirt balled up in his hands. He smiled wickedly and looked me up and down, sizing me up for good measure.
"What's up?" He mumbled, tossing the shirt from hand to hand.
I nod casually and stood frozen.
He smiled again and called me near with a nod of his head.
I stood at his isle and continued to swirl my ring, watching him pull off his socks and stuffing them into his grubby shoes. He turned to me every once in a while as if inviting me to look further. His crooked grin daring me to come closer. I couldn't. I just stood there spinning my ring and gulped hard, probably looking like a complete fool. The handsome stranger stood up and came my way, his bare feet slapping the cold floor, scanning my frightened face before finally reaching over and grabbing my stomach. I flinched at first like a shy mutt but became accustomed to his touch.
"What's your name?" I hesitated, trying to make the situation less awkward for myself.
"Paul," he answered sharply. He was too busy examining my body to really give a damn.
"I'm Alex."
Paul raised the shirt above my chest and tweaked my right nipple before adding, "Nice to meet you."
He led us to his locker where he stood before me as if to reprimand me for some foul crime I'd just committed.
"Sit down," he ordered quietly.
Like a good soldier I did as I was told and took a seat. Paul lowered his shorts to his knees, exposing a white jock strap wrapped contentedly around his hips, cradling the mound of treasure hidden below its warm hand. With a pull and a tug, Paul pulled the underwear away from his crotch, spilling his beautiful cock and balls out into the open. I just sat there staring at the dangling present in front of my face for what felt like an hour. I wasn't sure how he liked being touched but knew what got me excited. After all, we were two guys with the same plumbing so how hard could it be? I could just do to him what I liked done to me.
He groaned as soon as my fingers slid across the pink head at the end of his wide shaft and whispered, "there you go."
I gripped his cock and ran a thumb under Paul's helmet, sending him back against the open locker. By this point I was getting into the whole thing and wanted more, wanted it all, wanted every inch of his body. With a quick glance up at Paul I leaned in and opened my mouth to take him in.
"Ah! Yeah-" he groaned in delight. "Just like that."
The slurring, smacking sound of his penis growing moist in my mouth caused a flurry of goose bumps to erode over my skin. It wasn't long before I could feel his right hand rest on the back of my head then up front once he pushed back the hair clouding my eyes and forehead. Between going up for air and taking him halfway into my mouth, I fondled his warm, soft balls in my hand and groped his backside with the other, making him toss his head back and smile in dissipation.
"Oh!" I could hear him gargle.
His sweaty, musty body odor arousing my senses as they had become increasingly potent. He taste like precum, jock strap, and bland sexuality. I had become addicted to his flesh.
"Take it," Paul whispered while he tried to push his erect penis further down my throat. "Yeah, all the way. All the way."
I started to gag uncontrollably until he eased out a little but wasted no time in drowning me in his love once more. Every time he'd pull out I'd lean in, not letting him get too far away from me. It was a game. A game neither of us were prepared to end.
"Stand up," Paul's deep, masculine voice whispered, pulling at my arms. "Get up here."
It was nice to be dominated in such a way. I never knew I was so put on to the feeling of being less than the other. I liked being told what to do. I enjoyed when I was pushed around by Paul's heavy hands and raped by his tongue. I was newly born into a man aroused by a tight grip and an unyielding hand.
Paul pulled my backpack off and tossed it aside then ripped the shirt off my back, pushing me against the hard, cold steel of the lockers until finally reaching down between my legs to seize my materializing bulge. His fingers harassed my jeans then fumbled around the zipper only to push his arm through my underwear to get to my cock. I sprang out into his hand and he took me smoothly, knowing I wasn't as relaxed as he was. It wasn't enough. I wanted more and I wanted it soon. After a moment of him working me into a full erection I dropped my pants to my feet and spun around to face the cubbyhole, bestowing on Paul full permission.
"That's what I'm talking about," he laughed. I could hear him shuffling through his duffle bag then a sharp rip echoed in my ear. He was slipping on a condom and proceeded to taunt me from behind, gliding his pole over the bridge of my ass and reaching around to fondle my jutting erection.
The sensation of his cock probing at my opening sent shivers exploding over my entire body until I was ready to burst. I couldn't even touch myself for fear of reaching climax too soon.
"Ready," he asked, murmuring into my left ear.
"Yeah." I whispered in return.
He wrapped his right arm around my neck and pulled me against his warm body as I sensed his left hand guide his missile between my ass.
"Ah!" I gasped when the head started to penetrate. Swapping spit for lube hardly helped at all. The pressure building up against my ass grew until the first few centimeters busted through then I felt his hot breath on the back of my ear and his chest serrate my back. It was a matter of minutes when Paul was able to pick up a steady rhythm and, before I knew it, I was feeling more pleasure than pain. What was meant to be a quiet hand job sitting at the college locker room turned out to be a mildly quiet fuck session against the college lockers. I was startlingly okay with it and only wished this would've happened sooner.
Paul and I ended up on the wooden bench with him mounted on the seat, one leg on either side, me facing forward as well and backed up against his chest. I was close now. I could feel my testicles tense up against my body and my asshole beginning to tighten around Paul's swollen cock still penetrating deep inside me.
"You ready?" Paul asked the back of my neck.
"Yeah. Here it comes."
Paul pulled out swiftly and wrapped an arm around my neck again, tweaked my nipple, and set his chin on my left shoulder to take a look at the water works about to begin. I heaved and shudder before letting the first rope of semen sprint into the open air before us, watching it land on the bench. Then came another steady stream that ran down my fingers to my scrotum and another rope landing in the same spot as the first.
"Oh, God!" I whimpered and tossed my head back before letting another load fly out of the slit on my cock.
"Yeah," Paul cooed and kissed my shoulder. He assisted in squeezing out the remainder of the warm semen still lingering inside my spurting penis.
"How long have you been holding that in?" He asked.
"Too long."
Then it was his turn.
Paul sat facing me as he worked himself with one hand. He watched closely the more I sat there teasing myself.
"Come over here," he waved me down and pushed my head to his crotch to help finish him off. I did as I was expected while he lay completely back on the bench. I took it upon myself and smeared a finger around his asshole, generating him to arch his back and moan out wildly. Watching him squirm at my touch made me want to go off all over again. I withhold and focused my attention on the groaning man in my sight.
"Oh!" Paul yelled. "Go deeper."
I pushed my middle finger in down to the knuckle while I could feel him tighten his interior sphincter, gasped with my lips around his shaft.
Then it happened.
With out forewarning, Paul bucked his hips upward, sending his cock deeper into my throat and I instinctively hooked my finger up against his prostate.
"Oh, fuck!" His warm cum coated the walls at the back of my throat and eased down further. I had no choice but to swallow the first wave and spit out the rest. His penis was covered in my saliva mixed with a wad of thick white fluid. Paul drooled down my hand and over his slightly hairy abdominal trail. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. We were both heaving uncontrollably, trying to come down out of our high. My head was throbbing and my heart was beating like a jack hammer hammering away at my chest. I could tell he was tired by the way he was panting and glistening under the fluorescent lights. He looked up and smiled at me as if to ask, 'Can you believe what just happened?' No, I couldn't. I didn't. I smiled back and smeared the resting cum on my thigh just as Paul sat up and pressed his mouth on mine, gently sucking on my top lip. The whiskers growing into a beard rubbed annoyingly against my chin and lips but the kiss was sweet
nonetheless. We were both sticky and damp but with the showers just a few feet away, we thought it fitting to wash up before we left.
The shower was nice. As nice as a mildly warm, mildly soapy shower could be. Luckily for me, Paul bust out his compact body wash and loofah that he graciously shared. I was becoming accustomed to being naked around him and seeing him in the same way. It was like we had known each other our entire life, like old friends, so comfortable around one another.
Paul sat on the bench after he was partially dressed and slid his feet into a pair of flip-flops while I pulled my shirt down to my stomach. I could see him glancing up at me from the corner of my eyes but paid him no mind until he stood up and walked towards me. He stood there for a moment, scanning my face, peering into my eyes like he had something important to say.
"What?" I shattered the awkward ribbon.
He ran a hand through my hair like he did before; Pushing my shaggy hair away from my eyes.
"Thanks," he finally spoke and laid another kiss on my lips. The echo of our drenched mouths smacking together was music to my ears. Thanks, I thought. After all that all I got was a 'thank you?' Then again, what did I expect? A hug and his phone number? Maybe a proposition for a relationship? No. After all, all of this was first sparked by an ad on Craigslist for a quick hook-up. I guess I was expecting a little bit more but also knew that I came into this as a means of sexual aid. I was as disposable as a dirty magazine or pornography. I guess he did me a small favor by throwing in a kiss with that thank you but I was still a little upset. I wanted to ask him for his number or even an email when I saw him pack up his dirty clothes into his bag. I wanted to stop him and give him my contact information but I didn't want to scare him off. Instead I just stood there and watched Paul throw his bag and backpack over his shoulder then start to walk out of
the locker room. I froze in the silence for a moment and bask in the glory of what had just happened. A goofy grin leaped across my face but swiftly faded when I started to get a lump in the pit of my stomach that maneuvered up my chest and to my throat.
"Fuck," I whispered and ran to the closest garbage can to spill my guts.
My nerves seemed to settle at first but only momentarily as they showed up again in the form of vomit. It wasn't until my stomach pain subside that I was able to breathe easy and with out worry. Gathering my backpack and slipping on my socks and boots, I looked down at the bench still stained in my seed and smirked happily. It had been a long and eventful day but I felt satisfyingly calm. Although I told myself that I'd never be the one to meet up for anonymous sex I was wrong and thank God for that. I didn't, and don't, regret what went on that Tuesday afternoon. Of course I would've done things a little differently but I have no qualms about it having ensued in the first place. The thanks really go to my friend who sent the email in the first place. Boy, I would for ever be indebted to him, that is, if he ever found out.
On my way out of the locker room I felt my back pocket vibrating. It was my friend beckoning after three missed calls. Still reeling from earlier, I decided it would be best to hit the red key and forward the call directly to my voice mail. I wanted and needed a few minutes alone with my thoughts.
Feedback? Questions? Topic suggestions for more short stories? Feel free to send any comments, good or bad, to my inbox at synful_romance@sbcglobal.net