I just started college and decided to start writing about my sexual experiences past and present. This is a story from high school. If you enjoy, you can continue following me on my new blog: bobbywyler.blogspot.com .
Also, feel free to email any comments to me - bobby (dot) wyler (at) gmail (dot) com
THE LOCKER ROOM
I played soccer my freshman year. Quit after that because to be honest, it was a lot of work and not much fun. The most fun part for me was actually after practice ended -- when the team went back to the locker room.
Different boys changed out of their sweaty practice clothes in different ways. There was the modest way -- first slipping off your shorts and putting on jeans before exchanging your shirt for a clean one. This was the way I did it. Shirts are usually long enough to cover the more incriminating parts of whatever underwear a boy might be wearing.
Then there was the more show-offy way -- this is how the boys with bigger, more defined muscles usually changed. They'd strip down to nothing but their underwear, then usually talk and joke around for a minute or so before putting clothes back on. It was as if they wanted to give everyone a chance to size them up. A far cry from someone like me who faced squarely towards the locker and avoided all eye contact. Not that my eyes didn't drift.
Some of the show-off boys wore boxers, but most wore boxer-briefs, especially since we were playing soccer and the extra support was useful. I was in a constant battle between acting natural and staring at the bulge in their briefs.
Most of the boys didn't shower after practice -- it seems like that's more something guys did in the 80s or 90s. Don't know why. But occasionally it would happen.
I remember one time after practice, I felt particularly turned on by one of the show-off guys stripping down. His name was Clayton and he happened to be wearing briefs -- that's right, whitey tighties -- that day. I don't know why, but seeing a cute boy in whitey tighties really gets me. It didn't hurt that Clayton was sporting an impressive bulge.
Anyways, I decided I wanted to go take a shower. I just had the urge to be naked, don't question it. I stripped down to my Calvins, then wrapped a towel around my waist before slipping them off, too. Wearing nothing but a towel amidst a roomful of half-naked boys was exhilarating.
I headed to the shower room. It was lined with stalls on both sides that had no curtain. Some privacy, but anyone passing your stall could easily see you. I decided to take one nearer to the front. I turned on the water and whipped off my towel. Feeling the locker room air against my naked cock and hearing the chatter of the boys in the next room sent a little quiver of excitement through my body. I felt exposed -- vulnerable. I stepped under the water and realized that at any moment, any of the boys by the lockers could decide to shower and would pass right by me and see my naked body under the water. In an exhilarating moment I decided that should anyone walk by, I was going to make no effort to turn away or cover myself. If they looked, they'd see.
I wasn't ashamed of course. I've done my research and I know how I size up -- I'm probably bigger than most boys my age. The thought of one of the other freshmen seeing my cock turned me on, and I stroked it a few times under the water. That's all it took for me to get a pretty big hard-on. Whoops.
I rinsed some water through my hair, and just then I heard footsteps coming into the shower room. I fought the urge to turn away -- I still had a hard-on sticking straight up into the air but decided to stay true to the agreement I made with myself earlier -- I let my hard cock stay in plain view. I even turned a little bit toward the aisle so whoever it was would be sure to see it.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed it was Clayton coming in, wrapped in a towel. Now remember, Clayton was one of the show-offs. This means he's fucking cute -- he was only a freshman and already had "the V" leading from his cut abs down toward his cock. He had a little hair in all the right places, and he seemed to wear his underwear particularly low so that when he was changing I could see the top of his pubic hair.
Clayton walked past me, and I pretended not to notice, standing my ground. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed his head turn toward me and his eyes dart down quickly to size me up.
That brief moment -- when Clayton was looking at my hard, erect, wet cock -- was one of the most exhilarating moments I'd ever had. I didn't worry about him telling anyone. They'd just judge him for looking. But I smiled and reveled in the waves of exhilaration cascading through my body, intensifying my hard-on.
Clayton the Show-Off had seen my cock in full glory.
I really wanted to jack off, but after a few strokes I realized that was a little too sketchy and overt. But since Clayton had taken a shower stall just behind mine, I decided I wanted to see his cock, too. It was only fair, right?
So here's what I did. You can judge whether it was too blatant.
"Hey Clay, you mind if I snag some of your body wash real quick?" I called to him.
"For sure, dude." He reached his hand around the barrier between our stalls with the body wash. "Only use a little bit -- it's good stuff."
It was AXE body wash. Silly straight boy. Nevertheless, I put some on, and yes, I was a little turned on by using Clay's body wash -- it smelled like him. But then I quickly rinsed off, turned off my shower, and threw on my towel. Without skipping a beat, I walked around to Clay's shower stall.
I held out the body wash and averted my gaze from the naked boy I could see in my peripheral vision. "Thanks, man," I said. He took it back.
I turned to go, and as I did, I snuck a peek.
Clayton was busy rinsing shampoo out of his hair... meaning his eyes were closed. Meaning I didn't have to take a quick snapshot -- I could take a nice long look.
And I did. Fucking gorgeous tanned body with lovely defined muscles. I followed the wet happy trail down to his cock -- it was soft with a big head, and hung quite nicely with large, low-hanging balls. Another reason why he was a show off. He always had a nice bulge... made sense that even his soft cock was an impressive sight to behold.
I had the urge to drop to my knees and suck his gorgeous cock. To get his dick nice and hard in my mouth, water running all over me in my subservient state. I wanted him to spew hot loads of cum in my mouth while he folded his arms behind his head and grinned liked the boyish show-off he was. Then he would pick me off the shower floor by my hair, kiss my cheek, and shove me away with a wink.
Obviously, none of that happened. But you can't blame a boy for fantasizing.
I'll never forget that locker room experience. It's the only one that really stands out to me now. I often wonder if Clayton knew what he was doing by keeping his eyes closed and rinsing out his hair. I wonder if part of him wanted me to look so I'd know he had an even bigger cock than me, the fucking show off that he was.
As soon as I got home that evening I ran up to my room, spat on my cock, and jacked off, imagining myself on my knees in that shower stall, a servant to Clayton's dick. I imagined what his dick must look like when it got hard and long. And I imagined him standing there looking down at me with the biggest, cockiest smirk on his face, watching me suck on -- or rather, choke on -- his thick cock. To this day, I still think about it sometimes when I jack off.