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Secret Locker Room Fuck

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Secret Locker Room Fuck

Leandra J. Piper

Copyright 2012 by Leandra J. Piper

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used without the express written permission of the author or publisher for any purposes, except brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

It was late September of my senior year at Divine Charity High. The trees had just started to turn, and I was crossing the short outdoor path between the weight room and the stairs down to the locker room. I was feeling good; I'd had a good workout and I wanted to cool off a bit. I did this every Monday and Wednesday after school to keep in shape for soccer in the spring.

I guess I should say a little about myself. My name is Adam, and I'm about 5'10", with dark hair. I'm slim and, if I do say so myself, in pretty good shape. I rarely saw other people in the weight room after school. D.C. High isn't a huge school, and I usually wouldn't start my workout until an hour or so after school was out. There's only one person I saw with any regularity: Jesse Marko.

Jesse and I have known each other for most of our lives. We were best friends during elementary school, and his parents lived across the street from mine. I knew him very well, and despite his friendly-looking face, the guy had a dark streak a mile wide. He'd get this smile on his face just before we'd do something bad, like super-glue tacks onto someone's bike seat. I'll never forget that smile. But by the time we were in high school, he'd moved across town, and we'd grown apart. He went out for football and was the school's star player, and quickly became one of the most popular guys in school.

Girls were all over Jesse. I had a string of girlfriends myself, but nothing like him. He was about 6'1" or so, with wavy blonde hair. He looked like he just stepped out of some kind of clothing commercial, muscular with broad shoulders. He hadn't had any luck with the girl I really wanted though: Amy. Long, dark hair and pale skin, and these eyes that you could hardly look at for fear of being drawn in. He knew I wanted her, and he was doing his damnedest to get in good with her. It was the only time I ever saw Jesse Marko get friend-zoned.

He and I had something of a rivalry when it came to fitness. Every Monday and Wednesday it was a nonverbal competition to see who was faster, or stronger, or had more endurance. If I ran a mile, he would run two; if he lifted two hundred, I would try to lift two-twenty. It was like that for everything, and while it didn't do much for our friendship, it was a good motivator to give every session my all.

I opened the door at the end of the footpath and descended the old stairs into the locker room. The place hadn't been painted for at least twenty years. At the bottom of the steps was the door that led inside, with the coach's office on the left; a large central locker bank went down the center of the room, with two half-banks to the left and right. Two long, wooden benches, rickety from whenever they were built, gave the guys a place to sit while changing. At the back of the locker room were the showers and an adjoining bathroom.

Most people never used the showers at all during school. The school was built sometime in the 1940s, and I guess guys back then were less shy than they were today. All of the showers are open, and if you're sitting at the end of one of the long benches you can see right into them. After school was a different story though, since the chances of someone walking in were pretty remote. I was still pretty sweaty, and I thought today, what harm could it do to use them?

I carried an old black gym bag with me in high school, to carry fresh clothes, a towel, that sort of thing. I walked to the back of the locker room and put the bag down on the bench next to me. As I was taking off my shoes, socks, and shirt, I realized I wasn't alone. I could hear the low, tell-take squeak and rumble of the old showers. I turned to look, more out of surprise than curiosity.

Oh god, Jesse's here, isn't he. I peered around a little more, and sure enough, there he was. His back was to me, and he was washing his hair under one of the rickety shower heads I couldn't help but look and briefly marvel at the way his body looked under the water. No wonder all of the girls wanted him. He had a great (and shockingly thorough) tan, and even with steam obscuring some of his figure, I watched the water roll down his back and down the crack of his ass.

The trance was broken when he turned off the shower. I quickly turned, to pretend like I hadn't been watching him, and in my haste, I knocked my gym bag off of the bench. It hit the floor with a thud, while my deodorant clattered across the floor. I cringed reflexively and hoped that he somehow didn't notice.

"That's why you play soccer, Adam. You'd never catch a pass on the football team."

Fucking Jesse. I sat on the bench and reached down for the bag and my wayward deodorant. I heard his footsteps as he walked toward me, and I turned my head toward him to make some kind of smart ass remark, and that's when I saw it. I guess I expected him to have a towel around him or something for the sake of modesty, but oh no, not Jesse. I was about head-level with his waist, and he was maybe five feet from me. I couldn't help but see his cock.

The worst part was, it was big. As if he didn't have enough to be smug about that year, Jesse had at least an eight inch dick. Mine wasn't small, exactly, but a lot more average at around five inches. Jesse seemed used to being naked, since he'd done an expert job of shaving his pubes. I looked at his cock and balls a lot longer than I should have. It was a long, uncomfortable moment of staring at his dick.

"I didn't know you had such a thing for cock," Jesse teased.

"Wh-what? No, I, fuck, get a towel or something. Jesus..." I retorted. I know I was blushing.

"I think you're lying," he remarked. "How long have I known you, Adam? You only stutter like that when you're caught."

"Fu-fuck you man, that's not true," I said defensively. "You know I'm not into guys."

"Right, right," he said. "You're into Amy Kinsgrove. I wonder what she'd say if I told her you were eyeing my dick."

"I'll beat your ass if you do that!" I couldn't quite keep the dread out of my voice.

"You know, I might be convinced to keep it a secret about your dick-ogling," he began. He started to get that devious smile that I knew so well, and I dreaded whatever he was going to say next.

"Okay, asshole," I said warily. "What do you want?"

He took his time before answering, as if enjoying the moment to look me over and watch me squirm. He said, his voice smugly confident, "I want you to suck my dick."

I blushed hard. I looked at him in total disbelief, searching his expression to see if this was some kind of joke. It wasn't. The moment dragged on, and on, and on, with him looking down at me, naked, his hair still wet from the shower.

"N-no, fuck. Fuck, I'm not sucking your fucking dick," I sputtered.

"Well, that's your choice. I'll grab my cell and text Amy right now. I could even tell the other guys on the team that you made a pass at me," he said, moving as if to reach for his phone.

I started getting really angry, but what could I do? If Amy actually believed I was gay, I'd never have a chance with her; if the football team was spreading rumors that I was gay, I'd never get another girl. I'd be a leper for the rest of senior year. I knew Jesse too well to think he'd give me an empty bluff; once he got something in his head, he always went through with it even if people got hurt.

"Look," I finally said. "You can't tell her that. Or them. It's not even true. Not even you're that much of a bastard."

Jesse laughed. "You come in here, watch me in the shower, stare at my dick, and you tell me you don't want it? It's an easy choice, Adam. You can either suck my cock or I can tell everyone your secret."

I didn't know what to do. Jesse and I had kept a lot of secrets over the years that kept each other out of trouble, so I knew he could keep a secret. But things had changed over the past few years. I was afraid that he'd tell just to get at me.

"You'll really not tell?" I asked.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he said. "You know I'm good for it. But not out here. We wouldn't want anyone to come in and see you with a cock in your mouth, right?" He let out another wicked laugh. I blushed like a girl.

He motioned with one hand for me to follow him, and turned to walk back toward the showers. I got up from the bench and pushed the bag under it with my bare foot. I was only in my shorts and boxers, with my other work-out clothes on or beside the bench. It felt like a mile walking across the shower floor, which was cold from standing water. I was glad he was ahead of me, because despite everything, I was getting kind of hard. That was the worst part. Something about this was turning me on.

We got to the end of the showers, and stepped into the bathroom that adjoined them. He pushed open a stall door in the back corner, and beckoned with one finger for me to join him. I couldn't believe this. Not only was he wanting me to suck him off, but in a bathroom stall? I guess this is how girls feel when you try to talk them into fooling around under the bleachers.

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Secret Locker Room Fuck