Straight students locker room

(Part 1 from 2)

Dean threw a towel over his shoulder and stomped into the communal showers. His team had lost the afternoon game and he was pissed off. He had missed a conversion and because of that his team had failed. No one was talking to him and he felt wretched. He thumped the silver button on the wall and the shower burst into action. It was cold to start with but he hardly felt it. Once it started to warm him though he began to feel better and the mud slid easily from him as he scrubbed himself down with soap. No one else was in the shower, he was in disgrace and they were in the communal bath. He longed to be in there with them, drinking beer and releasing the tensions of the game with body grabbing horseplay but it was not to be. 

He knew why he had missed that important conversion. He had lined up the shot and taken several steps back, ready to run and kick, when he had caught sight of someone watching him from the sidelines. Someone who had never come over to the playing field before. He caught a glimpse of red hair and a boyish smile just as he had set off on his run up. By the time his foot connected with the ball a vision of Stuart’s naked body swept across his mind and the ball had gone sailing wide. He stared at where it had fallen, well away from the goalposts before turning to look at Stuart. The other guy was still smiling and held up his arms as if to say ‘what happened’. Dean just scowled as his team mates barged past him.

What to do about Stuart? They had not spoken since last night when Dean had tried to explain how he felt. The other guy had gone back to his room leaving Dean alone to think over what was going on. But then Stuart had turned up to watch him play and had looked happy so maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he was prepared to forget about Paul and had decided that he did like Dean after all. Perhaps he was still around. This thought spurred Dean into finishing his shower quickly and, throwing the towel across his shoulders once more he went back into the changing room. He had just pulled a clean jock strap on when a voice behind him made him spin around.

‘You look good in that.’
It was Stuart. He was sitting on a bench only a few feet away, Dean had not noticed.

‘You like creeping up on people don’t you. Fuck!’ Dean said, grasping at his chest where his heart had just leapt.
‘Did I make you miss that shot?’ Stuart was still grinning his permanent smile and his eyes were flashing with enthusiasm as he scanned Dean’s wet body.
‘No, mate, it was my fault. You look more cheerful today.’

‘I am,’ Stuart replied and nodded in agreement with himself. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

‘Oh yeah? What about?’ Dean turned back to his locker and started to pull his clothes from it. Beyond the changing room he could hear the team break into a filthy chant as they splashed and swore in the bath. They could all go and get stuffed now. Dean had had enough of them. He only wanted to get changed and go home.
‘About you,’ Stuart’s words broke through the noise from the bath and Dean paused for a second.

‘And?’ he said, replacing his clothes on the locker shelf. He did not look back though, just rested his arm there and his head against it waiting for a rejection.
He heard Stuart stand up and then there was a warm hand on his shoulder. The sounds from the bath were getting louder and Dean knew their post match song was coming to an end. The hand ran down his back until it rested on the top of his backside and he felt the elastic of his jock strap pulled and let go with a quiet snap.

‘And,’ was all that Stuart said in reply.

He turned Dean around and the two boys looked into each other’s eyes. The rugby player felt his heart leap again. Just being next to Stuart was enough to send blood racing through his veins and into his groin. The exertions of the game had left his muscles feeling sore and his body glowed with tiredness mixed with the thrill of his friend’s touch. He was desperate to reach up and kiss the guy but there were too many hostile voices close by, it was too dangerous. Stuart’s hand cupped the back of his head and Dean allowed it to be pulled towards the smiling lips. He heard someone get out of the bath, there was a yelp as a towel was slapped on bare flesh and a curse.

‘Not here,’ he whispered to Stuart and nodded back towards the bathroom. ‘We’d be killed.’

Stuart looked to where he had indicated but said nothing. He simply winked and grabbed the bulge in dean’s jock strap. With a gentle tug he pulled the protesting Dean across the room towards the toilet area and into a cubicle. Once inside he locked the door and sat the other guy down on the seat.

Dean watched in silence as Stuart unzipped his trousers. The growing hardness in his jock strap pushed against the ribbed material and his breathing became fast. Stuart undid his trousers and pulled his tee shirt over his head. Topless his chest shone smooth and pale in the fluorescent light filtering in over the cubicle wall. He dropped the shirt to the floor and placed one of Dean’s hands on his chest. Very slowly Dean ran his hand across the smooth flesh, cupping the muscles of the guys chest and feeling the hard nipples between his fingers. Stuart moved his hand lower and Dean saw the top of his deep orange pubes come into view. He had seen Stuart naked before and had even felt his flesh but this time it was different. This time there was something more than just sex about the boy. This time it was more than just a quick jack off, he wanted to hold the guy and he wanted things to make sense and feel good. Outside the cubicle he could hear his team mates as they cascaded from the bath and back into the changing rooms. He feared being caught while at the same time he loved the thrill it gave, being only feet from them yet unseen.

Silently Stuart placed his hand over the front of his lycra shorts and, with his other hand, pushed his trousers so they dropped to the floor. Dean drew in a quiet gasp as he felt the long pole which was pressed downwards in the tight fitting shorts. It was thicker than his own and longer and he could clearly see the outline of its head. A small patch of moisture grew from under the material and he rubbed his thumb across the tip from where the juice was already starting to leak. He looked up to Stuart who stood over him like a marble statue and he saw the green eyes burning with passion. Slowly he slipped the lycra away, revealing a forest of hair and the base of the thick shaft. He pulled the shorts down a little further and the length continued. He traced a thick vein with his finger as he marvelled at the length of the boy’s tool. Eventually the rim of the circumcised head came into view, purple and huge and, when the material finally allowed it, the whole thing bounced from the shorts and swung before his face. His hands were placed around it and he gripped tightly. Then there was a hand on the back of his head and he was being pushed down onto it.

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