Sorry it has been awhile since my last story, but I hope this one is worth it! It follows Zach, a 19-year old Canadian Junior hockey player, who is dealing with his homoerotic fantasies surrounding his teammates. When his fantasies blend into reality, and a new man joins the team, he is forced to confront his feelings head on, and learn to grab life, or what have you, by the horns. I’m planning on four or five short chapters. Enjoy, and keep the comments coming!
Into the Locker Room
Chapter 1: The Game
Like my own private strip show, the other guys from the Canadian hockey team hurriedly tore off their uniforms and pads, sweaty from the intensity of the game we’d won, and ready for a well-deserved shower. I had the best seat in the house, the corner, sitting as I untied one of my laces. I liked to sit back and watch the team afterwards, a sensory cocktail of adrenaline and testosterone, mixed with raw sweat and the horny drive of youth. These were new, and welcome feelings.
I stayed seated to hide my growing erection as I peeled off layer after layer from my chest: jersey, shoulder pads, undershirt. A hand through my shaggy brown hair, swept back off my face. Wes, our left wing, appropriately stood to the left of me, and was already down to his black briefs. He had long blond hair that was wet, matted to his forehead, but barely blocking his bright green eyes. He played with the waistband of his jockeys, teasing me as he grazed and groped at his nuts through the thin fabric, laughing with someone to my right.
Brady Ironson, our right wing, also stood to my right. His shirt lifted off of his sturdy frame and over his shaved head to reveal a torso of tattoos. One large tattoo spread across his muscled shoulders and veered down towards his firm ass, descending into his white boxer briefs. Turned away, his fingers slipped into the waistband, and his drawers slipped down, Brady bending with the motion, his hairless ass nearing my face, his balls bobbing between his legs. Wes made no secret of taking a look at Brady’s body, concentrating especially hard on his dick, his eyebrows raising, just for a moment long enough for me to catch it. It was something everyone did, whether they’d admit to it or not. We were just guys, interested in other guys, who they fucked, how they fucked, and what they fucked with. In the locker room, all would be unveiled.
And dead center, in front of me, was Roman, our team captain, and appropriately our centre. Out of some Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue, Roman was a crew cut god. Standing 6’2 178 pounds, he was probably a quarterback in high school, but realized he could excel in any sport, and fell into hockey. ‘Thank Christ he did’ I thought to myself as he stripped down to his jock strap. His gaze seemed to pass in slow motion from across the room, landing straight on me. Shit, he’d caught me. I casually resumed stripping, removing my pants and socks, only to find that his gaze never left. This intrepid stare like he wanted to fuck me, a slight devious smile spread across his full lips, as he lowered his jock strap. Now I didn’t dare look away, as his throbbing cock poured enormously out of the pouch in which it was contained. Hard.
My jaw dropped, simply with the anticipation of the ridicule that would soon face Roman. Getting an erection in the locker room after a game had happened before, but was always met with endless comments and crude insults, for a few weeks at least. To my surprise, nobody even blinked. No one even turned his way, except to eye his package as we all did to each other. In fact, his stare was still on me, and his smile was still cocky. He stood at full mast while the other stripped. And then I noticed it. Everyone was hard.
Twenty-two erections bobbed around the locker room, thick and thin, large and very large, cut and uncut, all with the hefty balls hanging below. Everyone chatted as though nothing was wrong. Some of the dudes even grazed each other’s cocks as they passed by, gripping it for a moment, then sliding their hand on past. Or cupping a buddy’s balls to congratulate him on a play, and walking past. The usual ass slaps were met with a squeeze of the others cock head. Wes turned next to me and revealed his eight inch uncut member, fully erect and bobbing as he continued to talk to Brady across me. Brady was cut and a bit smaller, but thick as a tin can, and just as hard. Wes’ husky voice rose above the crowd to Brady.
- You were an all-star out there man. I saw the scouts watching.
- Hey the assist was all you dude, I owe you one.
With that, Brady reached out and gave a quick tug on Wes’ cock. Wes smiled for a moment, and blinked a second too long, the giveaway that he had enjoyed it. People began to walk towards the showers, as I sat, dumbstruck in my tented underwear, about to blow my load right there as I absorbed the show that had just taken place. Roman’s gaze still fixed on me, he walked over, his boner swaying and bobbing with every step, eventually stopping when his cock head was near inches away. Nineteen years old, like me, I could smell the testosterone and sweat from his body, the scent of his dick as it neared my face.
- Are you coming, Zach? Mister MVP. You scored the winning goal, and now we get to pay you back. It’s time to hit the showers, buddy.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. Instinctively I resisted standing totally upright so he wouldn’t see my hard dick, but he immediately stood me up straight, my dick poking out of the Y-front. His body pressed near me, his breath on my face, his eyes on my eyes, our dicks toying with each other down below.
- I’m right behind you.
He smiled, and turned around the corner to the showers, where steam and laughs poured out from where the boys soaped each other’s firm, athletic bodies. I stood in the locker room alone for a moment, surveying the clothes, the sweaty equipment, underwear and jockstraps, the smell of boys becoming men. I breathed in deeply to remember this moment, stepped forward, and fell into a black hole, catching my breath.
Sunlight poured in the hotel window, illuminating Roman’s naked body next to me. We were in separate beds, forced to share rooms since the funding had been cut last year to buy new uniforms. As I breathed out I swear I could still smell that scent of the locker room in my dream, still picture Roman and the other guys hard, grabbing at each other with frenzied, horny anticipation. But now it was back to reality. It was the first day of the World Junior Championships. We’d arrived in Ottawa yesterday, and had practice today before our first game tomorrow. Of course, I was paired in a room with Roman O’Connell, the captain and real MVP of the team. I hadn’t scored a goal yet this season, but somehow scraped by the draft for this league. And here I was with the man of my dreams, with an attitude of my nightmares. He was with a new girl every night, and I knew with how we’ll he’d be doing in this tournament, I’d be sitting through more headboard shattering performances to come.
I stood up from my bed to see my boxers tented in front of me, my hard on right near Roman’s face, fast asleep. For a moment I considered shoving it deep down into his throat, just to see what he’d do. Maybe he was having the same dream I was. But almost certainly he was with some busty blonde with her slut red lips lightly embracing his cockhead like a novice. Then I walked to the bathroom. Maybe some time this week I’d get my turn with Roman. Maybe.
Into the Locker Room
Chapter 1: The Game
Like my own private strip show, the other guys from the Canadian hockey team hurriedly tore off their uniforms and pads, sweaty from the intensity of the game we’d won, and ready for a well-deserved shower. I had the best seat in the house, the corner, sitting as I untied one of my laces. I liked to sit back and watch the team afterwards, a sensory cocktail of adrenaline and testosterone, mixed with raw sweat and the horny drive of youth. These were new, and welcome feelings.
I stayed seated to hide my growing erection as I peeled off layer after layer from my chest: jersey, shoulder pads, undershirt. A hand through my shaggy brown hair, swept back off my face. Wes, our left wing, appropriately stood to the left of me, and was already down to his black briefs. He had long blond hair that was wet, matted to his forehead, but barely blocking his bright green eyes. He played with the waistband of his jockeys, teasing me as he grazed and groped at his nuts through the thin fabric, laughing with someone to my right.
Brady Ironson, our right wing, also stood to my right. His shirt lifted off of his sturdy frame and over his shaved head to reveal a torso of tattoos. One large tattoo spread across his muscled shoulders and veered down towards his firm ass, descending into his white boxer briefs. Turned away, his fingers slipped into the waistband, and his drawers slipped down, Brady bending with the motion, his hairless ass nearing my face, his balls bobbing between his legs. Wes made no secret of taking a look at Brady’s body, concentrating especially hard on his dick, his eyebrows raising, just for a moment long enough for me to catch it. It was something everyone did, whether they’d admit to it or not. We were just guys, interested in other guys, who they fucked, how they fucked, and what they fucked with. In the locker room, all would be unveiled.
And dead center, in front of me, was Roman, our team captain, and appropriately our centre. Out of some Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue, Roman was a crew cut god. Standing 6’2 178 pounds, he was probably a quarterback in high school, but realized he could excel in any sport, and fell into hockey. ‘Thank Christ he did’ I thought to myself as he stripped down to his jock strap. His gaze seemed to pass in slow motion from across the room, landing straight on me. Shit, he’d caught me. I casually resumed stripping, removing my pants and socks, only to find that his gaze never left. This intrepid stare like he wanted to fuck me, a slight devious smile spread across his full lips, as he lowered his jock strap. Now I didn’t dare look away, as his throbbing cock poured enormously out of the pouch in which it was contained. Hard.
My jaw dropped, simply with the anticipation of the ridicule that would soon face Roman. Getting an erection in the locker room after a game had happened before, but was always met with endless comments and crude insults, for a few weeks at least. To my surprise, nobody even blinked. No one even turned his way, except to eye his package as we all did to each other. In fact, his stare was still on me, and his smile was still cocky. He stood at full mast while the other stripped. And then I noticed it. Everyone was hard.
Twenty-two erections bobbed around the locker room, thick and thin, large and very large, cut and uncut, all with the hefty balls hanging below. Everyone chatted as though nothing was wrong. Some of the dudes even grazed each other’s cocks as they passed by, gripping it for a moment, then sliding their hand on past. Or cupping a buddy’s balls to congratulate him on a play, and walking past. The usual ass slaps were met with a squeeze of the others cock head. Wes turned next to me and revealed his eight inch uncut member, fully erect and bobbing as he continued to talk to Brady across me. Brady was cut and a bit smaller, but thick as a tin can, and just as hard. Wes’ husky voice rose above the crowd to Brady.
- You were an all-star out there man. I saw the scouts watching.
- Hey the assist was all you dude, I owe you one.
With that, Brady reached out and gave a quick tug on Wes’ cock. Wes smiled for a moment, and blinked a second too long, the giveaway that he had enjoyed it. People began to walk towards the showers, as I sat, dumbstruck in my tented underwear, about to blow my load right there as I absorbed the show that had just taken place. Roman’s gaze still fixed on me, he walked over, his boner swaying and bobbing with every step, eventually stopping when his cock head was near inches away. Nineteen years old, like me, I could smell the testosterone and sweat from his body, the scent of his dick as it neared my face.
- Are you coming, Zach? Mister MVP. You scored the winning goal, and now we get to pay you back. It’s time to hit the showers, buddy.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. Instinctively I resisted standing totally upright so he wouldn’t see my hard dick, but he immediately stood me up straight, my dick poking out of the Y-front. His body pressed near me, his breath on my face, his eyes on my eyes, our dicks toying with each other down below.
- I’m right behind you.
He smiled, and turned around the corner to the showers, where steam and laughs poured out from where the boys soaped each other’s firm, athletic bodies. I stood in the locker room alone for a moment, surveying the clothes, the sweaty equipment, underwear and jockstraps, the smell of boys becoming men. I breathed in deeply to remember this moment, stepped forward, and fell into a black hole, catching my breath.
Sunlight poured in the hotel window, illuminating Roman’s naked body next to me. We were in separate beds, forced to share rooms since the funding had been cut last year to buy new uniforms. As I breathed out I swear I could still smell that scent of the locker room in my dream, still picture Roman and the other guys hard, grabbing at each other with frenzied, horny anticipation. But now it was back to reality. It was the first day of the World Junior Championships. We’d arrived in Ottawa yesterday, and had practice today before our first game tomorrow. Of course, I was paired in a room with Roman O’Connell, the captain and real MVP of the team. I hadn’t scored a goal yet this season, but somehow scraped by the draft for this league. And here I was with the man of my dreams, with an attitude of my nightmares. He was with a new girl every night, and I knew with how we’ll he’d be doing in this tournament, I’d be sitting through more headboard shattering performances to come.
I stood up from my bed to see my boxers tented in front of me, my hard on right near Roman’s face, fast asleep. For a moment I considered shoving it deep down into his throat, just to see what he’d do. Maybe he was having the same dream I was. But almost certainly he was with some busty blonde with her slut red lips lightly embracing his cockhead like a novice. Then I walked to the bathroom. Maybe some time this week I’d get my turn with Roman. Maybe.
Loved the transition.
more please
VERY hot!!! I love the dream sequence, obvious from all the erect cocks ... still the way you told it was unique and of course, well written. 
