At three-o’-clock, the bell rings and the students get out of school. Some leave for home while others stay for after-school sports and activities. Tim grabs his backpack and runs for the football field in order to get there before practice starts.
When the football players arrive on the field, clad in their equipment and uniforms, Tim is already concealed, secreted behind the bleachers. He lies unseen under the metal benches, peering out at the upperclassmen as they practice, watching as the sweaty, muscled bodies slam into each other, rolling over and on top of one another.
His breathing is already hard after only a short while. He watches the way the players line up in their formations between plays, the way they stand behind each other, so close, so suggestive. Tim closes his eyes and imagines them a few inches closer, how one player’s cup-covered cock would be pressed flush against the tight fabric that hugs the ass of the boy in front of him. He imagines that instead of clutching the ball and grunting numbers to the other players, the boy in front is groaning and pushing his ass back towards the boy behind him, begging in soft undertones for him to take off the cup and press his naked erection against the willing ass.
When the players get up from a tackle and the coach slaps a boy sharply on the butt as he passes by, Tim feels a thrill run down to his crotch. He reaches down and slowly, sensuously undoes the button on his jeans, sliding down the zipper tortuously over his stiff cock. When his fly is down, he pulls his penis out and turns his attention back to the football players.
He watches as the boys all dive on top of the one with the ball, and he imagines them all naked. Instead of desperate to claim the ball, he imagines them desperate to claim the boy on the bottom. He imagines them fighting furiously to control his body, wanting to feel their naked flesh against his. It helps that the boys are a bit more aggressive than necessary, a bit more rough, spending their testosterone in the pile in the way that Tim imagines them spending their semen in the boy. They clamber off the tackle pile and the boy on the bottom gets up, weaving a bit from the harsh crush of the bodies, and Tim imagines his walk is because of how hard he has been fucked by so many men.
Tim strokes himself languidly, trying to make it last as long as possible. The football players have practice for an hour. The clash of sweaty bodies drives Tim slowly mad, and he comes twice during that time, unable to contain himself, the sports practice transformed into a rough, sweaty orgy of muscular arms and thighs and cocks in his mind.
When the players start to trickle off the field, Tim lies for a few more moments under the bleachers, his breathing heavy. He is hard again, for the third time. His second orgasm was a while ago, and the end of the practice has gotten him worked up again. He waits until the young athletes are all gone before tucking his painfully stiff member back into his pants and creeping back down to the school after them.
Tim has only recently become brave enough to venture down to the locker rooms after practice. He has found a perfect vantage point behind a row of lockers, where he has a good view of the showers but is out of direct sight from the jocks. He sits on the bench and takes his member out of his pants once more, watching the heavily muscled bodies as the water pours down their naked flesh.
The showers are, if anything, even worse than the field. Innocent and not-so-innocent horseplay abounds; boys slap each other’s butts, or grab and squeeze the cock of the boy next to them, then laugh when he cries out. Tim watches as one large, dark-haired boy winks at his friend and sticks the tip of his finger in his mouth. Then the large jock steps over to a slimmer, fair-haired boy and unceremoniously shoves the finger into the boy’s anus, crooking it. The boy jumps and cries out, and the jock withdraws his finger and laughs, joined in his laughter by his friends.
Tim is so painfully hot he thinks he might die. He imagines being naked, and the feeling of the boy’s fingertip sliding into him. Tim’s eyes slide closed as he lifts a hand up and sucks on his own fingertips, as the jock was doing. He replays the jock’s action over and over in his mind as he reaches behind himself and stuffs his hand into his pants, pressing two of his fingers into his own anus. He bites back a moan, knowing he needs to be quiet, as he imagines that the broad, dark-haired jock is fingering him in the shower.
Tim cracks his eyes open again to gaze at the dripping, naked bodies. As he does so, his gaze catches on a piece of red cloth, a pair of discarded gym shorts resting on the locker room bench. With his free hand, he reaches over and snatches it up, bringing it up to his face and inhaling deeply. It smells like boy and crotch and sweat and sex, and Tim feels his dick grow impossibly harder. He brings the hand with the shorts down and rubs the cloth along his erect member, sliding the slick, soft, artificial fabric over his hard, naked cock. As he does so, he wriggles the fingers inside his anus and once again has to bite back a moan of pleasure.
One of the boys in the shower drops a bar of soap and bends over to pick it up. The opportunity is too good to resist, and one of the older jocks steps over to him and grabs the boy’s hips, pulling the boy’s ass back against his cock. The other boy swears and stands up, pulling away, but not before the older jock has gotten in a few good dry humps against him, much to the amusement of the assembled team.
Tim thrusts his fingers deeper inside himself, up to the knuckle, then pulls them out again just long enough to add a third digit before pushing them back in. He groans out loud at the penetration and lies back on the bench, his weight driving the fingers deeply into him. He works the cloth shorts up and down around his member in quick, hard strokes. He imagines coming into them, and then leaving them there for their owner to wear. He imagines that the jock who owns them will not notice, and will unknowingly wear his cum for the rest of the day, the rest of the week maybe, until the shorts get washed.
Tim groans louder, his eyes closing on the view of the ceiling. He imagines being in that shower, sinking to his knees and taking the jocks one by one into his mouth, sucking them until they come onto his face. He wishes he had a spare hand so that he could shove his fingers into his mouth, suck on them and imagine that they were a boy’s cock. But he has only two hands, and the feeling of one thickly penetrating his anus while the other strokes his member is stimulating enough.
He whimpers, feeling that he is close, and twists the fingers in his anus around, gasping when they brush his prostate. He pushes against the gland again and again, imagining that one of the team member’s cocks is fucking him; he tries to find the right rhythm that the boy would use. The strokes of the hand on his cock increase in speed. And the cloth covering the hand is so silky, but the perforated texture makes it grip his cock just so and he thrusts against it and thrusts and then finally he’s coming, spilling his seed all over the fabric and his fingers thrusting as deeply as they can inside him and his teeth clenched and heart beating and eyes shut and it feels so very, very good.
Panting, Tim opens his eyes, only to find a semi-circle of football jocks staring down at him. He squeaks in fear, unable to move, even to remove the fingers still lodged in his anus. He gasps as one of the jocks reaches forward and takes the gym shorts away from him, revealing his quickly softening penis.
“Looks like we’ve got us a watcher, boys,” murmurs a tall, blond boy that Tim recognizes as the team captain. “I think someone wants to be the team bitch.”
Tim sees the hungry, predatory stares in the eyes of the jocks all around him, and wonders desperately if he really wants his fantasy to come true after all.