Locker Room Voyuer
by djfmonkey
9 Feb 2023 6022 readers Score 9.0 (95 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt
It was my senior year in high school, I knew I was different, but I wouldn’t admit it, it was frowned upon, and if I was ever found out, I’d be bullied to no end. I knew I was attracted to guys more than girls, at first I thought it was a curiosity thing as I watched my fellow classmates grow and develop through the years. I wasn’t the athletic type, and I knew I didn’t compare to some others, but I also knew I was ahead of some others. I was kind of a nerdy guy with not many friends we guys of similar types gravitated towards each other kind of in our own gym class clique. Guys who wouldn’t even acknowledge each other, except to try to blend in and not get picked on themselves. That old saying the enemy of my enemy is my friend? Well all of our primary goals were to get in, blend in, and get out of gym class without being the one picked on that day, as the jocks gravitated to one another as well.
So, I both hated and loved gym class, I hated the sports and the physical activity, but I loved to walk the locker room aisles to check out what was going on, check out the other guys. I always hid when I dressed and I never took a shower, I was too embarrassed that someone would catch me mid woody or get picked on. So my “shower” in a deodorant stick was it, occasionally I’d head to the sinks or take a leak at the urinal just outside the shower room, splash water on my face and chest, but that excuse was just so I could make believe I was cleaning up, and yet still catch some naked studs heading to the showers.
I made excuses to hit the locker room to use those lockers on the first floor rather than my assigned locker on the third floor, well that was my excuse anyway. I kept most of my books there. I would walk through those double in and out doors, and got hit with that adolescent aroma of teenage sweat, combined with moisture from hot showers and wet towels. I usually walked in slowly, checking each row to see guys in various stages of undress, guys in tightly whitey briefs, covering big and small packages. The ones in loose fitting boxers, just barely being able to see their cocks flopping around, sometimes I strained to see through a slightly open fly. Those wearing jock straps with their exposed asses, some smooth, others covered in various stages of fuzz. Others wrapped in white towels with a blue stripe and a small bump poking out. I’d linger a while or look for some meaningless excuse to talk to those that I knew and wasn’t intimidated by, while trying to capture a glimpse of nakedness or better yet a Bonner in the works trying to escape the clutches of varying stages of undress. Yet I tried to keep my eyes focused on the faces so as never to be caught. Some of the jocks would play “snap towel” and “steal the towel” from guys, for these “shows” I always tried to get a front row, I’d giggle along with the others to seemingly fit in but dreaded the day they’d pick on me instead.
My gym locker was deep inside the locker room right next to the showers, I picked one close to the end so I could nonchalantly check several directions. A guy named Brian had a locker a few down from me. He was quiet, had some friends but on the weird side, not in my circle, but at gym class time we managed to gravitate toward each other, get paired up together or be on the same squads or teams. I knew he was hot and I often had feelings for him, he kind of was an emo twinky guy. He was into art and hung around the artsy people and classrooms, he wasn’t into gym or being a jock, he was similar in build to me. He was a skinny kid, very pale and without his shirt you could count his ribs, he was growing into his body and awkwardly tall, he had long blonde shaggy hair and just small tufts of underarm hair otherwise he was quite smooth and he had the pinkest small nipples that poked out like sharp buds on his pale yet firm pecks. I tried to make small talk from time to time, but he would give quick short answers and went about finish dressing himself. The best I could tell he never took a shower either, just slipped off his shorts and back into his unusually tight black jeans, and they were tight.
In gym class his crotch would seem to bounce around in those loose fitting green short gym shorts, our school colors. In class as I said, we kind of gravitated toward each other as we were different, yet similar, and let’s just say kind of equal. Every class I’d kind of get excited as I tried not to stare at his crotch. So I would take accidental looks as I dive for a ball, or I’d try to help him up off the floor after he slipped or fell. There he was, sitting on his ass, knees in the air, spread wide apart, what a shot I saw. I’d walk up to him stand right there, looking down that short leg, as I offered him a lifting hand. I knew the thought of what I almost saw had me excited and sometimes I had to make adjustments to not be detected.
Another day he was climbing the ropes and I was spotting by holding the bottom firm. I watched as he tried raising his hands one after the other and then gripping that rope with his legs intertwined. That rope was sliding right up alongside that dick, I could see the outline pressed in the material as he struggled to make it half way up. I was staring directly up at him as I watched those long thin legs wrapped around that rope. I tried so hard to see up those shorts, an occasional fleshy butt cheek and dark shadows that were assumedly his dick, at least in my mind, for I’ve never seen it. I could almost see that package as I steadied the rope and tried to hide my excitement in my paints as well.
Another day we were paired to do floor exercises, and we began warming up, by sitting spread eagle facing each other as we bent into our stretches side to side, sliding our shorts up our leg openings almost exposing ourselves, we went into jumping jacks and I know he was flopping up and down, I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he watched me watch. Then it was sit ups and we had to hold each other’s ankles, knees raised in the air. I got a good look at his naked ass cheek as I spied down that leg, either he was commando or had a Jock strap on today. That fleshy globe flexing with each lift that I looked away each time he came up to my face. Then the gym teacher walked by saying “Faster” and Brian began quickening the pace and then I know for sure I detected a pink mushroom flop out of those shorts. Just then the whistle blew and we had to switch places and Brian stood quickly, turning away from me, adjusting his shorts. Damn it I was so damn close this time, I just know what I saw, then again maybe it was my eyes playing games wishing what they saw, maybe it wasn’t, it seemed too big.
Then after class Brian was at his locker, his back turned toward me as h began to undress, I was still fumbling with my combination on my lock and just then he dropped and stepped out of those gym shorts. There before me, as I stood there and stared, what a perfect pale, white, naked ass, with a crack that slightly split open expanding as he bent over to pick them up off the floor. It sure seemed like forever he just stood there, as I stood in my tracks and just had to stare. My expectations were correct, he was commando that day, no underwear or jock. Then he bent over again, still facing away, to step into those tight black jeans, again bare ass. My green shorts now are well tented, and he turned back toward me. My red face as I quickly shied away, but not before he finished pulling them up with a alight jump and flopping of that dick as he slid it in tucking it away and buttoning up and carefully raising the zipper. Holy shit, it looked too big for his body, that is what I saw of it, it was much longer than what I would have called normal, and I saw a fine patch of fluffy blonde bush nestled above that hanging appendage. He tucked that sucker away too fast but I’m sure of what I saw, and only wish I had seen it longer. I quick had my locker open and grabbed my shirt all balled up while I covered my crotch. He closed up his locker and hustled out quickly, I don’t think he noticed my staring.
The rest of the day I couldn’t get my mind off of him, I even thought I saw him everywhere in the halls and at lunch. Finally last period was upon us, only about 45 more minutes till I could relieve myself, hopefully somewhere on my trip home. I had an art class, and yes it was the only other class we shared. Him being all artsy he was more of a teacher’s pet, and therefore sat way in the back with little supervision. Not to be too obvious I grabbed the table in front of his today, pulled out my project a “C minus” at best, he was already working on his deep in thought. I watched him over the top of my work as he flipped that blond hair up off his forehead.
Then suddenly I heard what I thought was heavy breathing his canvas was blocking most of his body, I could only see his head over the top. He did seem to be moving in a rhythmic way, I had to knock my pencils off the table to the floor. I bent down under the table to pick them up, I had to leave my chair and get on my knees, and there he was jeans unbuttoned and open, jerking away, blocked by the table and his painting. Now I cant see his face but he stroking that rod like he’s never stroked before, beating that meat to no end. That pink mushroom head that I thought I saw in gym is now dark purple and his knuckles were white he was squeezing so tight. My god I took my time picking each colored pencil up and knocking some closer to get a better look. Then I thought I was caught when his chair slid back and he raised up slightly, but his eyes were fluttering as his head popped up over the canvas. I quickly gathered my pencils and sat back down adjusting my own bulge.
I soon took a chance and stood and walked over to him and asked how his project was going, it was an acrylic painting and it was oh so good. As I stood there admiring it and complimenting him, when I saw it, globs and a small puddle of white creamy liquid, there on the table amongst all the dried paint drips. Then I became even more daring and asked what the heck that was? He paused for a moment and said it’s the gesso clear coat that he must have spilled. I giggled a bit inside, as I glanced around at all the supplies around his project, and not one jar of gesso was to be found. I walked back to my table as he tore off some paper towel and wiped it up, soon the final bell rang as he stood I noticed his tight jeans with a small wet spot at the bulge, as he grabbed his books, put his project on the shelf tossed that paper towel in the trashcan and headed out the door. I soon did the same but I stopped and picked up that paper towel and stuffed it in my pocket, I felt some wet on the palm of my hand as I sniffed my palm and walked out the door.
I rushed home quickly and up to my room and freed my willy, I unfolded that cum covered paper towel, it was all pretty much absorbed by now but still very damp as I sniffed, touched and tried tasting some, before I knew it I was jerking away, spurting out a cum storm of my own, I used that same paper towel, mixing our seeds, and kept it under my pillow for the next few days that kept me going and excited. We continued in gym classes and I kept sneaking looks but never was as lucky as that art class. I often wondered if I’d have the nerve to jerk off to completion, in the back of that classroom of 25 or so students.
Note: this story was based on a reader’s suggestion who requested a story based on voyeurism, Don, I hope I did you well.