The handball match had been tough, but Jeremy’s team had come out on top. As usual, they celebrated the win properly—with cold beers at the small gym bar.
The mood was light, filled with post-game jokes and drinks flowing one after another. As with every victory, tradition dictated that the guys drink “to hydrate for the next match,” as Jeff always joked.
An hour later, slightly flushed from the alcohol and still sweaty, Jeremy and three of his teammates made their way back to the locker room.
There was Xavier, 29, tall, blond, always wearing shorts that were a bit too short and with a smooth, almost hairless chest. He was nearly hairless everywhere—except for below, where he kept things trimmed.
Then Seb, 35, the rugged, red-bearded lumberjack type—hairy from chest to waist, the kind of guy who got damp down there after every match. He was proud of his body hair and didn’t hesitate to show it off. According to him, he hadn’t shaved or trimmed in nearly ten years.
Finally, there was Jeff, the oldest at 52, still solid, with a round beer belly, salt-and-pepper hair, a thick patch of chest hair, and a lower area he only bothered to groom when he remembered.
Back in the locker room, Jeremy opened his locker, grabbed his towel, and caught a glimpse of his teammates already stripping down, practically dancing in place.
— “I’m heading into the showers! Just so you know—I’m letting it all out once I’m in there!” Jeremy called out with a grin, his shorts already halfway down.
— “Go ahead, we’re right behind you. I seriously gotta go or I’m gonna wet myself!” Seb replied, bouncing slightly on his feet, shirtless, his abs glistening with sweat, shorts ready to fall.
Jeremy rushed into the showers. He had barely turned the water on before letting go with a long, pale stream that echoed against the tiled floor.
Seb followed close behind, moving quickly, his body relaxed and swaying with each step.
— “Damn, I REALLY had to go…” he muttered, taking position next to Jeremy. He didn’t wait long before a stream hit the floor around his feet, clearly overdue.
Xavier came in next, more composed—but the moment his foot touched the shower tiles, he let out a surprised breath as some of the pressure escaped him on its own.
— “I had to release a bit—way too much pressure!” he laughed, lining up with the others, already looking more relaxed.
Then came Jeff, marching in with flushed cheeks and a goofy grin.
— “Pee, pee, pee…”
he mumbled under his breath, and the moment he stepped into the showers, a clean, steady stream shot out, splashing against the tiles. His stride made it bounce slightly, prompting loud laughter from the others.
— “Well damn, Jeff—you didn’t waste any time!” Seb joked, cracking up.
— “At my age, guys, holding it in isn’t part of the plan anymore!”
They stood in a loose square under the hot water, all four letting go at the same time. The sound was like a full-blown fountain—steady streams hitting the floor, mixed with sighs of relief and knowing glances.
— “We’ve got ourselves a full-on team fountain here, boys,”
Jeremy said, cracking up.
Seb, true to form, gave himself a little shake, playfully spraying the legs of the guys next to him. Then he pointed downward and redirected the stream onto his own chest, sticking out his tongue like he was trying to taste it.
The others didn’t even flinch—they all knew Seb’s weird habits by now.
— “Again, Seb? You’re hopeless, man!”
They kept going for well over a minute, unloading what felt like liters of beer into the steamy mix of water and post-game sweat.
The smell, the heat, the energy—everything radiated raw masculinity and brotherhood.
When the streams finally slowed, the four men stayed there for a moment, then grabbed soap and started scrubbing—helping each other out without a word.
— “Honestly… there’s no better way to end a win,” Jeff muttered, satisfied.
Jeremy nodded, a glint in his eye.
— “Yeah.
Third half: mission accomplished.”
A story from my telegram canal where I post piss stories (you can find it by searching them) :
-histoiresdepisse
-pissstories
