The locker room after gym class always had something... strange about it. It was stuffy, full of steam, and permeated with the smell of chlorine, sweat, and wet towels. The boys' voices echoed off the tiles, creating a cacophony of laughter, jokes, and shouts that masked the fact that they were all naked, rubbing against each other and pretending it meant nothing. I pretended too. Although deep down I knew that this place had a different meaning for me. There was something intimate about it, something I would never tell anyone.
I often stayed longer after class. I told myself it was for peace and quiet, that I didn't like crowds, but the truth was more complicated. I liked the moment when the last voices fell silent and the echoes ceased. Then I could breathe more freely... and at the same time, I felt something tense up inside me, as if I were entering forbidden territory.
That day was like any other. I came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, convinced that everyone had already left. Steam hung in the air like fog, and discarded T-shirts and damp boxer shorts lay on the benches. My footsteps echoed loudly off the tiles. The locker room seemed bigger when it was empty, and I felt a strange calm in that emptiness.
I bent down to put my shoes in my bag when suddenly I heard a quiet sound that made me freeze in mid-motion. The sound of water. At first, I thought someone was just late and taking a quick shower, but... something was wrong. The sound wasn't steady, like normal splashing. It was choppy, rhythmic. And then... breathing. Short, heavy, as if someone was sprinting, but in place.
I frowned and held my breath. For a moment, I just wanted to leave, to ignore it, but then I heard something else. Barely audible, muffled moans. Quiet, broken, full of pleasure. I felt a wave of heat rush through my body.
I hurriedly pulled on my shorts and T-shirt, as if they would protect me from what I might see there.
My heart started pounding like a hammer. I could taste the metallic tang of adrenaline in my throat. Every instinct screamed at me to turn on my heel and run, but my legs… did the exact opposite. Slowly, carefully, I began to take steps toward the showers.
The steam grew thicker with every step, and the echo of my footsteps seemed suspiciously loud, as if it could betray me. I felt as if each breath was piercing my lungs like a needle. I knew that if I looked around the corner, I would discover something I would never be able to erase from my memory. And despite my fear... I wanted to see it.
My heart was pounding so loudly that I felt it would drown out everything else. Slowly, as if in slow motion, I peeked around the corner. The steam was so thick that for a split second I could only see blurry shapes. And then the image suddenly came into focus and almost knocked the breath out of me.
Alex.
He stood under the stream of hot water, completely naked. Droplets ran down his broad, muscular shoulders, sliding over his arms and chest, where his hard nipples stood erect in the cool air. His stomach... a perfect six-pack, every muscle clearly defined, as if drawn with a sharp line. The water dripped down his body, creating wet trails to his crotch, where the sight robbed me of what little common sense I had left.
His cock was hard, thick, throbbing with blood. Alex wrapped his hand around it, moving at a rhythmic, confident pace. His movements were slow, confident, each one eliciting a low, hoarse moan of pleasure from his throat. His other arm was resting on the cold tiles, his muscles tense, veins visible under his skin.
I couldn't move. I stood there, completely paralyzed, my heart pounding in my ears, blood pulsing in my own veins. I felt like an intruder, like a thief.
And then Alex opened his eyes.
His gaze immediately fell on me. There was no surprise in it. Only something... wild. Provocative. A slow, cheeky smile appeared on his lips.
“Well, well...” His voice was calm, low, full of confidence. “You like to watch, huh?”
I couldn't answer, the air stuck in my throat.
Alex ran his thumb over the head of his cock, slowly, provocatively, without taking his eyes off me.
“Maybe next time you'll stay longer...” he said softly, almost in a whisper. “And show me how you do it.”
I don't remember exactly when I turned on my heel. I only remember the rush of blood in my ears and my body acting faster than my thoughts. I ran through the stuffy locker room, the wet tiles slipping under my feet, the echo of my footsteps resounding like gunshots. The door slammed behind me with such force that my ears hurt.
And then I heard it. One loud, drawn-out moan.
The last one. I had no doubt what had just happened, Alex had just come.
At the very thought, my body reacted strangely: desire mixed with fear, and I felt a growing tension in my shorts that I didn't want to name.
I rushed down the hallway, but I couldn't escape the image that was burned into my mind. Alex's wet body, drops of water running down his six-pack, his hand moving rhythmically over his thick, throbbing cock. And that smile. Cheeky, confident.
The words he’d spoken still echoed in my head:
“Maybe next time you’ll stay longer… and show me how you do it.”
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was dark, but all I could see was him, Alex. Every detail of his body, every sound he made as he moved his hand. I tried not to think about it, but it was pointless. My body had a will of its own, my hand moved down, stroking me through the fabric of my boxers.
I was breathing heavily, almost ashamed of how much it turned me on. A thought I didn't want to admit popped into my head: I want to see it again.
I want to see him.
My hips rose and fell to the rhythm of the memory of his moans, and when I came, a quiet moan escaped my throat. Even then, I didn't feel relief. I just felt that it wasn't enough.
I lay there motionless, sweaty, terrified of what had just happened to me.
I didn't know if I was more afraid...
...or if I was already waiting for the next time.
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
