OK!
Part 2:
He must have sensed my invasion because he looked at me and mockingly said, “What are you lookin’ at?”
I couldn’t exactly tell him the truth, so I stumbled, “Oh, nothin’ really… I was just wondering it… well, if you like that brief for sports… I mean, if you found it comfortable. I usually wear a jock, ya know, like most guys, so I was curious why you … um, don’t… and wear that brief instead.” Christ, what a long-winded, babbling speech, I thought. Talk about a giveaway.
He looked at me curiously. Maybe I’d triggered some “bro” moment in his head where he felt comfortable about discussing all kinds of sportswear.
He must have thought I was sincere because he replied, “Hell, I dunno. I saw it at the sporting goods store, and it looked kinda cool, and maybe more comfortable than a jock, so I bought it. Jockstraps kinda bug me sometimes. I mean, they keep your balls in place and everything but the straps are a pain in the ass.”
He paused, and it suddenly dawned on him that he’d made a pun, sort of, and he smiled: not the usual sarcastic smirk but rather a kind of sheepish, boyish, ingenuous smile, like a school athlete who’d made the kind of joke a teacher might make in a class.
“Yeah,” I replied, “I know what you mean. I guess that when you’re plowin’ through some guard or trying to shoot hoops, though, you don’t really notice the straps. At least I don’t.”
Yeah, right, I thought to myself.
“I guess,” he muttered, suddenly, perhaps, a little embarrassed to be talking about his underwear with someone he usually ignored. Still, he was less standoffish that I had realized, for he continued our conversation.
“You know, you can get a pair of these at any old sports store.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, “but I’m not gonna pay for ‘em unless I know I”ll like ‘em, and how can you know that unless you try ‘em on? I guess I’ll stick with jocks.”
Not that I mind, I added silently.
“Better you stuck on them, than them stuck on you,” he laughed.
Gee, I thought,
two jokes in one minute. Maybe he’s not the moron I thought.
“Hey,” he said, “if you’re that desperate, you can try on mine.” He had a twinkle in his eye. “But you don’t want to do that. I’m warning you, after a workout they get pretty funky.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I answered. “Same with me, but actually you’d be doin’ me a favor. Then I’d know if I wanted a brief like that.”
He paused, thinking over what he had just proposed. Then with a “what the hell” shrug, he dug his thumbs into the waistband and pushed down the brief. I caught a glimpse of a sizable cock and some hefty balls as he bent over, but he quickly tossed me the brief with a laugh and a “Here!” as he strutted off to the showers.
I was stunned. In my hand I had the sweaty jock brief of the guy I most wanted in the entire college, and he was naked—and alone—just a few feet from me, stepping under the streaming water. I held the brief in my hands for a moment. It was slightly damp and smelled like jock sweat. It was pungent and almost sweet, and, after checking to see if I was out of sight, I put it to my nose and breathed deeply. My own cock instantly started to rise, straining the pouch of my jockstrap to its limits within seconds. I heard Curt unselfconsciously singing off-key in the shower, and I took another huff at the sports brief. My cock was rock hard now, and I wanted to tug down my shorts and jockstrap and start beating my meat while pressing my idol’s sweaty sports brief into my face, but I was apprehensive about being caught. As is so often the case, I felt I had no control and I watched myself as I pulled off my shorts and strap, sat on the bench, and let my cock jut out and my balls hang down. I liked the feel of the cool wood on my low-hanging balls It felt so fucking good that I had to take a few tugs at my dick. I was so turned on by the smell of Curt’s brief, that every stroke of my hand sent torrents of spasmodic delight through my gut. But I remembered my purpose, dropped the brief from my face, and pulled it on. They felt snug, warm, damp, and they hugged my ass, cock, and balls as if I were Curt himself. I had to rearrange my erection so that it scooted up the left side of the brief. I tried to cool my feverish brain by testing how much support and comfort the brief offered, thinking
Put them on as if you worked in a briefs factory as a product quality tester. This struck me as funny, but not so funny that my hard-on went down. In fact, the idea of a guy trying on underwear all day for a living was sort of a turn-on, and my dick swelled a little more, if that were possible.
Occupied by these thoughts, I didn’t notice the water being turned off. The next thing I heard was Curt’s voice.
“Well, I guess they feel all right. I mean, if your dick’s any indication.”
I turned around, panicked, acutely aware of the throbbing hard-on so clearly outlined in the tight brief.
“Geez,” he continued, “if I’d know it was going to have this effect, I’m not sure I would have lent it to you.”
“Curt, I…I stammered. I couldn’t even get a sentence out, not just because I was embarrassed but also because I was turned on by wearing his sports gear, and by the fact that he was standing there in a skimpy towel, his awesome muscular physique proudly and yet unconsciously on display, with little droplets of shower water clinging to his torso.
“You
what??” he sneered. His tone was becoming a little nasty. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you had another reason for asking to try on my brief. I think you might just want somethin’ else.”
In a flash, he whipped off his towel, rolled it up into a “rat’s tail” with all the expertise of a jock used to flicking his buddies’ asses with his towel—and, grabbing either end of the material, looped it around my neck and drew me toward him. I was petrified.
“So,” he whispered viciously, “is there something else you want? Huh?” He pulled me closer, chest to chest. I could feel his tight pecs and his hard stomach. I could feel his rising anger and some other invisible emotional energy. Mostly, however, I could feel his cock swelling as our groins met and his hardening cock thrust its way under the pouch of the brief I was wearing. I couldn’t answer. All I could do was look away. And then I lowered my gaze and saw his meat disappearing between my legs. Vaguely, I could feel his lengthening cock curving up the cloth-covered crack of my ass. I pushed him away and looked down. His cock stood at full erection, gleaming and stiff, jutting out and slightly up, away from his toned body. It was the cock I always imagined in my fantasies: magisterial in girth, with a huge bulbous head, thick and imposing. His balls demanded my attention as well: huge globes swinging between his thighs.
I think my face told it all. My mouth was slightly open, both in awe of the cock I saw before me and in lust with the desire to do what I had never done to anyone: take a cock in my mouth. His dick must have perceived my fever as well, for it twitched slightly up and down, and his balls, though hanging marvelously low, crinkled up slightly in their sac, with every movement of his cock.
Curt still held me with his towel, though now we were at arm’s length.
“Whad’ya think, buddy?” he asked softly but no less menacingly.
That word “buddy”—the kind of casual friendship word often used by jocks in the locker room —absolutely galvanized me. Was I his buddy? Suddenly, everything in my whole world seemed to revolve around the question of whether I could be friends with this guy. I wanted to so badly I could taste it, and tasting it was exactly the one thought on my mind.
“Damn, Curt. You got a huge fuckin’ dick. It’s a fuckin’ monster.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. You probably know a thing or two about dicks, don’t you, Eric? I think you know what this one wants right now, and I bet you’re just the guy to give it to me.” He rested his heavy, thick hands on my shoulders and applied a gentle but inexorable pressure downwards. I resisted—out of habit, I suppose, since the one thing in all the world I really wanted at that moment was to take this boy’s massive meat in my virgin mouth. I started to succumb to his pressure and my legs bent slightly.
“Hey, c’mon, Curt,” I protested. “I don’t… I can’t… I’ve never done anything like this, I swear.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you’re telling the truth or shittin’ me, Eric, ‘cause I can feel what you want. I can see it in your fuckin’ face. I can feel it in your body, and I can sure as hell see it in that brief you’ve got on—MY brief—‘cause you’re leaking like a hose, man.” He let up a little on the pressure he’d been applying.
I looked down and saw a spot of pre-cum growing like an epidemic on the left front side of his brief. My dick oozed with an intensity I had never before felt in my young life. He removed one hot hand from my shoulder and placed it firmly on my dick.
“Yep, I thought so. You’re hard as the fucking Rock of Gibraltar. I know what you want.”....
