Changing in the shower room after phys. ed. is always the hardest. Will they see me looking at them? Stripping to my bare ass with 30 other university guys is as exciting as it is frightening - both a gay nightmare and a fantasy wrapped into one experience. Then comes the shower scene which requires more concentration than I have stamina for and it usually ends with me running to grab my towel before I'm given away by my body responding to what it notices all around it.
It was 11th grade high school all over again, when I found myself endlessly looking for Adam. Months earlier we had a track meet and I was writing down measurements at the long jump pit. Adam, 2 years older than I, was up next. He had those super short, black, nylon, running shorts on, and they rode up so high that my mouth was watering watching him jump up and down in the warm-up circle at the end of the long running lane to the pit. Things turned to slow motion when he began his run down the line and when I saw him jump through the air, it was everything I could do to hold myself back from falling in the centre of the sand pit and letting him jump right on top of me. His legs were lean and long and met perfectly at his crotch, which I actually leaned over to get a better look at. I saw, or maybe it was my imagination, one of his balls hanging out of the side of that net meant to hold everything in. It made for some intense jerking-off moments over the next few weeks. Needless to say, I joined lunch hour sports after that just hoping to catch a glimpse. Today it wasn't Adam, but it sure felt the same.
Settling onto the wooden benches after our class we all rummaged through gym bags searching for towels and changes of clothes. The banter was the same in our locker room as it was in every locker room around the country. "Hey Jonsey you fag, you missed an easy pass man, where the hell were you? Puttin' on your make-up?" Laughter followed and I had to join in, not wanting anyone to know what I was. I was stuck imagining what it would be like if there was only one other in the room. The one i wanted desperately . . .
Seeing him watch me, I slowly peeled off my sweat-streaked T-shirt arching my back and lingering at the top of the stretch pretending to yawn so I could hold the pose as long as possible. I threw my shirt at him and he easily grabbed it out of the air and held it to his face as he deeply inhaled my scent. Next, I moved down to the black nylon shorts I had on, running my hands sensually across the top of the elastic waist band, feeling the ripples of the material with one hand the ripples of my hardening abs with the other. They came off in a swift one move maneuver that had me standing in front of the bench. I concealed the cotton-covered goods by leaning over and running a hand down each of my legs to the top of my white socks. I threw one sock and then the other onto the tile floor in front of me, and then there was only one piece of clothing remaining. I stood up straight for the final reveal, watching him closely, seeing him lick his perfect lips as his eyes stayed trained on my middle. I grabbed the fabric at the bottom of the leg holes on my boxers and slowly pulled them down enough so they could fall to the floor under their own weight. As I stepped out of them I heard the sound of my heart pounding. I was being watched by the one I had thought about for months. The one that I "accidentally" brushed up against at my locker. The one that sits in front of me in my physiology class. The one whose hair is shaved at the back allowing me to see the curve of his neck disappearing under the collar of his shirt. The one I've dreamed about sleeping in the same shirt. Lying on his back with one leg stretched out, the other hanging over the edge of the bed almost touching the floor. He's the one whose eyes are so blue I feel like I'm in the middle of the Caribbean when he looks at me. Dancing to the steel drums with nothing on but the heat the evening and the streaks of sweat running down my chest. He sees my fantasy as if I have said it out loud. It's his turn. Keeping his eyes locked to mine he takes his shirt off slowly allowing me to see the tiny mole beside his nipple. I can't help but think that I want to run my tongue across it, slowly circling it's hardness. He keeps undressing never taking those blue eyes off of me. I can smell him, his scent flows through me. My cock starts to hurt as he reveals the body I've seen only in my dreams. The muscles on his arms and stomach are covered by a soft layer of skin with tiny blonde hair that shines from the overhead florescent lights. I need to touch him. I need to run my fingers through the small drop of sweat running down the center of his stomach. Making it's way over his abdomen and slowly sliding down past his navel. I need to hold him and press into him. I need to hold his face in my hands and kiss him with all the passion I've saved for months of watching him. I need to slide my hand over his back and down to the roundness of his …
"Hey! Move it already!"
I am pushed hard enough that the back of my knees hit the bench behind me and forced me to sit down. I'm just one of the 30 again. The one I want looks at me with annoyance as he walks to the end of the bench. My face turns red as I realize there is an unmistakable weight below my waist thankfully hidden by my still present boxers. I look at the wall again. Only seconds have passed. Soon everyone will be dressed again. I begin to think about my schedule and when I have Phys. Ed. again.