Date: Wed, 19 Dec 2007 10:49:55 -0500
From: rbrown001@cox.net
Subject: MY FAVORITE UNDERWEAR

     That afternoon the locker room smelled of sweaty jocks and musky
groins. We were playing a team from a school across town. As I walked in,
both teams were horsing around in various stages of naked rivalry, flashing
their equipment for all to see and compare. I looked around at the
competition, seeing nothing new.

     Standing in front of my locker, I pulled off my jeans and stripped to
my underwear, a faded pair of cotton briefs with writing all over them.
They were my favorite, but I usually didn't wear them in public.  Hooking
my fingers in the snug waistband, I eased them down over my bulging crotch.

     "Hold on," I heard a voice next to me say, "I'm reading."

     Looking around, I recognized a guy I'd never seen before, but had
heard a lot about. He was a something of a legend at the other school. The
guys referred to him as Meat, a title he wore proudly and apparently
justifiably, as the huge bulge in his overloaded jock strap would seem to
indicate.

     "Sorry," he said, indicating my shorts, "It looked interesting. I was
reading it."

     I smiled, slightly embarrassed, but continuing to slide my underwear
down over my thighs, I pulled it off, allowing my thick, heavy endowment to
swell rather noticeably out into its newly-acquired freedom. Dropping all
pretenses, he stared openly at my dick as it swayed openly, his face
coloring slightly as he realized he was checking out the only real
competition he had on my team.

     "Here," I taunted him, holding my underwear in front of me, "if you
want, finish what you started."

     His eyes moving over my exposed groin, I stood, legs apart, as he
leaned over, pretending to read the printed words. I watched his dick
pushing conspicuously against the pouch of his jockstrap until, realizing
he was salivating between another boy's thighs in the locker room, he
regained his composure.

     "We'd better dress out," he said, returning to his locker.

     Both of us having made a point, we finished dressing and went
separately into the gym to join the others.
     A couple hours later, the game over, both teams ran around the track
several times before going to the showers. There were so many guys packed
into the small area we were literally butt to butt. Everyone's dick,
flushed and swollen from the rigors of the game, was pressed often against
the others' naked bodies in the chaos, sometimes even accidentally.

     Looking around the shower, I checked out a few new bodies. Everyone
did it, at least the first time they'd seen the other guy naked. I didn't
see a lot that impressed me, although some held my attention a few
moments. Glimpsing a nice body not far from mine, the full cheeks of his
butt set off by his tan lines, I moved closer, soon realizing it was Meat.

     His eye catching mine, he moved toward me until, sharing a shower
head, we scanned each other's body, inevitably comparing what we saw. His
dick was indeed very large, much larger than I'd expected, but not yet as
big as mine.

     Facing each other, both our dicks dangling side by side, he was
obviously comparing the two, not happy with what he had to admit to
himself. Soon his began to swell until it seemed we were close to a tie,
but just before it came to a draw, we left the shower area, covered by our
towels.

     Round two completed, but still no score recorded, he went into the
medicine room, probably to have his knee rewrapped. I leaned back on the
bench in front of my locker, drying my feet and remaining as naked as
possible as the crowd in the locker room thinned out. By that time he'd
returned to his locker, most of the guys were gone and the view of us from
the medicine room was blocked by a row of lockers. We had the perfect spot
for the showdown.

     Seeing him come toward me, his cock pushing out the front of his
towel, I pulled up off the bench slowly, standing in front of my locker.
Taking off our towels, we tossed them on the bench and faced each other
squarely, standing firmly, our legs spread apart.  Neither of us spoke,
only running our eyes over each other's body, but lingering in the crotch
area.

     "You got quite a dick," he observed. "Your balls are a good size too."

     We remained silent a moment longer. He looked away, seeming to be
checking out the medicine room. Then moving closer, he spoke again, this
time is voice more frustrated as he surprised me with his bluntness.

     "Are you hard or what?"

     "No," I replied, unconsciously covering myself with my hand. "This is
the way it always is."

     "I don't believe you," he said sharply. "It looks hard to me."

     "See for yourself," I said, pulling my hand away, my dick bouncing
against my thigh. "Go ahead," I challenged him, legs parted, my heavy dick
swaying intimidatingly, only inches from his hand.

     Visibly surprised at first, he hesitated, staring silently at my cock,
then at the floor, and then slowly moving back on my dick, his hand moving
visibly closer to my crotch where it stopped, just short of touching its
swollen mushroom head.

     Standing nervously in front of him, I closed my eyes, trying to
control body and appear relaxed. Then, as my heart began to pound, I felt
the warmth of his hand slide around my dick, griping it lightly at first,
then more and more firmly as his excitement seemed to grow.

     "No," he said softly and in disbelief, "it really isn't hard, is it?"
Then, looking up at me, stroking it downward from the thick base, he
marveled, "It's firm, but not really hard at all."

     I'd expected him to let go of it soon after that, but he didn't,
continuing to fondle its then showy mass as he spoke. "It's very thick and
long. How long is it?"

     Unable to contain myself, I tried to pull back a little from the
sensation of his hand, but he held it firmly. I replied, "I don't know. I
never measured it."

     Still amazed, we both stood silent for a moment longer as he moved his
body closer to mine, his hand sliding down the shaft toward the head,
squeezing it frequently but not quite stroking it.

    "The head's as big as a tennis ball," he said, moving his hand over its
then tingling mass, pressing it into the palm of his hand and rolling it
from side to side with his fingers.  I was speechless.

     Paying no attention to my reaction, he continued to fondle my swelling
shaft, breathing deeply as the sensation radiated throughout my groin, my
dick becoming harder inside his grasp.

     "I measured mine once," he said, "when it was pretty hard.  It was
something like eight inches long and almost seven and three/fourths
around. That's pretty big, but yours is enormous."

     "Yes," I replied vaguely, the whole time trying to remain calm as he
continued to work my dick against the palm of his hands, his thumb at times
stimulating the head. Seemingly fascinated, he stared at it intently. When
he spoke again, his voice was quite low, almost imperceptible, as if the
was thinking out loud.

     "It feels really good . . . hard like a muscle yet . . . so smooth and
soft on the surface.  .  . like velvet."

     I couldn't believe how openly he was enjoying it, and was concerned
where this was going. It really wasn't supposed to be happening. My dick
was then quite hard and so was his, both extending out from our bodies.  I
wanted badly to feel his dick too, but hesitated. I don't know why. I was
entitled to. He'd essentially been playing with mine for quite a while, and
I wanted the same privilege.

     Moving my hand down slowly over his thick, hard dick, I wrapped my
fingers around its thick girth, squeezing it firmly. I remember thinking
how like mine it felt, but with a difference. It was a handful, like mine,
but I could only feel it from the outside. It wasn't connected to me; that
made it the more exciting. I liked that difference and before long was
stroking it full length, fascinated by its solid firmness and sheer weight.

     He didn't react at all, except to move the side of his body against
mine, nervously rubbing the cheeks of my butt. We stayed in this position
for several moments, fondling and playing with each other's dick and then
balls as well. Neither of us spoke. The room seemed empty.

     Squeezing his cock, stroking it gently the way he was squeezing mine,
I moved my fingers over the thick, sticky beads of precum which had begun
to ooze heavily from the slit of the bulging head of his cock.

     His body jerking slightly from the sensation, he immediately began to
breathe more rapidly as I massaged the glistening beads lightly around the
head with my thumb.  Moaning audibly as he slid my hand gently off his
dick, he moved his dick firmly against mine own, rubbing the two against
one another inside his hand as stroked them both as one, as best he could.

     For me the sensation was incredible. I knew almost immediately we were
both going to cum soon if he kept that up, and I also knew that was
impossible, not there in the locker room.  Closing my eyes, determined to
hold back, I felt his lips against my neck as he asked, "Are you close?"

     "Oh, yes," I replied, "very."

      "Me too," he almost whispered.  "You want my cum?"

      I didn't know what to say, but it didn't matter. Before I could
reply, he directed me to sit down on the bench next to my locker. Then,
moving between my legs, he took his dick loosely in his hand and dragged it
lightly against my lips, obviously wanting me to suck it.

     "Go ahead," he urged.

     At first too stunned to react, I partly my lips only slightly, trying
to decide whether to do this or not. I wanted to, but not under these
conditions. Then, as I tasted the sticky emission from the stained head of
his dick, I also caught the musky scent of his thick bush. After that, I
wasn't sure where this was going, but I made a decision to go with it.

     Opening my mouth enough to feel the head of his dick slide just inside
my moist lips, I felt his body stiffen and his moans intensify as I slowly
sucked the head deeper inside the warmth of my mouth, feeling it twist
against my tongue as his body shook. I braced myself as he fucked my mouth,
until suddenly I felt his dick slide from my mouth as he stepped back, I
looked up at him in amazement.

     "Sorry," he said, wiping off the head of his dick, "but you've got the
wrong boy here.  I don't go in for this kind of thing.  I'm not gay."

     I sat there in amazement, feeling like a fool, as he calmly began to
dress. But then I got pissed. Really pissed. I'd let him manipulate me into
not only revealing myself to him, but degrading myself in the process. And
now to the rebuffed like that?  No, I wasn't going to take it.

     "You say you don't go for in for this kind of thing," I said loudly,
paying no attention to who might hear, "but you do go in for showing off
your dick to anyone who'll look at it, and you definitely enjoyed playing
with mine until yours was hard and leaking like a sieve. You're just pissed
because I've got the bigger dick."

     At first he said nothing. Then, starting to leave, he turned from the
doorway.

     "Guys expect me to let them admire me," he explained, a hint of
sarcasm in his voice. "That's the only reason I do it. Oh, you win the
competition, but I take home the only prize."

			    Robert Brown, 2007
			     rbrown001@cox.net