Two years of rugby practice, two years of James not quite admitting to himself why he kept watching Anders’ legs in training shorts. It took one muddy Friday, a changing room full of locker talk, and a coach who told everyone to hurry up for James to, finally, follow him somewhere private.
Neither of them planned on getting interrupted twice.
James withdraws, startled. Anders coughs, his face red and his eyes streaming. Panting, he spits out a huge glob. Clearing room in his mouth. He wipes his face with his hands and looks at his mate. Grinning. The dim fading afternoon light casts James in shadow; his huge cock hangs out, dripping.
The bathroom door flies open, hitting the wall with a heavy THWACK.
Someone enters. The lights flick on.
Anders, undeterred, leans forwards towards the shadow and reaches once more for the dick that has been down his throat only moments ago.
‘What was that?’ James whispers, holding his breath.
‘Don’t worry about it, ’ Anders responds, tugging playfully on James. His hand now clamped on the thick shaft, waving in front of him.
James pulls away slightly. Covered in a mixture of spit and precum, his dick stands rock hard, gleaming and throbbing in the new yellow fluorescent light, bobbing in time with his panicked breathing. The smell of the day’s piss, the musk from his balls, Anders wants more. He looks hungrily at his mate and tries to get his attention by pawing at his thighs.
Placing one firm hand on his forehead, James holds him off, twisting around awkwardly while simultaneously fiddling with the stall lock to ensure it had not come loose. A rustle echoes at the other end of the bathroom, a grunt of relief, then the sound of piss hitting the porcelain. After a few lengthy moments and a welcome zip-sound, footsteps recede, and the room is empty again, save for the two of them, hidden in that end stall.
Satisfied the door was locked - and that there are no eavesdroppers - James sighs in relief, turns back around, and makes for Anders’ face once again. The lights, still on, flicker above and Anders looks up. Grabbing his head, James playfully smacks his cock against his cheek. Teasing him back. He knows he wants it. They both want it.
Anders smiles and accepts, aligning James with his mouth. Closing his eyes, he holds his breath, and the thick shaft slides back down his throat. Pushing forwards hard, Anders nuzzles his nose and forehead into James' fur while rubbing the other end of him into the back of his throat.
Releasing another deep sigh of relief and contentment, James leans back into the stall door and begins to play with his nipples again. He couldn’t get enough of twisting them while he was being blown. Anders gets back to work. His nostrils flare as he adjusts his breathing. Eyes closed, focused, he resumes, rhythmically, back and forth. With one hand, he follows his lips, sliding his grip up and down James’ shaft. Caressing him. His spare hand wanders upwards.
His reaching hand travels over James’ tight belly, through his fuzz and up towards the base of his chest. This guy has a great set of tits. James groans, relaxed, his eyes now closed, and his head tilted back, resting on the door.
James notices his balls are beginning to tingle. He abandons his nipples and holds onto Anders’ wide shoulders. Feeling those muscles at work makes his dick pulse; almost immediately, Anders responds, sucking harder and moaning with his mouth full.
After two years in university, they have shared many classes, but Anders had no idea James was gay. James had no idea that he was gay; he just knew that he had become curious about the tall athletic blonde guy in his class. Though at the time he hadn't understood why.
Despite that, James invited Anders to join the University rugby team with him. Anders didn’t really have any idea of what he was doing each Friday at 4pm, but James had convinced him he was the right man to join the team. Anders knew he was interested in James, so he just went along with it. Both of them had something to gain.
Anders stands about 6’ tall or 6’2” if he wears his boots. Growing up a ‘sporty’ outdoor boy had gifted him with huge calves, thick thighs and a big round ass. This is what had caught James' attention first - thick thighs.
‘I’d give my right nut to get my hands on his legs, ’ James would regularly muse whenever he saw Anders in his shorts.
Anders was built thicker than James, which had aroused some envy, both in his big frame and in the confidence he carried with him. Anders was out. He was unashamed and actually a popular figure within the university.
Rugby practice that evening had been surprisingly muddy despite the summer heat. The heavy rainfall the night before turned the pitch into a quagmire and thus necessitated longer showering time for the whole squad. That mud got everywhere. This was one element of the game Anders really enjoys: the changing room.
They had showered together previously after practice, with the team, but today was different. The game had been both muddy and uncomfortably hot. Summer heat had all the boys feeling frisky, and conversation had turned to cock talk in the changing room: who had fucked which girl, how many times, how big her tits were, or how good her pussy was. Both James and Anders, separately, had noticed one or more of their ‘livelier’ companions were sporting semi’s and/or occasionally casually playing with their tackle.
This continued to the shower room. 15 guys, varying builds, different levels of hirsute and mostly thick, all of them now crammed into a steamy bathroom. The air hung with the smell of sweaty cock and balls.
Coach Davidson stepped into the changing area. A middle-aged man built like a gorilla and twice as hairy. He was carrying a copy of some nondescript sports magazine. His shorts hugged everything tight.
‘30 minutes, guys, ’ he asserted without looking up from his magazine ‘It’s Friday night, and I don’t want any messing, thanks.’ Any lingering members of the squad made their way into the foam while coach wandered off, his gaze on his rag unbroken.
Anders skipped out of showering, seemingly following Mr Davidson as he left the room, and without being noticed by anyone else. Except James. Who’s curiosity led him to follow.
Focussed, Anders is now squatting down on the floor, his feet planted either side of him, hands clamped on James’ waist. Anders can feel his hole gaping slightly, puckering in the stifling hot piss-air. The bathroom was close and heavy. His position shifted from the toilet bowl, his stance more animal-like. Ready. Primal. His own fat pale cock hangs downwards, its juicy head occasionally tapping on the tiled floor, at which point he tenses his muscles to make it bounce, creating a clear string between the two.
He pulls on his own balls firmly. A tug of war between his hand and his cock begins; all the time he keeps his rhythm on James. Back and forth. Long and slow. Every so often, James thrusts his hips forwards, motioning his enjoyment and that he wants to fuck Anders.
Recognising this, leaving his balls alone, Anders begins playing with his own hole. Using his stringy precum to gently rub his hungry lips while James fills his mouth. He wants it, both ends, but not today. Picking up his pace, he wants to suck his mate dry.
At this angle, James towers above him. His shirt is up over his head and tucked behind his neck, exposing his amazing torso. His shorts and jock are now cast aside. The light from above throws his face into shadow and distorts his shape. James’ physique was slimmer than Anders but muscular, toned, with cracking cum gutters and great pecs, all coated in fur…
Cock in mouth, Anders looks up at James, who looks back with a determined smile on his face. Being completely into Anders, he was feeling his fantasy. Literally.
His only other fantasy being Coach Davidson…
When he entered, James found the bathroom was empty. Slowly he made his way along the stalls, confused, sexually frustrated, awkwardly readjusting himself, semi-hard under his shorts. The room was hot after a whole summer day with the windows closed. The back of his neck was wet with nerves. What am I doing?
‘James?’ A soft, deep voice broke the thick silence.
He froze. Had he just imagined his name being called?
‘James…’ The end stall repeated.
Tentatively, he made his way forwards, his footsteps preceding him, echoing off the pale blue tiles and towards the beckoning stall. He paused and took a moment before peering around the Formica door frame.
Anders is sitting on the bowl in just his jock strap, socks and trainers. Still un-showered, his legs, forearms and face streaked with mud. Both legs spread, and his big cock pulled out, stood up, ready, waiting. His blonde hair damp with summer sweat.
James stands, just looking, rooted to the spot. Part of him is running back out of the bathroom door in fear; the other part enters the stall.
Anders looks right at him; he leans back, relaxed against the cistern and begins stroking himself, unashamed. Precum glistened on his shaft as his hand slicked up and down it. His balls look full. Tight. Ready.
James hesitates, takes a breath, then steps in, shutting the door behind him.
With the door closed, Anders goes straight for his shorts, pulling both them and his jock down. Zero reluctance now, James steadied himself on Anders’ shoulder while he stepped out of his sports kit and then kicked it aside. His cock now out, semi-hard and on full show. The fresh man-smell filling the air around it and teasing Anders’ senses.
Anders grabs his waist. James' hard, hairy ass cheeks tense as he cements his position, beckons his mate towards his cock, and excitedly starts to grow. Anders takes control.
Coach Davidson is a man in his mid 40’s, and sculpted like marble. Nicknamed the Iron Bull, he is not someone to be messed with, intimidating, with an alpha-masculine aura about him. Primal almost. Shorter than most students but twice as wide. Coach clearly trained, and often, filling every aspect of his sports kit.
His main sport being rugby, he had a solid frame with big shoulders and traps. You would be forgiven for forgetting he had a neck. His ears were cauliflower from years of rugby practice and his limbs thick. His hands were impressively large and he was covered in dark hair all over.
Occasional chatter amongst students continued the rumours that he had affairs with other members of staff, students, and parents, but it was just cheap gossip. As a man twice-divorced and with no kids, he kept himself to himself. He’d never be seen anywhere other than his office, the playing fields or the gym, and sometimes an obligatory staff meeting.
Despite his attraction to Anders, his mind wanders back to Coach Davidson; James starts to imagine his thick, hairy hands soaping himself up in his private shower. Coach has unreasonably large hands. This fantasy wasn't difficult to picture; James had walked into his office several times before and caught him in the shower. Coach wasn't shy, and didn't care if he got caught.
James’ balls and shaft began to tingle. Anders was still going. Back and forth. James squeezed his muscles and tensed his cock. Anders felt that pulse. Responding accordingly.
James continued his thoughts of Coach Davidson, those swollen hairy calves, wide thighs and fat solid ass cheeks topped with a small matt of hair in the divet of his lower back. He wondered what his cock looked like.
Anders moaned, bringing James’ mind and senses back into the stall; he is beginning to build, his balls starting to ache with excitement. He can feel James is also getting close too, as every so often he trembles and jolts with excitement. He keeps the rhythm going and the pace steady. He tenses his cock, intentionally pulsing it in Anders’ mouth.
‘MMMMMMMM’ Anders agreed
‘Fuck… Yeah…’
James wants to cum. He pictures the coach again, holding onto Anders’ shoulders. Getting into the swing and making fucking motions. Imagine this was Coach, his boulder-like shoulders covered in hair. His moustache wet with sweat and his lips locked around his cock. Another pulse.
Anders has waited ages for this but can't contain himself much longer. He wants his mate’s cum in his mouth and wants to empty his balls at the same time.
Anders agreed to go out tonight. There’s a new night in town. He isn't new to nightclubs; he’s been to plenty, even when he was underage. But not this kind of club night. He is very new to this scene.
One of his mates, Joe, a regular at some of these kinds of nights, convinced Anders that now is the perfect time for him to start frequenting them. The quality of guys who go to these types of events is apparently ‘way different’, or so he has espoused. Plus, it’d be fun.
The dress code is leather & kink. Anders owns nothing like that but is reliably informed by Joe that he could wear a vest and jeans, then simply take his top off. Given his build, nobody will mind, and he might even get some attention out of it.
They were meeting at 8 pm.
James is ready. He has fantasised hard about Coach and cannot contain himself much longer. He looks at Anders and can see he is playing with his own dick. The feeling starts to come over him. His body is tingling.
‘UHHHHHHHHH I’m gonna cum’
Anders continues to blow him. Excitedly watching, waiting, as James begins to squirm. Tightening his grip with his mouth and picking up the pace further.
‘UHHHHHHH’
‘UHHHH’
‘HNNNNN I’m gonna…’
At that moment James explodes. He grabs Anders with both hands and thrusts his cock right to the back of his throat. His balls empty several thick hot jets into Anders’ mouth.
FUUUUUUUUUCK YEAH UGGGH!!
THWACK! The door goes again. James pulls out immediately. Cum spills out of Anders mouth, and a stringy trail is left between James’ cock and his lips. James looks back at him, trying to calm his breathing. Anders swallows and forgets about his own needs, despite being so close.
Someone is in the bathroom shuffling about. James' heart nearly stopped.
The Shuffling noises draw nearer. Moving about, here and there, in the bathroom. Edging closer to the end stall.
Shuffle. Shuffle.
Closer.
Now holding his breath, James freezes, his cock slowly deflating but continuing to ooze; he looks at Anders with a terrified look on his face.
Anders smiles. Unbothered.
CLUNK. Sounds like something had been put down onto a hard surface. Several hushed moments went by. Running water. RATTLE. CLANK. Picked up again.
Shuffle. Shuffle.
More movement, though this time, receding towards the exit. THWACK. That was close.
The lights go out. As if on cue, James hurriedly puts his shorts on, no word to Anders, and he quickly exits the stall. Making haste towards the bathroom door and the corridor beyond.
Anders raises himself off the floor and sits down once more on the porcelain bowl. The door left half open with James' departure. His cock still rock hard and wet with precum. He strokes it slowly, rubbing his sweaty chest with his free hand. Thinking about that encounter and what else they could have got up to, but quickly gives up as his attention turns to the time of day. Hurriedly, he leaves the bathroom and makes his way towards the changing room & showers. Damn, I need to cum. Why did he take off like that?
James reaches his car. Rattled by the abrupt end to the encounter. Again, he pictures Anders in that stall. This image is now burned into his imagination. He throws his bag onto the back seat and sits, looking out over the steering wheel, contemplating. What would have happened if they were not disturbed? He wants to do that again, perhaps in a different setting, maybe the same. That was hot.
It crosses his mind that he ran out on Anders. He has no way of contacting him as they had never swapped phone numbers. He would have to search him out on Facebook. Wait. What is his surname? He opened his phone and just searched his name. Sure enough, there he is, Anders Lund; his profile photo is (naturally) a topless shot on the beach. James' mind flashes back to the bathroom stall again. He hits ‘add friend’. A shiver of momentary nerves shoots down his spine.
Fumbling with his keys, he starts the engine. Tick tick tick rumble. The engine starts up. The nerves subside. Smiling to himself, James sets off.
Long emptied of his teammates physically, their smell lingered in a dissipating cloud of cheap ‘cool wave’ deodorant, shower piss and the wet and musty towels which are now strewn about the floor or festooned upon the bathroom furniture.
Anders undresses slowly, contemplating James. Holding his tackle with one hand, he enters the shower area, turns on the nearest tap and waits for the water to heat up. Gently fondling his cock, it is still wet with precum. Nope, I gotta cum.
Hot water running over his shoulders, streams split between his back and his front, Anders takes the soap from its shelf and starts to rub himself slowly. Progressing down to his cock he relives his time with James. Stroking out his length and letting it drop back down. Feeling his balls and tugging them. He is slowly getting hard. The veins in his cock become visible as his pink-purple head fattens up as his white foreskin pulls back to reveal it.
One hand on his cock, he employs the other to rub soap across his tits, stomach and thighs. He grips his bellend and works it like he was chalking a pool cue. That familiar tingle runs down his cock and into his groin. His balls tighten.
With long and steady strokes, he milks his huge cock. The head pulsing and shower water pouring off it. In his mind, he pictures looking up at James earlier. That physique. He thought of all the things he would like to do with him, given the chance. It takes very little time for him to start building. He allows his imagination to continue.
Cock now rock hard his head is swollen, oozing precum into the soapy mix. He speeds up, balls bouncing around as he moves his hand firmly back and forth. In preparation, he leans back against the wall, pushing his hips out and squatting slightly to tense up his legs and groin. Faster. Firmer.
Changing his grip, he includes his helmet in the strokes, that feeling growing stronger, the familiar tingle coursing through his junk. Holding the base of his shaft tight. He sped up some more. Nearly there. He pushed his hips further, now out of the water and uninterrupted, getting himself ready to fire. His breathing quickened.
He started to shudder, right on the edge. The feeling grows stronger until finally he jerks heavily and fires out everything he has available. Thick spurts of white liquid jumped upwards out of him; he hit the wall in front 1, 2, 3. Pulling his cock back towards him, it continues as he fires back onto himself, 4, 5, 6, 7, now dripping down his tits and belly.
Finally satisfied, he slows his breathing, stands straight and chuckles to himself, admiring the mess he’s made. Slowly rubbing it over himself, he casually gives his hand a lick. Sweet and salty. Throwing his towel over his shoulder, he scoops up his sodden sports kit, and confidently walks over to his gym bag. The shower slows to drip, echoing in the silence. He whistles as if to replace the sound of the shower.
Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow. Is that someone in the doorway? Can’t be. He discounts that as his mind playing tricks on him.
8:15 pm. The sun is still heavily present in the dusky pink sky. Joe’s waiting at the bus stop. This heat. Despite showering, his skin feels tacky and whatever cologne he has applied is slowly being taken over by his developing body odour. In his mind, he is playing ‘Smash or Pass’. His imagination had bedded several of the guys in shorts who had passed him by, including one particular hunky guy, walking about topless, in grey cotton shorts. Looking at his watch, he realises that Anders is running late. Didn’t we say 8 pm? He takes a last drag on his cigarette before tossing the butt.
With a rattle, the Number 4 grinds to a halt. The doors lazily open with a long squeak and two clammy pensioners disembark, one fighting her trolley down to the curb. Where is he??
‘Sorry! Sorry!’ A Flustered Anders shouts, red in the face, hastily trying to close the 800 meters between them.
‘About fucking time, where’ve you been?’
Smiling ‘I’ll tell you on the way’
Anders sprang through the waiting doors, flashed his pass at the driver, and almost appeared to skip to the back of the vehicle.
This better be good.
James ran. Anders didn’t chase him - he just went and found Joe, because the night was only getting started. Joe had been waiting impatiently at the bus stop.
Until next time,
— Magnus
A few questions for the people actually inside Steel Valley. Two minutes, nothing personal — your answers shape what I build next.