Wrestling Team Showers – Chapter 2

Everyone is 18.

Chapter 2: Jake

Jake hit me up on Snap that night. Said he got my @ from another guy on the team. The notification buzzed on my phone, and for a second, I just stared at the screen, my heart doing this weird little double take. I hadn’t expected to hear from him—not like that. The sound of my phone vibrating felt louder than it should have, like it was echoing through my quiet room. 

Jake: Congrats on your first day. You surviving?

I took a second before replying, trying to sound cooler than I felt. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, and I typed. 

Me: Barely. My legs feel like Jello.

He sent a laughing emoji and a photo of his protein shake with the caption: "Recovery mode". The photo was casual, almost too casual, like he hadn’t even thought about it. The shake was in one of those fancy shaker bottles, the kind athletes swear by, and he’d snapped it in what looked like his kitchen. There was a plant in the background, something green and thriving, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he took care of it himself. 

I was definitely overthinking things.

That kicked off a kind of conversation I hadn’t had in a long time. We talked about everything—school, family, what got us into wrestling. He told me about his older brother who used to coach him, and how things got messy between them after he graduated. He didn’t get into details, but I could tell it still weighed on him. His messages had this raw honesty to them, like he wasn’t trying to portray any kind of facade to me, just letting me in. I told him about my hometown, how small it felt, how I used to imagine a new school would be this massive restart button. He got it. Said he felt the same way once. Said he’d made a lot of dumb choices early on and was still figuring it all out.

It felt weirdly easy to talk to him. Like we’d skipped the awkward parts of getting to know each other and went straight to the real stuff. At some point, he sent, "You got potential, man. On the mat and off it. Let me know if you wanna train extra. I can show you some stuff." I stared at the screen for way too long before typing, "Yeah, I’d like that." And I meant it. Even if I didn’t know exactly what I was getting into.

The next morning at school, I saw Jake at his locker. There were two girls holding books at their chests talking to him. His looks made even the prettiest girls nervous, but his charisma quickly put anyone at ease. He was the epitome of man—broad shoulders, defined jawline, and that easy smile that made you feel like you were in on some secret. He spotted me noticing him and gave me a quick wink while he carried on talking to them. I walked by, an unfamiliar positive feeling in my stomach as I replayed the wink in my head. I saw him whisper something in the ear of the pretty girl talking to him, and felt another feeling in my stomach, something sharper, less pleasant. That couldn’t be… jealousy?

Later, during class, my phone buzzed again. A snap from Jake: "You free at lunch?" 

I opened it immediately under my desk, my eyes darting to the teacher to make sure I wasn’t caught. 

My fingers fumbled over the keyboard as I typed, "Yeah, whassup?" Should I have spelled it like that? I look like a dork.

Jake’s reply came fast: "I was gonna lift if you wanna join." 

I typed back, "Tight sg." I am killing this, I thought to myself, but my confidence wavered with every moment of overthinking. 

A moment later, realization hit me. What if I get another boner? Is he gonna be as cool about it happening a second time? Why did I enjoy that so much yesterday? Why can’t I stop thinking about him? Do all guys do this? My mind was racing. I practiced calm thoughts. This is just what happens in team sports, I told myself.

I met him at lunch and he led me to the weight room. The clank of metal and the hum of chatter filled the space, but it didn’t feel overwhelming. It smelled of sweat and male energy, and it felt alive. Jake started with bench presses, and he asked me to spot him. Our crotches approached each other’s faces a lot while we were doing it, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks every time. The other guys filtered out, and soon it was just Jake and me working the weights.

Being alone with him again gave me another nervous tension in my pants. I expertly hid my boner in my waistband, but the head of it popped up when my shirt rode up. I was hoping he wouldn’t notice. When I sat down on the bench for another set, though, there was an undeniable tent at my crotch and waistband. I literally felt my ears get hot, but I had to pretend it wasn’t there.

"Looks like you’ve got the same problem as yesterday," he said, his tone light but teasing. I felt my face burn with redness. 

"Guess I’m not as good at hiding it as I thought," I admitted, my voice wavering between a whisper and a squeak.

He moved over me on the bench, his expansive bulge an inch from my face. I could smell the faint trace of his crotch mixed with sweat, and it was making me lose my train of thought. 

"Maybe we can fix it like we did yesterday," he said, his smile a mix between a smirk and a joke. His words were casual, but his eyes we focused on me.

"You…" I stammered, "you did that on purpose yesterday?" He laughed quietly, and I felt my guts stirring. 

"Of course, bro." 

I blinked, trying to process what he was saying. "I didn’t know… my ass would… that—" 

He cut me off with a grin. "Gotta milk it every day or you get ball cancer." 

My eyes widened. "Is that true?" 

He shrugged, still grinning. "The fuck would I know?" 

And just like that, we were both laughing, the tension breaking like a wave. I sat up, still chuckling, and my eyes followed his body upward. He looked down at me over his muscled chest, his bulge nearing my face, growing.

"I think," I started, pausing, "you’ve got the same problem as me… actually."

 He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "Maybe you could, like, pay me back?" 

I felt my face twist into a contorted smile. I was overcome with curiosity, joy, and a rush of dopamine flooding my brain with the word yes, Yes, YES on repeat. 

"Yeah," I quietly muttered, “I… could.” 

My eyes drifted down to his package hidden beneath shiny, green gym shorts.

He slowly tucked his thumbs into his waistband and pulled them lower. His pubes started to show, and I couldn’t help but stare. I never saw them dry yesterday. I noted an aesthetic bounce to them, like he used conditioner down there. He kept his shorts moving downward, revealing the top of a thick shaft. Now that it had some blood flow, it was even more intimidating than before. The aesthetic shock of the impending reveal of a perfect dick this close made me feel like I was going to pass out. When he got a few inches down his shaft, I saw some thick veins start to appear, and I could even see the shaft throbbing. He was rapidly gaining firmness as he slowly revealed his monster to me. He pulled his shorts forward to accommodate the large, hard pole as he pulled it down further. 

Suddenly, a cock that was literally thicker than my arm, and longer than a water bottle sprang up, almost smacking me in the face. It fell back down, as if in slow motion, and pointed directly at me. The head of his cock was the size of a kiwi fruit, and his balls were larger than eggs. 

He put a hand on my head, snapping me out of my daze. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to do, until he gently pulled my head to his cock, and I opened up, and licked it. The salty flavor of his pre-cum made me grateful for life itself. I felt intoxicated, like something was different. He said nothing as he let me explore him, making out with the head of it. He ran his hands through my hair and let out a long exhale when I held his shaft in my hands and tried to stuff him into my mouth. The thickness stretched my lips, and I looked up at him for to gauge his reaction. 

He shot me half a smirk. “Not bad, freshie.”

He proceeded to guide me on how to give a good blowjob, telling me about teeth and suction and rolling my tongue. His cock was thick, veiny, and warm as I took him deeper into my mouth. 

He held my head in both hands, his fingers threading through my hair more insistently as he whispered, "You’re doing great. Just like that." 

I kept looking up at him, my eyes meeting his, and the increasing intensity of his gaze made my stomach flutter, as I pushed him deeper into my mouth with each bob of my head. My jaw ached, and tears came down my face, but I was still in control of his cock. When I got him to start moaning under his breath, it was like I was winning at some game I had never played before. All I wanted was to accomplish whatever I was attempting. 

Apparently ready to mix things up, he pulled me up, turned me around and pushed me onto all fours on the bench. 

"Your turn.”

He pulled my shorts down half way and quickly buried his face between my cheeks, making me flinch and squirm, before he stuck his tongue in my hole and made me melt. I flashed back to the day before, to the way his thumbs expertly found every pleasurable spot inside me. His tongue was just as adept at making all my problems seem far away.

He grabbed both my cheeks, and ate me out with a fervor that left me breathless. I started to drop a long string of pre-cum down to the workout bench, making a puddle under my throbbing dick. 

I was starting to think I might be able to cum just from his tongue in my ass, when he changed things up again.

"Now you," he said, flipping me around and lying on his back. He lifted his legs to show me his muscular, gorgeous ass, and his cheeks fell apart to reveal a little, pink hole in the middle, his most tender area. I hesitated for a moment, unsure what I was meant to do, before leaning down, motivated to return the favor. 

When I licked him like an ice cream, he tasted salty and musky, but in a way that was oddly addictive. 

“Spell the ABCs,” he said, almost whimpering. For the first time I felt like I had him in the palm of my hand.

“Do what?” I said, raising my head over his large balls to meet his eye contact.

“With your tongue,” he sighed, resting his head back on the bench, “spell out the ABCs.”

I squinted curiously, trying to figure out how that would work, then went for it. I pushed my tongue into him and wrote the ABCs on his hole with my tongue. I realized I was doing it right when he moaned on the J, and by W he was leaning hard into my face. I repeated the alphabet until the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. I looked up at him, and he didn’t move, so I ignored it. We were too wrapped up in each other, our bodies moving in sync as I explored every inch of his guts that I could reach.

Over the next period, instead of going to class, we moved around from the bench press, to the floor, to the exercise balls, to the gymnast blocks. He sat on my face, his ass pressing down on me as I licked and sucked between sucking in deep breaths. He flipped me up into difficult positions, like when I was upside down, my legs wrapped around his shoulders as he gobbled my hole while burying his cock in my throat. When he took control, my throat could take a much harder pounding than when I was running things. At one point, I think I was drowning on my own throat juices and simultaneously choking on his cock. I had never been so happy to not have oxygen, while I watched his balls slap against my face with his cock deep inside my throat. I was being penetrated by a work of art, and the coolest guy I had ever met. 

He got himself so worked up, he lifted me upright in mid-air and held me, our bodies pressed tightly together. My back arched, and I could feel the tension building in my core. His ample cock probed against my hole, and I knew where this was naturally heading. I looked him in the eye, my face in a daze, wanting more but unable to express what I even wanted. 

He brought my head to his, and whispered in my ear, "Do you want to?" His voice was soft but full of need. The weight of the situation hit me like a freight train.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice trembling. He didn’t hesitate and started to gently lower my body onto him and press inward. His cock, slimy with my throat juices, probed my ass which was wet with his saliva. He guided it with a precision that made me gasp. He was so good at this, whatever this was. Every movement appeared calculated to maximize my pleasure. I couldn’t believe how right it felt, how natural, as he gently pushed and pulled, holding my body in his strong arms, barely letting the tip of his cock just barely start to gently stretch me open. For a long time, he held me there, my legs wrapped around him, while he slowly poked his gargantuan hog at my virgin hole.

I was losing my virginity in mid-air.

My legs stuck out obscenely behind him while my arms held him tight against me, my own throbbing boner resting on his abs. I was so small compared to him, and it felt like a warm personification of pure safety was turning me into a man. He gently plied my hole until I was loose enough to take him in, an inch at a time. My hole clenched down every time he pushed in further, and the sensations startled me every time he reached a new limit. My guts were being rearranged until, at a certain, precise point, it hit me. The button. The place he had found with his thumb yesterday. It felt even better when I was stretched out to maximum by a heaving cock salami. My mind went numb as my slimy pre-cum and spit-covered dick rubbed against his sweaty abs. The tingles ran from my ass up through my spine. It was like I was on a drug, and my lungs and throat worked in tandem to produce the strangest sounds. I couldn't even control them, I just heaved and squeaked while he morphed me into the perfect sex toy. I held him tight, my head on his shoulder, and pulled him into me while he gently thrust against my body, light slapping sounds echoing distantly in my ears while my body turned into a drum being played by the expert musician in front of me.

His rhythm was steady but relentless, each thrust jolting me in pleasure. I could feel every vein, every curve of him as he moved inside me, and it was overwhelming in the best way. My hands gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into his tense muscles as I tried to ground myself. His breath was hot against my neck, his whispers a mix of encouragement and praise. 

You’re so tight… You’re doing so good… Just let go. His words were like a mantra, pushing me closer to the edge. My cock was getting an intense stimulation just rubbing between us.

I could feel the heat building in my core, a pressure that was both unbearable and intoxicating. My legs trembled around him, and I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer. 

"I’m gonna cuhhh–" I started, but the words caught in my throat as a wave of pleasure crashed over me. He started thrusting wildly, expertly aware that at this point nothing would hurt, rather it would feel even better to get my hole battered. My body spasmed while it was being slapped up against his, my cock throbbing into his abs as I came in thick, hot spurts that reached both our chests and necks, dripping down. I felt like I was floating, like my entire being had been reduced to pure sensation.

Jake didn’t stop, though. He kept moving, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. I could feel him twitching inside me, and then he froze, his body tensing as he came. He buried his face in my neck, his breath hot and uneven as he whispered my name. 

“Colt–”

We stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, until he gently lowered me back onto the bench. I was still catching my breath when he turned to me with a small, satisfied smile. 

“You’re a good teammate“, he said quietly, and I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the physical exertion we’d just endured. I wasn’t sure what this meant—what we meant—but for now, it was enough. It was more than enough.

When the loud, metal door down the hall slammed open, we quickly threw our nasty clothes on and headed out the door before we raised questions. My hole was killing me, but the memory it evoked made it so worth it. We realized we couldn’t shower at this time, because other people were coming in and they would know we ditched class, so we had to sneak out through a seldom used hallway. We walked in hushed silence for a minute until we were alone again.

When we got to the hallway where we had to part, to go to our respective classes, he stopped me. He grabbed my chin with his hand, magnifying the size difference between us. He looked at me in the eyes. I could smell the sweat and jizz and spit on and in our clothes. My eyes were red and my face was covered in tears and throat juices from getting battered in one hole after the next. But none of it mattered at the moment. Not to me. I waited for Jake to do whatever he was going to do, every moment with him feeling like strength.

“See you at practice,” he whispered. And, with a smile, he trotted off down the hall. All my fears were gone. I had class, practice, a great family, and I knew Jake. This town was turning out to be a good place.