Santa Took My Virginity – Part 6

Everyone in this story is 18+

In was the first day back on school after new year’s and Gym class was the last lesson of the day, and the volleyball game felt endless. I stood near the back, half-heartedly bumping the ball whenever it came my way, my mind miles away. Across the net, Ezra moved like he owned the court, spiking the ball with a precision that made it impossible not to watch him.

At one point, he caught me staring. I smiled, a small, hesitant gesture, but he just shrugged, his grin crooked and unreadable.

Of course he shrugged. That was Ezra—cocky, effortless, untouchable. The beauty mark, the soap scent, the attitude—it all lined up. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, replaying every detail of that night with “Santa.” It had to be him.

But then, he turned away, laughing with someone else as if I wasn’t even there.

My chest tightened, and I forced myself to focus on the ball. No point in getting lost in daydreams. Whatever had happened with “Santa”—with Ezra—was just a one-time thing. That much was clear.

The final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and Coach wasted no time saddling me and Texas Eden with clean-up duty after gym class. The volleyball net sagged in the middle of the gym, and stray balls were scattered everywhere, a chaotic reminder of how half the class never took clean-up seriously.

Coach assigned Texas to take down the net and put away the poles on one side of the gym, while I got stuck gathering the chaos near the bleachers—loose balls, cones, and a few stray water bottles someone had abandoned.

By the time I’d wrangled everything into the storage bins, Texas was already done. I watched him jog toward the locker room, his easy confidence making the task look effortless.

I sighed, grabbing the last mat and hauling it to the storage closet. My muscles ached from the endless drills, and all I wanted was a quick shower before heading home.

As I followed him into the locker room, my stomach twisted.

This is going to be awkward.

I pushed open the door to the locker room, a space as old as the gym itself—a relic from another era when privacy apparently wasn’t much of a concern. The communal showers lined one wall, their cracked tiles and rusted fixtures a sharp contrast to the sleek, private stalls I’d seen at other schools during away games.

A new gym—and with it, a modern locker room—was under construction on the far side of campus, but it wouldn’t be finished until next year. Not that I’d get to enjoy it. Graduation was only a few months away, and for now, we were stuck with this old, dingy setup.

I sighed as I stepped inside, the familiar smell of sweat and mildew hitting me like a wall. The thought of showering here was bad enough, but doing it with Texas in the room? That was a whole other level of awkward.

A couple of his buddies were already dressed, laughing as they slung their gym bags over their shoulders. One of them clapped Texas on the back, grinning.

“Sounds like New Year’s in Aspen was a blast, man,” he said. “Can’t wait to hear more about it tomorrow.”

Texas just smirked, shimmying out of his boxers as they headed for the door. The guys waved and disappeared into the hall, leaving me alone with him.

I tried not to look. Really, I did. But it was impossible to ignore the way Texas moved—like he owned the place, his body all hard angles and effortless confidence. And then there was that.

The dangling meat swayed between his legs, flanked by two huge balls that seemed to orbit it. My face burned, and I forced myself to turn away, my heart pounding like I’d been caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to.

Texas walked toward the showers, not sparing me a glance as he disappeared behind the wall of steam.

I stood there for a second, swallowing hard, before finally pulling off my clothes. My own dick hung there, slightly shriveled from the chill of the locker room air, painfully average in every way. I stared down at it, shaking my head.

“Pathetic,” I muttered under my breath, grabbing my towel and heading for the showers.

I quickly stepped into the shower, turning my back toward Texas. The lukewarm spray hit my skin, and I focused on rinsing off as fast as possible. The sooner I got out of here, the better.

The sound of water hitting the tiles echoed in the space, but then something else caught my attention. A scent. Clean, sharp, and faintly overpowering the usual mix of sweat and mildew that clung to the locker room air. It threw me off, making my stomach twist.

I couldn’t help myself—I turned.

There was Texas, standing under the next showerhead, water cascading over his tanned skin. He wore his usual smirk, looking as relaxed and cocky as ever, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He strutted confidently, completely unbothered by his own nudity, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

And then I caught another whiff. That soap.

My pulse quickened, my mind racing as I took it in. Could it be…?

And then I saw it.

There, just above his left hip, was the faint beauty mark.

Texas met my wide eyes with that same cocky smirk, his gaze steady as I tried—and failed—to compose myself.

“Sup’?” he drawled, his voice casual, like nothing was out of the ordinary.