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Teenage Desires and Unrequited Love: A Story of Vulnerability and Self-Discovery When I was a teenager there were much fewer things to occupy my mind in a much simpler and docile world. Like my contemporaries and the countless generations that preceded us, there was quite a significant focus on the opposite sex - oh the stupidity that we would subject ourselves to in order to get laid. I had many instances of sexual encounters that were merely a melding of two bodies for instant gratification rather than two hearts for a lifetime; you might call these "one-night-stands" or "booty calls". Yes, the girls willing to take their clothes off to fulfill their unquenchable yearning for attention and self affirmation ran rampant at my high school. Well I'm married now, I have three little ones, and I've long since retired any notion of these desires to seek the company of the licentious and wild sort of girl. I love my wife and the family we have birthed, but regardless, my mind often wanders backwards into the unforgotten territories of my youth; the important memories, the painful memories - the good shit. This particular instance of which I'm about to tell of was one of those painful sort. This event in my life seeded insecurities deep within my heart that still fester today and have since affected countless sexual encounters thereafter. * * * When I was in tenth grade there was a vixen that seemed to hold some kind of telekinetic bond on me. …but everything was about to change
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Teenage Desires and Unrequited Love: A Story of Vulnerability and Self-Discovery
When I was a teenager there were much fewer things to occupy my mind in a much simpler and docile world. Like my contemporaries and the countless generations that preceded us, there was quite a significant focus on the opposite sex - oh the stupidity that we would subject ourselves to in order to get laid. I had many instances of sexual encounters that were merely a melding of two bodies for instant gratification rather than two hearts for a lifetime; you might call these "one-night-stands" or "booty calls". Yes, the girls willing to take their clothes off to fulfill their unquenchable yearning for attention and self affirmation ran rampant at my high school.
Well I'm married now, I have three little ones, and I've long since retired any notion of these desires to seek the company of the licentious and wild sort of girl. I love my wife and the family we have birthed, but regardless, my mind often wanders backwards into the unforgotten territories of my youth; the important memories, the painful memories - the good shit. This particular instance of which I'm about to tell of was one of those painful sort. This event in my life seeded insecurities deep within my heart that still fester today and have since affected countless sexual encounters thereafter.
* * *
When I was in tenth grade there was a vixen that seemed to hold some kind of telekinetic bond on me. I couldn't speak to her without stuttering, despite the fact I had spoken to other girls as if they were a male friends, and for some reason she seemed to eclipse any possible sexual fantasy I'd conjure involving a different girl. I would be masturbating, looking at pictures of magazines that displayed bodies I would seldom ever see much less even fathom touching, yet I would always climax thinking of Zahary Windling, or Zee as people tended to call her.
Now up until this point I've had a few rounds with girls and I was definitely walking the roads leading far astray from virginity. In fact, it was very safe to say that during that time in my adolescence, I considered myself quite experienced and thought quite highly of my sexual ability, and my appearance. I was a jock, through and through. I was relatively tall at six feet and I had a body that would enlarge the ego of any man: thick biceps, six pack, chiseled to the max. Couple that with natural jet black hair and blue eyes. I got what I wanted and when it came to the eve of my goals, I was confident that my desires would be fulfilled with all parties thoroughly satisfied. I remember that my second ever came so hard that she leaked milky white juices all over my cock, balls, and legs. She was even nice enough to clean it off afterwards before she collapsed.
But confidence, no matter to what degree, had no bearing on my success with Zee; mostly, because there wasn't an attempt in the first place. Yes, I was scared to approach her. This wasn't because I felt something so oddly sentimental as love, and it wasn't because of pure unbridled primal attraction. I honestly didn't know and still do not know how to describe these feelings and tendencies of doubt that surrounded this girl.
By relative standards at the time, in fact, there were scores of young girls that could hold their heads and beauty much higher than Zee. She really wasn't a babe so to speak, at least not an immediately apparent one. She was larger-framed, not fat by any means mind you, but curvier than her peers by a large margin; this meant wide hips, large breasts, and shapely legs. She was also quite tall. Picture Christina Hendricks when she was younger but not that busty, I'd say 34 or 36D; nice and big but not overtly gargantuan. Like Christina, she also had fiery red hair and a decent face. She never wore makeup but she had rosey lips and eyes reminiscent of women long past in renaissance paintings.
Now of course you might be saying, "What the fuck are you talking about man?! This girl sounds amazing!". Well yes, I agree of course, this story is principally about her and the effect she had upon me; however, you must understand that most guys and the programming they were subject to in terms of opinions of beauty did not lend favor to the unconventional abstraction that was Zee. Most guys, sadly and simply, wanted nothing more than your stick-figure esqe artificial beauties. I was different.
Now don't misunderstand my past, I did indeed sleep with the cheerleaders, the bimbos, the whole lot of empty-headed wannabe princesses with their fake tans and daddy's money- but my obsessions were fast changing. I found Zee to be the epitome of all things attractive, she was the starlet muse of ages, and she was the unobtainable holy grail of my conquest as a man. Was I in love with her? Once again, absolutely not; but I do digress, I was most certainly in love with the idea of being close to her and at that point, that was the best understanding I could muster.
She obviously stood out in terms of physical build but also her external appearance seemed to betray High School girls all together. Absent from her wardrobe were the gaudy and revealing fashions of miniskirts, fuck-me pumps, skinny jeans, backless tops, ect. ect. She wore turtle necks, long skirts with black nylons, dress heels, boots, and her ever common pair of red converse sneakers. She adorned pop-culture t-shirts of bands like The Ventures and shows like Doctor Who. Was she a geek by today's standards? Maybe. Was she a geek by those back then, no not really; she was more so the perfect combination of unnoticed and odd. Her clothes never complimented her voluptuous physique, but rather downplayed anything immediately noticeable about a woman. The fact was, most guys, especially guys that fit my stereotype, didn't seem to offer a second glance. I for one, couldn't stop starring.
Okay, enough with the pseudo-romantic visages of my nostalgic days and the girl that danced among them, it's time to get into the perspective of the sixteen-year-old version of yours truly.
I was an asshole. I won't even attempt to cover this up. I was a downright narcissistic tool of a high school guy. If a girl walked up to me and offered a cute wink or glance, it was most often met with a blank stare or ignored altogether. With my bros, I wouldn't discuss anything beyond who I was planning to fuck next or what class I was skipping to go smoke. When that wasn't going on, I was with my other bros at football practice.
I had a nice car, a 68 Chevelle SS that I inherited from my father when he died and I lived in a pretty regular neighborhood. I would often work part time jobs as a cart pusher or doing some light construction work. My life was pretty simple. When I got home at night after school / work or whatever else I was doing, I'd do things that betrayed everything you just envisioned about me.
I had every episode of Star Trek taped, I studied for my classes so I wouldn't be behind from my habitual skipping, and I would help my mom clean and make patterns for her quilting hobbies. I wasn't exactly sure at that point why I enjoyed these things, but I think it's safe to say, I never really invited my buddies over. After unwinding at home, it was back to school and back into the jeans of my pernicious teenage self.
These patterns my life followed went on for about half of my high school days, along with the ever present binge-drinking, pot smoking, and cookie-cutter teenage mischief abroad. I'd fuck girls, cum and leave it at that. I had one girlfriend, but I ended up cheating on her three weeks in and then dumping her. I was confident in my notions that my dick only existed to cum and my heart to pump blood in it.
You also must understand that in order to keep up appearances, I wasn't so friendly to those that did the things I did at home, ie. nerds. This on kid in particular, John Sachs, was probably mine and most of my guy friends' most intent target. We'd trip him, steal from him and call him terrible things like "Sweaty Sachs", "Johnny lovesem Sachs", "Shit Sach John" - very creative stuff kids. It didn't help he was also overweight and was never seen with a girl; in fact, he wasn't ever even seen being turned down by a girl. High school death was written all over this guys face.
So what was this major event that I spoke of and why was it so profound? Well, I remember the exact date the chain of events started. It was September 28th and I came to school that day as I had every day before it, and intended to go about it as such.
I pulled into the lot and parked my muscle car right up front, drawing the most possible attention but I walked away from the car lighting up a smoke, not even locking the doors or turning even the slightest glance to the many onlookers. Oh yeah, I didn't appear to care about anything but me and mine.
"Dude, motherfucker you gotta see this!" my friend Corey exclaimed excitedly as he walked up to greet me.
"What happened man?" I asked as we started walking.
"It's that kid Melvin man! He shit himself when he was walking to main hall and so he ran in the bathroom, shit trailing down his pant leg as he ran! He's in there right now trying to wipe up," Corey said as he pointed to the forward boys restroom.
There was a crowd outside the door, many of my lot and some lurking about for the show. People were shouting hurtful things into the doorway and in the brief lulls that broke the cacophony of outcry, you could her sobbing inside the bathroom. Melvin Smiley was a little guy that some believed had aspergers syndrome. To me, he was just beaten down and shy.
Corey ran towards the crowd and plunged his head into the doorway, "Fucking shitstain, come on out! We know you're in there, we can see the trail! Haha," he said, "were you trying to leave us a treasure map to faggot town with this shit?"
I laughed, fakely, but I took no amusement in this. This was just ridiculously idiotic. It was events like this that buckled that school to the level of elementary humor. I walked over to Corey as he was joining in on the bashing.
"Dude," I said, "I gotta get my ass to first practice, I need to run over some drills with those assholes."
"Ah cmon Bryce, this shit doesn't happen every day, and I mean, THIS shit! Hahahaha!" he replied.
"Haha, nah man, you take it from here," I said as I patted him on the shoulder and walked off.
I'd tell you more about Corey, but frankly, he was and always will be a complete moron and isn't worth mentioning much more in this story.
As I was walking towards the gym building, I spotted Zee across the breezeway walking to her first class. She was wearing a leather jacket with a sweater and jeans. Her red hair was up in a bun and she was wearing her thick glasses today. I watched as her long legs carried her briskly to the halls and couldn't help but keep starring at her marvelously large rack, downplayed as it was by the jacket and sweater combo. My cock twitched a bit.
As I walked into the gym, I noticed that the drills have already started. My coach waved at me, he knew that I didn't always show up on time and he didn't really care. I was such a good athlete compared to my teammates, that I was given those ever so sought after special privileges. When I came out after I changing, I ran into Becky Lowell. She was this short, spunky little blonde girl who would not leave me alone.
"Oh hey Bryce, what are you up to?" she asked.
"Well Becky, I'm in the gym and am dressed for fitness practice," I said, "what the fuck do you think?"
She giggled as I walked right past her. I'm sure she was a nice girl, but my high school interaction with her was only avoidance. Like I mentioned, asshole, or at least the appearance of one.
After practice I headed into the showers for a nice long soak. I picked the very last one on the row, it had a the most discolored tiles, they sort of formed a strange symbol. I unveiled myself and hung my towel up as my peers and I took our places and turned the water on. The hot water always felt so refreshing on my body, it was my favorite part of the morning except for seeing Zee.
I looked down and starred at my flaccid cock. It was without a doubt the biggest I had seen in those showers, at least flaccid anyway. I was definitely a shower, measuring in at just over six inches when not erect and a proud eight when fully hard. At my age then, girls couldn't believe their eyes when that beast was unsheathed in front of them. Thinking about Zee seeing it for the first time and how moist it would make her caused an instant erection to form. I then heard someone come in to the area next to me, I abstained from my fantasy momentarily to notice Melvin Smiley standing to my side. He shakily removed his towel as he starred me directly in the eye. I saw his eyes navigate down my body and focus directly on my proud engorged manhood. His own cock was very small, couldn't have been more than three inches. I ignored him and turned back to my shower.
"Oh fuck, it's the brownie boy!" I heard Corey shout from across the showers.
I turned over to see him approach Melvin. He pushed him against the wall, Melvin slipped. Curled up against the wall he whimpered.
"Hey faggot, don't forget to wash your ass," said Corey.
Corey nodded at me and left. I wanted to help Melvin up but I didn't want anyone to see and I couldn't risk Melvin telling anyone that I was in any way nice to him. He looked up at me with a veer of helpless desperation. He ran.
After the showers were empty I walked back into the main locker room, which was also empty. I guess everyone had left while I was dazed in the thoughts of Zee sucking my large erection with her perfect lips. I was still rock hard as I approached my locker, no towel covering my chiseled body.
"Mm.. oh hey there, how was practice?" said a voice to my right. Becky Lowell; her eyes were wide as she bit her lower lip.
"Becky, what the fuck do you think you're doing in here?" I asked.
She advanced closer to me, she was a couple feet away from me now. Little Becky, about five feet tall, curly blonde hair, small tits, decent ass and legs. She was known to be a promiscuous one and I could tell she was steaming with lust. Her eyes darted directly to my erect cock.
"Oh... wow, Bryce that's quite a penis! How big is that?" she asked.
Regardless of my feelings for her, my lustful thoughts of Zee still filled my mind. I looked down at her as she licked her lips.
"Well, I've never measured it but I guess it's pretty fucking big," I said. I grabbed my the base of my cock and ran my fingers on my balls. I slide my hand up to the head of my cock. This was all automated, a subconscious action.
"Mmm oh my," she said as she giggled and advanced closer, "Bryce, what do you think of these?" She pulled down her tank top to reveal her tiny breasts.
"Small," I said. I reached out and grabbed one, I kneaded it through my hand a bit, "but decent, very firm Becky."
She moaned a little bit. She pressed herself against me and looked up into my eyes. My large cock pressed upwards against her. It ran all the way from her belly button up between her tits. I was rubbing my tender nipples as she leaned down a bit and touched her lips against the head of my cock. My throbbing boner parted her wet lips as she slid it downwards, she could almost get it half way down her slutty little throat.
"Oh fuck, you stupid little slut, get the fuck off of m.. mmmm," I moaned.
She was full on mouth fucking my large erection. "Oh my god Brcyce, you're so huge! I can feel it fill my throat up," she said before she resumed choking herself on my cock.
I ripped on her hair as her dainty hands found my balls. My nuts were pretty engorged with cum from my ever present Zee fantasies; they easily filled her petite palms as if she was fondling two large grapefruit. I continued to subdue myself into her lustful torments as she devoured my thick shaft. I pinched my nipples as I felt her get even more of it down. This girl obviously had little if no gag reflex.
She paused for a moment, "God, are balls supposed to be this big?!"
"Mmm fuck, Becky... keep sucking that dick and you'll see what you get, you slut," I said to her. My erection throbbed and hardened down her throat, she was moaning and gurgling down my meat. This girl sure could suck a mean dick. I loved sluts, easily disposable forms of higher masturbation.
Suddenly, I saw a figure appear around the corner. John Sachs stood right there with a deer in the headlights look with a net full of basketballs over his shoulder. I looked at him and he looked at me. He didn't quite look mortified, it was more the sheepish yet curious look of a boy who walked in on his parents fucking.
"FUCCKKKK BECKY!" I yelled as she squeezed my nuts with her little claws.
My cock began to violently throb and my nuts pulsed as I unloaded my volley of hot cum. I pumped quite a load in her throat and then as my cock popped out of her mouth, I sprayed a few in the air. A shot or two caught her in the face and a nice fat one catapulted outwards landing mere inches from John. He stood agape and bewildered - frozen with a look of absolute disarray.
Becky turned about face, "Oh my GOD! What the fuck are you doing in here?!" She quickly covered herself up and pushed John over. He fell to the ground dropping his net of basketballs as Becky fled from our sight. He starred up at me, my cock still fully erect and glistening with fresh warm cum. I grabbed my towel and wiped myself off before slowly advancing towards him. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.
"John, listen very carefully," I said, "You are not to tell anyone about this. Do you understand? No one!" I violently tugged his arm and threw him free.
"If you breath one word, I'll fucking murder your pudgy ass!" I said as I pointed to him.
"I... won't... please..." he whimpered as he ran away.
I got dressed and collected my things. What a morning. Now it was time for the second favorite part of my day, my first class.
Well I'm married now, I have three little ones, and I've long since retired any notion of these desires to seek the company of the licentious and wild sort of girl. I love my wife and the family we have birthed, but regardless, my mind often wanders backwards into the unforgotten territories of my youth; the important memories, the painful memories - the good shit. This particular instance of which I'm about to tell of was one of those painful sort. This event in my life seeded insecurities deep within my heart that still fester today and have since affected countless sexual encounters thereafter.
* * *
When I was in tenth grade there was a vixen that seemed to hold some kind of telekinetic bond on me. I couldn't speak to her without stuttering, despite the fact I had spoken to other girls as if they were a male friends, and for some reason she seemed to eclipse any possible sexual fantasy I'd conjure involving a different girl. I would be masturbating, looking at pictures of magazines that displayed bodies I would seldom ever see much less even fathom touching, yet I would always climax thinking of Zahary Windling, or Zee as people tended to call her.
Now up until this point I've had a few rounds with girls and I was definitely walking the roads leading far astray from virginity. In fact, it was very safe to say that during that time in my adolescence, I considered myself quite experienced and thought quite highly of my sexual ability, and my appearance. I was a jock, through and through. I was relatively tall at six feet and I had a body that would enlarge the ego of any man: thick biceps, six pack, chiseled to the max. Couple that with natural jet black hair and blue eyes. I got what I wanted and when it came to the eve of my goals, I was confident that my desires would be fulfilled with all parties thoroughly satisfied. I remember that my second ever came so hard that she leaked milky white juices all over my cock, balls, and legs. She was even nice enough to clean it off afterwards before she collapsed.
But confidence, no matter to what degree, had no bearing on my success with Zee; mostly, because there wasn't an attempt in the first place. Yes, I was scared to approach her. This wasn't because I felt something so oddly sentimental as love, and it wasn't because of pure unbridled primal attraction. I honestly didn't know and still do not know how to describe these feelings and tendencies of doubt that surrounded this girl.
By relative standards at the time, in fact, there were scores of young girls that could hold their heads and beauty much higher than Zee. She really wasn't a babe so to speak, at least not an immediately apparent one. She was larger-framed, not fat by any means mind you, but curvier than her peers by a large margin; this meant wide hips, large breasts, and shapely legs. She was also quite tall. Picture Christina Hendricks when she was younger but not that busty, I'd say 34 or 36D; nice and big but not overtly gargantuan. Like Christina, she also had fiery red hair and a decent face. She never wore makeup but she had rosey lips and eyes reminiscent of women long past in renaissance paintings.
Now of course you might be saying, "What the fuck are you talking about man?! This girl sounds amazing!". Well yes, I agree of course, this story is principally about her and the effect she had upon me; however, you must understand that most guys and the programming they were subject to in terms of opinions of beauty did not lend favor to the unconventional abstraction that was Zee. Most guys, sadly and simply, wanted nothing more than your stick-figure esqe artificial beauties. I was different.
Now don't misunderstand my past, I did indeed sleep with the cheerleaders, the bimbos, the whole lot of empty-headed wannabe princesses with their fake tans and daddy's money- but my obsessions were fast changing. I found Zee to be the epitome of all things attractive, she was the starlet muse of ages, and she was the unobtainable holy grail of my conquest as a man. Was I in love with her? Once again, absolutely not; but I do digress, I was most certainly in love with the idea of being close to her and at that point, that was the best understanding I could muster.
She obviously stood out in terms of physical build but also her external appearance seemed to betray High School girls all together. Absent from her wardrobe were the gaudy and revealing fashions of miniskirts, fuck-me pumps, skinny jeans, backless tops, ect. ect. She wore turtle necks, long skirts with black nylons, dress heels, boots, and her ever common pair of red converse sneakers. She adorned pop-culture t-shirts of bands like The Ventures and shows like Doctor Who. Was she a geek by today's standards? Maybe. Was she a geek by those back then, no not really; she was more so the perfect combination of unnoticed and odd. Her clothes never complimented her voluptuous physique, but rather downplayed anything immediately noticeable about a woman. The fact was, most guys, especially guys that fit my stereotype, didn't seem to offer a second glance. I for one, couldn't stop starring.
Okay, enough with the pseudo-romantic visages of my nostalgic days and the girl that danced among them, it's time to get into the perspective of the sixteen-year-old version of yours truly.
I was an asshole. I won't even attempt to cover this up. I was a downright narcissistic tool of a high school guy. If a girl walked up to me and offered a cute wink or glance, it was most often met with a blank stare or ignored altogether. With my bros, I wouldn't discuss anything beyond who I was planning to fuck next or what class I was skipping to go smoke. When that wasn't going on, I was with my other bros at football practice.
I had a nice car, a 68 Chevelle SS that I inherited from my father when he died and I lived in a pretty regular neighborhood. I would often work part time jobs as a cart pusher or doing some light construction work. My life was pretty simple. When I got home at night after school / work or whatever else I was doing, I'd do things that betrayed everything you just envisioned about me.
I had every episode of Star Trek taped, I studied for my classes so I wouldn't be behind from my habitual skipping, and I would help my mom clean and make patterns for her quilting hobbies. I wasn't exactly sure at that point why I enjoyed these things, but I think it's safe to say, I never really invited my buddies over. After unwinding at home, it was back to school and back into the jeans of my pernicious teenage self.
These patterns my life followed went on for about half of my high school days, along with the ever present binge-drinking, pot smoking, and cookie-cutter teenage mischief abroad. I'd fuck girls, cum and leave it at that. I had one girlfriend, but I ended up cheating on her three weeks in and then dumping her. I was confident in my notions that my dick only existed to cum and my heart to pump blood in it.
You also must understand that in order to keep up appearances, I wasn't so friendly to those that did the things I did at home, ie. nerds. This on kid in particular, John Sachs, was probably mine and most of my guy friends' most intent target. We'd trip him, steal from him and call him terrible things like "Sweaty Sachs", "Johnny lovesem Sachs", "Shit Sach John" - very creative stuff kids. It didn't help he was also overweight and was never seen with a girl; in fact, he wasn't ever even seen being turned down by a girl. High school death was written all over this guys face.
So what was this major event that I spoke of and why was it so profound? Well, I remember the exact date the chain of events started. It was September 28th and I came to school that day as I had every day before it, and intended to go about it as such.
I pulled into the lot and parked my muscle car right up front, drawing the most possible attention but I walked away from the car lighting up a smoke, not even locking the doors or turning even the slightest glance to the many onlookers. Oh yeah, I didn't appear to care about anything but me and mine.
"Dude, motherfucker you gotta see this!" my friend Corey exclaimed excitedly as he walked up to greet me.
"What happened man?" I asked as we started walking.
"It's that kid Melvin man! He shit himself when he was walking to main hall and so he ran in the bathroom, shit trailing down his pant leg as he ran! He's in there right now trying to wipe up," Corey said as he pointed to the forward boys restroom.
There was a crowd outside the door, many of my lot and some lurking about for the show. People were shouting hurtful things into the doorway and in the brief lulls that broke the cacophony of outcry, you could her sobbing inside the bathroom. Melvin Smiley was a little guy that some believed had aspergers syndrome. To me, he was just beaten down and shy.
Corey ran towards the crowd and plunged his head into the doorway, "Fucking shitstain, come on out! We know you're in there, we can see the trail! Haha," he said, "were you trying to leave us a treasure map to faggot town with this shit?"
I laughed, fakely, but I took no amusement in this. This was just ridiculously idiotic. It was events like this that buckled that school to the level of elementary humor. I walked over to Corey as he was joining in on the bashing.
"Dude," I said, "I gotta get my ass to first practice, I need to run over some drills with those assholes."
"Ah cmon Bryce, this shit doesn't happen every day, and I mean, THIS shit! Hahahaha!" he replied.
"Haha, nah man, you take it from here," I said as I patted him on the shoulder and walked off.
I'd tell you more about Corey, but frankly, he was and always will be a complete moron and isn't worth mentioning much more in this story.
As I was walking towards the gym building, I spotted Zee across the breezeway walking to her first class. She was wearing a leather jacket with a sweater and jeans. Her red hair was up in a bun and she was wearing her thick glasses today. I watched as her long legs carried her briskly to the halls and couldn't help but keep starring at her marvelously large rack, downplayed as it was by the jacket and sweater combo. My cock twitched a bit.
As I walked into the gym, I noticed that the drills have already started. My coach waved at me, he knew that I didn't always show up on time and he didn't really care. I was such a good athlete compared to my teammates, that I was given those ever so sought after special privileges. When I came out after I changing, I ran into Becky Lowell. She was this short, spunky little blonde girl who would not leave me alone.
"Oh hey Bryce, what are you up to?" she asked.
"Well Becky, I'm in the gym and am dressed for fitness practice," I said, "what the fuck do you think?"
She giggled as I walked right past her. I'm sure she was a nice girl, but my high school interaction with her was only avoidance. Like I mentioned, asshole, or at least the appearance of one.
After practice I headed into the showers for a nice long soak. I picked the very last one on the row, it had a the most discolored tiles, they sort of formed a strange symbol. I unveiled myself and hung my towel up as my peers and I took our places and turned the water on. The hot water always felt so refreshing on my body, it was my favorite part of the morning except for seeing Zee.
I looked down and starred at my flaccid cock. It was without a doubt the biggest I had seen in those showers, at least flaccid anyway. I was definitely a shower, measuring in at just over six inches when not erect and a proud eight when fully hard. At my age then, girls couldn't believe their eyes when that beast was unsheathed in front of them. Thinking about Zee seeing it for the first time and how moist it would make her caused an instant erection to form. I then heard someone come in to the area next to me, I abstained from my fantasy momentarily to notice Melvin Smiley standing to my side. He shakily removed his towel as he starred me directly in the eye. I saw his eyes navigate down my body and focus directly on my proud engorged manhood. His own cock was very small, couldn't have been more than three inches. I ignored him and turned back to my shower.
"Oh fuck, it's the brownie boy!" I heard Corey shout from across the showers.
I turned over to see him approach Melvin. He pushed him against the wall, Melvin slipped. Curled up against the wall he whimpered.
"Hey faggot, don't forget to wash your ass," said Corey.
Corey nodded at me and left. I wanted to help Melvin up but I didn't want anyone to see and I couldn't risk Melvin telling anyone that I was in any way nice to him. He looked up at me with a veer of helpless desperation. He ran.
After the showers were empty I walked back into the main locker room, which was also empty. I guess everyone had left while I was dazed in the thoughts of Zee sucking my large erection with her perfect lips. I was still rock hard as I approached my locker, no towel covering my chiseled body.
"Mm.. oh hey there, how was practice?" said a voice to my right. Becky Lowell; her eyes were wide as she bit her lower lip.
"Becky, what the fuck do you think you're doing in here?" I asked.
She advanced closer to me, she was a couple feet away from me now. Little Becky, about five feet tall, curly blonde hair, small tits, decent ass and legs. She was known to be a promiscuous one and I could tell she was steaming with lust. Her eyes darted directly to my erect cock.
"Oh... wow, Bryce that's quite a penis! How big is that?" she asked.
Regardless of my feelings for her, my lustful thoughts of Zee still filled my mind. I looked down at her as she licked her lips.
"Well, I've never measured it but I guess it's pretty fucking big," I said. I grabbed my the base of my cock and ran my fingers on my balls. I slide my hand up to the head of my cock. This was all automated, a subconscious action.
"Mmm oh my," she said as she giggled and advanced closer, "Bryce, what do you think of these?" She pulled down her tank top to reveal her tiny breasts.
"Small," I said. I reached out and grabbed one, I kneaded it through my hand a bit, "but decent, very firm Becky."
She moaned a little bit. She pressed herself against me and looked up into my eyes. My large cock pressed upwards against her. It ran all the way from her belly button up between her tits. I was rubbing my tender nipples as she leaned down a bit and touched her lips against the head of my cock. My throbbing boner parted her wet lips as she slid it downwards, she could almost get it half way down her slutty little throat.
"Oh fuck, you stupid little slut, get the fuck off of m.. mmmm," I moaned.
She was full on mouth fucking my large erection. "Oh my god Brcyce, you're so huge! I can feel it fill my throat up," she said before she resumed choking herself on my cock.
I ripped on her hair as her dainty hands found my balls. My nuts were pretty engorged with cum from my ever present Zee fantasies; they easily filled her petite palms as if she was fondling two large grapefruit. I continued to subdue myself into her lustful torments as she devoured my thick shaft. I pinched my nipples as I felt her get even more of it down. This girl obviously had little if no gag reflex.
She paused for a moment, "God, are balls supposed to be this big?!"
"Mmm fuck, Becky... keep sucking that dick and you'll see what you get, you slut," I said to her. My erection throbbed and hardened down her throat, she was moaning and gurgling down my meat. This girl sure could suck a mean dick. I loved sluts, easily disposable forms of higher masturbation.
Suddenly, I saw a figure appear around the corner. John Sachs stood right there with a deer in the headlights look with a net full of basketballs over his shoulder. I looked at him and he looked at me. He didn't quite look mortified, it was more the sheepish yet curious look of a boy who walked in on his parents fucking.
"FUCCKKKK BECKY!" I yelled as she squeezed my nuts with her little claws.
My cock began to violently throb and my nuts pulsed as I unloaded my volley of hot cum. I pumped quite a load in her throat and then as my cock popped out of her mouth, I sprayed a few in the air. A shot or two caught her in the face and a nice fat one catapulted outwards landing mere inches from John. He stood agape and bewildered - frozen with a look of absolute disarray.
Becky turned about face, "Oh my GOD! What the fuck are you doing in here?!" She quickly covered herself up and pushed John over. He fell to the ground dropping his net of basketballs as Becky fled from our sight. He starred up at me, my cock still fully erect and glistening with fresh warm cum. I grabbed my towel and wiped myself off before slowly advancing towards him. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.
"John, listen very carefully," I said, "You are not to tell anyone about this. Do you understand? No one!" I violently tugged his arm and threw him free.
"If you breath one word, I'll fucking murder your pudgy ass!" I said as I pointed to him.
"I... won't... please..." he whimpered as he ran away.
I got dressed and collected my things. What a morning. Now it was time for the second favorite part of my day, my first class.
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