Text Stories

It was Friday night. A basketball game at school. I'm a passer, but for the
first time in my life, I was a shooter. I shot the winning basket and the
crowd went wild. Trace Sanders smirks at me as we head for the locker
room. Trace is the usual star of the team. We're both Juniors, just 18
years old. There's been a little competition between us. This is the first
night I shot and he didn't. He smirked. When we play one-on-one in my
driveway, with our shirts off and sweat dripping down our bodies, he's all
over me. Towering over me, raising his arms over my head so his sweaty pits
are right in my face, shooting basket after basket. But tonight, I shot,
and now he smirks as we head for the locker room.

Many tall, skinny, hunky little athletes undress in preparation of the
ritual cleansing. There's Matt Vindich with his shorts down, and there's
black-haired Native American Richie Cicciocciop standing around with his
black pubes sticking out of his high school boy jock strap. Richie was
nasty sometimes, he would get on younger guys' cases all the time, calling
them fag and shoving them around. His last name is pronounced Cheek-ee-chop
and I've been staring at his sexy, naked cheeks in his tight little
jockstrap and thinking of pork chops. How I'd like to smother `em with my
gravy. Those cheeky little chops of his. Mmmm.

So Trace just strips off his jock and heads in to shower. And I figure, I'm
feeling good since I won the game and everything, so I strip off and head
in there too.

The not-too-hot-but-nice-to-feel water runs over my body as I glance around
the room, seeing Richie and Matt and Bryan and Todd and Trevor naked in the
showers, washing their sweet, naked boy dicks and shooting the shit about
the game.

"It was awesome the way you sank that winning shot, Brett" said Trevor.

"Yeah," Matt agreed. "You really surprised us. Didn't know you had it in
you."

"Oh, I got a lot in me that would surprise you," I responded, gently
nudging the conversation toward something a little nastier.

Trace smirked in my general direction. "I don't know about that. I don't
surprise easy. Besides, one winning shot in the whole season and you guys
are gonna get all bent out of shape about it? I've been winning games all
semester for you little dweebs."

"Sounds like a challenge," I smirked at him.

"What kind of challenge?" Trace asks.

"You're upset `cause I shot tonight and you didn't. So now you can make it
up to all of us by shooting a big load."

"Dude, there's no question I could shoot a big load if I wanted to."

Matt and Bryan were getting into this. Matt looked over at Trace and was
anxious to see his dick harder. Bryan was already stroking on his dick,
soaping it up, just to maintain the pretense of getting clean.

"You guys think I can't shoot?" asked Trace, sounding a bit wounded.

"I don't know about whether or not you've lost your talent for shooting,
but I'd kinda get into seeing you shoot now," Matt drooled, "Just let it
happen, and let it go."

Trace started stroking his dick, taking it in his right hand and squeezing,
as he wrapped his fist around it and jerked the sucker to life. I was
feeling hotter than hell as I watched all the naked jocks around me start
pounding on their boy puds. Trace is staring at each crotch in turn, I can
tell where he's looking. And he's wrapping a tight, firm paw around his
meaty dick, with his pubic hair getting all matted down from the shower,
and from sweat. He smirks over at me and says he's ready to do a little
shooting. His balls slap around his thighs as his fist slides faster up and
down his stiff shaft. He gets a cocky look on his face, and smirks at me
again. And he bets me he can shoot farther than I can.

I'm fine with that.

"No sweat, dude. You'll see I've developed quite a shot after this game I
won for us."

"We'll see who the real winner is," Trace said as he tilted his head back,
thrust out his knees and started fingering his ass.

Matt was glassy-eyed by now, seeing his favorite naked fantasy flailing
away on his dick, and all his teammates beside him in the shower, stroking
on their cocks, all of them naked and wet. Richie started to play with his
Native American balls, swinging them back and forth with his fingers,
enjoying the nasty feel of his rough hands on that sensitive sac of
skin. Bryan was black-haired with green eyes, an undeniably sexy
combination. And his lanky build, with the sinewy muscle and long, thin
cock looked very hot under that shower head. Todd and Trevor are now
stroking each other's cocks, not seeing us, not caring to see us, as they
looked into each other's eyes and firmly grasped the penis of the boy they
liked the most.

It was way too hot a scene, all of us naked and jacking, after winning a
Friday night game. Every gay thought I ever had in my head exploded all
over my brain: licking Bryan's asshole, worshipping Todd's balls, choking
on Trace's penis, and Richie, homophobic Richie, always shouting down the
younger, tender guys. Yes, Richie was jacking with the rest of us. He was
probably thinking of pussy, but he was hot, and he was wet, and he was
naked and hard and stroking. I'm under a warm spray of water and jacking my
meat with my buds when I focus in on Richie. But Richie is standing on the
other side of the room, and I keep thinking about how he's always shoving
around little guys and calling them fag and I want to mark him, mark him up
as territory. As a closet fag who loves to feel cum all over his naked,
wet, sexy, bad boy body, loves to feel my cum, loves to be my
territory...and I shoot a huge string of cum that flies clear across the
room and hits Richie right between the pecs. And then I'm arching my back
and stroking my hard bone like a boy scout trying to start a fire. The cum
just keeps jetting out of me and flies all over the room.

This spurs on Todd and Trevor, who lock eyes and spew, the cum running down
both boy's chests and bellies simultaneously. Bryan shoots a few strings
right down into the drain, and Richie affects a look of disbelief.

"Man, you shot your spooge right on me, from clear across the room."

"Couldn't help it dude, I was fuckin' high."

Richie strokes hard on his teen-boy cock and thrusts out his hips, offering
his sperm as a sacrifice...Native American children who will never be born,
thanks to his locker-room antics. His cum shoots to the middle of the
shower room floor, thick wads of it, spinning lazily around on top of the
drain. And Trace grunts and thrusts forward with his hips. He may not have
shot in the game, but he was about to make up for it. Trace's thick, veiny
cock jerked in his tight fist as he shot his load of cream right onto
Bryan's thigh.

It was clear I had won. I shot further than Trace, winning both the game,
and the after-game game.

Chapter 2 -- Trace is in Charge

Trace, with a look of quiet surrender, walked over to me naked in the
shower. He gazed down at me and held his semi-soft penis up. I looked up
into his eyes, not knowing what to think, when I felt a warm trickle run
across my belly and down my legs. Trace was pissing on me. I felt the warm
liquid coat my belly and legs, and he picked up his penis and aimed for my
chest. His piss continued to stream out and hit me all over, my nipples, my
neck, my pubes, I was soaked in Trace's piss.

Somehow, this was exciting to me. Trevor, the star of the team, pissing all
over his lucky-shot teammate, as the rest of the team looked on. This meant
something to me. Meant that I was part of Trace's team, and anything I did
that brought glory to the team, especially brought glory to Trace. He was
the head dick around here, even if I had just shot ropes of cum across the
shower room on Richie. Trace was in charge, and he would show it.

The others soon fell in line, with Bryan first up to squirt his pee all
over my naked game-winning body. Then Trevor and Todd, both dripping in
cum, pointed their piss-missiles at me and let fly with a gallon or so of
hot yellow firewater.

Speaking of firewater, Richie was fucked up over my cum landing on his red
skin, so he pushed his hips out and pissed a river on me. He soaked my wet
pubes and gushed out over my naked high school boy hips, making me his
young, sissy homo for the day. I was covered in jockboy piss.

And then Matt, in a show of solidarity for the team, pisses on my head and
face as I sink to the floor in humbled exhaustion. Piss, and warm water
from the shower are running down all over my body, and the boys all start
to bone up again. They were standing over me, naked, and wet and getting
hard. Stroking up and down those boy shafts, making them hard for me. I was
sitting on the shower room floor, naked and hard, and milking my dick in
front of my teammates. Bryan, Todd, Trevor, Trace, Richie, Matt, all
stroking on their boy meat right over my naked boy body. It was fucking
driving me nuts! And I shot another load, sank another basket, dribbled and
shot...as my teammates unloaded their teen boy jism all over my piss-soaked
body.

Being on a team is hard work. Even when you win the game, you still have to
remember your place. You're just one of the guys, part of the mechanism
that keeps the machine rolling along. And everybody knows a machine needs
to be lubricated. Mmmm...