It had to be the fourth time he washed himself. The cocky bastard must have been in here for 30 minutes. I had an excuse for showering so long. I had just beaten my personal record on my PT test and was spent. But I noticed him after 10 minutes or so, sudsing up a pretty sizeable shaft.
He was daring. Daring me to look, or daring me to look away? What was wrong with this dude? His face held a challenge. He looked almost mad. I was acutely aware of where we were, in the shower, at the base gym at the busiest time of the day. 20 guys must have cycled in and out next to us, strip down, shower, no bullshit and leave. But I noticed him, and he noticed me.
I almost felt like I’d been caught, maybe he would make a scene? He might tell my commander….fuck what was this guy’s rank?
Except, he’s now fisted himself with soap 4-5 times. No, he’s not gonna tell on me. We’re in the same boat here. But his nostrils are flared, and he looks aggressive.
When a brief moment passed with just us two, he finally spoke. He sounded annoyed, his voice was deep and echoed between us…”I win.”
I stammered “You wha..what? Win what?
He glanced down at my modest showing and smirked. Then he took his schlong in one hand and slapped the palm of his other hand a few times. Just as he released his cock and it swung down to slap his thigh; another guy walked into the shower. I flushed. I panicked.
I turned off the water and hightailed it to my locker. Leaving a trail of water since I didn’t take the time to dry on the shower room floor. Behind me I heard a brief chuckle echo off the porcelain walls. Who was this guy?
I was steaming. Part of me was embarrassed for running away. Embarrassed for blushing at the challenge he offered and letting him see me cower away. I was also mad. Who does that? It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t fluffed up. I’m also not a shower. And he made a power move just a moment before someone walked in. I couldn’t respond and he knew it.
The sound of a padlock being slammed open behind me jumped me out of my reverie. I was sitting in my underwear hunched over looking at my locker. I turned, it was him. He had a towel around his waist. When we made eye contact he squared up, stood stiff and nodded in a way that said “Got something to say?”
I stood up quickly. Too quickly for it to hold any power… he had clearly shaken me up a bit. But I wasn’t gonna let him look down over me.
There I stood 21, 6’3 and 150 lbs. I was tall and skinny. Just getting used to the machines at the gym. It would be another 2 years before I would be as muscular as he was.
He stood at maybe 5’8, looked 28 and was built thick. While he didn’t have the 8 pack abs like the fitness magazines you could see he was strong. Big calves, thick thighs, chunky ass. This dude must of ate eggs for breakfast, oatmeal for lunch and potatoes for dinner. He had a pretty impressive softy but he was short so it would look bigger anyway, right?
He kept looking at me as he held onto this demeaning look of….victory? At that moment I couldn’t find a fuck to give. A bit miffed from my earlier retreat and with his persistent braggadocios manner I was gonna strut as much as I could before heading back to work.
Aware of my surroundings, and still clad in my underwear, I closed the space between us and gruffly whispered. “You don’t win.”
He acted like he couldn’t hear me. “What’s that?”
I raised my voice and repeated, “I said, you don--”
He cut me off. “Speak up, boy.”
He got me. I flushed again, turning angry and speechless. He could hear me, he knew that I knew he could hear me. He was playing me like a fiddle and I just doubled down.
"I was trying to say that it looks pretty big on such a little guy!" while eyeing his tool. I grabbed my own softy from outside my underwear and swung it back and forth.
I think the dual-meaning of ‘little’ got him flustered. To see a scrawny, young punk calling his bluff and calling him little was insulting. But he couldn’t very well refute it since he stood half a foot shorter than me. Has he done this before? Did those guys back down too? Is he bigger than me?
I turned and tried to ignore him. Where was this gonna go? I was ready to get out of this.
He was daring. Daring me to look, or daring me to look away? What was wrong with this dude? His face held a challenge. He looked almost mad. I was acutely aware of where we were, in the shower, at the base gym at the busiest time of the day. 20 guys must have cycled in and out next to us, strip down, shower, no bullshit and leave. But I noticed him, and he noticed me.
I almost felt like I’d been caught, maybe he would make a scene? He might tell my commander….fuck what was this guy’s rank?
Except, he’s now fisted himself with soap 4-5 times. No, he’s not gonna tell on me. We’re in the same boat here. But his nostrils are flared, and he looks aggressive.
When a brief moment passed with just us two, he finally spoke. He sounded annoyed, his voice was deep and echoed between us…”I win.”
I stammered “You wha..what? Win what?
He glanced down at my modest showing and smirked. Then he took his schlong in one hand and slapped the palm of his other hand a few times. Just as he released his cock and it swung down to slap his thigh; another guy walked into the shower. I flushed. I panicked.
I turned off the water and hightailed it to my locker. Leaving a trail of water since I didn’t take the time to dry on the shower room floor. Behind me I heard a brief chuckle echo off the porcelain walls. Who was this guy?
I was steaming. Part of me was embarrassed for running away. Embarrassed for blushing at the challenge he offered and letting him see me cower away. I was also mad. Who does that? It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t fluffed up. I’m also not a shower. And he made a power move just a moment before someone walked in. I couldn’t respond and he knew it.
The sound of a padlock being slammed open behind me jumped me out of my reverie. I was sitting in my underwear hunched over looking at my locker. I turned, it was him. He had a towel around his waist. When we made eye contact he squared up, stood stiff and nodded in a way that said “Got something to say?”
I stood up quickly. Too quickly for it to hold any power… he had clearly shaken me up a bit. But I wasn’t gonna let him look down over me.
There I stood 21, 6’3 and 150 lbs. I was tall and skinny. Just getting used to the machines at the gym. It would be another 2 years before I would be as muscular as he was.
He stood at maybe 5’8, looked 28 and was built thick. While he didn’t have the 8 pack abs like the fitness magazines you could see he was strong. Big calves, thick thighs, chunky ass. This dude must of ate eggs for breakfast, oatmeal for lunch and potatoes for dinner. He had a pretty impressive softy but he was short so it would look bigger anyway, right?
He kept looking at me as he held onto this demeaning look of….victory? At that moment I couldn’t find a fuck to give. A bit miffed from my earlier retreat and with his persistent braggadocios manner I was gonna strut as much as I could before heading back to work.
Aware of my surroundings, and still clad in my underwear, I closed the space between us and gruffly whispered. “You don’t win.”
He acted like he couldn’t hear me. “What’s that?”
I raised my voice and repeated, “I said, you don--”
He cut me off. “Speak up, boy.”
He got me. I flushed again, turning angry and speechless. He could hear me, he knew that I knew he could hear me. He was playing me like a fiddle and I just doubled down.
"I was trying to say that it looks pretty big on such a little guy!" while eyeing his tool. I grabbed my own softy from outside my underwear and swung it back and forth.
I think the dual-meaning of ‘little’ got him flustered. To see a scrawny, young punk calling his bluff and calling him little was insulting. But he couldn’t very well refute it since he stood half a foot shorter than me. Has he done this before? Did those guys back down too? Is he bigger than me?
I turned and tried to ignore him. Where was this gonna go? I was ready to get out of this.
