Native American first exposure to college wrestling

[opinionman]

Ch. 12:The Bookstore and the Locker room.

Skye had had plenty of misfortunes in his young life, the result of circumstance: the Rez, his asbent father, shameful poverty. So he was unaccustomed to good things happening in sequence, but the paycheck and the boxerbriefs had apparently set up some momentum, for his meeting with the Financial Aid Officer consisted of a short conversation in which the Officer informed him that, at the wrestling coach's behest, the University was increasing the size of Skye's grant, greatly reducing any debt he might accrue. The truth was, Skye's mind was on the boxer briefs rolled up and jammed in his pockets, and so he barely processed the good news... except for the key line, "So this will mean your education is was less expensive. Good news, Skye!"

He shook hands with the Officer, thanked him, and left, floating on air. A few minutes later his practical side returned and he set out for the bookstore. Upon arrival before he went to see Mr. Williams, he found the men's room, went into a stall, unfurled the orange boxer briefs, pulled off his shorts and white brief, and pulled on the boxer brief, which clung to him like a second skin. He could see the outline of his cock and balls clearly, and though used to their size ever since puberty, he began to reflect on what others guys saw in comparison. So many guys had already made comments that he began to see with new eyes that he was blessed with something all guys wish for: a massively impressive penis and large, low-hanging testicles.

Looking at the outline, his dick began to stiffen, and he knew that he'd be horny the rest of the day. Though tempted, I gritted his teeth and muttered, "I can't beat off now! Not here!'

Then he realized he would need to do something about his trusty graying brief. Though it seemed ridiculous, he pulled it on over the boxer brief, figuring that was less conspicuous than making a bulge, rolled up in a pocket.

He reported to Mr. Williams, who gave him a variety of tasks and who, it was evident, was very pleased to have found an employee like this. After a few hours, Skye reminded him, "Sir, I have to go to wrestling practice shortly."

"Of course, Skye. I hadn't forgotten. You can stop and I'll give you your check, ok?" He walked into his office, pulled out the check book and scribbled the pay in the box on the check. To Skye, this document looked like Holy Scripture. It meant everything had changed.

Mr. Williams handed him the check and said, "Have a good practice, Skye. Come here tomorrow morning at 9:30 and we'll work out a schedule."

"Thank you, sir," said Skye, who took the check, folded it without looking, and put it in his pocket. He realized he didn't have time to return to the dorm before practice so he headed to the locker room, bursting with pride and happiness. In this state of euphoria, he had forgotten one thing.

 

[opinionman]

Ch. 12: The Bookstore and the Locker room.

Skye had had plenty of misfortunes in his young life, the result of circumstance: the Rez, his absent father, shameful poverty. So he was unaccustomed to good things happening in sequence, but the paycheck and the boxerbriefs had apparently set up some momentum, for his meeting with the Financial Aid Officer consisted of a short conversation in which the Officer informed him that, at the wrestling coach's behest, the University was increasing the size of Skye's grant, greatly reducing any debt he might accrue. The truth was, Skye's mind was on the boxer briefs rolled up and jammed in his pockets, and so he barely processed the good news... except for the key line, "So this will mean your education will be less expensive. Good news, Skye!"

He shook hands with the Officer, thanked him, and left, floating on air. A few minutes later his practical side returned and he set out for the bookstore. Upon arrival, before he went to see Mr. Williams, he found the men's room, went into a stall, unfurled the orange boxer briefs, pulled off his shorts and white brief, and pulled on the boxer brief, which clung to him like a second skin. He could see the outline of his cock and balls clearly, and though used to their size ever since puberty, he began to reflect on what others guys saw in comparison. So many guys had already made comments that he began to see with new eyes that he was blessed with something all guys wish for: a massively impressive penis and large, low-hanging testicles.

Looking at the outline, his dick began to stiffen, and he knew that he'd be horny the rest of the day. Though tempted, he gritted his teeth and muttered, "I can't beat off now! Not here!'

Then he realized he would need to do something about his trusty graying brief. Though it seemed ridiculous, he pulled it on over the boxer brief, figuring that was less conspicuous than making a bulge, rolled up in a pocket.

He reported to Mr. Williams, who gave him a variety of tasks and who, it was evident, was very pleased to have found an employee like this. After a few hours, Skye reminded him, "Sir, I have to go to wrestling practice shortly."

"Of course, Skye. I hadn't forgotten. You can stop and I'll give you your check, ok?" He walked into his office, pulled out the check book and scribbled the pay in the box on the check. To Skye, this document looked like Holy Scripture. It meant that everything had changed.

Mr. Williams handed him the check and said, "Have a good practice, Skye. Come here tomorrow morning at 9:30 and we'll work out a schedule."

"Thank you, sir," said Skye, who took the check, folded it without looking, and put it in his pocket. He realized he didn't have time to return to the dorm before practice so he headed to the locker room, bursting with pride and happiness. In this state of euphoria, however, he had forgotten one thing.

He swung open the locker room door and scuttled down the steps, in a hurry to be punctual. There must have been a spring in his movement as he stepped up to his locker, for Kirk instantly remarked, "Whoa-hoa! Somebody seems a lot more upbeat than yesterday. What's going on?" His grin--which he himself knew was his best resource in the never-ending flirtation that made up a good deal of his day--instantly set Skye at ease. No one, it seems, is immune to beauty and how it invites our secrets.

"Got a job, dude!"

"Great!" exclaimed Kirk. "Where?"

"Bookstore. I heard this dude getting fired this morning and before I knew it, I was talking with the manager, Mr. Williams, and he hired me on the spot." Skye paused. "I mean, I did kind of imply I'd worked on the Rez store, which isn't true, but he seemed to like my work and..." He paused.

"And what?" asked Kirk. Something about Skye's manner seemed just slightly askew.

"And..... uh... I got... yeah, a paycheck. The first day!"

"Always good to get a paycheck, that's for sure."

"Dude, you have no idea what this is like. I never had ANY money. And now I've got--" He pulled the folded paycheck out of his pocket--sixty bucks! I guess that's six hours at ten bucks per. Fuck, man. This is a fortune."

"That's awesome, man. But you're not working full time, are you? What about...?"

"No, no," interrupted Skye. "Nuthin to worry about there. He knows I have to go to practice. We'll sort all that out tomorrow."

"Cool, " said Kirk. "I was afraid you were gonna quit."

'Quit?" exclaimed Skye. "Man, I'd never quit wrestling. Only thing that keeps me sane."

"That's really great, man. And... hey, was there something else you were gonna say?'

"Uh, no. Oh, except this: The financial aid guy told me I was getting more money. Can you fuckin believe that?"

Kirk looked at him for a moment too long, as if Skye had some knowledge, but he quickly resumed his public locker room face and smiled. "Cool."

"Oh yeah," said Skye, still a little giddy. "I can give you back your boxer briefs tomorrow, once I run 'em thru the wash, cuz as you might understand, now I can actually buy myself something besides my trusty whities."

"Yeah, don't worry about that. They were new and probably don't need to be washed. I mean, unless you jizzed in 'em or something!" Kirk grinned his bad-boy grin and chuckled.

His comment felt like a wasp sting on Skye's cheek. He realised he had paused in his response just a fraction of a second too long and might have raised Kirk's suspicions. In the nanoseconds that followed, his brain informed him, almost with his knowing it, that he had two choices and he had to make the right one instantly: get upset and give away the truth, or cover it with locker room humor. Despite not really being the smart-ass that some guys on the team were, he had learned a lot about social currency in the past 24 hours and almost without thinking, he said drily, "Yep. Ya caught me. Jizzed in 'em about a dozen times last night, if I remember...."

Kirk burst out laughing. "Yeah, I figured. With equipment like yours how could ya not? I hope at least you cleaned em."

"Nope," said Skye, adapting to the social game as easily as he did to an opponents unexpected move. "I'm just lettin 'em sit there, all dried up and...."

"Douche bag," laughed Kirk. "I wouldn't doubt it. But hey, we'd better get changed so the Old Man don't yell at us."


In his pride at skillfully having avoided an awkward situation, Skye was blind to the one that was imminent. He unbuckled the belt and let his shorts fall to the ground and only at that moment, with Kirk only a couple of feet away, did he remember he was wearing his tighty whites over his new boxer briefs. It was too late.

"New style, I guess," remakred his mentor wryly. "What the fuck? Did you already spend your pay on new underwear and if you did, then why...?"

"Nothin, man. Just drop it." All Skye's joy vanished. Kirk looked at him a moment longer then turned to get dressed. He and Sky moved about the same pace, to clothes came off, jocks were pulled on, followed by wrestling gear . The tossed their street clothes in their lockers and Kirk said, "Ready?"

Just slightly relieved that Kirk was being so inviting, Skye nodded, slammed his door shut and headed for the wrestling room.

 

[opinionman]

Ch. 12: The Bookstore and the Locker room.

Skye had had plenty of misfortunes in his young life, the result of circumstance: the Rez, his absent father, shameful poverty. So he was unaccustomed to good things happening in sequence, but the paycheck and the boxerbriefs had apparently set up some momentum, for his meeting with the Financial Aid Officer consisted of a short conversation in which the Officer informed him that, at the wrestling coach's behest, the University was increasing the size of Skye's grant, greatly reducing any debt he might accrue. The truth was, Skye's mind was on the boxer briefs rolled up and jammed in his pockets, and so he barely processed the good news... except for the key line, "So this will mean your education will be less expensive. Good news, Skye!"

He shook hands with the Officer, thanked him, and left, floating on air. A few minutes later his practical side returned and he set out for the bookstore. Upon arrival, before he went to see Mr. Williams, he found the men's room, went into a stall, unfurled the orange boxer briefs, pulled off his shorts and white brief, and pulled on the boxer brief, which clung to him like a second skin. He could see the outline of his cock and balls clearly, and though used to their size ever since puberty, he began to reflect on what others guys saw in comparison. So many guys had already made comments that he began to see with new eyes that he was blessed with something all guys wish for: a massively impressive penis and large, low-hanging testicles.

Looking at the outline, his dick began to stiffen, and he knew that he'd be horny the rest of the day. Though tempted, he gritted his teeth and muttered, "I can't beat off now! Not here!'

Then he realized he would need to do something about his trusty graying brief. Though it seemed ridiculous, he pulled it on over the boxer brief, figuring that was less conspicuous than making a bulge, rolled up in a pocket.

He reported to Mr. Williams, who gave him a variety of tasks and who, it was evident, was very pleased to have found an employee like this. After a few hours, Skye reminded him, "Sir, I have to go to wrestling practice shortly."

"Of course, Skye. I hadn't forgotten. You can stop and I'll give you your check, ok?" He walked into his office, pulled out the check book and scribbled the pay in the box on the check. To Skye, this document looked like Holy Scripture. It meant that everything had changed.

Mr. Williams handed him the check and said, "Have a good practice, Skye. Come here tomorrow morning at 9:30 and we'll work out a schedule."

"Thank you, sir," said Skye, who took the check, folded it without looking, and put it in his pocket. He realized he didn't have time to return to the dorm before practice so he headed to the locker room, bursting with pride and happiness. In this state of euphoria, however, he had forgotten one thing.

He swung open the locker room door and scuttled down the steps, in a hurry to be punctual. There must have been a spring in his movement as he stepped up to his locker, for Kirk instantly remarked, "Whoa-hoa! Somebody seems a lot more upbeat than yesterday. What's going on?" His grin--which he himself knew was his best resource in the never-ending flirtation that made up a good deal of his day--instantly set Skye at ease. No one, it seems, is immune to beauty and how it invites our secrets.

"Got a job, dude!"

"Great!" exclaimed Kirk. "Where?"

"Bookstore. I heard this dude getting fired this morning and before I knew it, I was talking with the manager, Mr. Williams, and he hired me on the spot." Skye paused. "I mean, I did kind of imply I'd worked on the Rez store, which isn't true, but he seemed to like my work and..." He paused.

"And what?" asked Kirk. Something about Skye's manner seemed just slightly askew.

"And..... uh... I got... yeah, a paycheck. The first day!"

"Always good to get a paycheck, that's for sure."

"Dude, you have no idea what this is like. I never had ANY money. And now I've got--" He pulled the folded paycheck out of his pocket--sixty bucks! I guess that's six hours at ten bucks per. Fuck, man. This is a fortune."

"That's awesome, man. But you're not working full time, are you? What about...?"

"No, no," interrupted Skye. "Nuthin to worry about there. He knows I have to go to practice. We'll sort all that out tomorrow."

"Cool, " said Kirk. "I was afraid you were gonna quit."

'Quit?" exclaimed Skye. "Man, I'd never quit wrestling. Only thing that keeps me sane."

"That's really great, man. And... hey, was there something else you were gonna say?'

"Uh, no. Oh, except this: The financial aid guy told me I was getting more money. Can you fuckin believe that?"

Kirk looked at him for a moment too long, as if Skye had some knowledge, but he quickly resumed his public locker room face and smiled. "Cool."

"Oh yeah," said Skye, still a little giddy. "I can give you back your boxer briefs tomorrow, once I run 'em thru the wash, cuz as you might understand, now I can actually buy myself something besides my trusty whities."

"Yeah, don't worry about that. They were new and probably don't need to be washed. I mean, unless you jizzed in 'em or something!" Kirk grinned his bad-boy grin and chuckled.

His comment felt like a wasp sting on Skye's cheek. He realised he had paused in his response just a fraction of a second too long and might have raised Kirk's suspicions. In the nanoseconds that followed, his brain informed him, almost with his knowing it, that he had two choices and he had to make the right one instantly: get upset and give away the truth, or cover it with locker room humor. Despite not really being the smart-ass that some guys on the team were, he had learned a lot about social currency in the past 24 hours and almost without thinking, he said drily, "Yep. Ya caught me. Jizzed in 'em about a dozen times last night, if I remember...."

Kirk burst out laughing. "Yeah, I figured. With equipment like yours how could ya not? I hope at least you cleaned em."

"Nope," said Skye, adapting to the social game as easily as he did to an opponents unexpected move. "I'm just lettin 'em sit there, all dried up and...."

"Douche bag," laughed Kirk. "I wouldn't doubt it. But hey, we'd better get changed so the Old Man don't yell at us."


In his pride at skillfully having avoided an awkward situation, Skye was blind to the one that was imminent. He unbuckled the belt and let his shorts fall to the ground and only at that moment, with Kirk only a couple of feet away, did he remember he was wearing his tighty whites over his new boxer briefs. It was too late.

"New style, I guess," remarked his mentor wryly. "What the fuck? Did you already spend your pay on new underwear and if you did, then why...?"

"Nothin, man. Just drop it." All Skye's joy vanished. Kirk looked at him a moment longer then turned to get dressed. He and Sky moved about the same pace, to clothes came off, jocks were pulled on, followed by wrestling gear . The tossed their street clothes in their lockers and Kirk said, "Ready?"

Just slightly relieved that Kirk was being so inviting, Skye nodded, slammed his door shut and headed for the wrestling room.

 

[opinionman]

Skey felt embarrassed that he had forgotten he was wearing two pairs of underwear and ashamed he had snapped at his mentor. He could only hope Kirk didn't hold a grudge. It certainly didn't seem like him, but then, they hardly knew each other.

Practice was a demanding affair: constantly repeating basic moves with some more sophisticated techniques thrown in. The guys' gray shirts and shorts were soaked and half the time the groping pulled the shorts down a little and any observer could see jockstrap waistbands, also soaked with sweat. Of course, Skey was too busy working to hold his own with some of the older guys on the team to notice jock waistbands.

"Ok, guys, we're done," the coach finally called out. The team members applauded casually as they always did and breathed a sigh of relief. They appreciated the demands of the Coach but were certainly not unhappy to have such a rigorous workout finally over.

As Skye was leaving the mat, the Coach muttered, "Nice work, Skye. You're looking good" and, in the time-honored practice of wrestling coaches, he patted Skye lightly on his ass.

A little startled, Skye nonetheless had the wherewithal to respond, "Thanks, Coach. See you tomorrow."

The Coach merely looked at him and then turned to talk with one of the other guys.

Skye and Kirk walked out side by side, and Skye, who felt like he was rapidly learning about some social skills he had never had to use, felt an overwhelming urge to say something, so he boldly put his hand on Kirk's arm, held him back so a couple of guys could pass, and said, "Hey, Kirk. Sorry I snapped at you. I was just..."

Kirk smiled that winning smile: "... a little embarrassed? Ya mean cuz you had on two pairs of underwear?"

Skye looked down. "Well, yeah... but there was a reason. I just didn't want...."

"..... to tell me. Look, Skye, I'm your mentor, and you seem like a very cool guy with a history that I just don't think I get yet. But dude, I am here to help you out, and that includes everything from how to open a bank account to listening to girl problems. You don't know this, but we mentors actually get some training in how to listen and help."

A bank account? Oh fuck, thought Skye. I don't even know how to do that.

"Well, okay," said Skye, feeling better. "Thanks. The truth is... well, those boxer briefs I had I kinda... well, stole."

"You STOLE them?! Why??"

"I was so surprised that within minutes of talking to Mr. Williams that I just noticed that, well, the inventory sheet said there was a certain number of boxer briefs, but there was one extra in the box. I triple checked it, man, and I just couldn't help myself."

"Sounds to me like you DID help yourself... to an extra pair of underwear."

"Kirk, do you have any idea what it's like to have NO money at all? To wear the same old brief day after day?"

"I hear you on that one, buddy. No, I have no idea. That's why I'm listening to you, to understand."

"I just figured, someone in the factory threw an extra pair in the box, there was no indication on the sheet, and I thought 'victimless crime.' I kinda needed it because... well...

"Why didn't you just wear the boxer briefs I .... oh.... oh my god, you actually DID fuckin jizz in them, didn't you?"

For the briefest of moments, Skye thought Kirk was angry but almost instantly he burst out laughing! "You fuckin horn dawg! Just couldn't keep your paws off your cock and balls, could ya! I wonder what your roommie thought."

Skey looked down, ashamed, but he could tell that maybe this wasn't the disaster he thought it was."Chris? He's the one that woke me up to tell me."

"Woke you up? Ohhh... You mean you had a fuckin wet dream. Well, that's at LEAST a little more polite than just jacking off in borrowed underwear." Kirk laughed out loud. "Dude, I did that so many times as a freshman, it kind of became a dorm joke:I gotta lot of crap from the guys about 'sleepwalking down the hall, into the bathroom, jizzing on the towels'... all that shit. It was kinda funny after a while. Listen, you don't have to worry about this, Skye. You can't help it if you get horny in your sleep. Just clean 'em and give 'em back when you're ready, and now that you have a paycheck you can add to your collection. And jeez, don't worry about the one you 'stole.' No harm, no foul. It's hardly the biggest crime there is."

"Thanks, Kirk. Felt good to get that off my chest."

"Along with all that cum from the other night?... Ok, that was lame, I admit." Kirk grinned again and they entered the locker room. Both were quiet in the midst of the din that always occurred as muscled, horny young men, finally released from the discipline of strenuous training, let loose with a barrage of wisecraks, dick jokes, horsing around, half-erections, and singing.

"And I'm glad," offered Kirk, "that you got a break financially with the university." Again, he looked just a moment longer at Skye, and only then did the Native American's memory push through his consciousness and he dimly recalled the Financial Aid Officer saying something about the wrestling coach.I realization dawned on him.

 

[opinionman]

GOD*&#$^! it! Why do I ALWAYS miss the typos? That last line should be "A realization dawned on him," not "I" realization...

 

[bas_nl]

Such a great story!! Thanks again, @opinionman

 

[laptoper]

Enjoying this. Thanks!

 

[opinionman]

Enjoying this. Thanks!

Very kind. I regret I can't write more frequently, but I'm trying!

 

[opinionman]

Very kind. I regret I can't write more frequently, but I'm trying!

Damn, bro. Are those pics on our avatar you?? Talk about a big dick! I may have to put you in the story!

 

[opinionman]

Kirk's friendliness was a huge relief to Skye. The wet dream was apparently no big deal--in fact, it seemed at this college almost nothing between the guys was a big deal, and that alone made Skye grateful.

He and Kirk went to their lockers, kicked off their shoes and socks stripped off their sweaty shirts and dropped their sweat-soaked shorts on the bench. Both took a quick stretch in their jocks, which were also soaking wet with sweat.

"Damn!" said Kirk. "Coach can be a real bastard. I'm fucking drenched, especially my jock."

"Mine too," said Skye. "I guess it's normal for the outline of your, you know, equipment to show through the pouch when you've been sweating?"

"Of course," replied his mentor. "Don't you know that all jocks... oh yeah, I forgot you'd never even seen a jock till yesterday. Yeah, they're pretty revealing I guess, but since we're about to drop 'em anyway, I suppose it doesn't matter.... unless some girls come in here pretending to be shocked!"

Skye was silent. He had no experience at all with girls. They remained a mystery to him.

"That shower's gonna feel good," exclaimed Kirk and he pulled his jock waistband off and yanked down the strap, stepped out of it, bent over and tossed it on the bench. Skye was just a second behind them. They grabbed their towels and headed to the shower when they hear a commotion like some kind of battle scene.

"Whoooo-hooooo!!" There were Brad, Will, and Kevin, whom he'd just barely met yesterday, running around in their jocks and scooping up every supporter they could find.


What's this about?" asked Skye.

"Huh?" said Kevin, distracted about something. "Oh that. Oh yeah, I forgot it was the second day of practice. School tradition: somebody grabs every one of the jockstraps and throws em all in a pile, and you have to fish out your own! It's pretty funny, actually. I mean, the guys on this team are kinda superstitious about their jocks, so they like to have the same one ever day, or even season to season. It's kind of impressive, really. I mean they rummage through a pile of jockstraps and always seem to find their own."

"I suppose it's like having a favorite T-shirt?" asked Skye.

"Yeah, I guess," answered Kirk. "I think the theory is that we're all jocked in this together, so even if we end up with some other guy's jock, it's all a bonding experience. I mean, I kinda get that. It's such a guy thing that it just make sense to me."

"Does that mean," asked Skye, "that our jocks are gone?"

"If I were a bettin' man...." Kirk left his sentence unfinished, its only punctuation that winning flirtatious smile he had.

Something must have happened to the collective male psyche in the locker room and showers because the noise level was deafening, and there were more shenanigans than Skye would have thought possible. Brad had grabbed Kevin's cock and yanked it a few times while both laughed. "Huh! It looks smaller than it did in practice when you were grappling with Andy."

"Look who's talking, shit for brains! You're the one that groped Ted about half a dozen times. I saw it. Don't deny it."

Brad kept laughing. "Yeah, well, he deserved it. I mean, did you hear all that bullshit about his girlfriend yesterday in the locker room": Oh yeah... we fucked all night long and even in the morning..." Ted,a medium weight junior with palefreckeld skin, a mop of copper hair, and pubes that matched, piped up from under his shower : "Well, if you don't believe me, ask her! She'll tell ya. She's kinda slutty that way, just how I like 'em.... Besides," and he grabbed his own cock and balls from the base and waved them at his teammates, "you can easily see why she'd prefer a real man like me, not some little-dicked boy like Bozo here."

Brad still had Kevin's cock in his hand, and eveyone could see it was starting to thicken. Kevin laughed and slapped Brads hand away: "Dude! No more! If I get too turned on, I won't be able to shower up for MY girlfriend!"

Most of the guys in the shower laughed at this, including Ted, who followed up with, "Well, you can get hard as you want. That's not the problem. Now if Skye here starts to bone up, there won't be room in the shower for the rest of us!" More laughted followed and the guys unapologetically looked at Skye as he entered the shower. They remember his penis swinging from side to side on his first day and the impressive ballsac that hung lower than any other guys'. He perceived their glances but was suprisingly unembarrassed. There had been so much interaction based on cocks and balls and jizz in the past 24 hours that he was adapting quickly.

 

[Kyokemokyo]

Great story! Looking forward to some more!(whenever you’re ready, all in good time )

 

[opinionman]

Ch 15: Jock search

Ch 15: Second Shower


Skye walked over to a shower head next to Andy and turned on the water. Like every other wrestler, he relished the feeling of hot pumping water on his sore muscies. The guys were yammering about this and that, lots of jokes and laughter, but suddenly above the din of male voices and noise showers, he heard, "All right, Gentlemen! It's time for our annual jock search!"

Skye turned around and saw Brad, Kevin, and Will, the champion goof-arounders of the locker room, standing in the doorway of the shower room in just their jockstraps. They stood shoulder to shoulder in a pose that clearly indicated it wasn't natural or spontanous. Rather, they stood slightly tensed as though waiting for an entrance on the stage... and in fact, that's precisely what they were doing.

Brad turned his head and called out, "Hit it!" and from somewhere in the locker room a boom box blared out some techno hit from the 90's. The three wrestlers, with mock serious faces, started to step here and there, and swivel their hips in a not-very-good dance "routine" that looked as if they'd put it together in their dorm room for five minutes the night before.

The other guys started to laugh and whoop it up and the jock-clad wrestlers gyrated and did the old bump-and-grind, though not really in sync with each other. Their audience, of course, couldn't have cared less about the style; they just thought it hilarious that their buds were jockin' it up as a prelude for the search.

After about a minute, all three guys turned and faced the same direction, standing in single file, their shoulders to the showers room like passengers queueing up for a bus, : Brad, Will, Kevin. Brad grabbed Will's jock waistband, and Will grabbed Kevin's. Brad quickly turned to Ted and said, "Help me out, bro" and Ted scampered over and stood behind Brad, hands on his waistband. "Do it!" called out Will, who could barely contain his laughter. On command, the other guys yanked hard, and next moment, the jockstraps were around their ankles. They immediately stepped out of them, whirled them around like a lasso, whooped it up, and did a little spontaneous extra dance,heicoptering their dicks to the amusement of the team.

The music faded and Brad called out, "Ok, dude. We've grabbed all your jocks and are gonna add ours to the pile. Ya gotta finish showering in five minutes and then it's the tradition jock pile search. See ya in five!'

The three "dancers" laughed again, bucked their hips at their teammate, who could see that they were getting semi's from the activity, and took off to the locker room.

This was the oddest thing Skye had ever seen, but he couldn't help feeling the electiricy and good humor on the shower room, and he, along with the others, soaped up, eschewed the normal lengthy shower, rinsed, grabbed his towel, dried off at the door, and waited to see what happened next. The more experienced wrestlers, who had been through this the year before, finished and dried as well and congregated at the shower room opening.

Adam addressed the group: "Ok, dudes. Time for a jock search. Remember: you gotta find your sweaty jock from all the ones in the pile. Last one to find it has to make sure everyone's wrestling gear is collected and pinned together with those oversized 5 inch safety pins--and remember NOT to push the pin thru the jock itself--duh--but just loop the waistband through the pin. Nobody wants a hole in their jock. Ready?"

The group took off, searching around the locker room for a pile of sweaty jocks. About 25 guys peered here and there: on top of lockers, under benches, in abandoned lockers with open doors, the coach's office. Finally, Ted let out a whoop: "Found 'em!" They had been stuffed between two right-angle rows of lockers, difficult to perceive unless you were right on top of it. Ted reached into the aperture and pulled out a handful of jocks and tossed them on the bench. He did this three or four times before he got them all, and by then, his teammates--his hunky, muscle bound, dick swinging, masculine teammates--looked for all the world like a bunch of women at Filene's Bargain Basement: each one was grabbing a jock and inspecting it to see if it was his, and if it wasn't, tossing it back into the pile.

Will exclaimed, "Found mine! There ya are, buddy." He grinned but on some level he knew he wasn't the only one who talked to his jock.

Gradually the jocks were located by their owners, and it turned out Russell--a huge 6'6" 280 pound senior was last. He'd held onto the wrong strap for a good amount of time before its real owner took Russell's, tossed it down to the end of the row like throwing a distracting bone to a dog, and said, "Yo, Russ. That's yours. You got mine. Fork it over." Russell, none to bright in the strategy department, tossed the jock he had and then went to retrieve his own from the end of the bench, and it was only when he held his sweaty jock in his hand and sniffed it and recognized the aroma of his balls in the pouch that he realized he'd been tricked, for the other guy already had his, and Russell had lost.

He groaned in mock misery, but the other guys just laughed and soon he was grinning. Brad called, "Ok, dudes. Put your jocks back with your gear and our friend Russell here--who, frankly, looks like kind of a wimp"--and at this Russell just flexed his massive biceps--"will organized our gear, clothes pin 'em and put them on the cart, and tomorrow you'll have your stuff ready to go. I myself will inscribe Russell's name in our Jock Search Book for future generations to admire."

The other guys laughed and headed back to their locker to drop their jocks, shorts, shirts and socks in front of their lockers. Skye felt an urge to go up to Russell, whom he hadn't really met yet, and offer to help him, but Kirk engaged him in conversation about opening a bank account the next day, and shortly the window had closed. Skye then figured he might have violated some tradition if he'd volunteered to help the "loser;" and besides, it wasn't that onerous a task, and Russell hadn't complained at all.

"Let's get to the dining hall," said Kirk. "After supper, I have to ask your roomie a question or two."

"Okay," answered Skye. "We can go back to thedorm after we eat. Think he'll be wearing clothes when we get there?"

"Nope."

 

[opinionman]

Ch 16: Back at the dorm
Supper that evening was nothing particularly interesting; banter about various teams, discussions of hot babes, and one guy who mysteriously reverted back to middle school mindset and mixed a lot of his foods together on his plate and couldn't stop laughing about it. Several guys rolled their eyes.

When Skye and Kirk had finished, they got up and Skye said, "You wanted to come ask my roommate something, you said?"

"Yeah," said Kirk. "Just a quick conversation."

"If I were a bettin' man," started Skye...

"You'd wager he'll be nude when we get to your room. Yeah, I know. Remember, I'm the one who told you that he was a nudist the first day."

"Oh yeah," said Skye. "I can't believe it's only been a couple of days."

They walked to the dorm, into the hall, and up three flights of stairs. Without knocking, Kirk pushed open the door.

Charlie lay on his bed, naked, of course, his economics book over his face, breathing quietly, completely asleep. Kirk grunted a little chuckle. "Typical," he said. "But of course, he's hardly the first guy to lie naked on his dorm bed. Think we should wake him?"

Skye shrugged. " I dunno. Depends on how badly you need to ask him." He looked his roommate over, admiring his tanned skin, his abs, and his nicely shaped cock, which seemed slightly chubbed as it draped gracefully over his sac. After the comments he had heard in the past two days, Skye was more intentional about comparing his friends' equipment with his own, and thus far, he was ahead of all of them.

Skye turned back, stubbed the front of his shoe on the iron bed frame, and yelped. Charlie's eyes opened and he sleepily looked at them. As usual, he revealed no surprise at anything--truly the guy you wanted in a situation where keeping one's cool was paramount.

"Hey, you guys. What's up? Hey, Kirk. Whatcha doin here?" Charlie lazily reached down and scratched his balls, completely unselfconsciously.

"Naked, as usual, ya bastard," Kirk scolded. " I guess you'll never learn."

"You can't be surprised at this point, buddy. Maybe we should have a rule that this is the nude room on the floor. Whaddya think, Skye?"

Skye just smirked and massaged his toes.

"Anyway," continued Kirk, "I wanted to ask you about having sports day in a few weeks. I was thinking every floor in this dorm could field a team and the other dorms could too, and we'd do all kinds of competitions: real stuff like dashes but also stupid stuff like, I dunno, one-legged races. We could even have a wrestling mat put outside and do some exhibitions for the college. Wouldn't hurt to have a lot of support among the students."

"You mean they'd be athletic supporters?" quipped Charlie, and laughed confidently.

"Old joke, buddy, but yeah," continued Kirk.

Charlie lay back and again absentmindedly scratched his sac. "Sounds like a good idea to me. What do you think, Skye?"

"I think you're not a wrestler in the first place, so you couldn't do that part. Besides, you couldn't do nude wrestling in public like that, and since I've never seen you with clothes on, this seems like it might not be your best situation."

"Hey!" responded Charlie in mock defense, "I wear clothes plenty of times... like to class and shit."

"Classes don't start for another five days," said Skye.

"Yeah, well for meals, then." Charlie grinned as he pretended to be devastated by his roommate's criticism. "Of course," he continued, "sometimes I order pizza and the guy brings it up and... well, you know.... at least he has a story to tell back at the pizza joint."

"Ah, you're just a perv... or at least an exhibitionist," offered Kirk.

"Can't argue with that!" said Charlie, who then VERY consciously, grabbed his cock and balls at the base and swung them around a few times for a laugh. "I wouldn't want to deprive the world."

"Yeah, nice equipment... but have you seen Skye's?"

"Yup! Sure have. I can't match it but who cares. I saw it the other night when...." He stopped suddenly, thinking that maybe Skye hadn't revealed the whole boxer brief wet dream situation.

"Don't worry, man," said Kirk, having seen the hesitation. "Skye told me all about his nocturnal jizz fest. He said you'd helped him clean it."

"Yep. Guaranteed results courtesy of my old man. In fact,..." He gestured to the iron frame at the head of Skye's bed, over which were draped the boxer briefs. Skye reached for them and handed them to Kirk with a shy smile."Thanks again, man. Sorry about the..."

"Dude," said Kirk, "I said don't worry about it. Remember what I said? You're not the only guy who jizzes in his sleep around here."

"Ain't that the truth," said Charlie, sitting up on his bed and letting his balls hang off the edge.

"Anyway, we're all good," continued Kirk. "Hey, Charlie, did Skye tell you he got a job at the college store? Very cool. And Skye we have to go to the bank tomorrow to open your account. That's my job as your"--here his voiced assumed mock stentorian tones and a slight British accent--" mentor and guide." He resumed his nomal voice. "I mean, I'm not wrong, that you wanted some help with that, right, since this is your first paycheck?"

Skye blushed a little, even though he knew it wasn't his fault that it had taken him this long to have this important life lesson; it wasn't as if the Rez had paychecks flying through the air. "Yeah, dude, that'd be awesome. I still have to check with Mr. Williams at the store tomorrow morning about the schedule, but maybe at noon we could go?"

"Sure thing, buddy. Just don't, ya know, let on that you developed an 'interest' in the merchandise there." He winked at Skye, who blushed again. Charlie detected some story he was left out of, but he figured he could find out later.

"Okay, dudes. I'll see you later. Charlie, get some fucking clothes on. Skye, don't let him paw his dong all night like he always does, not matter how much he denies it." Charlied gave no response other than a grin. Kirk backed into the hallway and shut the door.

" 'Merchandise'?" asked Charlie a moment later. "What was that about?"

Embarrassed, Skye just snapped, "Nothing." A moment later I regained control. "Sorry man. I'm... well... on a kind of lark, I got hired yesterday when this other dude got fired, and...well, you know that whole thing about my one white brief?"

Charlie was a regular Sherlock Holmes. Immediately, he said, "Whatja do, steal some underwear?"

Again, the telltale blush crept up Skye's neck and face. Although he wanted to sink into the floor, he decided to at least respond, since it was obvious Charlie had guessed it. Skye simply hiked up one side of his t-shirt and tugged down his shorts slightly to reveal the black and orange waistband of the orange boxer briefs he had taken.

"Huh," said Charlie non-committedly. "Why?"

" I don't have any money... well, I didn't till yesterday, and I'm so sick of having just one fuckin white brief and..." To his surprise and utter shame, he started to tear up.

"Hey, dude," said Charlie quietly. "You don't have to worry about it. I don't know you that well, but if i had to guess, I'd say you only took it cuz there was an extra pair."

"Astonished at his insight, Skye just nodded.

"Besides," Charlie said, "everybody's got some kind of secret, and those look kinda cool. Can I see them?"

Skye looked at him, puzzled, but with a shrug, he pulled off his shirt and undid his shorts and removed them. He did this with an ease that surprised him; two days ago--two days of seeing naked guys, erect cocks, yanked balls, jokes of every kind, jockstraps, wrestling shorts and so forth--had worked miracles on his comfort level. He stood there in his orange boxer briefs while Charlie stood up, naked in front of him.

"Yeah," said Charlie appreciatively, "they look pretty good." With the same lack of self-awareness he exhibited in everything he did, he reached out and undid a slight twice in the waistband. "Dude, you can't worry about this. You had your reasons. Besides, if it was extra, no harm done, and if you still feel bad about it in a few days, you can use your paycheck to buy a pair and secretly replace them, right?"

"I suppose I could," said Skye. "Man you're a smart fucker."

"Famous for it," said Charlie and then, without another word, flopped back on the bed-- and "flopped" was precisely the word, as his balls were flung up as he kind of jumped and then they fell with a plop one he was face-up on the bed. He grabbed his text book and started reading, acting as if Skye didn't exist.

Skye had never known anyone like Charlie, but he was grateful and had the sense there was a lot hidden about him, which seemed kind of ironic given how exposed Charlie was, literally. In a flash of human wisdom, it occurred to Skye, who was, after all, only 18, that Charlie's nudity might itself be some kind of façade, distracting people from some other aspect of his personality. Skye pulled his shorts back on.

 

[opinionman]

Ch 17: A walk and a football game





Skye had never known anyone like Charlie, but he was grateful and had the sense there was a lot hidden about him, which seemed kind of ironic given how exposed Charlie was, literally. In a flash of human wisdom, it occurred to Skye, who was, after all, only 18, that Charlie's nudity might itself be some kind of façade, distracting people from some other aspect of his personality. Skye pulled his shorts back on.



It was too early to think about going to bed, and although he had a box of books for his courses sitting unopened on his dorm room desk, he felt disinclined to open it. He didn’t seem to have the discipline of Charlie, who was already reading in some of his books; probably, Skye thought, he went to some school where they actually enforced that stuff. The Rez school wasn’t that firm on study habits.



Skye walked down the hall, noticing how many of the room doors were ajar. He idly wondered why they even bothered with doors. In just that short walk to the stairs, he saw one guy’s bare ass as he toweled off, one guy in maroon briefs, and one guy rearranging his balls in his boxer briefs. I guess guys never stop messing with their junk, he thought. I wonder if girls do…

He went down the stairs and out onto campus. Lots of people were milling about. There were several couples hand in hand, and without warning, Skye found himself a little lonesome and a little envious. He had never had a girlfriend, and he could see how guys felt, especially the ones in athletic shorts with no underwear. Their semi-erections were perfectly obvious, and they themselves seemed proud that people should see. Skye thought that some of the girls were probably secretly proud that they had induced this response in the guys, though to be honest, Skye mused, the guys would get hard if a mere breeze blew. It wasn’t just the presence of the girls.

As he aimlessly walked about, he ran unexpectedly into Kirk.

“Hey, Skye,” said his mentor. “I forgot to ask if you wanted me to go with you to the bank tomorrow to open your account with that paycheck.”

“Actually, yeah, that’d be helpful,” responded Skye. “I don’t really know how to do it.”

“It’s not hard, as you can imagine. It’s pretty standard. What time?”

“I’ll ask Mr Williams if I can be gone from noon till 1:00. Which bank?”

“The Sioux Savings and Loan on Foster St is easiest. See you then… oh, actually, some of us are going to the student union common room to watch football. You wanna come?”

Skye hesitated. Sometimes his shyness got the better of him, but already he’d made progress in taking charge, so he answered, “That’d be awesome. Lead the way.”

Kirk flashed him one of his winning smiles and they took off toward the Union.

In the TV room at the student union, a large flat screen was broadcasting a game between the Cowboys and the Rams. About a dozen students mostly juniors and seniors and all of them athletes, were watching and commenting. In addition, four older men were there. Skye figured they were probably the fathers of some of the jocks watching tv who had dropped them off for the start of classes next week. Though he had learned to suppress the pain as best he could, Skye couldn’t help feeling what he always did in situations where dads and sons were together: a bitter wound that started in his lower gut and pierced like a needle through his heart. He wished, not for the last time, that he had had a dad-son experience like this.

He was startled out of his musing by the comments of the older men:

“Now what Hollywood costume designer guy decided that giving the players see-through pants was a good idea? What the hell, man? You can see that guy’s jockstrap right through his pants!”

One of the athletes responded with, “I think it’s for practice mostly; when it gets really hot, you know, and you need all the air-conditioning you can get.”

A second father, bearded, athletic, and somewhat burly answered, “Well, I guess I can see that, but know what else I can see? The guy’s straps. Does he want the entire country to see his jock?”

A third dad, also big and muscled said, “ Frankly, I doubt he cares. I mean, did you care when they started doing interviews in the guys’ locker room? No one seemed to give a shit if some reporter, even a woman, had shoved a mic in some players face while his teammates stripped down to shower behind the woman. It’s a different era, man.”

To Skye’s surprise, Kirk spoke up. “Well, sir, I have to agree with that. I’m on the wrestling team and in a lot of the wrestling world, it’s been pretty standard to just wear your singlet and let everyone see. Although, our coach insists we jock up. He’s not a big one for having your junk clearly outlined for everyone to see.”

The older men laughed at this. “Yeah,” said one, “I do remember the wrestlers would just pretty much show the world their dicks and balls. We football players always wore jocks; it was stupid not to, and it was just the way it was. From what I understand now and have seen on the internet, these pants have some kind of design so you don’t need a jock.”

His son spoke up: “I told you, dad. They have this built-in brief that takes the place of a jock.”

The dad answers, “Yeah, I know, but have you looked at them? Doesn’t seem like it’d hold your balls in place. If you remember, the strap I gave you was like mine and did the job, right?’

“Yessir,” grinned his son, a tall quarterback-looking player with gleaming teeth and a square jaw. “Can’t argue with that.”

“So,” continued his father, “maybe you could persuade the guys on the football team to jock up anyway. I’d like to have grandchildren some day!”

The men laughed and nodded at this. His son only said, “I’ve tried, and to be honest, about half the guys still jock up.”

“Keep it up… er, I mean….” The father caught his double entendre and all the guys laughed even more.

After a while, Skye leaned over to Kirk and said, “I’m gonna go back to the dorm and get some sleep. Thanks for the invite.”

“Ok, bro. I’ll see you at the bank at noon, right?”

“Great. Thanks, man.” Skye headed out of the union into the still warm night and padded, tired, to the dorm and up the stairs. He entered his room to find Charlie leaning back in his desk chair, naked as always, talking on the phone to someone. Every few moments, like any guy in this position, Charlie reached down absently and tugged on his ballsac. Skye watched for a moment then realized how odd he must look. He grabbed his kit and went to the bathroom.

 

[opinionman]

Ch 18:Tell-tale signs in the morning.

Skye returned from the bathroom, tossed his kit on the dresser, and took off his shoes, socks, shirt, and shorts. He kept on his new boxer briefs and also noted that he had to return Kirk’s boxer briefs to him the next day. They were still hanging on the iron bed frame’s head. Charlie was paying him no mind at all, deep in his conversation with what sounded like a family member. In a moment that took a surprising amount of courage still, Skye, shucked off his new boxer briefs, tossed them on top of the dresser as well, and got into bed naked.

At that point, Charlie noticed him and said into the phone, “Yeah, I gotta go. We can figure this out later.” Unceremoniously, he hung up the phone and greeted Skye, even as he continued his habitual tugging on his nuts. “Hey, Skye. Watcha been doing?”

“I was out walking and ran into Kirk and he took me to the student union to see the Rams game. Cool tv. I’ve never seen one that big.”

“Yeah, it’s some pretty hot shit over there,” said Charlie. “Who was there?”

“About a dozen football players, I guess, and a few wrestlers… oh, and some dads. It was pretty funny, actually, one of the dads got all hyped up about the see-through pants that football players wear now.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that too. I guess they don’t mind showing off the leg straps.”

“Guess not.”

“All right, dude, I’m going to the bathroom and when I get back, I expect you to be asleep, you hear me?” Charlie shook his finger at Skye in his best imitation of some old grandma, and Skye grinned and said, “Yes, Granny.”

Charlie left and, without even trying, Skye dozed off in a few seconds. Wrestling workouts were taking their toll.

Next morning, Skye woke up with an erection that was positively painful, although he had to admit THIS kind of pain was something he didn’t really mind. He lay there, wondering what to do. As had happened the previous morning, Charlie opened his eyes and popped out of bed instantly, his half-hard dick swaying as was its custom.

He grunted something unintelligible and grabbed his kit and left the room, walking down the hall naked, so no one’s surprise. Remembering the previous morning, Skye will himself up, grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist. He positions his erect penis so it stood flat against his belly and carefully covered the large head with the rolled edge of the towel. This diminished the bulge notably. Even at that moment, however, Skye noted a change in his attitude. He recalled that half the guys yesterday morning had had erections and no one batted an eye. He felt that soon he might be able to do that if necessary, but at the moment, he stuck with his towel plan.

The bathroom was crowded as usual and guys bumped into each other, naked, semi-erect, fully hard, standing at the urinal… a myriad of scenarios.

The small fellow who’d been analyzing the construction of the male anatomy with such intellectual language yesterday morning, was standing there naked, erect and commenting. Skye figured he was probably talking about how small his dick was compared to the other guys’ but in fact, he was being very precise in his topic.

“Whoa, Charlie,” he crowed. “I guess somebody already jacked off this morning!” He stared at Charlie’s still half-hard dick and all the guys followed his gaze to see a thick viscous fluid drip in a long strand from the head of Charlie’s penis. “Guess it was a good one, huh?”

For just a nanosecond, Skye was sure Charlie would respond with denial or anger or even physical violence, but, true to form, Charlie kept his cool and just shrugged. “Yeah, it was pretty good. I mean, it’s never BAD, is it? Besides, I’m not the only masturbator in this group, I can tell you that!”

The guys all laughed knowingly at this, even Ethan chuckled. “I mean,” continued Charlie, “Look at Wells there. I’d call that incriminating evidence, wouldn’t you?”

Wells, the 6’6” football player wasn’t paying attention, and when he heard his name, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and said, “Huh?… Oh, you’re talking about this?” He pointed to a slick, clear yet viscous fluid that, like Charlie’s, made a long string front the tip of his penis.

“Yup!” said Ethan. “I guess you and Charlie here should start the Sunrise Jackoff Club or something!” More laughter.

But Charlie, ever observant, piped up. “I think you need to go back to detective school, man. Look at the difference. Yeah, I’ll admit mine’s leftover jizz, but Wells’ isn’t. That’s clearly pre-cum, my friend, which means Wells hasn’t flogged his log yet. It’s just the beginning of the process. True, friend?” He finished his speech and turned to Well.

“Well, hell yeah,” answered the giant. “I was just getting started… thought I’d finish in the shower.”

The guys let out a mock groan. “Again, dude? Fuck, you jack off in the shower all the fuckin time!”

Wells just looked at them with a “So?” attitude.

None of the guys had a response. They all knew he was the number one shower masturbator in the hall, and frankly, none of them had a real problem with it. Every single one of them, with the exception of Skye, had jerked off in the shower alone and most of them had done it while guys were milling about brushing teeth, taking a piss, horsing around. Besides, Wells, was enormously muscled. What were they going to do?

A guy Skye had not yet met was already showering and so in mock gentility, he said to Wells, “Sir, I have your shower set just how you and your dong like it. I’ll move over.” He was a beautifully proportioned over 6-feet weight trainer with exquisite musculature that Skye, no slouch in that department, had to admire.

The guys laughed and parted from each other like the Red Sea and Wells nonchalantly walked to the four-man shower room, his precum slinging from side to side till it caught on his massive thigh like Spiderman’s web. It was obvious both that Wells hardly paid attention to how his sexual life overlapped with his normal social interactions and also that the dynamic of the group was not to hide anything that was routine or natural for a group of male college athletes who were perpetually horny. Skye absorbed this lesson without even realizing it.

At this point, his erection had subsided and his penis had fallen back to its flaccid state, so he had a bugle in his towel. However, none of the guys made any comments. In a way, Skye was glad; it was nice to be admired for the size of his equipment, but he also sometimes felt a little self-conscious. The bathroom choreography continued for about half and hour and by then everyone was headed to the dining hall. Skye planned to eat, explore the campus a little more, and show up at his job at 10:00, work for a couple of hours and meet Kirk at the bank. He had never in his young life felt as hopeful as he did then. He kept thinking of his new boxer briefs and felt inordinately proud that he had them. In a moment of strange imagination, he even wondered if the people he passed could tell he was wearing them.

 

[17264491]

GOD*&#$^! it! Why do I ALWAYS miss the typos? That last line should be "A realization dawned on him," not "I" realization...

Don't worry about it. You do just fine by me opinionman.

I blame my finger for the typos ;-)

 

[opinionman]

OMG! I did it again! I mistyped. Did you catch this brilliant phrase near the end?:
"At this point, his erection had subsided and his penis had fallen back to its flaccid state, so he had a bulge in his towel." I love it: "a bugle in his towel." Who do you suppose BLEW that bugle? : )

 

[17264491]

OMG! I did it again! I mistyped. Did you catch this brilliant phrase near the end?:
"At this point, his erection had subsided and his penis had fallen back to its flaccid state, so he had a bulge in his towel." I love it: "a bugle in his towel." Who do you suppose BLEW that bugle? : )

Don't worry about the small stuff, LOL.

I can see where the Skye is the limit for potential here.

Nice job

 

[opinionman]

Don't worry about the small stuff, LOL.

I can see where the Skye is the limit for potential here.

Nice job

Ha! Skye's the limit! Good one.
Yeah, but the small stuff still bothers me... like a penis... oh wait.... : )

 

[opinionman]

Ch 19: Work, the bank,

Skye readjusted his new orange boxer-briefs, amazed at how good they felt and how they seemed to exert some kind of comfort and power over his psyche. He had heard girls talk about how confident they felt when their bras and panties matched, and he had always rolled his eyes, but he had to admit that having a new pair of form-fitting boxer-briefs that pouched up his cock and balls and smoothly caressed his muscular thighs really did make him feel like he could conquer the world.

He was about to pull on his pants when an idea hit him concerning his responsibilities. He made a slight adjustment to his dressing routine, checked to see that his paycheck was in his wallet, finished dressing, and went to meet the other guys for breakfast. Schedules had worked in such a way that this was the first morning where he'd actually seen Charlie outside of their dorm, and he almost didn't recognize him with clothes on. Charlie perceived this and said with a twinkle in his eye, "I know, I know... you almost didn't know it was me. Just remember, though,” he whispered conspiratorially as he cut into a piece of French toast, "I'm still naked underneath my clothes!"

Skye grinned and attacked his breakfast. Conversation revolved around a variety of insignificant topics, and soon he felt he should leave. He rose, said good-bye's to the guys, returned his tray and stepped out for a walk before work. The campus seem alive with possibilities, and he couldn't help thinking about what a difference a few bucks in his pocket made, even if they weren't yet technically cash.

At 10:00 he arrived at the store and Mr. Williams greeted him heartily. He put Sky to work on some reorganizing in the back room and checking once again on inventory. Almost as an aside, Mr. Williams said, "Boy, something odd's going on in the underwear section." Skye froze; his heart instantly revved up like a sports car engine. He had been discovered! He had learned, though, at the Rez, to keep quiet and to maintain a blank face in crisis situations, so he said nothing, and Mr. Williams continued to talk, half to himself and half to Skye: "I've never seen underwear move so fast. More than half the boxer-briefs are sold already and even the Jockey briefs are selling. What's going on with you you guys?" he asked light-heartedly."Did you all forget your underwear when you came to college?" He gave a little chuckle, and Skye did his best to imitate his laugh without seeming too phony. "I think you told me most guys you know wear boxer briefs, right? But the tighty-whities are flying off the shelves too. You know any guys in briefs?"

To Skye's utter astonishment, possibly because he was still feeling giddy at the prospect of having money in the bank, he simply said, "I do." Mr. Williams looked at him for just a moment and then grinned. "Me too," he said. Then he turned his back and moved on to his desk. Skye's relief was palpable; it seemed Mr Williams was just thinking out loud, not accusing.

As noon approached, Skye reminded Mr. Williams that he'd need an hour at the bank. "Of course, of course," said his boss with a wave of his hand."Yes, that'll be a good start for you. It's always good to have some savings for a rainy day." Skye wanted to role his eyes at the triteness of this cliché, but he maintained his inscrutable mien. "Thank you, sir," was all he said.

At noon, he left the store after having checked his wallet for his paycheck, and walked the few blocks to the Bank. Kirk was there, as promised and they went into the cool building. Skye had never been inside a bank before and was a little intimidated by the pillars, marble floor, and sounds of quiet, respectable officiousness.

A young woman in business clothes saw them and approached: “May I help you?”

Kirk smiled and said, “Yes, thank you. My friend here need to open a checking account.” My friend... Did a pair of words ever have the potency they carried for Skye at that moment?

The young lady was instantly taken by Kirk’s famous, winning smile. Skye imagined her disappointment that she wouldn’t be helping them, as she said, “Of course. Please follow me. I’ll take you to Mr. Cassara.” The name sounded imposing to Skye, so he was surprised when they arrived at a desk behind which sat a man only a few years older than Kirk. He had a muscular build that showed all too clearly through his work shirt, surely, thought Skye, purchased for that very reason. He looked up from his desk and Skye had to check himself and not stare. Mr. Cassara has a notably delineated jaw line, broad and strong. His skin was of an olive tone that seemed appropriately matched to his Italian name. He had thick dark hair that was just slightly longer than business-office regulations. His eyes were, surprisingly, blazing blue, and his eye lashes—those disproportionately influential elements of beauty—where impressively thick. Skye had never seen anyone like him.

Mr. Cassara stood up from his desk in the smooth gesture of a well-tuned athlete, extended his hand to Kirk and then Skye, and invited them to sit down.

“So,” he said, “how can I help you?” He smiled politely, showing gorgeous white teeth.

“My friend here needs to open a checking account.”

“I see,” said the bank officer. “Just a standard student account? Forgive me, I’m making assumptions. Are you, in fact, students at the University?”

“Yeah,” said Kirk, employing the grin once more. “It’s probably pretty obvious.”

“Well,” said Mr. Cassara, “we do get a lot of students in here, as you can imagine, so it’s not that hard to guess. I’m going to go out on a limb here,” he continued, looking to establish a rapport, “and guess what you’re on sports teams. If I had to guess, I’d say… wrestling?”

Both students grinned at this Holmes-like deduction. Skye didn’t want Kirk to do all the talking, so he answered, “Yup. Good guess. How’d you know?”

“I wrestled on a team myself in college. Takes one to know one, I guess.” He smiled again, opened a drawer, and pulled out some paper work, which he passed to Skye with a “Just fill these out, please." He continued:

“Yeah, wrestling was great. I’ll always remember those times, know what I mean? Oh, excuse me.” He stood up and walked a few feet to another desk occupied by a balding middle-aged man who had signaled to him to ask a question. Skye looked up as Cassara passed and instantly detected the leg straps of a jock under Cassara’s business slacks, which were tight around his thighs. He gawked for just a moment, then heard Kirk whisper, “Dude! Stop looking. I saw it too: a jock man, just like us!” Again, the grin. Skye returned to his paperwork and Cassara came back to the desk.

Within a few minutes Skye proudly held his first check book in his hand and had even managed to get $20 cash for his first day. He was floating.

“Thank you, sir,” said Skye.

“You’re welcome, Skye. And no need to use the formalities. You can call me Alessandro, or Alex.”

“Thanks, Alex,” chimed in Kirk. “C’mon, Skye. Back to work. Hey,” he turned to the bank officer, “come see a wrestling team match this winter, huh? You can find the schedule on the website. Now, let’s go, Skye. We jocks gotta be on time.” He did this intentionally, and to his satisfaction, he noticed a slight movement in Cassara’s eyes at the word jock. Kirk casually readjusted his balls in his pants the way guys always do, and then he turned and left with his mentoree, feeling like he’d done a good job.

“Well!” said Kirk, “I guess that guy’s still attached to his college memories. I mean he’s only probably 25 or 26. No wonder he wears a jock to work. You can bet that other, older, pudgy officer doesn’t wear a jock to the bank. I actually thought it was kinda funny.”


Skye wasn’t listening. He couldn’t hear his friend over the sound of a $20 bill rustling in his pants pocket.