I walked into the locker room after everyone else had left. It was late, the lights half off, and I figured I’d grab my bag and split. Then I heard it. Heavy breathing, the wet slap of skin on skin. I froze by the row of lockers and peeked around the corner.
There he was. My bully. The same asshole who’d shoved me into lockers for months, called me a faggot, laughed when his buddies joined in. He was sitting on the bench, shorts around his ankles, thick cock in his fist, stroking hard. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, and he was muttering my name.
“Fuck, yeah, take it, you little shit…”
My cock twitched in my jeans before my brain caught up. I should have turned around. Instead I stepped forward. My sneaker squeaked on the tile.
His eyes snapped open. He didn’t stop stroking. His fist kept moving, slow and deliberate, precum shining at the tip.
“Get the fuck out,” he growled, but his voice was rough, not angry.
“You were saying my name,” I said. My mouth was dry. I was hard as hell and he could see the bulge.
He stood up, cock bobbing, heavy and veined. “You gonna tell anyone?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He stepped closer. The smell of sweat and soap and musk hit me. “Then get on your knees and shut the fuck up.”
I dropped. My knees hit the cold floor. His cock was right in front of my face, thick, the head flushed dark. I opened my mouth and he pushed in without asking. The taste was salty, bitter, real. He grabbed my hair and fucked my throat in short, rough thrusts. I gagged, spit running down my chin, but I didn’t pull back. My own dick was throbbing in my pants.
He pulled out after a minute, breathing hard. “Strip.”
I yanked my clothes off. My cock sprang up, smaller than his, leaking. He looked at it and smirked.
“First time?”
I nodded.
“Good.” He pushed me face-down on the bench, ass up. I heard him spit, then a thick finger shoved into me. It burned. I hissed. He worked it in and out, then added another. “Relax or it’s gonna hurt more.”
I tried. When he lined up his cock and pushed, it felt like being split open. The head popped in and I groaned, loud. He didn’t stop. Inch after inch sank into me until his hips met my ass. Full. So fucking full.
He started fucking me. Hard, deep strokes that made the bench creak. Every thrust punched a grunt out of me. My cock rubbed against the wood, leaking. He reached under and grabbed it, jerking me in time with his thrusts.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he panted. “Knew you’d take it like a slut.”
I came first. It hit without warning, my hole clenching around him as I shot across the bench. He kept going, pounding through it until he buried himself deep and I felt the hot pulse of him unloading inside me. He stayed there, breathing against my back, cock twitching.
We heard voices down the hall. Footsteps.
Someone else coming back for something.
He pulled out fast, cum dripping down my thighs. We scrambled into our clothes, hearts hammering. The door opened just as we were zipping up. A teammate walked in, glanced at us, said nothing, grabbed his stuff and left.
We stood there, silent. My ass ached. His cum was still leaking out of me.
He cleared his throat. “Locker room’s empty tomorrow after nine.”
I met his eyes. “I’ll be here.”
He nodded once, then walked out. I waited until my legs stopped shaking, then left too. My first time. Caught the bully with his cock in his hand. And I already knew I wanted more.
