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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to o
o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Jock Jerk (gay)
by Dorian Grey
------------> Budding Brad <----------------
|*** Written and contributed by Dorian Grey.|
|*** Dedicated to Brad Budney. |
|*** Written/uploaded/copyrighted 1/25/88. |
--------------------------------------------
.
.
. Morning practice for the swim team was a real bitch.
. I had to get up early. Real early. Before the crack of
. dawn. And drive to the college and change. I'd always
. been a morning person, but this was just too much.
. 6:00 AM and I jumped into lane 6, whose affectionate
. appelation was "Remedial Six," due to the coach's
. tendency to put the slowest swimmers in the last lane
. during practice and meets. I always thought the whole
. idea was to get people pissed of being in the slow
. lane so they would speed up, but later the supposed
. real reason was explained to me: When many people
. are swimming at the same time in the same pool,
. like in a race or in practice, the water moves
. from the center of the pool to all corners.
. When a swimmer is in the outer lanes, lanes 1 and 6,
. there is much more water movement, and hence more
. resistance.
. Traditionally, the best swimmers were placed in
. the centermost lanes so they could work on
. their times and getting places. It was rationalized
. that the worse swimmers wouldn't win anyway, nor
. would it make much of a difference in psychological
. terms, either in practice or meets.
. That's what really grabbed me when, after
. our eight lap warmup. I was all alone in lane
. six, the worse of the worse, with Brad "the bud"
. Budney. He was Olympic material as a junior.
. And I, being no sack of dead meat in water, but
. no Speedy Gonzales either, was more than a little
. miffed that not only was I not chosen as a senior
. captain by the coach, but was forced into lane six
. just for missing a few practices. Alright, more
. than a few, but I did well at meets. But for
. Brad to be in lane six was ludicrous, and it
. was outrageous for none of the freshman to
. be in there.
. "Why are you in lane six?" , I asked
. Brad, who managed to be hot in water as
. cold as a York Peppermint Pattie.
. "I saw the coach put you in here," he said,
. "and didn't think you should be all alone."
. I found this to be more and more intriguing
. as I started to swim the dreaded pyramids. Brad
. and I had always been on good, if strange terms.
. He was so quiet. But from time to time he'd yell
. out of nowhere, "Hey, Dorian!" or just "Doriaaaan!"
. I, the fool that I was, and not willing to be
. outdone by an underclassman, always replied,
. "Braaaaaad!" But that was basically it.
. I didn't see much of Brad because he
. was a club swimmer: a team member that
. swims all year round with an aquatic club.
. He was, like all club members, exempt from
. all but one practice a week. This
. was unusual for him to be here on a Monday,
. especially since our high school had
. off that week. We only had three practices
. at the college as a consequance, and Brad
. could have claimed ignorance of them after
. vacation. But he was here.
. After practice, I showed Brad to
. "The Club." It was not really a club,
. but Kevin and I discovered it the year before,
. with a sign on the entrance mentionning
. something about an alumni club for
. old sportsmen and coaches of the college
. where we practiced.
. Brad gave his "Yeah, cool." reaction
. to my explanations of the whole thing, and
. we entered the private bathroom
. and shower alone, because the other
. upperclassmen who knew of the Club's existence
. skipped practice that morning.
. I took my shampoo and lathered up,
. hoping to get rid of that ropy sensation
. one feels after an overchlorinated
. session in a pool. It sounded like
. Brad was taking off his suit, and a quick
. glance confirmed my suspicions.
. Brad stood there, accross
. from me in The Club, meager team
. suit pulled one third off. The
. suit's line crossed some very interesting
. territory, and the manner in which it
. was positioned one, and I, could not help
. but noticing the slimness of Brad's
. waist, nor his sparse growth of pubic
. hair that was brown, unlike his blond
. head. I bet that he shaved some of
. the hair recently, because 2 years
. before he had more as a freshman.
. It looked sexier. I thought
. he probably didn't do it for looks
. but for racing.
. Brad turned, and I admired
. how his suit reveal his bulging
. buttocks, and his nice, fine
. crack. I was tantalized for more,
. but couldn't risk a prolonged
. glance since he might turn
. around any second.
. His strong but slender handes
. seemed to almost massage his hips
. and the sides of his buttocks
. before he slid his suit down
. and off. I adored the view
. I got and turned around
. and pulled my suit off, too.
. I rinsed my hair,
. and became upset at its
. consistent ickiness. I
. bantered back and forth
. with Brad about that special shampoo,
. UltraSwim, and really lathered
. up a second time. Between
. the water and the rinsing and
. lathering, I missed the beginning
. of Brad's strangeness in talking.
. It sounded.... strange.
. almost strained. Quiet, and
. falterning, modulating in volume
. and diction. I dropped my suit
. from its place hanging on the
. hot-water-knob on purpose, and ducked
. down so I could retrieve it and hear
. Brad better. I heard his voice
. pause a second, and a wet, swishing
. noise go "flick, flick, flick," a few
. times and stop.
. I stood up and promptly
. knocked over my shampoo bottle, and it
. went slipping and sliding accross
. the showers to Brad's side.
. I turned around, and caught sight
. of Brad, with his hand on his
. penis, masturbating before he
. quickly turned around and fetched
. me my bottle of 'poo. He turned,
. almost shyly, and handed me my
. bottle, and I looked down at his
. healthy erection while accepting
. the proffered bottle. My wet
. cock stirred in response
. to Brad's obvious arousal, and
. I smiled, and turned around.
. I had no nerve whatsoever.
.
.
. That night, I replayed
. the whole sequence of event sin my
. head while in bed, fondling myself.
. He was so hot. I've thought of
. some guys as cute before, and
. some as really masculine-let-me-let-you
. fuck-me-please, but I'd never really
. come accross anyone as hot as Brad.
. And he was interested in me! Or
. at least his body was. I blew
. it, without even getting to blow him!
. The chances of another such shower
. in The Club with Brad, alone and
. aroused were too slim. Alas, and
. alack. What fool, me.
.
.
. The next morning I wasn't
. in lane six anymore. I got moved
. down to lane five. Brad moved too,
. and I was in a mixed state of fear
. and desperation as I contemplated
. my future actions while doing laps
. with Brad at my side.
. He didn't need to come that day.
. But he did. Maybe he was trying
. to tell me something. Maybe he
. just had no aquatic club practice
. and wanted to keep his delicious
. muscle tone. Maybe. Maybe.
. I needed an answer.
. The scene in The Club
. repeated itself in the beginning,
. with one major addition: I made
. sure my shower had a nozel angled
. so the spray would hit me below my ears
. so I could hear every second.
. I began the conversation that
. day on a totally different, non-shampoo
. related topic. Sex. I pulled off
. my bathing suit early on in the
. verbal game so I could be seen.
. Brad pulled his off, and this time
. I didn't stop looking at him while he
. did so, partly because I was talking
. to him and to do so would point the matter
. out, and partly because I wanted a
. good gander at his gander.
. "I don't think virginity is
. either a state of mind OR flesh,"
. I said, contrasting his previous
. statement, "I think it's the state
. of New Jersey."
. Brad had a good laugh at that one,
. and I enjoyed his laugh. He had
. a good laugh. Nice and deep,
. and I could see his chest shake,
. in addition to his cock, which
. was starting to get slightly
. plumper as the moments passed.
. "Really," he replied, as he picked
. up his suit inbetween his toes and put
. it on his hot handle, "How many
. virgins do you think there are in
. the state of New Jersey?"
. I told him I could not
. divlge exact figures, as I did
. not possess population data
. and thus could not give him my
. estimate of percentage.
. "Let's take a smaller population
. sample," said I, "how about the guys
. in the 11th and 12th grades, or on the
. team, or... no, something even smaller."
. "How about your estimate of the
. number of virgins in the Club?" Brad
. said with a strange tinge to his voice.
. "I started to get a major boner,
. so I began to lather up while feigning
. mental calculations. I dropped my shampoo
. because my hands were still lathered up
. from the previous wash, and when I bent over
. to pick the bottle up, it slipped between my legs.
. I tried to reach through them, because I didn't
. want to turn around with a raging hard-on.
. It was then that I noted Brad's
. modulation of volume again. He was breathing
. hard. Harder than my cock. I said,
. with the shrillness of nervousness in my
. voice, "Could you pass me my shampoo, Brad?"
. He passed it, alright. Right through my
. legs, but he was passing it underhanded instead
. of overhandend, and his hand touched my balls
. going and coming.
. When I finished lathering, Brad was positively
. panting. I turned to be rewarded by his jerking
. off again. He coughed, and turned, and then said that
. he was going to get out of the shower early
. because he had to call and try and get a ride
. so he wouldn't have to walk home in the freezing
. cold weather.
. I stayed in the shower, and jerked-off
. for a while, but couldn't come because I have never
. been able to come while standing up. I decided
. to go and get dressed and go home to beat
. my meat.
. However, when I got to the lockerroom, I
. saw that all the underclassmen had already left.
. I always thought it wwould be kind of kinky to
. get off in a locker room, especially the college's
. locker room. And boy, was I horny!
. I located the perfect place: There was this
. one bench that was not bolted to the floor, and I found
. it in its usual place, facing the bathroom, with the
. stalls and piss pots.
. It wasn't very long, only about six or seven feet,
. but it was wide enough that I could lie down on it
. without much trouble. It was hard, like me, so I
. put a bunch of towels on it, especially near where
. my head would be.
. I thought I heard a grunt, or a moan, or
. someone in pain nearby, but when I turned my head
. in the direction from whence it came, the bathroom,
. I saw no one in there and no feet were underneath
. the stalls, so I dropped my suit on the floor, spread
. my legs on either side of the bench, and sat and then
. lied down. I started to jerk off, and started to
. talk to myself under my breat.
. Vocalizing is great during masturbation,
. but you have to be sure no one can hear you, especially
. if you're talking out gay fantasies like I do.
. I then closed my eyes, to let my imagination run the
. gauntlet of desire. My heartbeat and my hand's
. rythym increased. There was a sound almost
. like light, bare, footsteps, but I ignored
. them, as I knew no one had entered since there wasn't
. any tell-tale sign of entrance like the creaky door's
. screaching.
. I reached the epiphany of climax, that delicious
. moment when you know you're going to come, because it's
. inevitable, but you just don't know exactly when until
. you feel the echo of a spurt in your balls. Riding
. the incipient wave of pleasure, but wanting it all,
. I started to cry out, "Cum, Brad!" , keeping with
. my fantasy where this peroxide blond with grey eyes
. and light brown pubic hair thrusts and thrusts and
. then pulls out and cums all over me, "Cum on me,
. Brad! Cum! Now!" In the back of my mind I wondered
. if a janitor could hear me, but I didn't care. A
. janitor probably couldn't hear me over my loud breating,
. anyway, I thought to myself.
. But it wasn't my breathing! I was breathing
. hard, but not that hard. I opened my eyes
. to see Brad, standing there, jerking off, and
. was surprised and shocked to suddenly feel
. that area between my belly-button and my pubic
. hair covered with liquidy cum. Cum that was
. not my own. This got me so turned on that I came,
. even though I had pulled back my hand from
. my cock half a minute before.
. Brad just looked at me, and smiled. When
. I recovered my senses and my breath I asked,
. "But didn't you leave?!?!?"
. To which my jerk partner replied,
. "No. I was in the stall, jerking off with
. my feet against the door."
. "Oh," I said, becoming shy again,
. even with two sets of cum all over me.
. "I couldn't get a ride and kept
. on thinking about that question I asked
. that you never answered."
. "Which question?" , I inquired.
. "The one about how many virgins
. there are in this room right now."
. I gave Brad a little tug on his
. cock and caught a drop of his juice
. on the tip of my index finger and
. said, "I'll tell you the answer to
. that question and more after I
. take you home (with me) and give you
. a RIDE you'll never forget."
. Brad smile, and laughed,
. and I knew the rest of vacation
. wasn't going to be as boring as
. I thought. Remedial Six
. wouldn't be so bad. With Brad.
.
.
.
---dorian---
----grey----
.