They didn't seem a likely pair, these two high school boymen who were giving each other pleasure on the locker room bench.They didn't seem a likely pair, these two high school boymen who were giving each other pleasure on the locker room bench. It was after 6 PM, and they had sneaked in to steal their furtive moments of pleasure. When they were done, they would sneak out, act like their straight friends and stay hard until they were able to do it again. It was the second time they had met, and they had not become too adventuresome, not even approaching the fantasies that their minds had been turning over since they each learned (years before) that thinking about boys made them harder and feel better than thinking about girls ever could. When they were sure that they were alone, they embraced one another and were once again struck by how right their mouths felt, and they wrestled with their tongues kissing eyes, cheeks, lips, neck and thus inflamed their passion. The two athletes were now breathing as heavily as during any workout and were straining against their jocks and sweat shorts. The only light was from the sunset outside that entered from the high windows above. There was a misty quality to the orange twilight, leftover from the parade of sweaty bodies that had showered there earlier. The only sounds would be the echoes of their groans and words of pleasure. They sat down, face to face on a locker room bench. Thankfully it was bolted to the floor so it could stand their violent movements. Between continued mouth work and crotch rubbing ("Oh, fuck! That feels great, Tim."), they pulled off each other's shirts and licked off a layer of perspiration while exploring each other pecs, pits, and abdomens. These boys were true specimens of youth. Tim was definitely the finer of the two, with varsity letters in both football and baseball. |