It was weeks before the season began. It had been a very rough practice and back in the locker room, Bradley was standoffish, telling his teammates he just wanted some quiet to think about what he could have done better. The team had lost some good players and much of their hopes rested on Bradley’s ability to perform. While being a quarterback was always a difficult position subject to much criticism, the pressure was starting to get to him.
Once most of the rowdy team had trickled out of the locker room, Bradley took his shower, letting the water cascade over his high cheekbones, down to his wide shoulders. It dribbled down his nipples and to the neatly trimmed thatch of blond pubic hair. It collected there in little sparkling bubbles around his cock, glistening.
James, who been in the steam room since Bradley asked for quiet, had stepped out for his own shower and found himself mesmerized by the vision before him. He hadn’t walked in stealth on purpose; it was just his nature. In fact, he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice there was only one other shower running until he reached to start his own. When he’d looked up to see who else was with him, Bradley had already submerged his face in the spray.
Still oblivious that he was not alone, Bradley fisted his cock firmly and started to pull at his cut length. He leaned against the tiled wall, the front of his six-pack radiant with moisture as he moaned.
From his vantage point, James could see Bradley’s face, pinched in ecstasy, flushed as his hips moved. He fucked his hand hard, driving his slippery cock through his fingers, the head shiny and brightening. James imagined what it would be like to be the one to cause Bradley such bliss. He pictured himself on the receiving end of that plowing, bent over, sucking, handling, anything. It was making him desperately horny, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if Bradley caught him here watching, let alone what it would be like if Bradley caught him jerking off over it.
He waited and watched until Bradley’s breath caught and he gasped. “Fuck.”
Come spewed from him in spurts, washed away by the heavy spray of the shower.
Before Bradley opened his eyes, James retreated and waited for him to leave before taking his own shower. Since that day, James had replayed every possibility of how differently things might have ended if he’d approached. He imagined it so often that he worried it would become like a beloved cassette tape that wore thin and through from repeated listening.
Can’t wait to see what Football Players get up to off the field?
