Freshman Shower Party
Published by Cora Adel at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Cora Adel
“Alright boys, hit the shower.” Coach Briley yelled. “Great first practice. Nice hustle.”
Sweat ran down his the sides of his face from under his school logo’d cap and his thick, greying mustache hung heavily over his thin lips. He smacked the nearest football player on the ass as they ran by.
“Nine a.m. tomorrow morning.” He shouted as sweaty, exhausted players in full pads filed into the locker room.
It was the beginning of a new school year and Jackson was a brand spanking new freshman, and new to the team. He had been a high school quarterback phenomenon, earning himself a full ride scholarship with the Longhorns, but here, he was just fresh meat. The other players here were older and bigger; they towered above him and seemed as wide as school busses. He had to admit, it was extremely intimidating.
Practice had not gone as smoothly as he thought it would. Jackson first strode confidently onto the field, determined to show these guys his skills. He was used to being the star of the team and he figured that fame would follow him to this new school.
He was wrong.
Jackson’s whole body ached like he had been hit by a car - he practically had. Several times. The taunts from his new teammates still echoed in his mind.
“WOO! Oh yeah little man! How you like that, bitch!?” one of the three-hundred pound linemen yelled into Jackson’s facemask after a particularly nasty collision. Jackson swore the guy had groped him before standing up, but brushed the thought out of his mind. Hands and fingers sometimes wandered where they were not supposed to in the heat of the moment. He just stumbled back to his feet wordlessly and got back into formation.
Jackson limped forward towards the locker room, glad that the first practice was over. Coach Briley walked next to him and put a strong hand on his helmet, shaking it affectionately.
“Don’t worry, kid,” the coach said with a soft smile. The man was close enough that Jackson could smell his cologne, and the rugged scent calmed his nerves a little. He exhaled, sighing slowly.
“These guys go hard on hotshot freshmen to make you a little more humble. Brings you down to earth, eh?” He laughed and slapped Jackson on the back, hard.
Jackson stumbled forward a little. “Thanks, coach.” He felt slightly better, but not much. At least next practice might not be so bad.
He continued on, favoring one leg gingerly, and finally made it to the locker room. He plopped down on a bench to rest and took his helmet off. Jackson’s dark brown hair stuck to his forehead wetly and beads of sweat ran down into his eyes. He winced at the stinging fluid and rubbed it away. Jackson reached down and pulled his soaked jersey over his head, exposing slick, sweaty rippled abs, and started unbuckling his shoulder pads. The latches were stuck, and he frustratingly yanked at them, pissed that they wouldn’t just come right off.
“Hey little man, you need some help with that?” a deep voice boomed from behind Jackson. He spun around.
It was one of the huge linebackers that had flattened Jackson earlier, the one that may have groped his balls. The light skinned black man was nude, a towel slung over one shoulder, and grinning from ear to ear. A close shaved beard outlined his smile and his full brown eyes shone with laughter. Jackson could see the black man’s muscle fibers move in his chest, and below that a thick, rippled six pack stuck out between his rib cage. Jackson’s eyes continued downward to between his teammate’s legs and stopped on the thick cock that hung freely over a big set of shaved balls. Jackson’s eyes widened.
The black man laughed.
“Here,” he leaned forward, “Like this,” his nimble fingers swiftly unbuckled Jackson’s shoulder pads then pulled them up and over the freshman’s head.