Locker room affair

I turn off the lights. Only the black and white TV screen
lights the bedroom. Some late night show about surfing.
It takes only a minute to undress and put on my pajamas.
A glance at the mirror on the wall gives me a view of my
body – not very handsome, not that tall, and much hairier
than I’d like it to be.

In the room next door, my parents have been sleeping for

I can’t tell which one is snoring, but the noise sure is
loud. They always go to bed early. Staying up late to see
a movie on the TV or going to the cinema is impossible
for them, because they must get up very early in the
morning to catch the bus in time to get to work.

As for me, I can stay in bed for a little while, waiting
for my own bus to take me to school. Tomorrow is Monday;
so another week of state-financed education awaits me. I
hate Mondays. That’s one of the reasons I stay up so late
on Sundays. Maybe I can extend the weekend for a few
hours before going to bed.

I pull the blankets over me after putting my glasses on
the little table by my bed, and turning off the TV.


The alarm clock rings. My hand quickly slips under the
sheets to stop it. Here we go again. The water from the
shower helps me to wake up. If my family weren’t so poor
I’d probably smell oats and the acid odor of freshly-made
orange juice. But no. As I get out of the bathroom, all I
can smell is cat’s urine. Why does mom insist on keeping
a cat? It’s breakfast time. Opening the fridge reveals a
slice of yesterday’s pizza. I eat it avidly.

Looking at the window, I can see the other building
across the street, which looks exactly like this building
and the other building in this neighborhood. Red brick
walls with small windows and no balconies. I’d sure like
to have a balcony. The fire escape ladder keeps rusting.

Better not use the elevator. It broke down three times
last month, and poor Mrs. Goldberg got the scare of her
life, kept inside that claustrophobic space for a couple
of hours before someone listened to her calls for help.
It’s the stairs, then. Running down all seven flights
gives me a speeding heartbeat. I can already hear the
sound of the slow yellow school bus. Trying to catch my
breath, I get out of the building and move to the bus

Not much time passes before it arrives. I get in it and
take my usual seat, one of the seats at the front. Cool
kids ride at the back of the bus. The geeks ride at the
front. Even at four or five rows distance, I can smell
the sweet perfume that Christine uses. She is the
prettiest girl I have ever seen. Her long black hair
comes down to her shoulders. Green eyes enhance her
already beautiful face.

She has a boyfriend, Jack. Jack is one of those sport
champions. He’s so perfect he could join the Hitlerian
youth, if there were still a Hitlerian youth. That’s what
really pisses me off. How is a guy like me going to
compete with guys like them?

The bus stops. We get out and stand before an unexpected

One car has crashed against the school wall. A large
number of kids are gathered around the obviously drunk
driver and a police officer is placing him under arrest.
I notice Christine and Jack pass by me – he bumps my
shoulder – as they rush to join the crowd. Only then I
notice that she is wearing a very tight pair of shorts.
Her butt is really very nice. Not too large and not too
small. Just right.

Trying to remain unnoticed by her, I positioned myself
behind and to her left. Other kids keep coming to see the
accident, so she is totally surrounded, while I am at
only a couple of feet away from her. My hand starts
moving towards her. After a final check that the other
kids’ attention is completely drawn to the drunk man, I
run my hand between her butt cheeks in a vertical
movement, then quickly withdraw it.

She suddenly looks around but can’t figure out who
touched her; she whispers something in her boyfriend’s
ear. He looks all around menacingly, but from the
surprise on the faces of the people standing by him, he
can’t figure out who did it either.

The bell rings. It’s time for my math class. The crowd
that had gathered suddenly disperses. I walk through
familiar hallways and reach the classroom. The class
begins. Several equations fill the blackboard and we
start copying them. The first ones are quite easy to
solve, but difficulty increases as one passes to the

My mind starts to wander….

Her ass had been tight, all right. The cheeks seemed soft
but firm at the same time. When I had touched her I had
taken great care to be gentle when the tips of my fingers
were precisely below her pussy (or so I calculated by a
not-so-educated guess). I suspect I may have been right,
because, at that very moment, she had shivered in a way
that she wouldn’t have if I had not touched that
sensitive spot.

I knew my hand would have to be at a safe distance from
her in just a few seconds, so I had moved it upwards,
always keeping it in contact with her butt, before
pulling it away in a fast and precise gesture. Now that I
think about it, I had been really lucky that she couldn’t
tell which one of the kids had felt her, for I would have
been sure to arrive home severely injured if Jack had
gotten his hands on me.


Someone is calling my name. It is the teacher. Suddenly
awoken from my day-dreaming, I am being called to solve
some of the exercises on the blackboard. As I am about to
stand up, I suddenly realize I have a hard-on. Close to
panic and on the verge of seeing the volume between my
legs being exposed to the entire class, I have to think
quickly. I take my copy-book and hold it next to my
groin. I then stand up and go solve the equation.

I don’t know about you, but solving equations kind of
turns me off; by the time I was halfway through, I could
safely look at my copy-book to see if I was doing the
math right.

A few classes later, it was lunch time. When I got to the
canteen, she was already there, sitting next to – you
guessed it – Jack. As I was waiting for my turn in the
single file, I couldn’t stop looking at her. As the fork
approached her lips, her mouth opened and revealed her
perfect white teeth. I could see faint glances of her
tongue. What forbidden pleasures could that tongue allow,
should I be the one in her heart?

My turn finally comes. A fat and sweaty woman fills the
dishes with an undetermined nutritive mass. I take one of
the dishes and a pack of milk. Sitting next to Christine
is impossible. Her table is filled with guys who probably
would start to bully me the second I sat down. Eating
that garbage is torture enough, without seeing her so
close and not being able to reach her. With great effort,
the so-called food on my plate gradually vanishes and I’m
ready for another class.

As I have some spare time, I go to the computer room.
Lucky me, there’s one free PC. Checking e-mail… No, the
system administrator still hasn’t answered my request for
extra disk quota. How typical. Well, I guess I’ll have to
kill some time by watching Mr. Lee and Mrs. Anderson’s
home-made vacation video once more. And there she goes
again! Taking Mr. Lee’s penis in her mouth… Another
scene shows her taking it where Nature intended it to be

Does Christine have a shaven pussy, as Mrs. Anderson has?
Which positions does she favor? Would she become wet by
the touch of a man’s hand over her breasts, or would she
need additional stimulation – not necessarily by hand
only – on her genitalia? Would licking her pussy bring a
taste of urine – however faint – to my tongue? Are her
labia majora as swollen as Mrs. Anderson’s, or are they
thin and delicate? I am absolutely sure her breasts don’t
have silicone implants as do the ones Mrs. Anderson has,
but how do they look when exposed to the sun? Are they
very firm and stand in all of their glory, or are they
somewhat flaccid and tend to droop?

One can only try to guess the answers to these

Another hour, another boring class. Physics. If a time
machine is ever invented, I will surely volunteer to go
back and terminate Mr. Newton. While I’m at it, I might
even put a bullet in Herr Lebnitz’s head and stab
Monsieur Cauchy and Monsieur Lagrange in the back.

Christine is going to have her gymnastics class. I can’t
miss that. Off I go to the sports field. Some girls are
on the field, and some are still coming out of the locker
room. They are jumping and running, their breasts moving
up and down, up and down….

I lie down on the lawn to conceal my growing erection. As
I remain there, it comes to full size, and I can feel my
underwear becoming slightly wet from pre-cum.

The locker room….

There are moments when my mind is assaulted by evil
thoughts. At those times, ideas start flowing at fast
rate and cunning plans are made. My heart starts to beat

The locker room’s entrance is somewhat concealed by a low
wall, so if a person is standing on the play field, she
can’t see who goes in and out. The beating of my heart
has reached a very fast rate.

The girls move far off to the opposite side of the field.
This is my chance. Without being noticed, I manage to get
in their locker room. A row of hangers is on the eastern
wall. I go straight to her clothes and pull my pants and
boxers down to my knees. An erection starts to take
shape. Soon my penis is pointing straight at her clothes,
just like if it had a will of its own.

A thin string of saliva drops from my lips to my hand.
The hand is placed around my penis, a familiar feeling. I
let the saliva reach the same temperature as my dick
before proceeding. Then I start. My hand moves slowly
forward and backward. When it reaches the base, a portion
of it is left uncovered, at the tip. A gentle breeze
coming from an opened window high above meets that part
and makes me shiver. As usual, my testicles move closer
to my body. I cup them with my free hand – inside them, I
notice movement.

I wonder if I am successful at imitating with my hand the
feelings I would have if I were actually inside a woman’s
cunt… The wetness and warmth are there, but I am sure
that only with the presence of the woman will I be able
to fully appreciate sex.

The movement continues. With all my practice, I can now
hold back for as long as I like. Will I be able to do as
well if it happens for real? I fear I will be too nervous
and probably even ejaculate before – or shortly after –
penetrating her.

Nice ceiling.

From outside, the noise of about twenty girls exercising
can be heard. What would happen if one of them were to
come in now? Just thinking of that makes me incredibly
excited. Would I have the guts to face her and finish
what I had started right on her shirt, or would I chicken
out and run? What would the consequences be, should I
choose not to be a chicken?

The tension accumulated reaches the level that tells me
I’m close to orgasm. Slowing the rhythm, I try to make it
last some more time. Occasionally, when I’m at home
alone, I stop for a while and start over, a minute or so

Looking down, I contemplate my penis. Its tip is the
shape of a cone, because it’s circumcised. The wetness on
the skin makes it look glossy under the lights of the
cloak-room. Two or three veins are visible.

I remove my left hand from my testicles and grab
Christine’s panties, that tiny piece of cotton still
impregnated with her scent.

I hold the panties in front of my dick and prepare to
mess them.

Contracting my buttocks, I push forward as I feel the
flow of sperm moving closer to the outside world. Then a
jet of white, thick come is expelled from my pulsating
penis and lands on Christine’s panties. Several other
jets follow, each one with less intensity than the last,
and I make sure all of my fluid lands exactly where it is
supposed to land. A feeling of fulfillment and general
fatigue invades me.

Her panties are totally soaked. I put them back where
they were.

It’s a good thing the girl’s locker room has liquid soap.
I wash my hands and my penis.

Looking around the entrance reveals no one in sight, so I
can exit safely. I go and sit at a safe distance,
pretending to read a physics book.

A month prior to the aforementioned event….

It was with a heart filled with fear and a rose in my
hand that I approached her. She was at the park, autumn
leaves falling at her feet, sitting there near the red
fish pond. “May I sit beside you?” I asked.

“Indeed you may,” she said. By the blush on my face, for
which the rose’s deep red was no rival, she could – and
indeed, to the best of my knowledge, she did – foretell
my intention. For longer than I would have wished, we
talked about all sorts of uninteresting things.

Then, knowing that I would not be able to express my
feelings through words, I put the red rose down in her
lap. She looked at me, noticeably amused. My knees were
shaking. My lips were dry, as I noticed when the softness
of her cheek came in contact with them. After that first
kiss, I drew back. She looked at me. “Listen, Michael, I
think you’re a very nice guy, but that’s all.” As she
walked away, leaves kept falling from nearby trees. The
red rose stayed on the ground.

I sat there for a long while. My lips where no longer
dry, for drops of salty water had made them moist.

Back to the present….

The girls are coming out of the locker room. It seems
they are unusually agitated. In particular, Christine
looks very pissed.