I imagined this was what being in a big, icy cave felt like. It was the sounds mostly. Little drops of water dripped from the leaky faucets in the shower room, and the wind howled outside the door. Even the sound of our cleats clomping on the concrete made me feel like an explorer venturing into an old, rocky tomb. Then, the lights flicked on.

"That's better," Justin said. "Now, you just stay right there."

The one thing about caves I learned is that they were cold. I was out of the elements, sure, but I didn't feel any warmer. I rubbed my arms to smooth out the goosebumps.

A towel hit me on the back of the head and wrapped around me like a hijab. "W-w-what's that for?" I asked.

Justin turned to an old cupboard with missing handles and rusty hinges. Stickers covered the side panels. There was a blue one with faded words, one had a prism with a rainbow shining through it, and the rest just looked like profanity.

"Ah-hah!" he said triumphantly.

I looked at the white, plastic-like contraption in his hand and frowned. "What is that—I mean, is it even from this century?"

Justin brought the dilapidated ice pack close to his face and read what he could of the faded text. "Yeah.... Don't worry about that—I'm sure it's fine."

"But... What are you going to do with it? I don't think I really, you know... I'm feeling much better now."

"If I learned anything today, it was the democratic oath. And that means—"

I coughed into my fist. "No—yeah, totally. But what I'm trying to say is, well, it's getting late and I can take care of my, uh, injury at home."

He twisted the plastic pouch. It was followed by a loud pop. Justin beamed. "See? It still works! Feel it!"

"Oh, I don't—" But it was no use. He was right. It worked. More goosebumps sprang up my spine the second my fingers touched it.

Justin took note. I could see the wheels spinning in his head. They weren't going fast but they were definitely moving. Eventually, he pinched my soggy shirt. "You should take that off."

"What? Why? I mean, that's a little weird..."

He rolled his eyes. "You're cold, dude. That's what the towel is for—to warm you up, and that shirt isn't helping. It's not weird, see?" A second later, he stripped the damp shirt from his body and stood confidently with his bare chest in front of me. It was smooth all over. Justin was very obviously a water polo player.

"I play water polo," he explained, then motioned to his legs. "So that's why I shave."

I nodded.

Then his eyes suddenly narrowed. He zoomed in on my smooth legs and studied me. "But... What about you? Do you shave?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I mean no. I'm just lucky I guess," I said, then pressed my legs together as if that would make him lose interest. But of course, he kept staring, kept waiting for me to do what he'd asked. He even began tapping his foot again as if I were wasting his time. "OK! Fine!" I huffed, then angrily drew my shirt up and over my head. "Happy? Jeez!"

Justin went right to work. He walked briskly past me and made his way over to a long, wooden bench. It was cluttered with equipment, bags, and clothes which he carefully placed on the floor. He extended his arm, and in one fell swoop, sent everything tumbling down.

We faced each other, both clad only in our cleats and shorts. My arms were down by my sides, pressed tightly into my body. The towel slipped from my fingers.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked.

I looked skeptically at the bench and even more skeptically at his naked sternum. "What do you mean?"

"Take a seat. Lie down."

"Are you serious?"

Justin frowned.

"I mean, why are you doing all this? Why do you care so much?" I asked.

"Because it was my fault, that's why. I shouldn't have done that, it was stupid. Now, I'm just trying to help, so please, can you just do this for me? I promise it will make you feel better—trust me."

But he'd said that before, and that's how we'd gotten into this situation in the first place. Justin was hard to read and I considered myself a pretty good judge of character. I think I owed that to my sister who had ingrained in me a natural suspicion and skepticism ever since she became my legal guardian.

He tugged at the bottom of his shorts, stretching them thin over the lump of flesh in the front. Despite the absurdity of it, there wasn't anything perverse or even unusual about what he was doing. He had done it casually like that all practice. I took a step forward.

He raised his head suddenly and asked, "Hey, wait a minute. Do we know each other?"

"What? I mean, yeah, we just met."

His eyes narrowed. "No, that's not it. I mean you look familiar."

I shrugged. After I passed by him, I used my body as a shield and made a quick adjustment to the front of my shorts. My penis was much less conspicuous pointing down along my leg.

"Well, that's weird," he said.

I froze. "What? What's weird?"

He hesitated. I could feel his eyes burning into my back. "No, I definitely know you. Did you play at a tournament last year? The state one?"

"Yeah—well, I played at a lot of tournaments."

"I knew it!"

I took a seat, swung my legs up, and lay back. "You probably have me confused with someone else."

The persistent blonde boy didn't drop it. He stood over me, looking down, his head cocked to the side. "Nope, it was you. I remember because I felt sorry for you."

"Sorry for me?"

"Yeah, if it weren't for you guys, my team would have been last place. You guys pretty much got eliminated in the first 20 minutes." He bounced the ice pack back and forth between his hands. "But I remember you."

I stared curiously up his leg, up over his shorts to the soft features of his face. "That's impossible."

He shook his head.

"Are you going to hand me that or just keep standing there?"

The frigid thing stung my fingers. It wobbled and fell onto my belly. Justin smirked.

"Do you seriously need help?" he asked.

"No, I don't need any help!"

"Are you sure you're OK? I feel like you're getting worse."

I scooped it up angrily and was able to hang on this time. "It's just weird with you standing there and watching. Can I, you know, get a little privacy maybe?"

He held up his hands. The lump in his shorts wiggled around. "OK, OK... Sheesh. Have it your way."

"Thank you," I grumbled as he finally turned and made his way to his locker.

He had only taken about five steps when he stopped. Of course, his locker had to be the one right at my feet. And it just had to be the one on the bottom. Justin bent over and began spinning the dial on his lock.

He turned it to the left, then to the right, then back again. He cursed under his breath and then tried again. The lock still didn't open. He started counting the combinations out loud but the cheap lock never rewarded him with that satisfying click.

I placed the ice pack between my legs. My body shivered.

Justin heard the commotion. He didn't turn around, though. "Yeah, yeah... Make fun of me all you want—stupid thing!" He spun furiously in one direction in a vain attempt to reboot it.

My penis inched down my leg, pointing straight forward with the ice pack nestled on top of it. I sighed.

"Oh, please... Like you've never had trouble with a lock before."

The hard wood dug into my back. I wiggled my shoulders. Another quiet sigh escaped my lips.

Justin dipped lower. His shorts stretched along the contour of his cheeks. They were so tight they looked like they melded into his skin. Between his thighs, bulging out toward me, was a bulbous, round shape.

I tightened my grip around the ice pack and pulled it harder between my legs. It didn't feel cold anymore. I just felt numb. My whole body tingled.

"Ah hah! Got you, you piece of shit!" Justin announced. Then, he steered the conversation back to where we were earlier. But as he did that, just as he began to spit out his words, he hooked his thumbs into his shorts, pulled them down his legs, and stepped out of them. "I remember you because you ran right into me during our game. You ran right into me. You don't remember that?"

My head crashed into the hardwood.

He didn't turn even after the loud thump. "Alex? Hello? Well, I remember it anyway."

"I... I... Maybe?" I croaked.

Justin leaned forward and stuffed his shorts into his locker. "Maybe? You were lying on top of me. I thought I was dead. You apologized over and over."

"I did?"

"It's fate."

"Huh?"

He dropped to his knees and started rummaging around. My fingers wiggled the ice pack over my erection. Subtle, cool vibrations penetrated right through to my shaft. It wanted to rise, to push itself up. I lifted my head and stared at him.

My heart thumped in my chest. The tingling sensation engulfed every inch of my flesh. It was quiet too. Except for the cold plastic scraping over my shorts, I couldn't hear anything. His smooth balls were tight to his body, and his impressive shaft drooped lazily down between his legs.

It slapped into his thigh when he leaned forward and reached for something inside. His whole head slipped into the old, metal locker. Finally, he rose, collected his things, and took a seat in front of me.

At least his back was to me. But still, he sat there straddling the bench and began untying his cleats. I opened my legs wider. My neck stretched up higher so I could see him, so I could satisfy my inexplicable curiosity. The dimples on his lower back were symmetric, soft, and inviting. And his bubbly cheeks mashed into the hard wood.

"Do you have time for a shower?" he asked.

"Shower?"

"You know those things you do when you're dirty? Besides, you've got to be freezing. Warm water will help."

"I, uh—well maybe. I don't know."

"You don't know if you're freezing or if you want a shower?" He stripped the cleat from his foot and then stretched his other leg forward. His fingers fumbled with the laces.

Just then, my penis slipped and flopped forward onto my belly with a soft thud. I smothered it with the ice pack. Justin never turned. He just calmly tackled the stubborn knot on his shoe.

"Well?" he asked again.

"It's just my sister is going to be here soon and I don't know if I have time."

He paused. His hands stopped. "Wait, you're not weirded out right now, are you?"

"No! Why?" I blurted out.

"You're just really quiet all of a sudden."

My grip tightened. Both hands pulled it down into me. "No, I'm not. I'm just fine."

His pretty blonde head began to move.

My hands froze. I tried to make myself appear relaxed and calm. I tried even harder to keep my hands from moving again. But fortunately, he stopped just before he could see me. He aimed his words to the side. "Is everything alright back there?"

"I'm fine!" I insisted.

"OK, relax. Calm down."

"You relax! You're the one walking around naked!"

He turned forward again and scoffed. "It's a locker room! And seriously, I don't know what you're so afraid of. You have a nice body."

I said nothing. I didn't know if there was anything to say. It caught me off guard. No one had ever told me that before. It was sudden. Only in the last few moments did my perfectly normal, routine, boring life change forever. When I woke up that morning, I never imagined I'd be all alone with a naked boy. I began to wonder whether he was doing it on purpose—if he was doing it because he liked me.

Justin tossed his cleats into his locker and then sat up tall. He reached back behind his head, undid his ponytail, and ran his fingers through his hair. His head shook from side to side and all those pretty, blonde curls danced in the air behind him.

My pulse was so strong I could feel it in my fingers and toes. I started to pant. The ice pack ran back and forth over my shaft as I stared at him. I wasn't just staring—my eyes were devouring him. The interesting parts of him I'd been so curious about throughout practice were all now right there in front of me, completely out in the open. Then, my heart stopped. Justin was leaving.

He picked up his towel, rose to his feet, and took a step toward the shower.

"No, wait!" I peeped.

His feet stopped. He looked over his shoulder.

I had his attention. Now what? I panicked. My mind raced to find something to say—some excuse to keep him there with me. Then, more panic. My hands were still moving. It was subtle but I bet he noticed. I bet he could tell what I had been doing—what I was still doing. My lips stretched thin into a nervous, worried line.

"Yes, Alex?" he asked.

"I, uh, was just wondering if you could maybe, I don't know—oh! Help with my cleats!"

"I guess, but can't you just—"

"They're really hard to untie! And I can't reach them," I lied.

Justin shrugged, dropped his towel, and turned. My eyes went wide. There it was. Still dangling down between his thighs was six inches of thick flesh. As he calmly made his way toward me, it swung back and forth like a pendulum, clapping softly against his legs. He clamored onto the bench just like he had before. But this time he was facing me.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

I nodded and then set my foot down in front of him. I bent my knee.

He pulled the lace and easily separated the shoe from my foot. It tumbled to the floor beside me. His fingers were on me, digging into my socks, trying to find a place to pinch and tug.

"Sorry," I said.

Justin didn't look up. "For what?"

"That I don't remember you, and that I hit you."

His fingertips brushed over the bare skin of my knee. "These too?" he asked.

"Yeah. I mean, please."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I shuddered. "What? No. I'm not, you know—I don't think I am anyway."

"Well, that's too bad," Justin said as he pulled my sock down.

"Do you?"

"This is just my first day. We just moved here," he explained. "But yeah, if you're wondering, I'm not sure what I am either."

Both of my feet were naked. They sat there, just inches from his thick penis as it lay in front of him on the bench. I could feel the heat washing off of it, melting away the numbness in my toes.

Justin scooted closer. He set his hands down on my calves. It was a gentle, soothing touch. His bright gray eyes were tense though. They locked onto mine like he was searching for something.

"My old school was different," he explained. "People weren't all very nice."

"What do you mean?"

"There were a few of us that were like you and me—"

"Like me?"

"Yeah. I'll never forget it because I just turned seventeen. And some of the other boys were even seniors. But we'd wait for everyone else to leave. That's when we would—" he paused, his fingers brushed up my legs "—do things like this, I guess."

I gulped.

"When it was safe, we would shower together after practice and sometimes do this. We'd massage each other. Hey, does this feel OK?"

His penis had grown and was sitting between my feet. "No—yeah, this is fine, I guess."

"Are you sure?" he asked, his hands already on my thighs.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I squeaked.

My legs slowly came apart. Justin scooted in between them. I could feel his thighs grazing against mine. The ice pack fell to the floor.

My penis twitched. We both saw the small bulge shift in my pants and try to rise. It wouldn't be long before he saw the greasy mess that came with it as it seeped through my underwear. I gripped down hard onto the sides of the bench.

Justin gestured toward my pants. "Do you want to take those off?"

I shook my head.

"Are you sure?" he asked. His palms washed up my legs and came to a stop just below the bottom of my shorts. He waited patiently.

"It's... It's just—I've never done anything like this before. What did you guys, you and your friends, I mean, do on your first time?"

He cocked his head. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I... I think so—yeah."

He hesitated for a moment and then said, "What you were doing earlier—that's what we did, that's what we all did. That's how it started with us. It's OK if you want to keep going if you want."

Then, he reached down, coiled his fingers around his shaft, and lifted it off the bench.

"But I'm... I'm..." I stammered.

Justin pumped. "Just like this. We just sort of touched ourselves." Another pause. Another stroke. "Can you show me yours?"

"It's just... I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

"I've, you know, never done this before," I said softly.

He stroked it again, looking into my eyes, his other hand rubbing my thigh. "I saw you looking at me during practice too. Every time I turned around, you were there."

I blushed. My fingertips teetered on the cusp of my shorts.

"Can I see it?" he asked again.

I shook my head. But my trembling fingers lifted the elastic band of my shorts and ducked inside. I squirmed.

Justin's eyes widened. It's like he was trying to stare through the light blue fabric at what was underneath. He saw the shape of my fist close around my penis. My hand started to move.

His jaw came apart. He flashed his beautiful white teeth. "I bet it's beautiful," he whispered quietly. "Do you want to just watch me then?"

"I... I..." I started to say.

"Alex? What is it?"

"It's... It's just yours is so—" I swallowed "—it's so much bigger than mine."

His head shot up toward the ceiling. He grunted.

"You have the biggest dick I've ever seen."

His face turned serious. He tried to laugh, to smile—but all that came of it was more distress. He gritted his teeth and pumped his fist.

I watched as the skin on his shoulders and chest turned red. The muscles in his arms flexed and strained. Eventually, he noticed me staring. His tone changed, matching the expression on his face.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

I hesitated for a moment but my head slowly started to nod.

"Well, I bet I'll like yours too."

"But were the other boys like you? Were they as big?"

"There were some like you."

I swallowed. "And what else would you guys do? Was there more?"

He scooted in closer. I could feel his knuckles scraping into the back of my hand. "We just sort of did this for a while. But then..."

"Then what? Justin? What came next?"

"Well, there was this one boy. He looked a lot like you. We were in the shower one night, you know, doing this when he just, I don't know, walked over to me."

"What did he do?"

"He... He..." His voice dropped even lower and he whispered, "He started doing it to me."

I lost my voice. My eyes blinked. His penis was pointed right at me.

Justin squirmed. He gripped it tight around the tip and squeezed. He choked it. "And as soon as he touched me, I... I started to cum."

I grunted. It felt like my whole body spasmed. But all I could do was stare stupidly over to the big, lumbering flesh aimed at my belly.

His knuckles turned white. "I squirted all over him. It made such a big mess but he just kept going, he just kept jerking me off."

I pulled my hands away. I ripped them from my shorts, reached back above my head, and gripped the bench. Then, everything went quiet. My butt rose from the seat.

A second later, a wet spot appeared on the light blue material of my shorts, turning them dark.

Justin watched. He stared, his eyes focusing and tracking the growing stain. Then, his fingers relaxed and a torrent of steaming, white liquid pelted my skin. It covered me. It's like he was trying to drown me in his greasy fluid. It stuck to my chest in large, viscous gobs. I turned my head to the side just before it splashed into my eye. It careened harmlessly off my cheek and into my hair. I winced.

My whole body was sticky. I could feel cum bubbling up from my shorts and leaking onto my belly. And Justin kept spraying, kept squirting until the hot, sticky drops that were splashing onto my neck began to fall shorter. They mixed in with my own mess on my stomach. The last few drops that trickled out fell on my shorts.

We finished in silence. Only the slow sound of his fist, gently sloshing and twisting over his shaft, could be heard. I rose onto my elbows and watched as his cum cascaded down my sides and onto the floor.

The sweaty blonde boy sat back. His hair was matted to his forehead. He was watching too.

"What?" I asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You look good, that's all."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you have a towel? Something? Anything?"

"Why?"

"Why? Why!" I said, pressing my arms into my sides in a vain attempt to stop the mess from spreading.

Justin wiped his brow with the back of his hands. He calmly reached to the floor and grabbed his towel. But just as he was about to hand it over, he hesitated.

"Oh my God, what is it?" I snapped.

"Well, you could just take a shower, right?"

"Justin!"

Then, footsteps. They could be heard from the small crack in the window.

Someone was very deliberately, and very angrily, making their way across the parking lot, stomping their feet and rattling their keys.

"Justin! Hurry! Give me that!" I shrieked.

"Who is it?"

"My sister!"

A fist pounded on the armor-plated door.

He threw it at me and then scrambled to find his clothes. I scrubbed furiously over my body.

"Steph?" I called through the door. "Is that you? Almost done in here!"

The knocking stopped for a second then came back harder, faster, and with more fury. Eventually, it swung open, and in came the female version of myself. She strolled inside, angrily twirling her keys in her hand.

"Stephanie, you know you're not supposed to be in here!" I said, looking down at my shorts. They were on backwards. It wasn't intentional but at least this way she wouldn't notice the stain.

"Oh yeah? Well, OK. Bye then." She immediately turned and reached for the door.

"Steph! No! Wait!"

She paused mid-stride with one knee in the air, and her already tight denim jeans pulled even tighter. She wore them differently than the other girls. Stephanie liked them many sizes too small and with a particular cut—the kind with a low waist. In her mind, it was perfectly acceptable to show people her underwear.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Just give me another minute."

Stephanie shook her head as she marched over. She was small, even for a senior, and her French braid didn't make her look intimidating in the slightest. But somehow she still found a way to terrify everyone around her. She approached like a drill sergeant. Justin and I even found ourselves standing at attention, afraid to make direct eye contact. Stephanie cleared her throat.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"It's time for dinner. And do you know what I'm doing right now?"

"Not having dinner?"

She patted the scraggly, black mop on the top of my head. "Very good. You know that one dream I always tell you about? The one where I sit at home on the couch and do absolutely nothing?"

I nodded.

"Can you help make that dream come true?"

Justin stepped forward and stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Justin. And I think I can help—"

She calmly replied, "Hi, Justin. Good to meet you, now fuck off."

He reeled back double time and took up position beside me.

Stephanie wasn't done. She couldn't just forgive that kind of insolence. She stepped toward him, oblivious to the sharp, pungent smell coming from our bodies. That is, until she sniffed the air. Her eyes glared at his bare chest and short shorts. "And why the fuck are you smiling? Do you seriously walk around like that?"

It didn't matter that she was petite, with a narrow waist and a flat, exposed tummy below her tiny halter top. It didn't matter that she was only 105 pounds. It didn't matter in the slightest. Justin's grin disappeared in an instant, vanquished to the netherworld where it would never be a threat to Stephanie ever again.

Satisfied, she continued, "Well, I'll be in the car. You have, let's see, negative fifteen minutes. Bye." She narrowed her eyes at the towels, ice pack, and shirts strewn about at our feet.

She didn't say goodbye, she just turned and left. The whole structure shook when she did, as if it too were relieved she was gone.