A gay story: Locker Room after a Loss This is a work of fiction, not based on any real events — though I wish it was. All characters are at least 18 years old.
————————————————————–
I padded across the vinyl flooring past the rows of white lockers, searching for mine. I was still flushed with the afterglow of victory, my heart racing even now, an hour after the excitement ended.
I couldn’t help it. Up until the last shot, the final release of the bowstring and the solid thud of my arrow meeting the bullseye, I doubted myself.
I doubted my ability to make it to Nationals, and told myself that I was lucky to be there — not just privileged – but undeserving of the position I’d found myself in. But there was no denying it now, I was good, better than everyone in the stadium by a wide margin. I could tell my opponents didn’t expect it.
They were waiting just like I was for me to make a mistake. The look on their faces when the competition was complete was one of perfect surprise. Ryan Lim, the runner up and two-time champion, looked at me like he was in the middle of a dream, trying to put a finger on what didn’t fit with reality and waiting to wake up.
I reached my locker at the end of one of the many rows. Athletes get assigned lockers when they check in, and I was thankful this time I got a more secluded one, though at that moment it wouldn’t have mattered. The room was empty, most competitors having finished well before my final match.
Most of them were already on shuttles to their various universities or the nearest airport. The only ones left are likely me and Ryan L–
I lost my train of thought when I heard a door open across the room. The sound of someone walking slowly, meandering almost, echoed across empty space.
“Is it him?” I wondered anxiously. Athletes can be a moody bunch and I had learned to avoid other competitors so soon after winning a match. We dedicate ourselves to one cause for much of our lives and then put it all on the line for the world to see our triumph or failure. It’s no surprise emotions run high when we feel our efforts haven’t been rewarded, like a prize and pedestal already paid for in sweat and tears have been stolen out from under us.
As the victor of today I didn’t want to find out how forgiving this victim would be, so I hurried to change, peeling off my damp tee and shucking my pants. I was stuffing the clothes into the bottom of the locker when I the footsteps reached the open end of my row of lockers.
I couldn’t help but look up. Just like I thought, it was Ryan. I silently cursed my luck and dropped my gaze before we could make eye-contact, praying that he wouldn’t say anything to me. I faced my locker and was about to continue changing, but even without looking I could tell he was walking towards me.
“Congratulations” He called. He sounded melancholy but was doing his best to mask it, putting a cheerful upswing in his greeting.
“Thanks.” I said, “You did amazing.”
“As if.” Ryan scoffed. “I couldn’t even beat a rookie who picked up a bow for the first time two years ago.”
There it was, I knew he wouldn’t actually be cheerful after his loss.
“Oh uh yeah, sorry about that.” I attempted an apologetic smile. He was closer now and still walking. I was on guard but trying my best to seem at ease. I wondered why he was still coming at me until I saw him pull out a locker key. He stopped at a locker a few to the right of mine and opened it.
Ryan sighed deeply, looking down and pondering how best to respond to my apology. Evidently it wasn’t worth the effort to acknowledge, instead he changed the subject.
“What are the chances huh?” He asked. “They have this whole facility and they mange to put the two best archers almost side-by-side.” He chuckled. “Maybe they know something we don’t.”
I smiled and nodded my assent. I was still tense. He was smiling and didn’t seem to have taken my apology the wrong way, but there was an edge in his voice I couldn’t place.
When he turned and began to undress, I sensed our conversation was over and continued changing myself – stripping of my boxer-briefs and pulling on my clean underwear. I was checking Ryan’s progress out of the corner of my eye as I did — wary of some attack or petty retribution.
As I did I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t have a typical archer’s build. Working to draw a bow and stabilize your stance tends to result in an overdeveloped back, arms, and shoulders along with atrophied core and chest muscles. Instead, he was evenly toned across what looked like his entire body.
His chest muscles stood out above well-defined abs and I could see the muscles ripple across his taught frame as he pulled off his shirt and bent to remove his shorts. Even his legs looked like they were carved from marble, each muscle not bulging out but clearly defined beneath tanned skin.
He must have spent a lot of time and effort training his whole body — not just what’s most useful for drawing a bow. I respected that — it shows that an athlete is dedicated to more than just winning a game, they are dedicated to pushing their body to its limits and realizing its ultimate form.
I was like that too, though my results were lackluster compared to his. No matter how much I trained or ate I couldn’t seem to put on the sort of muscle he had. People would describe me as “slim” or maybe “lean,” plenty of muscle but spread out over too tall a frame. Ryan, on the other hand, was statuesque.
“You know you could always take a picture — it’ll last longer.” He said, turning and looking directly at me, as if he could feel my eyes on him.
“Dammit.” I thought. I had been changing too slowly, so caught up making sure I wasn’t about to be pounced on that I hadn’t put on any more clothes besides my underwear. “Sorry I was, uh, just a bit nervous.” I decided to be honest. “Some guys get really upset right after a loss, especially to someone like me.”
Ryan blushed inexplicably. He seemed caught off guard by my explanation, stammering “Oh, I ehm- I didn’t mean to make you nervous.” He looked me up and down, as if reevaluating whatever impression he had of me before. “Sorry I used that cheesy line on you.”
I had never seen Ryan like this. In competitions he always looked so self-assured, walking with the sort of masculine grace that oozed confidence. He always gave the impression of powers held in reserve, of someone just waiting for a challenge that would demand his full attention.
“Wait what line is he talking about?” I thought. “The picture thing? Is that something people say? Is he flirting with me?” Now it was my turn to blush.
We stood facing each other, caught in the awkward uncertainty of each other’s misunderstandings and unsure how to move on.
My mind raced: one half trying to convince myself that I had misinterpreted — he wasn’t flirting, I was just full of it. The infusion of confidence from winning had clearly inflated my ego beyond reasonable limits. The other half wondered if it was possible that Ryan was interested in me. He didn’t give the impression of being gay — and even if he was why would he flirt with someone like me?
My mind was still wheeling when Ryan began to move towards me, and I took my first close look at his face. He was about my height, maybe a couple inches shorter, had an angular face and high cheekbones below dark eyes. I thought his hair was black, like mine, but from this distance I could see it was tinged auburn at the tips, a reddish-brown so dark you could only see it in the hairs set against the pale background of the lockers.
I remember when I saw him the first time, I thought his severe features suited his lofty position as champion, but now he didn’t look haughty or severe at all, somehow he looked anxious but also determined, an unknown question set across his lips.
He was close now, our bare skin separated by nothing but a few inches of air. He paused and I could feel the heat of his body and hear him take a deep breath, a gulp of air taken as if preparing to plunge underwater.
I didn’t move even as I sensed his hand against my jaw, his thigh brush against mine, and saw him tilt his head up to me. And then his lips were on mine.
He kissed me with gentle insistence, unsure what my response would be but knowing that half-measures would not answer his question. I stood rigid, still too dismayed to respond, wondering what I was supposed to do. When he sensed I was not reciprocating he pulled broke the kiss and stepped back quickly, racing back to his locker.
“Sorry.” He mumbled without looking up. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Please don’t tell anyone.”
He was already pulling on his day-clothes, tugging shorts on while I stood rooted to the spot, trying to process what had just happened. My heart hammered in my chest as I watched him hurriedly shove dirty clothes into a duffle bag.
Two years of being in and out of locker rooms almost every day had desensitized me to being naked in front of other men. But somewhere I remembered the subtle bloom of excitement in my chest when I first started acclimating to this strange environment — the nerves and the warmth in my crotch I felt when I saw one of the chiseled athletes walking unabashedly across the room.
I thought about how even today I let my eyes linger on his lithe beauty and part of me wondered if I was just using wariness as a pretense to keep looking. The image of my body pressed against his suddenly flared in my mind, shaking me from my stupor with ridiculous urgency.
That image, the thought of our bodies straining against each other, was so different from thinking about my past girlfriends but was no less arresting. Ryan had his back to me and duffle slung over his shoulder by the time my racing emotions sublimated into resolve.
“Ryan, wait.” I called, already hurrying to him.
He turned quickly and barely had time to register what was about to happen before I wrapped one arm around his waist and lifted the other to the back of his head. I kissed him forcefully and pulled him into me, trying to convey the new need I felt. He tensed in surprise, clearly not expecting this delayed reciprocation.
Then he relaxed, tilting his head to kiss me more deeply and shifting his body to fit more tightly against mine. Our tongues probed past each other’s lips and we breathed raggedly as we vied for an even deeper connection. We stayed like this for some time, but it became clear that I needed something more than a kiss could give me.
I needed to see his toned body again, wanted to feel every inch of it under my probing hands and see how it would react against mine. He had the same thought. When I broke our kiss, he threw off his bag and we both frantically worked off his clothes. I barely registered the fact that he had deftly pulled off my boxers before we were back together, hands roaming freely as our hunger grew.
I felt his cock begin to harden and press against my thigh and I allowed my hand to wrap around his shaft. The first touch was electric.
He was maybe 5 inches semi-hard, the perfect width, and growing steadily. I thought about how it would feel to take that cock into my mouth, to wrap my lips around the root of his penis and feel it inflate inside my warm mouth, pressing into the back of my throat. I never wanted to do something so badly in my life, so I did it.
I dropped to my knees, wincing as I hit the floor too hard but occupied with more important things give the pain more thought. Ryan seemed surprised, gasping as I quickly licked the tip of his penis and made a low guttural sound when I took every inch of it into my mouth.
I can’t describe the satisfaction of having my nose pressed against the base of his pelvis, breathing in his musk while my tongue licked up and down his shaft. Ryan was enjoying it too, his breathing had become shallow, and his cock was expanding rapidly.
“Oh my God Eric what are you doing?” He asked in appreciation. I was pleased with his reaction; I had never done this before and was glad I seemed to be doing it right.
Soon I couldn’t take all of it. His full 7 inches forced my lips away from the base of his cock even as they struggled to maintain their grip. With the initial excitement passed I began methodically bobbing my head around his cock while one hand gently twisted around the base, doing my best to make my first blowjob a satisfactory one.
Ryan kept a hand on my head, running his fingers through my hair and groaning in appreciation. I licked the underside of his cock, paying extra attention to the sensitive head, and took as much of it into my mouth as I could at intervals. I emulated the best blowjobs ex-girlfriends had given to me and redoubled my efforts every time Ryan moaned.
After a few minutes I felt him pulling away and gently coaxing my mouth off him. I looked up, disappointed and a little distraught that he had stopped things when I thought they were going so well.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked. I wiped my mouth with my forearm quickly, not realizing how much saliva had spilled onto my chin in the past few minutes.
“Absolutely not.” He smiled breathlessly. “I just didn’t want to finish too quickly,” he glanced down between my thighs, where my own member was jutting proudly from my body, “before I got a chance to help you.” He hoisted me up and despite everything that had already transpired I was surprised when he planted a kiss on my lips.
He must have tasted his own musk mingled with my saliva. He seemed to savor it, allowing his tongue to probe deep into my mouth before he broke our kiss and began moving downwards. I moaned when he lingered at my neck, kissing and sucking with abandon. I had been kissed there before, of course, but this felt different.
He continued on and I couldn’t contain a gasp when he nibbled and sucked at my nipple. My back arched in appreciation as he planted kisses down my abdominals and along the “V” of my own pelvis. He gently gripped the shaft of my cock and smiled up at me.
A drop of precum appeared at the tip of my member in anticipation. I was a little bigger than him, both longer and slightly wider, but he didn’t seem daunted at all. He teased my shaft and gently licked the precum off the sensitive head. All the while he kept eye contact with me, watching my face contort with pleasure as he expertly manipulated my manhood. I had to bite my knuckles when I felt his warm mouth engulf my cock, taking more then half of it in his first plunge.
“Oh my god Ryan that feels incredible.” I moaned. I could feel him smile at my comment even as he began rhythmically bobbing his head.
It was a challenge not to cum immediately, but Ryan was clearly experienced and knew just what to do to keep me as the cusp of release.
For at least 15 minutes he edged me, building tension like a bowstring before backing off, giving me slack by pulling off and focusing his attention on my balls, taking them each into his mouth and allowing his tongue to skim over every inch of them, or nibbling and sucking at my inner thighs while his hand gently pumped me. Then he would return to my shaft, by the end of the 15 minutes he could almost take my entire length down his throat, gagging slightly and pushing forward a little more each time.
He did all of this while gazing innocently up at me, as if he didn’t know the effect he was having on me, daring me to take my frustration out on his waiting mouth. He pulled me back and forth like this until I couldn’t take it any longer. My muscles ached from the strain of keeping this bow taught and I needed a release.
He was kissing my thigh again now, still looking up at me while his hand steadily worked my shaft. I gripped the back of his head, firmly guiding his head until his mouth was again centering in front of my waiting member. I had just enough time to register his subtle smile before I pushed my cock past his tender lips. He took almost all of me into his mouth before gagging and glancing up at me. I knew what he wanted.
I repositioned my hand at the back of his head and steadily worked my cock deeper into his throat. His hands gripped my thighs but didn’t push me away. I took that as assent and begin moving my hips against him, keeping his head steady while I fucked his beautiful face. His mouth was so tight around my cock I couldn’t stand it. The tension had built across my body to an unsustainable level and I knew I was past the point of no return.
“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.” I said. “Are you gonna take my load down your throat Ryan? Is that what you want?”
I was steadily pounding into his throat with even thrusts, my hands positioned so there was no way for him to answer – but he looked in my eyes and I knew exactly what he wanted. I continued to thrust into his mouth, never breaking eye contact even as I felt that pent up strain release all at once in a shuddering orgasm.
My cock pulsed over and over, shooting my thick cum directly into his throat. I could almost hear the solid splat of it hitting the back of his throat with each eruption. He waited patiently as my cock throbbed, lips locked around the root of it, sucking down every last drop each time I pulsed inside him.
When my cock finally stopped spasming he began pulling away. My cock left his mouth with a wet pop and he looked up at me, smiling and satisfied. I looked at him and admired just how beautiful he was. He was always good looking, but as he was now, sprawled naked on the ground, covered in a mixture of our juices and with a triumphant glow in his eyes, he was indescribable.
“So that was…” I began.
“A lot.” He supplied.
“Incredible is what I was gonna say.”
“Haha that too. I hope you enjoyed yourself” He smiled impishly.
That would be an understatement. I had never had such incredible sex in my life. It was enough to make me question my status as ‘straight.’
“Can I… help you too?” I suggested. From the looks of his cock it still wanted some attention, and even in the afterglow of orgasm I was eager to continue whatever this was. He looked at me with a face that said “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
Without missing a beat I was moving down towards him, lips just grazing his perfect abs, when we heard a door open.
“Ryan are you in here? We need to get a move on!” Someone called.
“Shiiiit that’s my coach.” Ryan threw back his head. “I completely lost track of time, I was already behind schedule when I got here.” Ryan said. He was already getting up, his cock brushing past my face as he stood to collect his scattered clothing. “I’m coming just a second.” He called to his coach.
“I understand.” I said, though in truth I felt a bit jilted that our time had been interrupted so suddenly, just as I was about to plant my lips against him. “Can I get your number? You know, in case you want to practice together or… something.”
He looked over at me, already half dressed. “Yeah, lets definitely do… something.” He smiled mischievously and my heart skipped a beat.
Once he was ready to leave I handed him my phone to put his number in. As he did I took one last look at his tanned form. Lithe muscles and taught skin that I just had to see again, had to feel writhe under and on top of me before I would be satisfied. He handed my phone back to me and smiled. “See you soon, Eric” He turned and started walking away.
For the second time today I said “Ryan, wait” and caught up to him. He turned to me in surprise and I kissed him one more time, trying to convey some of the uncontrollable desire he had inspired in me. I pressed my tongue into his mouth, not deterred by the taste of my cock lingering there.
I pulled away, suddenly blushing and casting my eyes down. “I uh, just wanted to let you know you still have some stuff on your chin, you might want to wipe if off before your coach sees it.”
Ryan laughed lightly and wiped his chin again. “Thanks Eric. Be sure to contact me soon, ok? I’ll be looking out for your call.” Then he turned the corner and was gone, striding purposefully back into his normal life.
I stood between the rows of lockers, still naked save for the film of saliva and cum on my cock, wondering what the hell just happened, and if 5 minutes was an appropriate interval to wait before calling.