“Stay calm, Katy,” I say to myself. I realize very quickly that I am not injured. That’s good. I’m just trapped. Like a stupid animal in a humane trap.
And then, I realize something a bit more alarming.
I can feel the cold floor underneath me. I can feel cool air on my bare butt. The mats are lying sideways across my torso, but my bare ass and pussy are exposed for the entire world to see.
Looking up, I can see the mirror, and in the mirror, the entire locker room. At least for now, I am still alone. I wasn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I definitely do not want to be found like this. And yet... how the heck am I supposed to get out?
Just as I am trying to come up with a plan, I hear the locker room door open. Shit! Footsteps, heavy footsteps, enter. Of course it’s a guy. God, it’s probably the janitor or something!
“Hello?” a voice asks. “I thought I heard something… Oh shit, are you okay?”
Wincing with embarrassment, I look up into the mirror. I can’t quite see his entire body from the angle, but I can at least tell it’s a student. That much is okay. I can probably talk a student into not reporting me. And somehow… I am even more turned on now. I’ve never been so blatantly exposed, and despite the almost painful embarrassment, there is an undeniable arousal behind it.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I manage to answer. He steps closer to me, and I can tell, even from his footsteps, that he is a bit confused.
“You know this is the wrestling team locker room, right?” he asks.
I’m not sure how to answer. My whole scenario of pretending I was just lost suddenly seems really stupid.
“Were you-?” He stops talking and suddenly laughs. “Were you jerking off in here?”
“No,” I answer. “Girls don’t jerk off because we don’t have anything to jerk. I was… getting off, however.”
“That’s awesome!” he cries.
“Not so sure I agree with you there,” I say. “Currently kinda trapped. Think you could help me out maybe?”
I hear him walk closer, and in the mirror, I see a pair of sneakers and blue jeans stop next to my exposed legs. Then, he kneels down. I can see enough of his body to tell he is fit. He’s got a muscular physique. Even trapped under these mats, wrestlers are still turning me on!
“Help you out?” he asks. “What kind of help are you looking for?”
I feel a warm hand touch my thigh just above my knee. I suck in a sharp breath, unsure of exactly what is about to happen. “What?” I ask. I feel his hand move farther up my leg. I have never been so simultaneously aroused and embarrassed at the same time.
“What kind of help are you looking for?” he asks again. I can feel his fingers right by my pussy, and I want so badly for him to touch it.
I shift my hips back as much as the mats pinning me to the ground will allow. It isn’t much, just an inch or two, but I manage to bump my labia into his fingertips. He pulls his fingers back, clearly startled. I’m startled, too, but for a different reason. Am I actually doing this?!
“Do you need help?” he asks, and this time, I feel his rough fingertips make the first move, stroking the velvety skin of my lips.
I say nothing as his fingertips gingerly caress my flesh. At first, he is only gently touching, but as I lie there silently, he begins to slowly become more aggressive. His fingers push past my outer lips, and I practically sigh with relief as he inserts one longer finger deep into my pussy. He curves his fingertip and moves it in a come-hither motion, and my body shudders with pleasure. The finger is removed, but only briefly, and two fingers take its place, stretching me open a bit wider.
“Do you need help?” he asks again.
This time, finally, I answer. “Yes.”
He begins to wiggle his fingers in me, thrumming against my walls. This mysterious man definitely knows what he is doing. I feel his other hand come beneath me, and he begins to gently rub my clit. My body rewards his efforts with an increased flow of fluid, my pussy wetting his fingers.
“So are you going to tell me why you were in here of all places?” he asks calmly as he continues fingering me.
I can’t believe how fucking turned on I am. Even if he didn’t know what he was doing, it would still feel amazing. But this man…he can play my pussy like a violin. It’s like he knows exactly where to touch me, and my body is responding as though it had never been touched.
“A…a fantasy of mine,” I finally stammer. I’m convinced I am about to cream all over his fingers, but he abruptly stops. If my hands were free, I would instantly have touched myself. I want to scream with frustration, but then, I stop, because I hear a sound that somehow turns me on even more.
His zipper.
Looking in the mirror, I see him stand up, and his blue jeans and a pair of black boxers fall to the floor. He quickly steps out of them and then kneels back down. His cock juts upward, and I see the glistening of precum oozing from the tip. His shirt is still on, preventing me from seeing what I am sure is a gorgeous, muscular torso, but I am so mesmerized by his cock, I almost don’t mind. Almost.
“What’s your fantasy?” he asks, and I resist a cry of pleasure as one hand returns to stroking my pussy. I feel the heel of his hand press firmly against my clit, and he wiggles his middle finger down the length of my slit. Looking in the mirror, I see that he is slowly stroking his cock with his other hand. In his grip, it looks huge, and I find myself hoping to get to feel it inside me.
I realize, as I relish in the pleasure his fingers are bringing out of me, that I haven’t answered his question. Do I dare tell him everything? I know that could be dangerous, so I answer, “I’ve just always wanted to masturbate in the men’s locker room.”
“Well, I’m going to speak on behalf of the whole team,” he says, “and we’re okay with that anytime you want.”
I know he’ll tell his teammates about this. I can’t decide if I should be embarrassed or not. At the moment, it doesn’t matter. I just want to come again.
“Have any other fantasies?” he asks. “Maybe getting fucked in the men’s locker room?”
He removes his hand, and I feel him move closer, the hairs on his legs tickling mine. I look in the mirror, and although the wrestling mats still pinning me down blocks most of my view, from his position and the sensation, I know what he is doing. His soft cockhead, velvet stretched over steel, tickles my opening. He is using his cock like a sex toy, gently teasing me. He presses the spongy glans against my clit, and without entering me, he drags his cockhead down my slit.
“Fuck me,” I say. I am past caring about embarrassment or my reputation. I have never needed to be fucked worse than at this moment.
I expect him to slam into me, but he doesn’t. In the mirror’s reflection, I see him, still wearing his t-shirt, place one hand on the stack of wrestling mats to bear his weight so he doesn’t crush me. With the other hand wrapped around the base of his cock, he presses his cock into me.
He groans as he sinks completely into me. His cock spreads me open more than his fingers dared. He’s big, perhaps bigger than any other lover I’ve had, and I feel my pussy burn with pleasure as his girth completely fills me. I feel him going deeper and deeper into me, and then, his legs press against mine, and I know he’s in.
I have never felt filthier in my entire life, and I feel like thanking whoever stacked the wrestling mats so sloppily that they fell on me.
“You okay?” he asks, buried completely within me. In his voice, I hear the strain of pleasure. I know I’m wet, and the walls of my pussy are gripping him tightly.
“I’m great,” I manage to say in an exhalation, and he slowly pulls out and pushes back in. This time, I make no effort to stifle my cry of pleasure. He begins to fuck me, and with my arms and upper body pinned, I feel hyperaware of the act. I can feel my pussy cling to his cock as he fucks me, as though it, too, wants to keep him inside.
He is pulling almost all the way out and sliding all the way back in with each thrust
. I whimper and bite my lower lip as the pleasure builds within me. My nipples ache to be touched. I feel a need to pull him closer to me, to claw his back until red marks appear there, yet I am trapped. I can do nothing but lay there, not assisting in any way, as he uses me as little more than a sex toy.
The thought ebbs my arousal somewhat. I am fucking a stranger. I have been caught somewhere I have no right to be. But those thoughts somehow get turned around in my mind, and combined with the rhythm and pressure of his cock inside me, my arousal returns stronger.
I am fucking a stranger in a place I have no right to be. My orgasm is going to shake my entire body, and it is so fucking close! I wish I could touch myself; I’d come in seconds.
His thrusts begin to intensify, and he gives his hips a sharp, upward jerk at the depth of each thrust. His hands are on my hips, and he begins to fuck me harder.
“Please touch me,” I implore, and he complies, still fucking me but releasing the hand on one of my hips and snaking it around beneath me. He fumbles for a bit, but then, his fingers find my clit, and he massages my pussy even as he rams himself into me.
I barely have time to form a thankful response when my orgasm hits. I scream, unable to do more as I feel my pussy clamp down on his cock. His thrusts and the stimulation of my clit don’t stop, and I continue to come.
“I need to see you!” I cry. I’m almost ashamed of myself for wanting out of this trapped, submissive position, but that orgasm, still rolling through my body, seems to have shaken something loose. I need to touch his body, rub his muscles… I feel as though I need to worship his body.
In a surprising display of strength, he flips the wrestling mats off of me with no effort, and I am instantly free. Before I can even move myself, he pulls out, leaving my pussy momentarily empty and aching for his cock, and he picks me up, placing me atop the stack of wrestling mats that are now waist high.
I finally get to see his face. He is handsome, but otherwise, he is just an ordinary college jock sporting a boyish grin that so many guys display as they are getting fucked. I scoot my butt to the edge of the mat, providing him with clear access to my pussy. He needs no more invitation than this, and he buries himself into me to the hilt. This different angle stimulates me in a new way, and my last orgasm, which had just ended, begins to quickly build up again.
“Can I take off your shirt?” he asks, his face indicating his pleasure as his body undulates against mine.
I don’t answer, instead pulling the light sweater off over my head. I unfasten my bra as quickly as I can, and as soon as it falls away from my body, he places his large hand on my right breast and lowers his mouth to my left. He licks all around the flesh before centering in on my nipple, pulling it between his lips and lightly nibbling it.
“Can I take off your shirt?” I echo, as he is still wearing the garment. He pulls away from my breasts, his lower body still driving his cock in and out of my body, and he yanks the shirt off with one arm from over his head.
His body is as amazing as I had expected. His pecs are large and bulging, and just as he played with my breasts, I, too, instantly go to his chest. I can feel his muscles flexing as his body strains with pleasure, my fingers encircling his hard nipples. I trail my hands down his rippled abs, and then, suddenly, I stop.
Right below his belly button is an anchor tattoo.
This is him. This is the man who started my wrestling obsession.
That’s all it takes, and another orgasm crashes through me. “I’m coming!” I cry out, wrapping my arms around his upper body and pulling him tightly against me.
“I’m gonna come,” he groans, still fucking me as I tremble with my own pleasure. The sounds of our flesh slapping together escalate.
“I wanna feel you come,” I somehow manage to spit out, and then, he bellows with an animalistic grunt, makes two more deep thrusts, and buries himself to the hilt. I feel his seed spurt inside me and his cock throbbing, and the shudder that runs through his body provides me with a deep sense of pleasure and satisfaction.
We stay there for a few moments, him buried deeply within me, and my arms wrapped around his body. “That was a surprising end to my day,” he murmurs. He pulls his cock out of me, and easily hops up beside me on the wrestling mats. I swing my legs up and lay beside him.
“Mine too,” I admit.
“Seriously, though, what were you doing here?” he asks.
“It’s wrestlers,” I finally admit. “Wrestlers turn me on. I’ve masturbated thinking about you and your teammates since I’ve been a freshman.” I decline to mention that it was him, specifically, that started my obsession.
“I’ve seen you at a few meets,” he says, nodding with understanding. “You know, you could have approached me sooner.”
The pleasurable warmth radiating out from my pussy makes me feel like a fool for not trying to sooner. “I wish I had,” I reply. “But that’s pretty much it. Wrestlers turn me on, I’m about to graduate, today’s my last day on campus, and…I just knew I had to fulfill this weird little fantasy of mine.”
“I’m graduating this month, too,” he says. “Not many of us graduate in December, but I had to come get one last workout in at the gym before I left.”
“Sorry I messed up your workout,” I answer.
“Oh, I’m not. This was much better than lifting weights.”
I sit up, suddenly aware that I am naked in the wrestling team’s locker room, and I have just been solidly fucked by a guy I had a crush on during freshman orientation, and I can’t help but laugh. “What’s your name?” I ask.
“Clark,” he answers, and I remember seeing his name in the sports section of the school newspaper. “You?”
“Katy. Should we get dressed and get out of here before someone else shows up?”
“It’s just us for the rest of the day,” he replies. “I work here at the gym, too, and I had already locked up when I heard you fall. Just the two of us.” As he says this, I see that his cock is already showing signs of life again.
“So what you’re saying is we could stay in here and fuck some more?” I ask.
He nodded. “I’m game, if you are.”
“Oh, I’m game.”
“Can I call you later, too?”
I smile. “Only if you can make me come that hard again.”
Flirt
by Jennifer Simms
Jeremy was the sexiest guy I had ever seen, I reflected as I watched him across the restaurant floor. The way he moved, the way he talked, everything about him made my skin burn with desire. I wished I could rush up to him and plant a kiss on his mouth, but of course I couldn´t. That´s just not something you do with your co-workers.
He suddenly turned around, saw me watching him and gave me a wink. I blushed, and was saved from further embarrassment by a man asking for the bill. Jeremy´s eyes seemed to burn on my back as I walked to the register, but of course that was just my imagination. He flirted with everyone, and it was silly to think he would be interested in someone like me.
I went to collect an order from the kind of couple that should read my articles. As a freelancer for women´s magazines I regularly wrote advice for couples on how to spice up their sex life.
Who am I kidding? I thought as I returned to the kitchen. They probably have more sex than me anyway. Everyone has more sex than I do.
“A penny for your thoughts.” I startled at the sound of Jeremy´s voice in my ear. He was smiling his sexy smile at me.
“A dinner and they´re yours,” I said with a wink.
Jeremy laughed and leaned so close I could feel his hot breath tickling the hairs on my neck. “You know I don´t cook.”
I leaned back so that my whisper would be against his neck as well. “Perhaps you should.”
He smiled, collected the plates he had been waiting for and walked off between the tables. I sighed and forced myself not to stare at his back. It was probably the third time I had tried to get him to invite me out for a date. I was begi
nning to feel like his flirting was all a show.
Georgia, another waitress at Papa Bellugi, joined me by the counter and cocked her head in Jeremy´s direction.
“When are you going to get together, anyway?” she asked.
“I don´t want to talk about it,” I said with a sigh.
“He´s handsome, smart. Honestly, Emma, you can´t do better than him.”
Georgia was right, of course. Not only was he as good-looking as a movie star, he was studying for a PhD in neurology. Even my mother would approve of a boyfriend like that. If only Jeremy was boyfriend material.
“I think he has a girlfriend,” I said, hoping that would end the conversation.
Sensual Erotica (Vol. 1): 26 Erotic Stories Page 20