Corey's Struggle
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Chapter 3 -- Wrestling Match
When he awoke, it was dark out, and he could hear the voices of his family downstairs. Even so, he lay in bed for a long time afterwards, thinking about his dream. Daniel, his best friend, had kissed him while they were wrestling. He remembered every detail of the dream: the feeling of Daniel's body against his own -- his sweet face looking at Corey, first with friendship and then open longing -- the first touch of his lips, another boy's lips, against his own -- the electric surge of adrenalin as they kissed and he could feel his penis stiffen in response as Corey pushed it against Daniel's body -- and then the sudden and uncontrollable relief as Corey's full and aching balls, so long denied any release, delivered squirt after squirt of ejaculate through his full-grown 7-inch erection.
It was the best thing he'd ever felt in his life. And Corey knew that somehow, he had to stop it from ever happening again.
That's one of the things that made wrestling so tough. A wrestling singlet in the school's color -- white for purity -- had to be one of the most revealing items of clothing on the planet. Even on the coldest winter day, you still couldn't miss seeing what a guy was packing. Hell, if you could miss it, then that was actually worse news for the guy.
One of the seniors on the team, a pretty solid wrestler named Tim, got stuck with the unfortunate nickname Tiny Tim because, no matter what he did to arrange things down there, his singlet sported no bulge at all.
Worse yet, all doubt was removed whenever the team showered together. Tim really was tiny, bordering on microscopic. And even though, at the insistence of the coach, the other wrestlers stopped using that nickname on Tim, Corey could see embarrassment written all over his face whenever the team showered or weighed in. In fact, Corey was pretty sure that the ongoing humiliation that Tim faced due to his obviously small size, in or out of his singlet, was part of the reason that his standing slipped in his last six months at the school. Nobody even had to say to Tim's face ever again that he was packing small equipment. Tim could see with his own eyes how every other guy on the team -- or, for that matter, any team in the division -- obviously had more going on down there than he did.
While Corey didn't envy Tim's problem, his own situation still got him nervous. When he first joined the team, he asked the coach what he could wear under his singlet for protection. He figured that, like baseball and football players, wrestlers wore a cup of some kind to protect them from pain and injuries. Instead, the coach told him that most wrestlers wore underwear, a jock strap, or something he called compression shorts, which sounded the most promising because they were built to keep everything a man had in place and, hopefully, hidden.
Corey just about ran home to order a pair of compression shorts online. But before he bought them, he spoke to Daniel, who talked him out of it.
"Nobody ever wears stuff like that," Daniel told him.
"Then what do they wear?" Corey asked, "A jock?"
"You could if you really wanted to," Daniel explained, "But nobody does. We had a couple of kids in junior high who wore them because their parents made them, but they got laughed at until they stopped."
"So what do you wear," Corey wanted to know.
"Most of the boys just wear their underwear," Daniel told him, "But you don't have to wear anything if you don't want to."
"Wear nothing underneath?" Corey blushed, "I couldn't do that."
"Yeah," Daniel laughed, "Me neither. But some guys do, and it's not a big deal."
Maybe not for you, Corey thought. But for a high school wrestler trying everything to hide his attraction for his teammates, letting himself hang out in a thin, tight-fitting lycra body suit would have been virtual suicide.
In the end, Corey took Daniel's lead and opted to wear white briefs under his singlet. Furthermore, he always made sure that they were new briefs right out of the plastic package that provided tight support for his dick and balls.
Once by mistake, at one of his first away meets with the team, Corey forgot to bring a new pair of underwear and had only a frayed and stretched-out pair of briefs to wear. In his first bout, Corey could feel his dick and balls moving inside his briefs in a way that was unintentionally stimulating. As his opponent kept getting on top of him to try to get him pinned, Corey started to feel the beginnings of an erection coming on. A few times, Corey managed to get out from under, but then the other boy would scoop around his body again and appear on top again, pressing Corey's whole body down toward the mat with all his weight and strength.
Although Corey managed to hold out, when it was time to stand up again, he was sporting partial erection that was threatening to stiffen even more. The loose underwear he was wearing was allowing his penis and balls too much room to move around, and the result was about to be obvious to everyone watching the event. He covered himself as well as he could and tried to keep what was going on inside his briefs hidden. But he couldn't really focus on good wrestling form, and the kid eventually got him pinned.
The moment the round was over, Corey ran over to his coach and requested to use the bathroom.
"Hmmmm," the coach said, "You don't really have a lot of time...."
"I'll hurry," Corey promised, and the coach agreed. He ran back to the locker room, found the most secluded men's room stall he could find, and locked the door behind him, knowing what he had to do -- fast. He pulled his singlet straps down over his broad shoulders and let them drop to his waist, then slipped his singlet down along with his white briefs, revealing his thick 7-inch erection. His big circumcised head was so fully engorged that Corey knew there was just no way he could ever will it to go down. He faced the toilet and straddled it, placing one hand on the back wall for balance while bending over and aiming his big erection as best he could for the toilet. Then he listened carefully to make sure that nobody else was around.
When he finally was sure he was alone, Corey started rubbing his boner as fast as he could while trying not to make a sound, as if his life depended on it. Every fiber of his being knew he shouldn't be doing this. If another guy found him, he could either be laughed out of school or potentially brought up before a judge on public lewdness charges. But there was nothing else he could do, because he just couldn't risk getting a full-on erection again in his singlet while wrestling.
As hard and ready as his erection was, Corey was so nervous about getting caught that he couldn't quite get himself to cum. Also, because he didn't want to risk making a sound, he rubbed and rubbed but couldn't get quite enough stimulation to bring himself to orgasm. As quietly as possible, he gripped his dick as hard as he dared, while massaging his balls, trying desperately to get himself over the edge. Slowly, he began to feel the pressure building up in his balls as they started to get closer to releasing his seed.
Then, suddenly, Corey heard somebody enter the locker room. He knew if he stopped now, it would take him too long to get himself to completion. He just had to keep going and hope that nobody heard him. So he kept on stroking himself quietly, desperate for the relief he needed. His stiff cock had literally never felt so big in his hand, as he strained one last time and felt himself go over the edge. At that moment, the door to the stall next to him opened, and he heard somebody step inside.
Corey tried to pull his hand away, but it was too late. His dick started to squirt wildly in his hand, and his knees started to buckle. He wanted desperately to cry out in pleasure that he'd so often denied himself. But he didn't dare make a sound, as his balls emptied helplessly into the toilet and all over the seat. He almost fell over from the sheer ecstasy of the sensation as his young balls continued to unload more semen than he'd ever known a man could produce. It kept coming and coming, and Corey just milked it for every ounce of pleasure he could possibly feel.
As his orgasm slowly started to subside, Corey was only peripherally aware that the guy next to him had pissed, flushed, and was now leaving the stall. Corey held his position as well as he could, squeezing out the last cum he could drain from his dick so that none could leak through his briefs once he pulled them back up. His balls ached now in an entirely new way, from a job well done, but Corey didn't have time to dwell on the sensation. As quickly as he could, he wiped himself off with toilet paper. When his erection finally began to go down, he pushed it back into his briefs and adjusted himself before pulling the straps of his singlet up over his shoulders again. Then, he cleaned off the toilet where the damage was most obvious and went to the sink to wash his hands.
He ran back to the gym with no idea of how long he had taken to complete his task, half expecting the coach to be furious with him. But there was nothing to worry about: A minor injury on another team had delayed several bouts from starting, and he actually had time to kill before his next bout began.
On the bus home from the wrestling match, Corey sat next to Daniel as usual. And as usual, he was feeling ashamed of himself for what he'd done. Daniel seemed so excited to be with him, both wrestling teammates at last. He looked a little crestfallen that Corey was keeping so silent. Corey wanted so bad to explain to his friend that it wasn't his fault, it was just... But of course, there were no words he could say to complete that sentence.
The following Friday night, Corey planned to stay overnight at Daniel's house. As usual, they practiced together after school, having the whole small gym to themselves. Corey still felt guilty for what he'd done in the bathroom at the wrestling match, and had made it a point not to indulge himself for the whole week. At times as he and Daniel wrestled, he could feel the beginnings of an erection, and worked to fight them back every time. And once or twice -- although maybe this was just wishful thinking -- he imagined that Daniel was experiencing the same sort of trouble.
After practicing for a couple of hours, the two boys walked into town and split a pizza. A few other kids from school asked them to join their table, but the two boys decided instead to get their own booth in the back of the restaurant. They hadn't showered after their practice, and each admitted to the other that he felt a little too sweaty to be social with their friends.
After that, they got ice cream and killed some more time walking around town until they both started to feel tired. A couple of times, Corey felt like Daniel was on the verge of saying something, but each time nothing came of it.
Around 9:00, both boys started feeling tired, so they walked back to Daniel's house. They didn't talk much until, as they approached the gate to the house together. Daniel finally broke the silence. "Corey," he asked in a nervous whisper, and then stopped.
"Yeah?" Corey asked. Looking at his friend, he noticed that Daniel looked a little nervous and hesitant to speak. Feeling bad about being so withdrawn with his friend, Corey added, "It's OK."
Daniel looked around to make sure no one could hear him, then said, "Can I ask you a question?"
Corey's heart leapt, but he said, "Sure."
Daniel looked more nervous than ever as he asked, "Um... last week... at the match... um... what were you doing down there in the bathroom by yourself?"
To be continued...
Thanks for reading! If any of this story speaks to you, I'd love to hear from you at judestjude2357@gmail.com. I promise to do my best to answer, especially if you're feeling alone with no one to talk to about this kind of stuff.
Also, go ahead and check out my other story, Inadequate Men in the Nifty "Beginnings" section: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/inadequate-men/
Thanks again! TJ