The Author retains all rights to this submitted work. Jason Oswald, 2009.
The blond swimmer-boy walked up to his room, simultaneously admiring the fine day outside and the ghost of his half naked reflection in the hallway windows. He fumbled for the plastic keycard in his back pocket, his mind already formulating the minutes to follow. He glanced to his left and right, up and down the passage before he pushed his way through the door and quietly clicked it closed behind him.
He tossed his shirt, which he had been holding in his left hand, on to his roommates bed. Without underwear to keep his member in check, his hardening cock bulged the front of his cargo shorts. It had been that way most of the afternoon and he wondered to himself hopefully if anyone had noticed. He undid his belt, buttons and zipper, let the shorts fall to the floor and stepped out of them. He was now fully naked, save for his white, grass-stained track shoes. He sat on the floor, pulled off the sneakers without undoing the laces and tossed them aside. He wasn't wearing socks.
His cock was demanding attention. He knelt down, knees against the carpeted floor and his back rested lightly against the cool room wall. He massaged his penis with his right hand, fondling his hairless balls with his left. Images of shirtless boys playing touch rugby in the sun drifted through his mind. The air outside had been hot and humid; the grass green from frequent watering; the boys shining with the exertion of the game. His eyes darted to his sneakers, the ones he lent to his best friend and roommate all afternoon. A slight smell of sweaty shoes hung in the air and he instantly had an urge to lift a sneaker to his nose. He took a long, deep breath. The warm smell of someone else's masculinity was overpowering. He had to put out his right hand to steady himself. Through all this, though, his left hand kept the shoe firmly planted against his face. The smell was addictive. In an impulsive move he shoved his cock in to the other shoe, and fucked it slowly while sniffing the one against his face. After a time he withdrew his member from the mouth of the shoe, squatted over it and lowered his balls to the laces. With his ass cheeks spread slightly open, the toe, still with some ripped turf caught under the rubber sole, nudged against his puckered ass. He removed the shoe from his face. His head was dizzy with breathing too deeply and too often. He liked the heady feeling.
The boy spat in to his hand and with it, lubed up his cock. A light grit covered his dick head - leftovers from probing his own shoe. It didn't take him long now. He thrust his hips backwards and forwards, rubbing his balls roughly against the laces beneath him. A few more deep breaths in to the grassy, sweaty shoe, a few more hard tugs on his dick and jizz spewed from his piss-slit. He watched the globules arch up, curving over his clenched fist and lightly dusted forearm. Some of it landed on his tight chest, some on the already stained carpet but most of the thick, ropey, white liquid landed on the shoe beneath his balls.
As the boy lay down on his bed, his olfactory senses still tingling with the smell of boys and grass and summer, he failed to notice the spotty, slightly crusty damp spots on the pillow next to his ear. Spots that hadn't been there when he had gone down to breakfast that morning.