Cory Taylor opened the door of the men's locker rooms at Richmond Rugby Club and stepped inside. The familiar smell of sweat and urine drifted up his nostrils as he placed a bucket of cleaning supplies on the floor. It was his job to give the changing rooms a quick scrub down after every practice to make sure the facilities were up to standard. Cory's father Daniel Taylor was manager of Richmond rugby club and in charge of making sure all club goings on ran smoothly. He gave his son some extra change for cleaning up the locker rooms after practice and Cory was happy to make some extra money.
In all his eighteen years, Cory had never taken up his father's interest in the sport and had just recently began hitting the gym after being motivated by the big, hulking bodies he had seen on the field over these last few weeks. While he had a long way to go before he'd reach his ideal physique, he had already made good progress and was starting to fill out nicely.
At 5'10, Cory had always been a lanky kid but was hoping his newly found gym habit would help him to catch the attentions of a hot guy. Cory had never been in a relationship before and had never even been on a date. He was a good looking kid, a healthy complexion with light blue eyes and a great smile, but he didn't know of any other guys in his school who liked dudes – at least none that he would be interested in.
Cory took his jacket off and threw it on the bench. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt he had recently purchased in the vein hope that people would start to take notice of his growing muscles and ripped blue jeans. He was about to begin mopping the floor when he remembered he had to check the lockers. Rugby players of all ages from teenage kids to men into their 30s used the club and people always forgot to collect stuff from their lockers. A secondary part of Cory's job was to collect any forgotten items and put them under the desk at reception. The final team of the day had just wrapped up and the last few stragglers that Cory could see had left.
He started opening all of the lockers and checking them from top to bottom. Aside from a pair of dirty socks and a towel, there was nothing there. Cory was about to head to reception when he remembered he had forgotten to check the locker on the top right corner right against the wall. He knew that locker was used by the same person after every one of his practices. Cory walked back and opened the locker of George Johnson.
George was another eighteen year old student at Cory's school who had played at Richmond for years. Cory had been embarrassed about his attraction to George since the first time he saw him. The boys had been in the same class throughout their years in school and despite being on the cusp of graduating, they had never spoken once. Of course, they knew who each other was. Cory had fantasized about George for a long time and George knew who Cory was by virtue of him being Daniel Taylor's son.
From his first day, Cory had learned that George Johnson was a bully. He picked on any kid who was different from him. At 6'4 and weighing 260 pounds, he was someone not to be messed with. He was the school's star prop and everyone expected him to turn professional after he graduated. He had never tried to pick on Cory during school because of George's close relationship with Daniel except for once when Cory was fourteen and had bumped into him when leaving class and George pushed him.
"Watch where you're fuckin' going!" he grunted.
Standing in the changing rooms, Cory began to think back on that day. He felt his face turn red as his blood boil. How dare this asshole push him like that, it was an accident. He remembered glaring at the much larger boy with hatred, furious that he didn't have the strength to push him back – at least not without getting his ass kicked right after.
Cory had fantasized about George for a long time. Despite his horrible attitude, it was difficult not to. He had broad shoulders, tanned skin, massive arms and thick, hairy legs. When he was dressed in his rugby shorts, Cory would bite his lip, staring at his large, round glutes that were barely contained by his shorts. With his height, size, and severe but handsome face, George cut an imposing figure.
Opening his locker, Cory was surprised to see virtually all of George's things were still in it. His bag was still filled with the clothes he had worn when he arrived and some of them spilled out onto the floor when Cory opened the locker. He bent down and scooped up the t-shirt and jeans that slipped out and pushed them back into the bag. Looking down, he noticed George's jock strap laying on the floor. Cory picked it up and stared at it. He had jerked off many times in the past, imagining what George would look like wearing just a jock strap and nothing else. His muscles on display, his hulking body glistening with sweat.
Cory brought the jock strap up to his face and sniffed it. His cock immediately began to stir in his jeans as he inhaled the manly scent of George Johnson's stale sweat. "Fuck" he whispered to himself as he continued to sniff the jock. He brought his hands down to his belt and got ready to grab a hold of his cock when he heard the door of the locker room close.
"What the fuck are you doing?" a deep, familiar voice said.
Cory looked up and felt his stomach turn as George Johnson stared at him, a furious look in his eyes. His heart began to race. How could he explain this? There was nothing to say, it was blatantly obvious what he had been doing.
"You were sniffing my fucking jock!"
Cory tossed the jock back into the locker and slammed it shut. He faced George again but found it hard to look into his fierce, dark eyes.
"I'm sorry man, I didn't –"
"What are you, some kind of faggot?" George asked.
"No, I'm not. I just –"
"Just what?" George yelled, taking a step towards Cory. "I watched you. "You were standing there sniffing my jock like a little fucking bitch." He was now standing an inch away from Cory, he came even closer and nudged him with his chest.
Cory took a step back – he was terrified. He was eye level with George's bulging neck and he felt his heavy breathing coming down on his forehead. Cory had never felt so intimidated.
"George, seriously, I, I don't know what I was do-"
"Did they smell good?" George asked. His tone was serious and severe.
"Please, look I'm really sorry –"
"Did they smell good?" he asked again, louder.
Cory could tell he would not be asking him a third time.
"I, I don't know...Yeah, I guess...Yeah, they smelt good."
