A college in the Midwestern United States in the early 1970's
...
Chapter One: Yeah team!
It wasn't school spirit that led me to become an equipment manager for our college's track and field team, although I did like the school and did like sports. Maybe part of it was wanting to still be around sports, and having failed to make the freshman soccer team it seemed my own athletic career was over, but I knew the real truth.
I wanted to be in the locker room. Was it the camaraderie and the liniment? The taping of ankles and the good-natured ribbing? Hardly. It was the guys.
The fit young guys with their cocks swinging around - THAT was what I was there for. Of course, I had to be subtle about it, or else I would be canned or even worse, get my ass kicked. So I learned to be very slick about my ogling, going for the quick peeks instead of the long stares.
I never met a cock I didn't like, and there were a lot to be liked in that locker room. Cocks of every shape and size - well, not many of my size - but you can picture the scene. In the early 70's however, one didn't just announce to everybody that you were gay or even bi. Not at my college and not me.
There was one kid who ran cross-country who got my attention, because he reminded me of somebody I knew very well. Me. Not physically, because while I was about 5'10" and 170 pounds and fairly well-built, Kent Anderson was about 6 foot tall and, I don't know, 100 pounds?
I'm sure that was an exaggeration, but Kent was as thin as a guy could be. He looked to be all elbows and knees and he looked like a stork, which was how he got that nickname. He was a decent long-distance runner, competing in the 5000 and 10000 meter races, and usually finishing in the middle of the pack.
We had spoken a few times, and I learned that he was also far from home and even quieter than I was, which was saying something.
So while we didn't look much alike, we did share one very common bond. After watching him for a couple of weeks, I noticed that he was a lot like me in that he waited until everybody was out of the locker room before he would take a shower.
He tried to be subtle about it, staying outside to run more or going to the bathroom, and sometimes when people seemed to be loitering around he would just duck out without showering. It seemed familiar because that was my method of operations for years.
When you've got a dick that's smaller hard than everybody else is limp, you don't brag about it, so I was hip to what he was going through. Until you learn to live with it, there's nothing fun about having a dick that only measures about 4" at it's best.
I found myself wanting to get a look at the kid. Who knows, I thought. Maybe his dick was even smaller than mine? Wouldn't that be a hoot? Maybe we could even talk about it, and become friends. He seemed to be a loner too.
So it was that I devised a plan to check Kent out. This says a lot about how my social life was going at the time; that I would position myself inside the storeroom on a Thursday after practice, looking through a steel mesh window at a mirror, where I hoped to be able to see the reflection of a skinny 18 year old kid with glasses naked at his locker.
Unlike most of my plans, this one actually worked. I ducked into the storeroom and kept quiet, peeking out to wait for Kent to appear at his locker. Sure enough, after almost everybody had left, Kent comes down the aisle, looking around quickly before starting to strip.
Not much to take off, so it didn't take long. Glasses come off first and the t-shirt comes up over his head, exposing a pale and hairless chest that was perfect for a Charles Atlas "before" picture in his ads.
Then the socks and the shorts come down, and he's now clad in only a jock, but he has his back to the mirror so all I can see his his bony white butt.
I want to scream TURN AROUND! but I didn't. I did pray a lot though in those few seconds, and apparently it worked because just as he began to peel the sweaty jock down, he turned and accidentally posed for me.
There it was, captured in my memory for all time. The beige colored supporter coming down, exposing a modest tuft of golden brown hair not unlike my own, and then going lower, revealing his tiny twig and berries that he was so ashamed of.
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Chapter Two: Well...
The only problem with that description was that it wasn't accurate, outside of the pubes. What Kent unknowingly revealed to me was not what I had pictured in my mind, but it certainly was the stuff that dreams were made of. To put it mildly, the stork was hung like a horse.
When I saw Kent's cock unfurl from wherever he had it tucked away in that supporter, I nearly fainted. His cock was a thing of beauty, impossibly long and while not exceptionally thick, was still of greater girth than one would have expected on his scrawny body.
His balls were rather amazing as well, his sac dangling loose and low between his legs, and as he turned to toss his jock in his gym bag, I may have made a noise, because Kent raised his head like a startled deer.
I held my breath until he turned and headed to the shower, and I didn't emerge until I heard a shower get turned on. At that point I emerged from hiding and fled the locker room, trying to get my heart to beat normally again.
What am I doing? That was the question I asked myself after I left the locker room. What I really wanted to do was rip off my clothes and go into the showers after him, but something that made more sense was for me to go back in and do something that looked remotely like work related to my job, so I went back inside.
The shower was off, meaning that Kent was either in the drying room or back at his locker. Not noticing any wet footprints in the floor, I correctly assumed that he was still toweling off, so I sprinted to the supply room and brought out a bunch of stuff that I didn't need.
My timing was impeccable, as Kent was just coming around the corner to his locker as I went down the aisle in front of his locker. He looked shocked to see me, so I acted just as surprised as him, pretending that I thought the room was deserted.
"Didn't mean to scare you Kent," I said. "Thought everybody was gone."
"Sorry," Kent said, fumbling to keep the towel around himself as I approached. "I'll be done and out of here in a minute."
"No rush," I said. "I'm just getting finished here anyway."
I never saw anybody get underwear and pants on so fast in my life, Kent being so nervous that he didn't even bother to dry off. I felt so bad that I started to go about my business, but Kent got much more friendly after he pats came on and we ended up having a nice conversation.
When I suggested that we go to the rathskeller for a drink or something, I was stunned when he accepted, so we headed over and had a couple of sodas and listened to the jukebox for a while.
Kent was a really nice guy once you got past the wall he put around himself, and when I did I discovered a kid that was even more lonely, homesick and depressed than I was.
"You seem even more bummed out than me," I suggested after listening to him talk about his life on campus.
"I'm used to a lot of it," Kent said. "People making fun of me and stuff, because I've put up with that all my life, but at least I had my family back home. Here? I dunno. I'm doing alright in classes, but I'm not running very well."
"You came in fifth in the 5000 at the last meet,"
I reminded him, and he seemed surprised that I had noticed.
"I could have done better. I've been having a lot of calf problems. Think I pulled a muscle or something. I'm afraid that I might get dropped if I don't pick it up."
"At least you made the team," I said.
"You play soccer, right?" he asked. "I remember seeing you practicing when I ran the cross country course earlier in the year."
"Played soccer," I corrected. "Got cut. It's a whole different game at college - a lot faster - or so I learned. I felt like I was running underwater here."
"It is a big change," he said. "Uh, do you live on campus?"
"Yeah. I've got a roommate who loves Blue Oyster Cult loud. Not conducive to study or rest"
