Team Bonding

I was drawn to Jason's casualness, the proximity of his skin, and the way the light touched his torso.

The team bench is 4,444 deep. Keep the tryouts coming. 

Adam was waiting for me like always. His grin was killer, but his bulge told me exactly what he was thinking. 

The steam room is the ultimate game: intuition, sex, and risk. We’d been playing for awhile, but I still wasn’t sure. My gym mate seemed too manly, confident instead of affected, and his beard read as nothing but straight. He parted his legs and his towel followed suit, exposing the upper portion of his thighs. He knew the the score. 

Coach usually checks our jocks in the locker room, but this time was different. He’d sent me to a vacant studio and told me to be ready. I did as I was told. 

Micah was the first guy I could see as more than a JO bud. He was confident about everything he did--every word, every motion. You could see it just looking at him. Micah forewent the shorn trend and let his body hair grow long. Instead of baggy boxers, he wore classic white briefs. His pecs got my attention, but his decisiveness drew me in past the physical. 

The team doctor said I had a compacted testicle and needed to switch underwear. This isn’t exactly what I expected, but my teammates gave me a few positive comments. 

"You’re gonna be fun.”

Team rule: you can’t go to practice without first showing that you’re wearing your team jock. Blue and white--coach’s favorite colors. 

We continued to observe one another. I had caught him taking the photo, he had caught me checking him out.

Kevin repositioned his baseball hat backwards as he took the phone from me. “I know, babe.”

Coach selected our uniforms, right down to a perfectly fitting jockstrap.

The light was low and reflected against the temporary sheen of wet flesh. It head been a tough practice, but when the uniforms came off, the team bonding really began surrounded by the chorus of dripping shower heads, muted conversation, smack of feet on wet tile.