The Towel Boy Accidentally Jerked Me Off 02 (Patreon)

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

Chapter 2: Scratching an Itch For Him

I spotted her in the third row of the stands during the fifth inning.

Dark hair, exactly like her Instagram. She was sitting with a few other cheer girls and she was laughing at something, head thrown back, and I made a mental note that I was absolutely going to talk to her after the game. I had a plan. I was going to be cool about it, casual, not try too hard. Just walk over, introduce myself, mention I was the captain like it was no big deal. Easy.

We won, which helped. Hard to be charming when you've just lost.

I was feeling good coming off the field, riding that post-win buzz, scanning the area near the stands for dark hair. I found her pretty quickly. She was still with her friends, and I started walking over, and then I noticed someone was already talking to her.

Kenny.

He was standing there with his equipment bag over one shoulder, chatting her up like they were old friends, and she was laughing at something he had just said. I slowed down a little, watching. They both glanced at me for a second and I looked away for a second. Kenny was holding up his hand, pinching his fingers together like he was indicating a tiny measurement, and I could just barely hear him say "seriously, like two inches. Everyone on the team laughs about it."

I stopped walking for a second.

Two inches. I ran through it quickly in my head. He had to be talking about the height difference between me and Michael. I was exactly two inches taller, and I had no idea that was something the guys talked about, but I guessed it must have come up when I wasn’t around. Poor Michael. I made a mental note to never bring it up around him.

But then I thought, it’s pretty cool that Kenny's talking me up. He's over there telling this girl about me. That's what the two inches thing is, right? Pointing out that I'm the taller one. The captain. Setting the stage. This dude was unbelievable. I hadn't even asked him to do this.

I walked over with a big smile.

The girl looked at me. Her expression did something I couldn't quite read. Her eyes went from Kenny to me and back, and then she pressed her lips together and said "excuse me" to nobody in particular and walked off to her friends without another word.

I stood there.

Kenny winced. "Sorry bro. I tried to talk you up but honestly she seems kind of stuck up."

I watched her go. She was already laughing again with her friends, not looking back this time.

"Damn," I said.

"Honestly you dodged a bullet. She was giving off weird vibes."

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, probably." I looked at Kenny. "Thanks for trying though. Seriously."

He shrugged, easy as anything. "That's what good bros are for."

—[]—

Coach caught me right as I was heading inside.

He had that look. The disappointed face of an old guy whose young mentee had let him down, which is actually worse. He put a hand on my shoulder and steered me away from the rest of the guys as they flowed into the locker room and I knew I was getting the speech. Even though we had won, he was mad that I was late and “acting like a fool on the field”. I honestly didn’t even know what he meant about the second part, but I had to pretend like I was sorry. He went through the whole series of topics he uses when he lectures guys. Leadership, responsibility, setting an example, showing up on time, the works. I stood there and nodded and said “Yes, coach” in the right places.

By the time he was done, I could hear the guys outside loading back onto the bus already, the sounds of their chatter and footsteps fading away. Coach gave me one last long look, nodded like we had an understanding, and walked off.

I pushed open the locker room door.

It was almost empty. Just me and Kenny, who was doing a final sweep of the place, collecting forgotten gear, checking the benches, that squirrel energy fully activated even at the end of a long day. He looked up when I came in.

"Coach talk?" he said.

"Coach talk," I confirmed.

"How bad?"

"Medium. At least we won today."

Kenny nodded sympathetically and went back to collecting towels. I sat down on the bench and started unlacing my cleats, rolling my neck, feeling the ache in my shoulders that always came after a game. It had been a good win but a long day and I was ready to chill.

"Hey," Kenny said from across the room. "Bad news."

"What."

"Hot water's out. Except the last stall at the end."

I looked up. "You're kidding."

"Away facilities, man." He shrugged. "It happens."

“I didn’t even know that the hot water can be specific to certain showers.”

I looked at my watch. We had maybe nine minutes before the bus was going to leave without us and I was not going to be the guy who made the team wait on the bus twice in one day.

"Fantastic," I said.

I grabbed my towel and headed for the last stall. The hot water was good, with decent pressure actually, which was a relief. I got in and started moving fast, aware of the clock.

A minute later Kenny's voice came from just outside the curtain.

"Hey, so this is kind of awkward."

I stopped. "What."

"I need to shower too. We've literally got like eight minutes and it's the only hot water."

I stood there for a second. The logical part of my brain ran through the options. Eight minutes. One hot shower. Two people who needed to be clean and on a bus. There was no way I would be done in time for him to shower after me. But luckily, I’m very smart sometimes, and I had an idea.

"Just get in," I said. "We'll be fast."

"Are you sure?" he said, “I don’t want to crowd your space with that giant dick hanging out.”

I looked down.

"Kenny, just get in, we don't have time. I’m not even that big."

The curtain shifted and he stepped in. 

“Yeah, right,” he said, looking at my floppy cock. “That thing could scratch an itch on the inside of my chest.”

I had no idea what he meant, but I soaped myself up quickly as I moved to one side to give him room. It was a standard shower stall, not built for two, but it was manageable if nobody made it weird. Kenny didn't make it weird. He just stepped under the water next to me and reached for the shampoo.

Then he glanced down.

He was quiet for a second. Then he looked up at me with this expression like he had just seen something that required a moment of silent acknowledgment.

"Dude," he said.

"It’s just a normal dick," I said, chuckling. “Yours is great too.”

"No, like." He glanced down again. "Dude."

"What."

"I'm just saying. That's a lot to be carrying around all day."

"Can we just shower please."

"I am." He shook his head slowly. "No wonder you walk the way you do."

I laughed despite myself, but I didn't have a response to that. I went back to washing my hair.

He kept sneaking glances. I could feel it without looking. At one point he just openly stared for a second and then said, very sincerely, "I genuinely feel like I should applaud."

"Ok."

—[]—

We had probably six minutes left, when we were both rinsing off. 

Kenny said, casually, like it had just occurred to him, "That cheer girl had an unreal body though."

"Right?" I said.

"The one in the blue top especially." He shook his head. "Insane boobs."

"The one I was going to talk to before she left?"

"Different one. The one next to her. Did you see her when she stood up?"

I thought about it, feeling the exact wrong kind of blood flow starting below my waist. 

"Yeah actually."

"Wild." He was quiet for a second. "Girls are so hot."

I smiled, facing the water. "They really are."

He leaned against the tile with his arms crossed, which given the situation was a fairly casual posture. 

"You know, there's this itch that some guys get," he said, "that you can only scratch one specific way."

I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Like there's the regular itch, like on your arm or your balls, and you just scratch it. But then there's another kind that you can’t reach. An internal one." He made a vague gesture in the general direction of his ass. "The one that's further inside."

"Oh," I said. I used my sense of logic to figure out what he meant. He had an itch in his ass. 

“That sucks dude. How do you scratch it?”

“I don’t know dude,” he said. “I just wish I could. It’s killing me. Imagine the worst itch of your life and you can’t reach it.”

I thought for a second. “Is that what anal is for? I always figured that was just like a thing gay guys did."

"It's for everyone," Kenny said quickly, before he stopped, like he meant to say something else. "It feels… really good."

I thought about that for a second.

"Like," he continued, completely reasonably, "if someone offered you a way to scratch that itch right now, after a big win, with someone who wouldn't make it weird, you'd be kind of an idiot to say no."

I looked at him for a long second. Something in the back of my head sent up a small flag. A small yellow one that said, hey, is this a little weird?

"Isn't this kind of," I started.

"Not at all, dude," Kenny said immediately. 

We paused for a second, the water rushing over our bodies before he continued. 

"I do it all the time. Didn't you grow up with brothers?"

"No," I said. "I'm an only child."

"Oh." He nodded like that had explained a lot. "That's probably why it seems weird to you. Guys who grew up with brothers just get it."

I thought about that. It did make a certain kind of sense. I had always felt like I missed out on things by not having brothers. Sports stuff, roughhousing, all of that. Maybe this was just another one of those things that guys with brothers understood and I didn't.

"I guess I'm just being a pussy," I said.

"Little bit," Kenny agreed, with a kind smile that took any sting out of it.

“You know what? You’re one of the coolest guys ever. And I only realized it today. I owe you one, bro. Even that one girl didn’t work out.”

His eyes lit up a bit, and I said, “I’ll scratch that itch for you.”

“Grab that conditioner," he said quickly, turning around and throwing his hands up against the tile wall. “We have like less than five minutes.”

I looked down at his butt. He was hairless. Maybe I could just pretend it’s a girl’s ass? Either way it’s gonna feel good. 

I put one hand on his hip to keep my balance because the tile was slippery, and I used my other hand to position myself while I rubbed until I was hard. I pushed forward slowly. I wasn’t sure if I was going to hurt him. My hand slid from his hip around to his stomach, steadying us both, and I felt his whole body tighten under my palm as the warmth of his insides enveloped my dick.

“Damn that actually feels good,” I said, “Sorry if that sounds gay.”

He didn’t respond. He just made a squeaky sound like it hurt.

I stopped. "Is that too much?"

"No," he said, through his teeth. His hands were braced flat against the wet tile. "Don't stop."

"You sure? Because…"

"Do not stop."

So I didn't.

I kept one hand pressed flat against his stomach, pulling him toward me, and the other gripped his shoulder for leverage. The hot water ran down over both of us, and after the initial adjustment he started making these sounds that were like a howler monkey or a grunting bull, low and involuntary, like something in him was finally getting what it needed. 

“Is that getting it?” I said. 

“Yeah, that’s it, keep going,” he said, getting out of breath.

Every time I slowed down he pushed back against me like a very clear instruction. His knuckles were white against the tile.

I looked down at my dick going inside him, and I could feel his abs clenching and releasing under my fingers with every movement, this tight involuntary rhythm that matched the sounds he was making. It was strange and surprisingly intense and better than I was expecting, which felt a little complicated in a way to me, and I decided not to think about it.

At some point his right hand left the wall and moved to the front of his body. I realized what he was doing and almost wanted to stop, but I thought, fair enough. If I was getting a nut out of this, it was cool if he did it too. We did talk about boobs right before this, so it makes sense if one guy is getting off that you can jerk off too. His ass started tensing around my dick, and it felt even better. As gay as it sounds, I really liked it, and I was pretty sure I was going to cum soon. 

I could hear him working himself in the same rhythm I was setting, his breath getting shorter and more uneven, and the whole thing had this quality of two people just mutually taking care of business, which is the most comfortable way I know how to describe it.

He finished first, I think. He let out a loud breath and I felt his ass pulse on me really fast. A few seconds later, he put his hand back up on the wall and started leaning back into me. 

I was close behind, and I told him, “Dude it feels so good, but I’m almost done. Don’t worry I won’t get jizz on you.”

“No,” he said, “Do it inside.”

I was confused for a second, and I slowed my rhythm, almost pausing.

“It’s less cleanup,” he said.

Ahh, I thought in my head, even though we’re in a shower already, that does make sense.

I started slamming into him, making loud smacking noises against his body. I guess I was really scratching that itch because he seemed like he loved it. He kept pushing back hard against me, and the clapping noises were echoing in the entire locker room.

I knew I was about to finish for real, and I slammed deep into him one last time, making sure he felt it. This had to have been the best version of whatever he liked about it, because I could feel his body tense on me, just as he let out a couple quiet moans. I went over the edge and released shot after shot of my spunk inside him. I felt kind of bad that he was taking it like that, but it was his idea anyway. I pulled out when I was done, and it was hard to catch my breath with the hot steam filling my lungs.

Afterward, he just breathed for a second, and I stepped back and let the water hit me directly, trying to get my bearings. My hand was still warm from where it had been pressed against his stomach.

"Okay," I said, after a moment.

"Yeah," Kenny said.

"That was."

"Yep."

We stood there for another second.

"We’re late," Kenny said.

"Fuck.”

—[]—

We toweled off fast and grabbed our bags and Kenny did a last check of the room out of habit, making sure nothing was left. I was pulling on my shirt when he said, almost to himself, "That was actually really good for someone who's never done it."

I looked at him. Something moved in my brain, some small thing, like a gear clicking forward one notch.

"What do you mean," I said.

"Like, naturally good at it," he said. "Most guys who haven't done it before are way more awkward about the whole thing."

Another gear clicked. I stood there with my bag in my hand and I thought about that sentence. I thought about it carefully. And I started to build toward something, some shape of a thought, and the shape was almost there when—

"Dude," Kenny said cheerfully, already heading for the door. "We gotta run."

And just like that the thought dissolved. I grabbed my bag and followed him out into the corridor.

By the time we hit the parking lot I had already decided it was probably just my natural athleticism. Coordination, body awareness, that kind of thing. It transferred to a lot of situations. Made sense that it would transfer to this one too. I was just the right kind of guy to help out a bro in situations like that. 

On the bus, Kenny took his seat with all the gear, no room for me to sit next to him, which was fine. By the time I took the open seat next to Michael, the whole thing seemed plain and normal again.

Once the bus started moving, Michael nudged me with his elbow. I took out my earbud.

“What’s up?”

“You came in late… with Kenny?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding slowly, not even wondering why he cared.

“Must’ve been a good one for you to be late again like that.”

I looked at him, confused. 

“Did he, uh…” he said, then he made a blowjob gesture with his mouth.

I chuckled. Typical gay jokes. I just shook my head.

“He’s good, right?” he said, making me look at him closer again.

“What do you mean?”

“He takes it like a champ,” he said, “I mean, at least every time I’ve used him.”

“I’m confused,” I said, narrowing my eyes further at him.

He looked at me like I was the biggest idiot.

“You thought you had him to yourself? He’s a good luck boy, bro,” he said, “He’s been blowing me all season too.”