My Friend Gave Me a Wet Dream 04 (Patreon)

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Chapter 4: Team Showers

I'd never been to Derek's house before the random day he told me to come home with him.

It was across town, a few minutes out of the way, and we had just never made it out that way in the time I’d known him. The neighborhood was fine, but quieter than mine. The houses were smaller and closer together, with cars parked on both sides of the street. His was a two-story with vinyl siding and a storm door that didn't quite close all the way behind us.

His mom was in the kitchen. She smiled when she saw me. She immediately seemed genuine and nice. I could also tell that her eyes had some tiredness behind them. She asked if I wanted anything to eat and I said no thank you and she nodded and went back to what she was doing at her desk.

His room was upstairs. It was clean, and it smelled nice, which I noticed, but spare. It was pretty much just a bed, a desk, and a dresser, nothing much on the walls. There were no photos, no accumulated junk, no evidence of years of a family paying attention to what he was into, just the stuff that he needed.

We sat on his bed and messed around on our phones for a bit, not really talking. It was comfortable in the way things between us had become, but there was something in the air of the room itself that was different. Things were different at his house.

"Your place is nice," I said eventually, not meaning his room specifically.

He looked around like he was seeing it fresh. "It's all right."

"Your mom seems cool."

"She's good," he said. "She works a lot."

He was quiet for a second. I waited.

"My brother used to be in this room," he said. "Before he left."

"Where'd he go?"

"He sort of  went to college. Now he lives in Cincinnati." He said plainly. 

“That’s random,” I said. 

“He just wanted a change of scenery.”

“We would’ve met earlier if you lived on my side of town,” I said.

“And if I didn’t go to stupid private school. Was a sausage party.”

I chuckled at the irony. “You mean you were tired of all the dick around?”

“You know what I mean,” he said as he shook his head.

I didn't ask about his dad directly. I didn't need to at this point. I just knew that he sucked. He seemed a little emotional, even with just the implication that he might come up in conversation. I walked over and sat on his bed next to him, then leaned over and dropped my body on top of his. I figured this was a nice way to cuddle.

We sat there together for another minute, his breath lifting my body as he rubbed a hand up and down my back. I gave him a kiss on his neck, and he didn’t react. I got up and sat next to him, pulling out my phone. 

“Come back,” he said quietly, and I did, lying back down on top of him, playing with my phone while he played with his, our bodies basically joined at the chest. 

I let him change the subject when he was ready, which was about thirty seconds later, something about the upcoming game.

—[]—

In the locker room one day, Derek S. had launched into a rant while everyone was changing. The subject of health and what to eat had come up, and of course he had some dense opinions. It felt like he had been waiting for an audience. The guys mostly shook their heads and let him talk as he went on about the government “pasteurization agenda”, the farmers being “silenced”, the enzymes they were stripping out of the milk supply. He had opinions. He had sources which were all just conservative influencers’ names. He had a whole thing about it, and he was yelling insults at everyone throughout the entire tirade.

The guys tuned him out more and more as he started using the phrase “raw milk” repeatedly.

"Okay," somebody said when he finally stopped.

The next day at lunch he actually brought “raw milk” in a container from home, and it looked disgusting. Everyone was flabbergasted that someone would actually carry something like that around, whether or not it was real. Of course, he knocked it over at the lunch table, and it went straight down his front. He sat there dripping while the table lost its mind.

We started coming up with nicknames right on the spot. Dairy Derek. Dairy. “Raw Milk Kid” based on the kid on the internet. That one had traction because Derek S. also had baby face. It compressed fast, and by Friday he was just Milk Boy.

The milk and cum jokes followed naturally and without mercy. He was not pleased about any of it. Someone even said it once in class on accident.

“Hey cum boy, do you have a pen?” I heard someone whisper to him in Calc.

Everyone heard it, and the teacher pretended like he didn’t. Milk Boy just gave him the middle finger.

—[]—

A few weeks since the new Derek had joined the team, the whole atmosphere had changed, especially in the showers.

It happened gradually. Derek had set the tone long enough that it seemed like everyone had just forgotten that there used to be a default of modesty. He had been wandering out of his stall since day one, and somewhere along the way the rest of the team had started doing the same. Towels became optional, and no one made it weird, the threshold between the shower stalls and the open room becoming less meaningful every week.

It was louder too. The jokes had gotten ballsier. The group had gotten comfortable enough to say whatever was on our minds. Gay jokes were more rampant than ever.

"I'd kiss you, but I'm not into micro dicks," someone said.

"You'd be lucky," somebody else shot back.

"Don't knock it til you try it," Derek said.

I leaned out to see what was happening. He was standing in the middle of the room the way he always was, water still running behind him, his meaty, evenly rounded glutes facing me. He caught me leaning out. He looked right at me.

I smiled without meaning to. I pulled back into my stall.

I heard whispering. I couldn't catch all of it but I heard enough. One of the guys, his voice low, asking Derek something. A name I couldn't fully make out but sounded like mine. I peaked out again and saw a few of them glance over. Derek winked at me, and I just retreated back into my shower, rinsing off the last bit of soap from my ass and balls. Derek said something relaxed and dismissive, and the conversation moved on.

When dick size came up in conversation again, it led, as it had to, to someone suggesting a competition. This was regular talk, and there were varying degrees of laughter and even protest, but for the first time, I could tell the vibe was leaning toward doing it.

“We’ll see who’s the biggest,” Derek said cheerfully.

“I’m gonna smoke you all,” someone said.

“No way, I am,” said another.

I was in my stall with the water running, listening to this develop.

I stepped out, and most of the guys had gathered in a circle. I looked at the diversity of bodies, leaning toward fit and athletic, with abs and thick legs, toned upper bodies, but different heights, and some of the skinny-fat dudes who still held their own on the field. 

The showers kept running as I approached the circle, next to Derek. I looked around as I grabbed onto myself, already feeling the blood flow into the ara. I had honestly spent most of my athletic career avoiding looking. It felt like an invasion of privacy, even in here, to learn too much detail about that area of someone. But today, after a slow degradation into debauchery, we had officially welcomed observation of each other’s manhoods. 

Milk Boy was across from us, his own little peter not really stacking up to the rest of the team, which made me chuckle internally. The steam built up. Getting hard wasn't easy for everyone, which itself became part of the comedy. Some guys were coaching each other on how to “mind over matter” getting hard in front of a bunch of guys. Somehow no one said, “Why the fuck are we doing this?”

Some guys were hard instantly, holding themselves at the base, just waiting for everyone else to catch up. Others looked at the ceiling, and some announced their progress like a status update. I watched as the various sizes and shapes of dicks and balls all sprang to life. 

"She wouldn't want your micro dick anyway," someone said to the guy next to him, an argument from earlier apparently having resumed, with more specificity this time.

"You want to actually test that theory?" Derek said.

Derek grabbed my shaft. 

“Gotta help each other out,” he said to everyone. 

He sold it as a joke, mostly successfully, the way Derek sold everything. He was nonchalant and shameless, moving fast enough that there was no space for anyone to make it a thing. A couple guys shared a look. I tried not to react as the rush of getting jerked off in front of the whole team gave me a thrill that almost made me fall over.

I decided that to mask the intimacy between us, I had to do something. I reached to my left and grabbed Jimmy's dick out of his hands. He chuckled and let me hold it. I had to look down to confirm that it didn’t even come out the other side of my fist. It kind of made sense, since he was on the smaller side in general. 

“Little Jimmy,” I muttered without thinking. 

“Shut up,” he said, laughing. 

Soon he grabbed the guy to his left as well, and others in the circle joined in. The word “bro-job” was intermittently decipherable from the hum of chatter as most of the group was being jerked off by the guy next to them, and soon we were all more or less hard, if not on the edge of blasting a nut already.

The measurement system arose naturally. Two guys next to each other started comparing directly, placing their dicks on top of each other. Others paired up naturally, and the winners and losers started lining up. The next guy to compare would just walk down the line and compare until they found who was smaller than them, and step into the loose line that had formed.

I felt bad about my comment earlier when it was confirmed that Jimmy came in last. Nobody said anything directly. It landed anyway. Jimmy didn't seem destroyed by it.

The rankings worked their way up from there. Little Jimmy at the bottom, then a cluster of average, then me and Derek were solidly in the top half, and at the top, this dude named John who was uncircumcised. Before that day, that was the only thing I thought was different about his cock.

“Long John” was the new nickname. It was immediate and had staying power. Apparently there had already been rumors, but I had never heard them myself. He was long and thick, and the shape was totally different. The base of his dick looked the same thickness as mine, just average-ish, but near the middle it widened to look like a wrist, and the the head of it was like a small apple. The thing was red and angry and even hard it had all that extra skin around the head.

He was the only uncut guy on the team. We stared at it with the focused attention of scientists encountering a new species.

"Does the extra skin count as length," somebody asked seriously.

"No," three people said, but it didn’t matter, he was the longest by far, and the thickest as well.

"Show us how you jerk it," Derek said. “Is it different?”

“I warmed him up with a bro-job,” Milk Boy chimed in. “It’s like a sleeve on it.”

John smiled, a little earned ego on his face as he grabbed himself and showed us his method. The room watched in collective fascination as the skin slid back, peeled off the head and settled behind it.

"I always thought it looked like those dogs with the extra face skin, a shar-pei," I said, "but like this it actually looks normal."

"Mine's the normal one," John said. "You guys got surgery."

"True," I said, touching myself absently.

Derek nudged me. "I wonder what it's like to have one like that."

"You mean big, or uncircumcised?"

"Both."

John had heard us. He looked at me. "Hold it if you want."

I grabbed it. Felt the weight of it in my hand, the different texture of the skin. 

"It's kind of cool," I said.

Another guy reached in and took it out of my hand, and started working it up and down, making John flinch and laugh slightly. The guy kept going with total commitment.

“Wow,” he said.

I glanced over at Jimmy. He was just jerking himself openly, relaxed, watching the event, apparently over the ranking entirely. Good for Jimmy.

Derek wrapped his arm around my waist from behind and started working me with his free hand. I let him. We sort of just stood there, letting this escalate like it was nothing.

Milk Boy had been quiet for a while. He'd landed in the lower half of the rankings, and it was clear his ego was bothered.

"You guys wanna see who can cum the most?" he announced. “Or, like, the farthest?”

The counter-proposals came fast. 

“Who can last longest?”

“How do you even measure that?” 

“Jerk off the guy next to you.”

A voice boomed from the locker room.

"WHAT’S going on in there?"

It was the coach, his voice booming and tired. But as usual, he was fundamentally unwilling to physically enter the space and find out. He instinctively knew there was too much in here that he didn’t want to see.

Derek answered immediately, hand still wrapped around me: "All good coach, out in a sec!"

I felt the nervous fear of being caught rise through my abdomen. I could feel it from my chest to my ears.

"Your whole body is red," Milk Boy said, pointing at me in awe.

I looked down and laughed. Milk Boy stepped over and took over from Derek, gripping me. I didn’t really want him to touch me, given his general attitude, but the look in his eye made me feel like this was some sort of apology for being a dick, and I let him. His grip was different, but he was trying.

Long John blasted off first. 

“Here I come,” he said, centering himself directly on top of the center drain, and the guy jerking him off aimed his shaft at a forty-five degree angle from the floor. John planted his feet, focused, and shot a clean line straight across form the drain. It landed several feet away, his abs tensing sharply as he went, the rest of his essence dripping down into the drain. His balls dropped and relaxed when he was done, moving on their own. He stepped to where his first shot landed and put his foot on the spot.

"Distance to beat."

Two other guys popped off nearly simultaneously. They both crossed back to the drain to mark their starting point, fighting with their hips for position as they ultimately thrusted forward with great concentration, and neither cleared John's foot.

I watched what was happening in awe, turned on in a frenzy, and I was ready to go soon too.

Derek and I went together, working each other, which by now required no discussion or acknowledgement. Derek's first shot cleared John's distance by a few inches, leaving some of his white mess directly on John’s foot. John rinsed his foot carefully and stepped aside. My load came in about halfway to Derek's mark, which I was fine with.

Derek put his foot where his had landed.

“Reigning champ,” he said, congratulating himself.

Others released, failing to beat Derek’s mark, and then Milk Boy was last. He stepped up with the energy of someone who had been waiting for exactly this moment. He planted, focused, and blasted off a thin streak of white load that beat Derek by a clean margin.

The whole room acknowledged it.

"You earned it," I told him.

He looked at me for a second, then grabbed me in a bro hug that went on a beat longer than a bro hug. Our bodies pressed together and I registered, despite everything, that he was solid. Not as big as Derek but not soft either. He just needed something to hang his hat on. Once he had a little but of validation, he was almost likable.

“You’re a good guy, Milk Boy,” I said into his ear.

He hugged me a little tighter and let go, stepping away.

The guys filtered out, the entire contest having lost its significance after we had fully drained our energy. Just another day in boy-land. 

Derek and I were last out of the showers. The rest of the guys were already at their lockers, toweling off, the noise of the room coming back to normal.

Derek stopped me just inside the door and kissed me on the mouth. Quick but really nice. My hand found his ass and held him for a moment before we peeled apart.

We looked up to see that Long John was still nearby in the doorway, pulling on his shirt. He saw it and laughed slightly under his breath.

"You guys are gay," he said with a chuckle as he strolled away.

He said it like it was a joke. Derek and I looked at each other and shrugged, walking our naked asses back into the locker room.

—[]—

Derek and I never used any particular word for what we were. We didn't need one. But looking back, he was my first boyfriend, and I’ll always have that. He slept in my bed and ate my mom's food and essentially started sharing expenses with me.

I think I helped him. I can't confirm that. He never said so directly, which was fine, because Derek didn't really deal with direct things like that. His MO was always showing up, with momentum, in doing whatever felt right in the moment, like kissing me on the mouth in front of Long John and walking away like nothing happened. What I know is that my house gave him something he needed, and that he seemed a little lighter every time he left it. I'll take that.

What he gave me is harder to describe and easier to feel. He opened something up. He gave me the idea that I could want something and reach for it without a big conversation about what it meant, that two people could find each other in the middle of an ordinary life and just decide, without fuss, to matter to each other.

Most of what I was afraid of turned out to be nothing. Most of what felt dangerous was just new. Derek already knew that, which is why he moved the way he did, like the fear was already solved, like the only thing left was to just do it.

He was the kind of person who burns brighter than everyone around him. People feel it when they’re near him, and feel the absence of it when he’s gone.