High School Jockstrap Fetish

It would always send a shiver through me and cause my crotch to tingle - my cock twitch lengthen and drip...the smell was fucking intoxicating and made my curious mind race. The guys that I lusted after - the ones that I thought of when I was alone. Built athletes that made my mouth dry. That locker room kept me enthralled for the three years before I graduated. I always cut through the locker rooms from the hallway to the exit from the varsity locker room out to the parking lot (or coming in from the lot) whenever I could - hoping to catch "most athletic",  the school "football, basketball or baseball star" or maybe one of the hot coaches in the showers or, nirvana, stripped naked and drying off. A teenager's developing brain can carry such heady thoughts and mine was no different.

It started with me watching some of the more physically/sexually advanced/developed classmates in their jockstraps. The bulges that the jock pouches gave these young men were full and meaty - bloated and fat from the work out in gym class and the hot shower afterward with testosterone thrown in for good measure. They'd step from the tiled, dark shower with a towel loosely wrapped 'round their waist and their cock and balls slapping against the damp terrycloth. I'd adjust my position and use my gear to hide my arousal but I had to watch. I had to see those dicks - damp and dangling - it would be my visual for that night's release.

I would bide my time and wait until I knew the locker room would be empty. Walking up and down between the rows of lockers - I saw the names of those that were the drivers of my lust on tape across the tops of the doors. Dennis Watkins - his dark hair, hairy legs and the ever-present bulge in his jeans - just once I'd like to see him in his jockstrap. Kevin Conners - tanned and freckled - damned nice pecs and shoulders - light red almost blond pubic hair and a meat tube that I swear hung halfway to his knees. Then there was Larry. Larry Martin. If there was ever an ideal man, it was Larry Martin. Blue eyes, chiseled chin - built like the fucking linebacker he was. He and I worked together at a local grocery store nights and weekends throughout high school. I had fun joking and kidding with him - admiring him from afar and wishing I could crawl into his sleeping bag in my cum-soaked dreams of a teen in heat.

I would sniff the air - that dirty feet and sweat smell made for a dizzying combination. Walking past the lockers, I would peer inside - fuck! There's Dennis' jockstrap...look at the outline of his bulge...I leaned down to sniff it through the x- grid ventilation holes stamped into the locker door. I could smell his sweat and I could imagine that pouch cupping his balls...fuck, I want to cup those balls. I took a pencil out of my notebook and I stuck it through one of the openings - I used that pencil to snare one of the butt straps and pulled it to the holes in the door. With a little work, I was able to pull that sweat stained strap through one of the vent holes.

My heart was racing and my cock was as hard as it has ever been. I immediately put it to my nose and took a deep breath sucking in the smell of his balls and his ball sweat...there was even a yellow stain that I sniffed. I found myself cramming that jockstrap into my coat pocket and heading directly to the closest men's room with my treasure. I locked the stall door...pulled Dennis' jockstrap out of my pocket and sniffed it again. I licked the yellow stain and massaged my cock through my jeans. I kept that jockstrap on my face while my other hand fumbled unbuckling and unzipping. I reached in and hauled my hard, dripping cock out - I pulled that strap away from my face and wrapped it around my hard, drippin' dick - I rubbed my balls and jacked my cock with Dennis' jock. I jacked my shaft with the pouch and watched as my dick oozed precum onto the strap...I ran my hand up my shaft coaxing out all the prejizz I could onto that undergear. I lifted it to my mouth and I licked all of that juice offa that strap...I stood there with my pants around my ankles and jacked my cock. I felt my balls shifting - tightening up - I could feel that cum churning. My breath got quicker, my strokes faster. I felt it shooting up my piss hose and out of my piss hole...shooting across that jock pouch and the toilet seat below.

I wiped the knob of my cock - shuddering - it was the most intense orgasm of my 17 year old life. I folded it over and put that jockstrap back in my coat pocket nervously walking back to the varsity locker room. There was no way I was going to take the time to try to put that strap back through the vent hole - I can't take it home - if my mom found it in my pocket, I'd get twenty questions. If I tried to hide it in my bedroom, my brother I shared the room with would find it. He already suspicioned that I was "different" and that would only compound the problem. I couldn't put it in a trashcan because a janitor may find it. As I considered my options, I thought about hiding it behind the commercial washer and dryer. Then I found it - a hole that had been knocked into the concrete block wall to vent the dryer...there was a gap between the venting and the block wall. I stuffed it in the hole and headed to my after school job - Larry was working that evening.

Over the course of my three years at the school, I was able to pull jockstraps out of numerous other lockers. The same scenario played out each time - I would sniff that strap, jerk off into it and then hide it in the same hole where the dozens of other manly undergear were hidden. I often wonder what those that tear down that wall in the future will think when they come across a stash of vintage, soiled jockstraps tucked away in a hole in the wall. And I have to wonder if anyone ever compared notes about their missing jockstraps with the fellow team mates...if they did I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall.