One of the football jocks gave me a strange secret Santa present. It was one of the highschool jearseys and a pair of football cleats?? When he gave them to me he was drenched in sweat , dropping wet, and smelled strongly,
What's even stranger is I think he gave me his own cleats and jersey? Or he tried them on? BC both items smelled like him, maybe he was short on time?
I've neglected to do anything about them, as they just lay in my dorm still in the box, but for some reason, I can't get the picture of that sweaty, stinky muscular man out of my head
You stare at the box as you angrily stomp down the road. How did he know? Did he know? There’s no way he could have seen, unless some passerby saw and told him… which wasn’t entirely outside of the realm of possibility. Either way, you are not amused. If anything this “white elephant gift” seems more like a threat than anything else. So as you arrive at the athletic dorm, you get to Jabari’s door and start pounding away.
“Jabari! Open the door.” You hear the loud music pause, and hear the football players heavy footfalls approaching. As the door swings open, you’re met with Jabari’s smug, unimpressed expression. Standing shirtless in the doorway with a joint out of his mouth.
“The fuck do you want?” He spits out at you before looking at the giant box in your hands, shitty wrapping paper barely clinging to it. He smirks. “What, bro? You didn’t like your present?” He opens the door, inviting you in.
“No. I didn’t fucking like the present.” You look around the hallway, slinking into Jabari’s room unseen. The disastrously messy room stank of weed and the familiar stink that wafts from the box in your arms. You open the box, hit with somehow still wet funk pouring from the cardboard vessel. Dumping the contents onto the floor, you grimace at the sight of the stinking cleats, practice Jersey, and cumstained cheesy jockstrap sitting on the carpet. “This supposed to be funny?” Jabari leans against the counter, crossing his socked size 15 feet and staring at you with a knowing look.
“It was funny to me, bro. Had to trade names a few times before I got yours. I thought you’d like em.” He took another drag of the joint, blowing a puff of smoke in your face. You angrily swipe the cloud away, standing your ground.
“I don’t fucking like them. So I’m returning them.” You turn to leave, but before you so much as take a step, you feel Jabari’s calloused hand firmly gripping your shoulder.
“Nah, man. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He pushes you to your knees with little effort, right in front of the cleats. “The way I hear it, you really into this shit. Mine in particular gets you off.” Your face so close the cleats, you can’t stop yourself from breathing in that heavy stench. If he’d ever washed them, it was certainly years ago. “I got eyes everywhere, bruh.” You struggle against his grip.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but…” Jabari pushes your head forward even more, the tip of your nose slowly approaching the off white fabric of the cleat.
“Nah, man. I know what you do after every practice. You think you’re slick comin round and huffin my sneaks outside that door, huh? I thought you’d like a lil piece of me at home.” He presses your face firmly into the cleat, enough that you feel the damp grimy insole on your skin. “We don’t need some fuckin foot freak up in here jackin it to our smell while we chillin inside.”
You hold your breath as long as you can but you can only hold out so long. Your lungs spasm, and you take in a full whiff of Jabari’s foot funk. The sweat and grime of endless games and even more practices, all percolating and coagulating into one atomic bomb of stink. He’s right- your clandestine nightly activities must have been noticed despite your carefulness. He gives you a moment of respite as he releases his grip on your head, allowing you to pull your face out of the smelly cavern. You stare with insurmountable embarrassment at the cleats before you.
They sit there, inundated in the jock studs sweat. In a quieter, lonely moment alone, you’d be far more comfortable burying your nose into them. But with Jabari looming above you with a scowl on his face, so full of disdain and contempt… caught red handed, you feel nothing but shame.
“Strip. Now.” You feel your face flush pale white. Your breath gets caught in your throat, rendering you barely able to speak much more than at a whisper.
“Jabari… listen. I won’t do it again.” You try to turn to face him, only to get his socked foot pressed firmly onto the side of your face, pushing it right back toward the cleats. The smell is so fresh in the damp black socks, it has a different feel to it. The cleats, the trainers, they’ve been marinating for years in that stink. This is the source, and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined.
“I said fucking strip, bruh.” You feel his meaty fingers grasp ahold of the fabric of your shirt, and with a single movement he tears it in two. “I’m tired as fuck of all y’all freaks huffin my straps and kicks when I’m not looking. Fantasizing bout me railin your dumbass. That ain’t consent, bro.” He rips your shoes and socks off your feet, tearing your shorts off as you sit there mortified.
“I wasn’t thinking! I’m sorry! You won’t have to see me again, I’ll leave you alone and you’ll forget I even exist!” Jabari puts his sweaty foot right onto your back, pushing you down to the ground, reminding you very clearly who it is that is in charge.
“Yeah you right. I’m not gonna see your ass again- I won’t even remember you. Now, put it on.” You twist your head one more time to look at him, just for him to plant that foot on your face, pushing it right back toward the cleats, jersey, and jockstrap. “All of it, bitch. Quick.” He claps his hands loudly, and you instinctively grasp the jersey, slipping it over your shoulders and letting it drape like curtains over your smaller frame. It hangs from your shoulders, almost pooling at your knees as you kneel.
“Come on, Jabari. This shit is weird as fuck. Just let me go home I won’t bother yo…” You’re unable to finish your sentence as he shoves his sweaty socks into your mouth, silencing you quickly as he holds the jockstrap in front of your face. You stifle your urge to sniff it, one last act of defiance before he slips the damp jock up your legs. You shudder at the warm wetness that surrounds your groin, the fetid taste of Jabari’s socks filling your mouth, groaning in euphoric anticipation for whatever he has planned for you. You feel the dank cleats being shoved onto your feet, the squish of his sweat and foot grime pressing onto your soles before they’re tightened and the grime surrounds your entire foot.
“There you go, bruh. It’s your fantasy right? Bein like Jabari, smellin’ like Jabari, lookin’ like Jabari…” His hand wraps around your neck, as he drags you toward his closet. He opens the door, his clothes getting pushed out of the way as your body starts to shiver and quake. “Imma let you marinate for a while, bruh. Let you take it in.” With relative ease, you’re tossed into his dark, cramped closet as he smugly scowls at you. Slowly, he shuts the closet door, plunging you into complete darkness, surrounded only by the stench of Jabari’s sweat and the ever increasing pulsations under your skin.
You reflect on what brought you here, all the times you’d snuck down the hall to bury your face in the cleats that now grace your feet. *Crack*
You reflect on the fantasies in your head of him jacking you off with those thick hands. *Squelch*
You reflect on the taste of those smelly socks stuffed into your mouth, unable to bring yourself to remove them. *Sluuuuuuuuuurp*
You close your eyes, imagining the world in which your fantasies came alive. Kicking back with him, slurping on his musky cock, not as a lil bitch but as his equal. *Whoooooosh*
You can feel the pain in your arms, your legs, your chest and groin… that ache of athleticism, that need to grow, that desire to dominate, that pride of strength and of virility instilled into you. *CREAAAAAAAAAK*
You shudder, feeling your growing bulge start to leak into Jabari’s jockstrap, imagining his sweat, his spunk, his smell all flowing into you. Inundating you, entering you, reshaping you in his image. “Unhhhhhhh” you groan, your voice deep and bellowing. *BOOOM*
Pressure grows throughout your body, you feel more and more cramped in the small confines of the closet, your thoughts growing hazy and confused, time seemingly floating by at a crawl. Then, amongst the cavalcade of aches, groans, and obscene sounds echoing in the dark; you begin to fade into the void yourself. The darkness overtakes you, and all you have left is the sounds of stretching and inflation ringing in your ears. *SNAPP*
———
Jabari looks down at his watch, paid for by some horny old man begging to worship his pits, and smirks. He takes his time getting up off the couch, leaving the Ravens game blaring on his tv. His massive soles slap against the tile floor, as he pushes the door to his bedroom open. To his surprise, the door to the closet is slid all the way open, the interior only full of his clothes. He smirks as his gaze slowly turns to the corner of the room, and there before his mirror, crouching low on muscled thighs and meaty feet is you taking some smutty selfies in his dirty mirror.
“Damn, bruh. You lookin pumped as fuck. Feeling like yourself again?” his voice is softer, like an older brother speaking to his younger brother. You turn your head, grinning your pearly whites while scratching your manicured chinstrap. Standing up, your eyes gaze directly into his, now of equal height and build.
“Yeah, bro. I don’t know what got into me.” You strut up to him, donned in only his jockstrap, now dripping with your thick and potent seed. Your hand collides with his, your biceps bulging beneath your mocha skin. “Feelin a lil pent up though, man. Think you could help a bro out?” You slip your calloused hand down the jockstrap, letting your massive python plop out of the fabric and hang halfway down your thigh. Your balls still dripping in sweat, half yours, half Jabari’s. He nods, his supple lips curling even further into a wicked smile as he wraps his fingers around your shaft. Time to blow off some steam before the game is over- besides, you have practice in the morning. Maybe some bedtime with bro is just what the doctor ordered.
If you liked this story, here’s my tip jar! Let me know what you think!
