
oozey mess
YOU ARE THE REASON

blake kathryn

tannertan36
we're not kids anymore.

@theartofmadeline
Today's Document
Jules of Nature
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
RMH

pixel skylines
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Origami Around
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day

Kaledo Art

titsay
KIROKAZE

No title available
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
seen from Germany
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seen from Netherlands
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seen from Poland
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seen from Switzerland

seen from Mexico

seen from Netherlands

seen from United States

seen from India

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Greece

seen from Ukraine
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seen from Singapore

seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
@team-bonding
I was drawn to Jason's casualness, the proximity of his skin, and the way the light touched his torso.
Coach faced me and asked the question again, his towel hanging lazily in front of him. "Do you like looking at me?"
I stared at my feet on concrete floor. It was the only answer he needed.
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.
I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him. “Turn off the water and put your hands against the wall.” He repeated.
I obediently rotated the lever and placed the palms of my hands against the grid of tile, listening to the slurp of shoes against the pooling floor of the shower room. The water began to descend my body, dripping from hair and following muscles. My jock, worn for some level of privacy in the dated facilities, now displayed my ass to the stranger, lifting each cheek into a temping mound. The soft pressure of a finger’s knuckle dragged its way across the small of my back and toward my waistband as I listened to his breath at my right ear and studied the grout.
"You’re gonna be fun.”
There was nothing sexier than Ken after a practice. The water carves pathways around his spent muscles as he leans back, inserting his face into the spray of the shower. He closes his eyes against the institutional fluorescents and the invading water. He may have never noticed my appreciation, but I always noticed him.
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.
Paul stared back at me holding the phone. His briefs were cut high around the leg to showcase his hips and the contoured pouch emphasised what what we all tried to hide beneath our towels. Who could ignore bright orange?
What drove me was were the little indents in Paul’s stomach–not a fully defined six pack, but alerting me to the undercurrent of muscle beneath his taught hide. I wanted to reach out and touch the ink on his pec. I wanted to hook a finger into those briefs and feel the way string met bone.
We continued to observe one another. I had caught him taking the photo, he had caught me checking him out.
Kevin held the strap out and let it snap as I pointed the phone at him to take a picture. He let it snap back against his firm ass.
“Shhhh! You’re going to get us caught.” I hissed.
Kevin repositioned his baseball hat backwards as he took the phone from me. “I know, babe.”
Lucas stood at the sink, his ass plumped from today's squats. He looked good, but his confidence without clothes was more than vanity. He felt good, his body could accomplish things, and if anybody wanted to look, he didn't mind.
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.