Fourth & Goal – The forbidden overtime in the players' locker room
- xero-one
- Dec 11, 2025
- 3 min read
I'm sitting in row 12, right behind our college team's bench. The stadium is roaring, the kickoff cracks, and on the very first play, bodies are flying through the air. These guys in their tight, shiny jerseys and white shorts with black stripes—simply works of art. Especially the young starters, all around 20-22, beaming faces, broad shoulders, that innocent arrogance as they high-five each other. My best friend Jake (quarterback, 21, 6'3", brown curls) throws a 40-yard touchdown pass and turns right toward me, grinning and pointing. My heart leaps, but only in a friendly way—we've known each other since high school. I just love this sport, this fight, this moment when 70,000 people roar at once.
Fourth quarter, we're narrowly ahead. Every time Jake comes out of the huddle, my gaze lingers on his broad back, on the number 12 stretched across his shoulder pads, on his thighs, which seem about to burst in his tight pants. When he runs, sweat glistens on his forearms. I realize I'm looking a little longer than necessary, but it still feels like pure admiration. After the game-winning play, the whole team sprints past me toward the tunnel, Jake gives me a high five as he runs by—his hand hot and wet with sweat. I catch a whiff of his scent, and there's that little flutter in my stomach, but I push it away. Just adrenaline.
The stadium is emptying, I have an old student ID and know the security guards – I sneak into the players' area. The locker room is almost empty, only Jake is there, showering. Worn jerseys, shoulder pads, those tight white compression shorts, jockstraps, socks are scattered everywhere… The smell is animalistic, sweat, aftershave, testosterone. I can't resist: I take Jake's worn underwear (still damp from the game), discreetly hold it up to my face, and take a deep breath. That intense, masculine scent instantly makes my cock hard. I imagine him standing naked in the shower right now. Suddenly, I hear footsteps. Panic. I drop everything and turn around – Jake is standing in the doorway, just a towel around his hips, water droplets on his chest, grinning broadly.
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