Go away. Go away. Go away.
My dick ignored my command, rising from a half-chub to full mast.
Boners in the showers were common when we were hormone-crazed youths, but as grown men? Not so much.
My towel hung out of reach. Could I get to it before anyone noticed? It was that or stay in the shower covering myself until everyone left. Which would look even weirder seeing as I was one of the first in there.
Shit.
I’d have to make a break for it.
Trying to look nonplussed, I turned, relaxing a hand over my cock. Not enough to look like I was hiding anything, just enough to deflect a quick glance.
Only a few steps to go...
Reaching out, I grasped the rough towel, grinning as I lowered it around my waist.
‘Drew’s got a boner!’ Elliott said, laughing.
‘Shut up,’ I groaned, wrapping the material around me.
‘A right fucking tent,’ Greg added.
Showers turned off around the room and guys surrounded me, towels in hand.
‘Hey, we’re not kids anymore.’ I backed away.
‘If you can’t control your cock, you know the price.’ Elliott pulled his towel tight, angling it at me.
A snap from the right had me cursing as a towel caught my calf.
‘Fuck, ow.’ I grabbed the end of the offending towel and yanked it, dropping my own.
Sharp snaps had me practically dancing on the spot while the guys whooped and laughed, and after a moment of rage, I laughed along with them. The towel punishment worked like a charm, my dick softening under the barrage of light pain.
Good thing I’m not a masochist. My punishment would’ve been someone’s ultimate fantasy.
I had eyes only for one man, and he’d left the room without partaking in my teammates’ game.
Probably going to seeher.
THREE
JAKE
I’d stepped into the Greasy Otter when Elliott shoved a pint glass into my hand. The pale yellow liquid sloshed over my fingers, foam chasing the drops to the floor.
‘Thanks, mate,’ I said with a smile.
Post-match pints were such a tradition that the Greasy Otter kept four tables near the back of the room permanently cordoned off for us. It was sweet that the owner, Jim, treated us like VIPs when we weren’t exactly a major team. Still, he never missed a game and thrived on welcoming us back after.
All I really wanted was to grab my girl and head home. Maybe throw on a movie. Cuddle her close. Run my fingers through her hair until she whimpered. I had more chance of morphing into a badger than getting out of there before I’d consumed at least three pints.
Which meant keeping the act up.
Smile. Joke. Console.
Shmooze.Lie.
