This shorty story is loosely based on the personal experience a Literotica user recalled in a comment he left under another story. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the comment again. I must give credit to him for inspiring my first attempt at publishing something.
As the referee blowed his whistle for the last time, I let out a deep sigh and prepared for the worst. My awful performance surely didn't go unnoticed.
I headed towards the sideline together with my teammates, while in the corner of my eye I could see the red uniforms of our rivals that cheered and hugged each other.
Our coach was a stocky, grizzled man of legendary strickness who knew how to be intimidating without even raising his voice; he dismissed the others, one by one, with brief words of encouragement. I kept my head down and gathered my stuff in order to follow them, but the coach placed himself in front of me in a way that offered no way out. I swallowed hard and raised my head; his eyes were almost flashing as he scanned my face with a look that I could only interpret as a mix of disappointment and disgust.
We were still there when the other team and most of the families that occupied the stands had left. In his usual low tone, my torturer listed all of my missed opportunities, distractions and shortcomings that had cost us the game: it was only a semi-final in the yearly regional tournament that we had lost - "in our home field!" - but I now felt like I was the sole responsible for a once-in-a-lifetime beating in an Olympic final. The worst part was the fact that I couldn't even clap back, because I knew that he had good reasons on his side: I felt bitter and depressed, and when I was finally set free I walked to the changing room with my tail between my legs.
The changing room was spartan, to say the least: a large, open area with two benches and two rows of hangers along the walls, that opened onto a shower area with two rows of shower heads.
Something that had struck me the first time that I set foot in there, several years earlier, was the absence of any stall or courtain: as an innately shy person (yes, despite what you're about to read - I'm innately shy) I was at first embarassed by this situation, but I soon realised that it would be a wasted effort to try to cover myself in a place that offered no protection or repair from other people's eyes. I was relieved to see that no one really cared, and that, most importantly, I wasn't much different that anyone else in the room: my paranoia seemed silly in front of a dozen of peers that showed no sign of shyness. It appeared that none of the others felt a great need for privacy, and they were more or less used to nudity; so I quickly learned to abandon every mental reservation myself, and now, at 19, I was completely comfortable in hanging around my teammates wearing nothing but my birthday suit, without care for hiding my pale butt.
I received some pats on the back as my teammates left and I unpacked my stuff. I was soon alone, and I was craving a long, hot shower: right what I needed to wash away my miserable state. I realised that it was the first time that I had the entire place for myself, and I enjoyed its silence and calmness, usually denied by the screams of several overexcited males. I placed my stuff near the entrance of the shower, I hooked my towel and walked in there with only my flip-flops and a bottle of shower gel in my hand. I turned the knob of one of the showers and waited for the water to heat up: this process usually took a painful, but bearable, minute or so, but after a while I cussed, gave up on the still ice-cold water, and tried my luck with another shower. After waiting another couple of minutes in pathetic and lonely nudity, I could finally immerse my body in a warm and comforting waterfall.
I wasn't in a rush: I knew that the following match, the female semi-final, was scheduled to start about two hours after ours, so I was sure that I had plenty of time before the next team would come in the changin room. And while I was usually quick, even by male standards, today I really wanted to take my time, for once, and I stood still under the now-hot water that cleaned all the sweat and dirt on my skin. It felt therapeutic, and it emptied my mind from every worry.
I turned off the water and put some gel on my hand, but I suddenly heard the door open: I assumed that one of my teammates had forgotten something and had to come back to pick it up, which was weird because I hadn't noticed any hoodie or pair of shoes left behind; so I turned my body towards the entrace of the shower area to see who was it that was coming through. As I did so, the sound of two different high-pitched voices hit my ears. I was soaping my hair with both my hands, so I was completely exposed when the two girls appeared in my view. They were deep in a lively conversation; they placed their bags down on the bench, on the opposite side of where I had placed mine, and slowly, finally, turned towards me, noticing my presence for the first time.
Hadn't they heard the sound of running water? Or seen the bag and the scattered clothes? Apparently not. And so now they suddenly found in front of their eyes a young man, buck naked, and I found myself unable to think about what to do. Was I supposed to cover my body? To run away? To apologise? But I had nothing to apologise for! They should have knocked on the door before barging in. All these thoughts and questions crossed my mind in the fraction of a second.
But now the girls' eyes were glued on me, and I was frozen like a deer in the headlights, with my arms up in the air.
A few seconds of quiet panic went by before I dared to speak.
"Hey."
"Hey," one of the two replied.
That's it? What the hell do I say now? They were still staring at me, and I stared back at them.
"What are you...?" I tried to form a question but I didn't know how to complete it.
"We're supposed to play in a while. We're from the volleyball team."
"Yeah, uhh... I... I just played."
"We thought this was empty..." It was always the same girl that spoke: I finally came to myself and noticed that she had black hair but with several streaks uncaracteristically dyed green; she spoke with a slightly raspy voice. The other girl, the silent one, was a blonde, and her skin was more tanned. Both of them were extremely cute, and rather tall: I estimated they were about my same height.
At the same time, I reaquired the motor ability to lower my arms, and I pudically covered my genitals.
"I'm a bit late," I said "I'm sorry."
"No, it's our fault. We're actually really early on the schedule."
"Yeah, it's our fault," the blonde repeated, with a faint voice.
Another moment of awkward silence.
"So, uh..."
"Are we bothering you? We should leave." The first girl turned to her friend.
"No, it's okay," I answered.
What? Was I going crazy? Where did I find the confidence to say this?
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I just have to... finish here."
My mind was racing, trying to grasp the surreal situation I put myself in.
Am I really going to shower in front of two girls, two attractive, unknown girls? I asked myself. Are they really finding this normal?
The two of them, in the meantime, had sat on the bench right next to where they had placed their bags: they apparently felt that there was no need to move to another spot from which they wouldn't see me.
I slowly started soaping my body.
How are they not uncomfortable with seeing some unknown guy showering in front of their eyes? I was still riddled with questions. As inexplicable as it was, I realised that the situation was starting to arouse me: nothing like this had ever happened to me before.
The two of them had resumed the conversation I had interrupted, but I noticed that from time to time they raised their eyes to give me quick glances.
With a nonchalance that I did non possess, I continued to soap my body from head to toes with great care. This movement - unavoidably - had to pass through my genitals: I decided that I would partially turn my body towards the wall so that the two spectators wouldn't have a direct view of me fiddling with my meat. As I passed my hand on my penis, however, I realised - with little surprise, to be honest - that I was starting to get hard. Despite the fact that I wasn't a teenager anymore I had zero romantic experience, and this was the first time that I was being seen naked by the opposite sex (not including doctors, of course). So my erection was inevitable: I immediately turned to the wall in order to hide my front.
When I finished soaping myself, I was rock hard. Being a grower, my dick is pretty small when flaccid; when hard, however, it has the virtue of being rather thick; and as icing on the cake, a couple days earlier I had decided to shave completely for the first time, both my shaft and balls, something that made me appear even larger. I'm not complaining: but at the moment of this event, what went through my mind was that I had a problem that was too big to hide.
I turned on the water again and lowered the temperature, thinking this would help me tame my boner. My shaking body soon reminded me that I hated cold showers with a passion: the enthusiasm of a thousand self-help gurus would never convince me of the psychophysical benefits of this form of torture.
But I also had a decise change in mind: I didn't want to hide. In fact, I liked being observed: the fact that the two girls were still talking - about their upcoming match, I assumed - and watching me, was something that excited me so much that made me want to offer them a show.
I turned the knob again, took a small step back and casually turned over towards the changing room. I didn't turn completely, because I still wanted to appear nonchalant, but I was now sideways: now the girls surely had a clear view on my erection, almost hard as steel.
While scrubbing my chest and arms under the water I squinted, and I realised with great pleasure that I was right: they had stopped talking. Their full attention was on me again. I was aroused, if possible, even more.
So I dared again: I started scrubbing the lower part of my body, and in doing so I casually ran my hand over my shaft a couple times; at the peak of my arousal, I massaged my balls. I was basically masturbating.
I really took my time, more than I needed, but I was also aware of the risk of the other girls coming into the changing room: my two spectators were obviously well in advance over anyone else, but I had no intention of getting myself in trouble; I decided to put an end to the show, and turned the water off.
Dripping with water, with my hard dick swinging to one side and the other - I had long abandoned every decency, and fully embraced the exhibitionist side of me that I didn't know existed until a few moments before - I made my way towards the changing room and grabbed my towel. I finally had the opportunity to get a good look of the two girls, who sat next to each other and still stared intently, as if to see something that they hadn't already seen.
