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."
