In this x-rated game of group lust, teams are unimportant — and everyone scores

I don’t have to wonder why I like sports so much. A singular incident seared a love of athletics into me for all time. And it didn’t have much at all to do with playing a particular sport. It’s Janine’s fault.

In college, Janine and I were dorm-mates and best girlfriends. I was studying my ass off, working toward a law degree that seemed so far off as to be unattainable. Janine, a sprightly dark-haired woman with a fine build, had a less strenuous workload. She saw how I was running myself ragged, and she worried.(And no, this isn’t the story of my first lesbian experience. I had already had sex with a handful of women and enjoyed my Sapphic explorations. Janine and I had even fooled around some, and our friendship was passionate.)

“You need to take a break, Marla,” she said, looking down at me with concern on her sweet face.

I had pulled an all-nighter. I was sprawled on my bed, eyes smarting and brain on overload.

“What’d you have in mind?” I asked. (I’ll admit that I thought maybe she was going to offer to eat my pussy; and at that moment I surely would’ve let her.)

Janine reached down a hand. “You want to see something that’ll take your mind off everything else?”

I could have argued there was no time. I didn’t merely want to succeed academically. I wanted to excel. And that meant pushing myself. But maybe I was pushing too hard. No one wants to have a mental breakdown at twenty.

Very deliberately, I closed my textbook and reached up to take Janine’s hand and let her lead me outside. The morning light dazzled me as we walked across the campus. I felt light-headed. I also felt a surge of gratitude toward my friend. Wherever she was taking me, I knew she had my well-being at heart.

I was puzzled when she led me toward the university’s gymnasium. Sports had never appealed to me, but Janine insistently escorted me inside. We didn’t enter any of the activity areas, however. With a conspiratorial look, Janine fished a key from her pocket and, waiting until the coast was clear, slid it into a door marked “maintenance personnel only.”

Before I could protest, she yanked me inside and hauled me down a dimly lit concrete corridor. This had been an intriguing adventure so far, but I’d had enough.

“Janine!” I said sharply, halting. “What is this?”

She grinned. “It’s a smörgåsbord. C’mon.”

Well, I had to find out what that meant, didn’t I? We turned a corner and went a little farther. I was afraid the whole time of running into a custodian and getting in trouble for trespassing. We stopped at a stretch of bare brick wall. Janine put her finger to her lips to motion to me to keep silent, then she crouched down and gestured for me to do the same.

About two feet off the ground were gaps in some of the old crumbling bricks. Janine, still grinning, put her eye to one. Again, I understood I was supposed to do likewise. Baffled, I set my eye against one of the holes — and found myself looking into the men’s locker room! Somehow I managed not to make a sound. The sight beyond my peephole completely mesmerized me. Warmth flowed over my tired body, banishing my fatigue, awakening my desires.

Guys, both half-dressed and naked, moved among the lockers and benches and showers unselfconsciously. I’d seen plenty of nude male bodies in my time, but this was different. These men weren’t posing or strutting or trying to impress. I was looking into their secret world, the sanctum of the locker room. Here they shed not only their clothes but also all that masculine baggage. And, fuck, what a hot-looking bunch! Taut, muscular young twenty-somethings who seethed with natural health and vitality. The various shades of skin glowed robustly. Muscle groups were nicely defined. A smörgåsbord, indeed.

Guys shucked out of gym gear, revealing their sweat-glistening bodies. Arms were corded with veins, legs rigid with muscle. My peephole put me practically at crotch level. I looked closer still and was delighted to see that some of those dudes had astonishingly big cocks. I saw long dicks that dangled enticingly, while others were thicker. I watched the men soap up in the group shower stalls. But this wasn’t an orgy. Though there was some playful grab-ass going on, I hadn’t stumbled upon a bastion of secret group sex.

Whether any of these individual males was straight or gay, nobody was doing anything sexual to anybody else. Still, the vision was a feast for my eyes, and it excited the hell out of me. One guy walked right past the wall wearing only one of those ass-bearing jockstraps. Men probably have no idea how sexy those are. I swear, jockstraps are like male lingerie as far as most women are concerned. My pussy was streaming, and my flesh tingled with a sudden unexpected onslaught of lust. I knew I was being a nasty perv on some level, but this also seemed a harmless activity. I wasn’t going to confront any of these guys later and tease them about having seen them buck naked without their knowledge. I was simply basking in the splendor of their physical forms.

Sure made me fucking horny, though.

Eventually, it occurred to me to wonder how Janine had found out about this peepshow. Where had she gotten that key? Was this some campus tradition passed down among the female students? When I managed to pull my eyes away from that panorama of glorious male nudity, I had a new surprise waiting.

Next to me, Janine had raked her shirt up over her nicely sloping tits and had worked her sweatpants down around her ankles. Squatting there, she was tweaking her nipples with one hand and frigging her pussy with the fingers of the other.

For a few seconds I was absolutely shocked. This seemed over the line. Then I had to ask what a typical man would do if the situation were reversed and he was looking into a roomful of unclad female athletes. Yeah, I had no doubt that he’d be jerking his meat.

Janine was breathing in tight soft gasps. Of course, this wasn’t the first time I’d seen her excited or even pleasuring herself, but it was the final push for me. With a few quick movements, I flung off my clothes and started delving into my slick pussy with two eager fingers.

I returned my attention to the male wonderland on the other side of the brick wall. My eyes devoured those bodies shamelessly. I imagined touching them, feeling those sinewy limbs, groping those muscular asses. I wanted to cup balls and squeeze cocks. My mouth watered as I thought of taking one after the other between my lips. My fevered imagination let me know the scents and flavors. I knew what I wanted. If I’d been among those beautiful men, I would spread my thighs and welcome one after the next. Those cocks would plow me. I’d feel their come jetting into me. Then I would turn over on one of those changing benches, and fingers would spread my ass cheeks, and then more of the men would take their turns in my back hole.

The hallucinations felt real. I had been awake all night, and this fantasy slid easily into my mind to replace reality. I had all this stimulating flesh in front of me. I fingered my pussy harder. A great unnerving rapture started to break over me. My whole body lit with erotic fire. This was an orgasm like I’d never quite known before. The fantasy bodies crowded around me. I felt the caressing hands, the seeking tongues, the impatient cocks throbbing against my body. The excitement crested and took me completely. I panted, forehead pressed against the crumbly bricks, head spinning, lights flashing behind my eyelids.

Janine, who’d had her own joyful climax, coaxed me to get dressed before sneaking me back out of there. Later, she told me she wasn’t the only one with a key, and yes, a sort of secret campus sisterhood had been enjoying all that free beefcake. I was grateful she had included me. On top of everything else about that wonderful day, the experience changed my mind about sports forever.

Fast forward. I graduated college and landed at a law firm, where I was perhaps five years from being a partner. Life was good, and I was busier than while in college, if that’s possible. But the sports thing stayed with me. Last summer, I joined our softball team. We played other local companies. It was fun and kept relations cordial.

One weekend, we were scheduled to play a rival law firm. They had some good players, including Artie, a sinewy acrobatic shortstop who could also whomp the ball over the fence if you got careless pitching him inside. He had sandy hair and a winning smile, and I had been crushing on him for months. They also had Violet, another limber infielder. She was a gorgeous blonde, with fine curves and tits that somehow never got in her way when she was fielding a ground ball. I could easily lose myself in her blue eyes.

When we all arrived at the field, the custodial crew told us the visitors’ locker room was out of commission. Since we had mixed-gender teams, we’d always split up the two changing/shower rooms along those lines. Now only one was usable.

“The women could go first,” Violet suggested. “Then the men.”I

looked up at the darkening sky. Rain was in the forecast, and I knew we might not beat the storm with the delay. It didn’t really matter if we played, of course, but I enjoyed these games.

Artie stepped forward. “Aw c’mon! We’re all grownups, right? Let’s just use the locker room together. Any objections?”

Even in a crowd of lawyers, nobody had any. As we all traipsed into the home locker room, there was some giggly nervousness. A few of the players — women and men both — were obviously shy about the situation. But the scenario awoke cherished memories in me. I remembered that campus locker room and all that naked male flesh. I couldn’t help but take a peek at Artie as he changed into his uniform. Holy fuck — he was wearing a skimpy little jockstrap! I almost swooned.

Others were looking around as well, even the ones who’d expressed initial shyness. By the time we were all suited up and ready to take the field, a kind of silent conspiracy seemed to be underway. Quiet smirks were traded; frank leers exchanged. A definite sexual vibe had developed. We played the game and fought hard, as always. I pitched for our team, and I gave up only four hits and one run. We happily beat our rivals.

During the game, though, that undercurrent of sex persisted. Violet had given me sultry looks from the batter’s box. Artie had deliberately paused to adjust his crotch before taking his swings. And it wasn’t just those two. There were Phil, Alice, Keisha, Kahlil, Suzette, and all the other members of both nine-player teams. They were all a part of the on-field flirting.

Now, sweaty and rumpled, we were heading back into the shared locker room. To undress. To shower. We were wordless as the doors closed behind us. We each went to the locker set aside for our use, and we started to shed our uniforms. I was hyper-aware as the sweaty flesh became exposed. I glanced one way and saw firm masculine pecs and abs. I looked the other to glimpse full breasts tipped with erect rosy nipples.

I couldn’t tell you how the action started. But I did feel the tension building, inexorably. It was almost a visible energy, gathering over our group of eighteen, the tendrils moving in among us, binding us.

I was first sure something drastic was happening when I saw Artie’s hand on Violet’s ass. This was no passing playful pat. They were past the giggling, flirtatious stage. Artie was squeezing the succulent globe of Violet’s backside. He had stripped down to his tempting jockstrap. I had nothing left on but a sports bra. Everyone else was in a similar state of disrobement.

A body brushed against mine. I felt a hand on my shoulder, tentatively caressing. I turned to find myself facing Kahlil, a handsome, well-built young man. He was totally nude. I traced my fingers over his granite-hard chest. Then, like I had every right to do it, I reached down and took his cock into my hand.

He jumped. But his dick also immediately began to swell in my grip. Someone else pressed in behind me, encircling my waist in slim, strong arms. A mouth kissed my nape. I turned slightly, Kahlil’s cock still in hand, and faced Diana from the opposing team. After only a second’s hesitation, we kissed. Her tongue danced against mine.

Around us, everyone else was dividing into pairs or joining into threesomes. Diana maneuvered me out of my bra, and I felt the freedom of complete nudity. The others shed their last bits of clothing. The air of the locker room was already growing deliciously ripe and warm. I could taste our mounting carnal need.

Kahlil let out a moan as I started jerking his fully hardened cock. Diana grinned and reached down to fondle his balls. Her other hand slipped between my thighs and stroked the hairless furrow of my pussy. I knew Diana only in the most casual manner, but it seemed absolutely right and proper for her to be grazing my slit with her fingertips. Hot, thick pleasure filled me.

I kissed Kahlil, loving the rasp of his stubble against my face. I decided I simply had to have this lovely cock of his inside me. Turning around, I braced myself against a locker and thrust my ass toward him. I looked over my shoulder to catch Diana seizing Kahlil’s staff and guiding him toward my waiting slit. A cry escaped my lips as he penetrated me. I wondered if we were the first ones to take matters this far, but no, glancing right and left I saw others going to these same extremes. Monika was sucking Bennett’s long, veiny shaft. Phil was fucking Suzette on one of the benches. Violet had Artie on the floor and was impaling herself with obvious pleasure on his gloriously hard cock.

All this was happening without any planning, without negotiation. Normally, lawyers will parse any situation to death. But here, in this strange sexual limbo, we had all gone ahead with beautiful silent accord. No one was left out. Eighteen might seem an unwieldy number, but the mix turned out to be just right. Every guy by now had his cock inside one of the female players. We were all crowded in together here. As Kahlil pounded me from behind, I reached out. Blindly, I touched broad shoulders, soft breasts. Someone sucked briefly on my middle finger. Diana had slipped away. Through the intervening bodies I saw Alice kneeling before her, eating her pussy. A delirious joy overtook me. Orgasmic pleasure rose and rose as Kahlil went into his final frenzy and started gushing his come inside me. I joined him in that climax, and the sensations shook me to my bones. But a greater, more encompassing erotic jubilation still had a hold of me.

I had never done anything like this before. I had only ever vaguely imagined something of this magnitude years ago, voyeuristically peering into the men’s locker room. This was the real thing. I couldn’t believe how coordinated everything felt. Our bacchanal was a sexual free-for-all, but it was also somehow sublimely choreographed. When Kahlil, panting, pulled his dripping cock out of me, a woman named Tania from my office jammed her face between my legs and licked out his stray cream. She even gave my asshole a thorough lapping, which sent me into quivering spasms of pleasure.

In return, I bent her over a bench and feasted hungrily on her pussy. While I was snacking on her slit, someone moved behind me again. A flicking tongue teased my back hole with sloppy, wet French kisses. Then a hard cock pressed against me. This time I took it up my ass. It wasn’t until Tania squealed and drenched my chin that I looked back to see it was Anthony, a swarthy buck from the rival firm, who was ass-fucking me at a slow, sensual place.

When he shot his load into my hole, I howled out my ecstasy. I wasn’t the only one making noise. There were groans, grunts, growls and climactic cries of every kind.

I found myself on my knees taking a cock into my mouth. I didn’t even bother to look up to see who I was blowing. Instead, I lost myself in the blowjob rapture, savoring the texture, the taste, anticipating the burst of salty semen. While I diligently sucked, unknown fingers delved into both my holes. Other random hands groped my tits, plucked my fiercely stiff nipples. A line of come striped my back from someone in the surrounding crowd. Eighteen bodies. All combining and recombining. It was tough to keep track. Hell, I didn’t want to keep track. I loved the randomness. I sucked, I was fucked, I came and came. It was glorious.

But something did eventually nag at me. I realized that in this carnal craziness I hadn’t managed to hook up with either Artie or Violet. Bodies were spread across the benches and strewn on the floor. The orgy was beginning to slow, I noticed. Couples and trios were still plugging away here and there, but a few individuals had slumped off to the side, like they’d reached their limit. It was understandable. I was dazed by the erotic wonder. But I still wanted Artie’s cock. And Violet’s pussy.

I found Artie. He smiled dreamily at me. I took him by the hand and led him to an unoccupied bench. Lying down, I opened my legs. I felt the soreness of my overtaxed muscles. It was a delicious fatigue. I’d gotten more of a workout in this locker room than playing seven innings out on the field earlier. Artie climbed on top of me. His cock slipped inside me with ease. I looked up at his disarrayed sandy hair. His eyes had a faraway cast, but when he gazed down at me I felt a true connection. He stroked into me with a sweet but tired expertise. Languid pleasure flowed through me.

I saw Violet over his shoulder and beckoned to her. She was in a state of equal disarray, but she obligingly stepped over the bench where I lay and straddled my face, allowing me to lap leisurely at her pussy.

Around us, the locker room gradually quieted. The tantalizing trysts were finishing up. Violet cried out softly as she ground her pussy against my lips. I felt Artie’s whole body jerk as he shot his load into me. And I gave up a last lingering orgasm, the final score of a game none of us had expected to play that day.

Our two sports teams have not connected in such a lustful manner since then. But Artie, Violet, and I get off together after most of the games. Sweaty and spent, we still make time to engage in the most sweetly synchronized of erotic sports: group fucking.