The locker room was so hot. All the sweat from the game had turned to slime, it seemed, and it took over the air in here. Jimmy just wanted to shower. Body heat and stank emanated from his teammates… Jimmy hung his head as he took off his clothes alone in a funereal locker room that smelled of departed feet. It felt cold in here. Maybe it was always that cold but was heated up by the rest of the team filling it up with their armpits and ball-sweat or maybe he just didn’t notice the cold when he was in a good mood. In any case, he was glad to go into the showers, where he could warm up and rinse off the salt crystals his evaporated sweat had left behind on his body.
He slow-footed into the shower alone, glad that Coach Marshall had gone — and he left through the back door, into the parking lot, not into his office, so he was gone gone. Jimmy had never showered here alone. The showers seemed huge, and the humidity from the others’ showers hung in the air. Somebody had left their bottle of body wash behind… Jimmy and his teammates shared showerheads cuz there were only four, and the water pressure dropped if more than two were in use. They were the big kind, plenty of room for three or four guys to take turns under the water. It was no big deal. Jimmy never even thought about sharing showerheads with them.
Skip to content
MN Manmacker's mansploitation