Thread: Playing With The Guys (Bevatoria and meomeo)

Had the young, seemingly innocent asian pulled this stunt a few years ago, she might've gotten what she wanted. However, the locker room had been changed the last few years, at the behest of one of the more hardcore coaches who didn't like the idea of guys hiding. Take 'em down. He growled. If they don't want their teamates to see it, then I don't want them in this camp. It wasn't as if the guys would peacock about it, but the very fact they didn't look down - or shy away from their teammates doing so - would say enough about their confidence. Their manhood both literal and figurative. The fact the boys could trade banter, insults, and casual talk when they were all as naked as the day they were born, would prove that they were the types of men they wanted in this camp. Alpha males. The kind that Mariko would be setting her eyes on now. Four of them in her line of vision, talking, laughing. Darrell letting the water run down his body, soaping himself quickly. Guys didn't do a thorough, deliberate wash, especially here which was not a matter of modesty, but the fact that, renovated or not, locker rooms weren't exactly fun places to be, wanting to get in and out as quickly as possible. The guys in the open area - which had two pillars of shower taps, and several running along one wall, the other with hooks for towels and such mostly out of the water's spray - had not seen the nervous asian awaiting them. It would likely be a voice from her side that startled her first, or the whistle. The same catcall that she would likely get from misogynistic construction workers. Whooee. Hey boys, look who's joining us! Scottie - with his towel in his hand, wiping off his face as the garment draped across his arm and sort of hid his dick from her - smirked as he tugged at Mariko's towel and gave her a pull into the communal area. C'mon in. The water's fine. He smiled at her, and continued to tug at her towel, his hand working at the knot... I can hang that for you... Yet she would have it better then poor Tiffany. It was Andrew who she would notice first, nudging in behind her as if he was trying to get by. Yet the feel of his crotch pushing against her rear would be anything but accidental, and a moment later she would find her wrists grabbed by Barry, his rough grip pulling her hands together just above the tap. One large, meaty palm was all that would be needed to hold her wrists in place, splaying her out across the fountain, in a way. He leaned over her, grabbing her hair and yanking her head upwards so her eyes met his while Andrew's hands were inside her shorts. Listen, girlie. breathed Barry, his words trying to be as crude and as forward as Andrew's squeezed her pert ass, grinding her from behind. Here's the deal. You're gonna let the coaches do whatever we want to you for the rest of the camp.... He pulled her hair up a little more, bending her neck awkwardly as his cohort pushed her jersey up, her sweaty shorts pooled at the top of her thighs, her flat stomach exposed. ...or we're going to get real mean. As if on cue, with her jersey pushed up her chest, Barry squeezed her bra-clad breasts cruelly, pinching her nipples and rolling them while they awaited her answer.