The locker room reeked of sweat and cheap body spray when they shoved me inside after practice. I was eighteen, a scrawny freshman on the university swim team, still dripping from the pool. Coach had already left. The upperclassmen circled me like they’d been waiting for this all semester.
“Strip, faggot,” Marcus said, the team captain. His voice was low and mean. I froze, but two of them grabbed my arms and yanked my speedo down. My cock sprang out half-hard from the cold and the fear. They laughed.
“Already getting stiff? Knew you were a little slut.” They zip-tied my wrists behind my back and shoved me onto the wooden bench. My knees hit the floor. One of them looped a length of old swim-team rope around my chest and the bench leg, yanking it tight so my back arched and my ass stuck out. The rope bit into my skin, leaving red lines. My balls hung exposed, and my dick bobbed against the wood.
Marcus stepped in front of me, still in his wet trunks. He peeled them off slowly, letting his thick cock slap against my cheek. “Open up, freshman. You’re gonna learn what happens to pretty boys who stare too long in the showers.”
I opened my mouth because I knew they’d make me anyway. He pushed in deep, no warm-up, choking me on the first thrust. Spit ran down my chin while the others watched and stroked themselves. Someone grabbed my hair and held me still so Marcus could fuck my throat in long, steady strokes. Every time I gagged he laughed and pushed deeper.
“Fuck, he’s got a hot mouth,” Marcus grunted. “Bet his ass is even better.”
They flipped the bench so I was bent over it face-down, ass up. More rope went around my ankles, spreading my legs wide. Cold lube hit my hole without warning. Fingers shoved in, two at once, scissoring me open while they called me every filthy name they could think of.
“Little gay bitch. Look at that hole clenching.
You want the whole team in you, don’t you?”
I tried to answer but only managed a broken moan around the gag they stuffed in my mouth—a used jockstrap that tasted like sweat and chlorine. Marcus lined up behind me and drove his cock straight in. No slow stretch. One hard push and he was balls-deep, splitting me open. Pain and heat flooded me. I jerked against the ropes, but they held tight.
He fucked me like he hated me, hips slapping loud against my ass. Every thrust shoved me forward on the bench. The others took turns at my mouth again, pulling the gag out just long enough to shove their cocks down my throat before stuffing it back in. Someone reached under and grabbed my dick, jerking it rough and fast while Marcus pounded me.
“Don’t you dare come yet,” Marcus warned. “We’re not done humiliating you.”
They kept me there for what felt like hours. Each guy took a turn in my ass, some rough, some teasing, all of them talking shit the whole time. “Look at him leaking. Such a desperate cumdump.” “Bet he’ll be back tomorrow begging for more.” When they finally let me come, it was with three fingers in my ass and Marcus’s load still dripping out of me. I shot hard across the bench, shaking and sobbing around the gag.
Afterward they untied me just enough to push me into the showers. Cold water hit my raw skin. They made me stand there, hands behind my head, while they rinsed me off and inspected the rope marks. Marcus grabbed my softening cock and gave it a squeeze.
“Same time tomorrow, freshman. Next time we’re bringing the whole relay team.”
I nodded, throat too wrecked to speak. My ass ached, my wrists burned, and my face burned hotter from the shame. But my cock twitched again at the promise. I knew I’d be back. They knew it too.
