Date: Thu, 15 Jan 2009 08:52:26 +0200
From: Jason Oswald <jasonosw@gmail.com>
Subject: The Grass

The Author retains all rights to this submitted work. Jason Oswald, 2009.


The blond swimmer-boy walked up to his room, simultaneously admiring
the fine day outside and the ghost of his half naked reflection in the
hallway windows. He fumbled for the plastic keycard in his back
pocket, his mind already formulating the minutes to follow. He glanced
to his left and right, up and down the passage before he pushed his
way through the door and quietly clicked it closed behind him.

He tossed his shirt, which he had been holding in his left hand, on to
his roommates bed. Without underwear to keep his member in check, his
hardening cock bulged the front of his cargo shorts. It had been that
way most of the afternoon and he wondered to himself hopefully if
anyone had noticed. He undid his belt, buttons and zipper, let the
shorts fall to the floor and stepped out of them. He was now fully
naked, save for his white, grass-stained track shoes. He sat on the
floor, pulled off the sneakers without undoing the laces and tossed
them aside. He wasn't wearing socks.

His cock was demanding attention. He knelt down, knees against the
carpeted floor and his back rested lightly against the cool room wall.
He massaged his penis with his right hand, fondling his hairless balls
with his left. Images of shirtless boys playing touch rugby in the sun
drifted through his mind. The air outside had been hot and humid; the
grass green from frequent watering; the boys shining with the exertion
of the game. His eyes darted to his sneakers, the ones he lent to his
best friend and roommate all afternoon. A slight smell of sweaty shoes
hung in the air and he instantly had an urge to lift a sneaker to his
nose. He took a long, deep breath. The warm smell of someone else's
masculinity was overpowering. He had to put out his right hand to
steady himself. Through all this, though, his left hand kept the shoe
firmly planted against his face. The smell was addictive. In an
impulsive move he shoved his cock in to the other shoe, and fucked it
slowly while sniffing the one against his face. After a time he
withdrew his member from the mouth of the shoe, squatted over it and
lowered his balls to the laces. With his ass cheeks spread slightly
open, the toe, still with some ripped turf caught under the rubber
sole, nudged against his puckered ass. He removed the shoe from his
face. His head was dizzy with breathing too deeply and too often. He
liked the heady feeling.

The boy spat in to his hand and with it, lubed up his cock. A light
grit covered his dick head - leftovers from probing his own shoe. It
didn't take him long now. He thrust his hips backwards and forwards,
rubbing his balls roughly against the laces beneath him. A few more
deep breaths in to the grassy, sweaty shoe, a few more hard tugs on
his dick and jizz spewed from his piss-slit. He watched the globules
arch up, curving over his clenched fist and lightly dusted forearm.
Some of it landed on his tight chest, some on the already stained
carpet but most of the thick, ropey, white liquid landed on the shoe
beneath his balls.

As the boy lay down on his bed, his olfactory senses still tingling
with the smell of boys and grass and summer, he failed to notice the
spotty, slightly crusty damp spots on the pillow next to his ear.
Spots that hadn't been there when he had gone down to breakfast that
morning.