Here’s a sample from No Homo: Jocks, a new story in the No Homo series of hardcore gay erotica that’s too hot for “gay sex”! This entry is all about college jocks hazing the freshmen on the wrestling team!
As soon as he got to his first practice on the college team, George regretted signing up for wrestling back in high school. The team had been short one man, and the coach, his mother’s boyfriend, insisted he join up, just so he could put it on his college application. Since George’s admission to college was in doubt, it seemed like a good plan. Colleges were competitive in 1951 on account of so many soldiers attending on the GI Bill, and George needed to do something to differentiate himself from all the other high schoolers with good, but not great, grades.
But then in his first, and only, match on the high school team, he drew three weak opponents, defeated them all and became the team savior. There was even a college scout there who signed him up on the spot for a scholarship at Goldendale Hills University, the elite private school in Mississippi.
He was elated then. But when he showed up for orientation in the required suit and tie, he realized that staying on the team was a prerequisite to keeping his scholarship, without which he had no hope of continuing his education. It had all seemed so simple before it began.
So George knew he needed to learn how to wrestle for real. This wasn’t his rinky-dink little town in southern Mississippi, this was a major sport at a big school. He’d be competing against the cream of the crop.
That put a lot of pressure on him, which wasn’t helped by his heavy workload. As a pre-engineering student, he would be taking a lot of dense math classes that he was sure he’d struggle with. The thought of being unable to balance his work and school, and having to go home to his mother a failure, made his heart race.
The first practice was easy enough. It was a lot of running and some other general exercises, along with a bunch of yelling from Coach Winnow about representing the university well. George was fit and quick, and a few of the clumsier boys attracted Winnow’s ire that first day, so George managed to acquit himself well.
As that first practice ended, George and the other wrestlers kneeled, listening to Coach Winnow go over the sports program’s rules. “That means that if I find out any of you are breaking the law, or consorting with girls, or anything like that, you are off the team,” he said. Then he looked around nervously. “Anybody here Jewish?” Nobody said anything. “Then I expect all of you at chapel on Sundays too. And if you’re Catholic, you can go to Saint Andrew’s. The college sends a bus in the morning, and I know Father Murphy, so I will make sure you’re there. No excuses.” He motioned into the crowd of young men, and one of the other wrestlers stepped forward.
Wayne Dashell was tall, and looked too old to be in college, George thought, at least twenty-five (though he later claimed to be only twenty-one). He had a thick shock of dirty blond hair and a smattering of it on his chest, which was broad and strapping, his muscles straining against the singlet he wore. He was the oldest and biggest senior, and he grinned like a cocky bastard as Coach Winnow introduced him.
“Most of you’s already met Wayne. He’s the team captain. What he says, goes. If he tells me you ain’t giving this team everything you got, then you are off the team,” Coach Winnow said. “Now go shower up.”
They walked slowly towards the locker, but then Winnow clapped and shouted something angry that George couldn’t quite make out. He gathered the gist of it was “Run, shitheads!”, since that was what everyone else did, so George sprinted the rest of the way to the locker room. The crowd of wrestlers were so intent on following Coach’s directions, they almost charged en masse into a colored janitor who pushed a mop bucket through the hall.
George and a few other freshmen in front fell in a pile near the colored janitor, who just smirked and walked away. George squirmed as he tried to free himself from the writhing pile of freshmen. Wayne and the other seniors laughed and threw their sweat-stained practice singlets at them as they went by. More than a few stripped even further than that, standing there in the hall in the nude as they watched the freshmen scamper away from their jockstraps.
Freshmen pile on!
Spitting away the salty fabric of someone’s undershirt, George rose to his feet. He tried to appear nonplussed by it, but he had always been a clean boy and didn’t like this kind of close contact with other men and their clothes. He knew there’d be a lot of hazing here at college though, so it wasn’t a surprise.
The upperclassmen stood imposingly above George, here in the hall, right outside the locker. No one was around, but still, George was shocked — in his hometown, men just didn’t get naked outside of the locker room. He stood there dumbfounded as one hairy Italian-type man bared a thick hairy prick. He wagged it in George’s direction.
“Hey!” Coach Winnow barked from the gym. “Git in there! What’d I tell you about strippin’ off in the halls? There’s wimmin on staff here, Joey!”
Joey smiled proudly but did as he was told; he waited for Coach Winnow to turn around, then grabbed his crotch and spat on the ground. George followed the last of the seniors into the locker room. It was not a large room, and George felt cramped immediately. There wasn’t really enough space for the entire team to change at once. He felt more than one limp, greasy cock brush against his hand as he found an empty locker. It looked like the others by and large weren’t upset by it, so George pretended he didn’t mind the nudity and cock-contact either.
George was nervous. He had never liked naked showering with his teammates, and at his high school, his mother had intervened to get him out of it. He had always claimed the humidity upset his lungs, but in truth he was self-conscious about a smallish penis. He hoped nobody noticed, especially as he saw a few of the freshmen, including Wayne and Joey, were noticeably huge — that was probably why they were so willing to get naked in the hallway.
“Freshmen get the Corner!” the seniors called out as they lined up at the shower entrance. They were naked, sneering and carrying thick wooden paddles, which they had gotten from a closet in one corner of the locker room. The Corner apparently referred to one showerhead that stuck out more than the others, and looked older, as though it was a relic of an earlier showering area that had later been expanded. This one showerhead was large enough that its spray covered the entire corner with vaguely rust-flavored water, which freshmen were required to share so the older players could shower freely in the modern-day showerheads.
The freshmen were lined up at the entrance, where the seniors and juniors barred entry. The two biggest seniors were right there watching as the freshmen got ready. They had their hands on their hips, thick cocks swinging between their legs. Since both men were very tall, their crotches were at most of the freshmen’s belly-height, or even higher.
Let’s see ‘em, nitwits! We gotta examine yer meat! Better meet the minimum or you get beat!
George’s heart skipped as he saw what was happening — before going in the shower, all the freshmen had to compare cocks with the five head seniors. Anyone smaller than all five got a paddling on the way in. The upperclassmen inside the shower brandished paddles and smiled at the younger men.
“It’s for your own good!” Wayne called out as the fourth freshman in line, a ratty, lanky kid with a faint mustache, winced. “Paddling makes your dick bigger!” The other seniors laughed and hooted as though they really believed that.
The lean freshman bent over and blushed, but the seniors weren’t so quick, telling him to wait until everyone had gone through the line. He was the first to be singled out for his small penis, which was a relief to George — he hoped he would pass the exam, but he was glad to at least not be the first to fail.
“What’s your name, little boy?”
“Travis Barnett,” said the lean kid, while the other seniors began quickly checking through the other freshmen. “I’m not a boy. I’m almost nineteen.”
“You got a cock like a little boy.”
Travis, who blushed beet-red, was still the only one pulled aside when George got to the front of the line. As soon as he saw the seniors’ naked cocks, he knew he would be paddled too. They were huge, seemingly impossibly huge — he didn’t think cocks came that big, much less that all five of them would be so gigantic.
Joey, that hairy Italian barrel-chested swarthy bastard was at front. George had never liked Italians very much. Joey whacked his own dick against George’s, smiling as he said, “Hey boys, I think we gotst another one.” He seemed to delight in watching George squirm at their cock-to-cock contact. George thought this kind of touching was inappropriate, maybe even sinful, but he wasn’t surprised that Joey didn’t see things that way — George’s pa had always said Italian men were like that. If’n you ever get locked up, George, pull whatever strings you have to so you ain’t got an Eyeteye for a cellmate, they’ll take your manhood like it were’t nothin’. George had always assumed that was his father exaggerating, as he was prone to do, but he felt sure that Joey was dangerous.
“Lookit him, he got a dick like my thumb,” Joey said.
They all crowded around to look. Joey’s dick was at least ten inches long and as thick as George’s forearm. He took his own dick and George’s in the same hand, stroking both shafts together. Joey was at least twice as long as George, and even thicker in comparison.
Damn, Joey, you touchin’ him!
“Cuz I ain’t mingherlino,” Joey said. It was obvious that he didn’t really speak Italian and he used that word — whose meaning George didn’t know — without really pronouncing it right. He probably had only a vague idea what it meant himself. “You squeamish weaklings are worried you’ll get hard if you touch another man.” He laughed and rubbed his entire hairy body against George’s, to prove that he didn’t get hard.
George blushed beet-red, though he tried to look stoic. Next to him was Travis, the puny redneck who looked like he was on the verge of tears as he and George were led into the shower.
“Bend over and grab your ankles, you pencil-dicked freaks!” Joey bellowed. He looked on hungrily at the pair of fresh-faced freshmen stammering as they got into position. George’s cock had never felt so small. “Come on, girls, grab your ankles. Keep your butt up!”
George did as he was commanded. He grabbed his ankles and tried to ignore the hot, humid shower air wafting over his suddenly open asshole.
The first sharp crack of pain made him yelp, and the whole team laughed, even the other freshmen. Make the fresh piggies cry! But when Travis started sobbing after his first hit, everyone soon started to ignore George.
Toughen up, little piggie!
The sound of the paddle slapping against Travis’ ass caused George to feel like he was being hit all over again; it made his ass-cheeks twinge with remembered pain. The upperclassmen switched between paddling Travis and George, but when it became apparent that George was not reacting much and Travis was crying, they gradually forgot that George was supposed to be paddled too.
If you don’t stop crying, we’ll give you something to sob about, you little weakling!
Shove the handle up his ass!
He stood up when it was done, gently rubbing his red asscheeks. George pretended to be in more pain than he was, in the hope that everyone would forget he was still owed more paddling. Travis had difficulty staying still, and so Wayne was holding him down as Joey whacked him with the paddle. Wayne’s blond hair shook and dripped with shower water as he hugged Travis tight. He even made sure to line his crotch up with Travis’, so as Travis writhed in agony, his small cock pressed against Wayne’s oversized meat.
The most disconcerting aspect of all this, George thought, was that a couple of the seniors were starting to get hard. They weren’t quite erect, but George saw their cockshafts jerk to attention when Travis’ thick cheeks jiggled. Back in high school, when someone had a boner in the shower, the rest of the team teased them about it mercilessly. He was shocked that the wrestling team here at GHU took it so lightly. No one even seemed to notice, even when Joey’s hand instinctually fluttered to his own dick; he gave it a stroke. George gasped (and he thought some of the other naked freshmen nearby did the same) — he masturbated himself right here in front of everyone, only for a moment and he didn’t blow his wad, but still, as far as George was concerned, that was beyond the pale.
Any girl who sees that is gonna laugh at you, limp-dick!
Finally it was all over. The seniors laughed at Travis’ red, tear-stained face, but one of their buddies had run by the shower to tell them something about a party with girls, and now the seniors were in a hurry to finish up and get out of there. They continued calling Travis a girl as they showered, however, and Travis stayed there pretending he wasn’t on the verge of tears.
Luckily, no one seemed to have noticed that George didn’t get all of the paddlings he had been promised. He hurried up and got out of there as soon as he could do so without attracting attention. He avoided making eye contact with Travis on the way out.