Alone in the locker room, horny from the scent of testosterone and sweat in the air and the memory of the naked athletes usually filling this hallowed space. You feel privileged to be in this temple of masculinity.
That is the moment you hear the wresting team finish their practice in the gym and start to file into this sacred space. The timing is perfect. Your natural impulses overwhelm you. Your sensible brain shuts down and your body takes control. You bend over and properly position yourself to be seen by the burly, sweaty grappler’s as they first enter the locker room. Advertising your availability and desire to be used by these lycra clad gods in whatever manner they choose. Common sense and shame are no longer something to be considered. You know this is a bad idea and yet you can’t stop. Your jock clad ass twitches in anticipation of being pummeled by wrestler meat. Your whole life has been leading up to this moment.
sausagewithgirth 