I’m a student and I share a house with a group of people; two girls and another guy. The girls are OK but it’s my house-mate that I have problem with. I suppose ‘problem’ is the wrong word because he is two years older than me and plays a lot of sport, especially rugby, and he’s always leaving his kit lying around the house expecting someone to pick it up.
That someone is more often than not me. The girls won’t touch his discarded kit and often tell him off for being so slovenly but, I don’t know if he knows (though I suspect he does), that this is my favourite chore. I love picking up an abandoned sweaty jock or shorts. I love the smell and, if they’re still damp, I love the feel of slipping into them and letting my fetish for these dirty sporty objects fill my mind full of lust and intense pleasure. I’ll wank myself stupid making them even filthier, then wear them for as long as I can, making my nocturnal urges spray & drench those tiny pieces of innocent fabric.
My mind is not only conjuring up my roomy but his team mates & often the opponents I see when I’ve been along to support him. Sometimes I’ve ventured into the changing room where the smells and the sights assault my senses, which I’m happy to store in my memory banks until I return home. I’ve stood on the touchline on many occasions with my hand deep inside my tracksuit’s holey pocket appreciating every superb curved arse, bulging groin and spectacular tackle… while wearing one of his mucky jocks.
He’s a sporting hunk but no pretty boy and I think he doesn’t mind because eventually he gets his kit back all washed, fresh and pristine.
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