My First Time with a Teammate

At seventeen, I silently accepted what I’d known for a long time: I was gay and, on top of that, a bottom. I confirmed it in the school showers and in the locker rooms at the sports center where I trained with the football team, sneaking glances at the others’ cocks. Comparing them with mine, I came to a conclusion that burned my face every time I undressed: mine was the smallest in the locker room. Barely ten centimeters hard, a kid’s cock according to my teammates’ jokes, and to make matters worse, I came early.

With the guys from the neighborhood, we watched porn on Saturday afternoons, sometimes jerking off in a circle, and I always finished first, before anyone else. One of those afternoons, Adrián suggested we play the cookie game: the first one to cum had to eat the cookie sprayed with the others’ jizz. I got picked, of course. And I kept getting picked every week, until they agreed to ban me from masturbating before we started and to wait until the others finished over the biscuit so I’d swallow it whole, cold and soaked.

The whole school started to suspect. My classmates noticed that in the showers my eyes always drifted to the wrong place and that with the girls in class I never gave them the usual cleavage glance. People whispered in the hallways. One morning, without the teacher in class, someone shouted:

—Iván is the one who bends over for the soap in the showers.

From that day on they called me “the bender.” Some girls, when they passed me, would mimic a blowjob with their tongue and cheek and laugh their heads off. Others, more direct, would tell me at recess:

—Let’s play the bender: you bend over and I’ll stick it in.

In the showers, the guys on the team asked me point-blank:

—What do you like more, a cock or a cunt? Do you get turned on by getting on all fours or by putting them on all fours?

I didn’t answer. I lowered my eyes and looked at their cocks, sizing them up. Some were seventeen or eighteen centimeters, and I thought about how they would go into me, how they would hurt, how they would move inside. That fantasy stayed with me all the way home.

***

One Friday night we got together for drinks in the park behind the school. We drank too much and ended up all six of us sprawled on the grass, laughing without really knowing why. I was trying to get to my feet when someone yanked my pants and briefs down in one go. Before I could react, I felt a hard object pressing against my ass, simulating penetration. The voice I heard above me was a woman’s:

—Do you like it when they do it to you like this, bender?

It was Noelia. She was fucking me with the heel of her shoe. The others were cracking up. I didn’t move. I didn’t scream. I didn’t push her away. I just closed my eyes and let her finish her little performance while I thought, for the first time in clear words, that one day it would be a real cock and not a heel.

***

The following Saturday, at a nightclub in the city center, a girl from the parallel class came on to me for no apparent reason. I played along more out of curiosity than desire. We ended up in a vacant lot behind the parking area. We kissed. I touched her breasts over her T-shirt. She unzipped my fly in a hurry and pulled out my cock with the clear intention of sucking it. When she saw it in my hand, she froze for a second and burst out laughing.

—You call that a cock? I’ve seen carrots at the market that give more pleasure.

She shook out her skirt and left without saying goodbye. I was left with my cock out and the truth on top of me: women weren’t my path and, even if they were, I didn’t have what it took.

On Monday I tried to talk to her at recess. I wanted to explain that I wasn’t trying to fuck her, that I was gay, that her rejection hadn’t hurt my ego but had confirmed something for me. She didn’t let me get a word out.

—You’re never going to get that little dick into any woman’s pussy. It should be locked up in a cage, because it’s not even good for jerking off. If you ever get close to one, learn how to use your tongue. It’s the only part of your body that’ll know how to give pleasure.

I nodded in silence. She was right about almost everything.

***

One Thursday afternoon, on my way back from training along an empty street, Mateo fell into step beside me. He was on my team, a right back, a year older than me, and we had never exchanged more than three sentences in a row. We walked a couple of blocks in silence before he asked, without looking at me:

—Are you gay?

I didn’t answer. I tightened the strap of my bag.

—You can tell me. We’re on the same team and I’m an active gay guy.

—That gets around —I said, just to say something.

—Word is you look at cocks in the showers. Have you tried one yet?

—Not yet.

—Want to try mine?

I took just long enough to answer for him to understand it was a yes.

—When?

—Now, if you want. My parents have a storage room in the basement of the building. You suck me off first and then I fuck you. I’ve got lube.

—Let’s go.

***

The storage room smelled of old cardboard and bicycle oil. Mateo locked the door, switched on a fluorescent tube that flickered twice before settling, and started taking his clothes off without any theatrics. I copied him, more slowly, trying to hide my cock with my hand when I pulled my briefs down. He didn’t laugh. He said nothing. He sat on an upside-down plastic crate and nodded at me.

—I hope you suck it well.

I knelt down. It was the first cock I’d ever had in my mouth and I didn’t know where to begin. I licked it, circled it with my lips, took it in as far as I could without gagging. Mateo put his hand on the back of my neck, not forcing me, setting a slow rhythm. I did as I was told. I learned fast. I could feel it hardening against my palate and it turned me on more than any porn ever had.

When he came, he didn’t warn me. I felt the first hot spurt at the back of my mouth and instinctively jerked my head back. He grabbed my hair and shoved it in again.

—Swallow it. If you’ve eaten so many jizz cookies with your friends, this shouldn’t be hard for you. And lick it clean.

I swallowed. I ran my tongue over his cock until not a drop was left. He knew about the cookies; in that town, everybody knew everything. And he expected nothing less from a cock sucker like me.

—Lean against the wall and stick your ass out.

—With a condom —I said, more out of fear than conviction.

—Relax —he replied, without taking out any condom.

He poured lube on my ass and used his other hand to coat his cock. I braced my palms against the block wall. I felt the head press in, forcing its way through. His eighteen centimeters wouldn’t go in. I moaned from the pain; what was inside me was only the head. He pulled out, went in again, pulled out, went in again, each time a little farther. By the fourth or fifth time, my body gave way and I felt all of him, slamming into me from the inside to places where nothing had ever reached before.

—Are you a fag? —he asked in my ear, never stopping.

—No —I answered out of habit.

—Oh, no? Then what is a guy like me doing fucking you in the ass?

—I like it. Keep going. Put it all in.

—You like getting fucked?

—Yes. Harder.

Mateo sped up. I moaned louder than I should have and he clamped a hand over my mouth.

—Don’t yell, damn it, the walls are thin.

He drove into me faster. I felt his load pour inside my ass, hot, abundant, with nothing to stop it. There had never been a condom at any point. When he pulled out, I knelt again and cleaned his cock with my tongue until it was shining.

—If you liked it, Saturdays after the party we come here.

—Okay.

***

We came out of the storage room in pitch darkness. We said goodbye on the corner. I walked home with my legs weak and my ass stinging, feeling that something inside me had settled into place in a way it would never be unsettled again. Halfway down the street I ran into Noelia. I greeted her with a nod. She stopped in front of me and unbuttoned two buttons on her coat.

—Bender, look at my tits.

She opened her bra with one hand and showed them to me under the streetlamp.

—Don’t you like them? Look what tits. Men love them. But you’re not a man, you’re a fag. Did you enjoy getting fucked?

I lost my breath. How did she know about the fucking?

—My parents have a storage room right next to Mateo’s parents’. I went to get an old tracksuit to go running and, with walls like those, I heard everything. Your slut moans, your “put it all in,” your “harder.” By Monday the whole school will know.

—Good night —was the only thing I could think to say.

I got home, ate without being hungry, and locked myself in my room. My ass really hurt. I got into bed and fell asleep thinking any pain was better than the pain of the last three years.

***

Noelia kept her word. On Monday the whole school was talking about Mateo and me, about what we did on Saturdays in the storage room, about how he gave and I took. I stopped lowering my head in the hallways. Something had broken, and with the break, fear too. Mateo and I kept meeting every Saturday night after the drinking sessions. My ass got used to his cock, to his thrusts, to the way he gripped my hips. There came a point when it didn’t just stop hurting: I needed it. And then I started really enjoying it, understanding what a good fucking was.

Mateo moved to Valencia the following year to study at university. I lost track of him. Once I asked his parents about him, hoping he’d come back for the summer, and they told me he was staying there, that he had found work. I never saw him again.

I run into Noelia often. She’s married and has two children. Every time she sees me, she asks me the same thing, with the same smile:

—Have you got yourself a cocky boyfriend yet who fucks your ass good, bender?

And I, depending on the day, tell her the truth.