Standard warning goes here: graphic homosexual acts, etc. etc.

I changed this story from past to present tense when I was almost finished with it, and I think I got most of the tense errors out of here, but it's almost certain that I missed a couple. I apologize in advance for them, and hope they aren't too jarring.

If you like (or don't like) this story, please use the contact author feature here at Yiffstar to send feedback - I love getting mail, so please don't be shy.

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Closed Curtain

The sounds of horseplay and splashing water slowly wind down as the Red Mountain Junior Swim Team gradually makes their way out of the showers. The hissing of the dozen showerheads peters out, replaced by juvenile chatter, the metallic clang of lockers opening and closing and the rasp of rough fabric across wet flesh as the team dries themselves off. Eventually that too fades as the teenagers file from the room, leaving behind only the scent of soap and a faint tang of chlorine to keep the room company. A fraction of a moment later, the door swings open again.

"Yeah, and next time put your own shit away!" Byron yells at the retreating backs, laughing at the fingers raised in response. A push from his strong arms flings the door open wide and he makes his way into the empty room.

Byron turns at the row nearest the end, pausing for a moment to open his locker before lithely sliding out of his tight swimsuit, peeling the tight lycra off and slipping it down and over his well muscled legs before tossing it carelessly into a gym bag. He grabs a bottle of fur shampoo and closes his locker, humming quietly to himself as he crosses to the shower area. He pauses for a moment, and then selects the shower nozzle furthest from the entrance. His flat feet slap across the now chill puddles as he crosses the blinding white expanse of tile, and Byron shivers slightly to himself, looking forward to the warmth of the shower.

He finally reaches his destination and a twist of the handles brings a welcome spray of steaming water. Byron winces a bit as the dried chlorine in his fur stings his eyes, then sighs as the tangy scent is washed away with clean water. The light sparkles off his glistening fur, the natural sheen of wet otter glittering in the splashing water. He pops open the shampoo bottle, squirting a bit of the fragrant green liquid into his palm before recapping the bottle and setting it back on the wall-recessed shelf. He rubs his palms together to work the soap into a foamy mass, the scent of packaged evergreens filling the deserted room as he works the heavy white glob into his headfur, squinting his eyes tightly to keep the stinging suds away. A quick rinse in the hot spray and he squirted another glob of shampoo into his hands, working them across his smooth chest, feeling along the developing pectorals and, with a slight smile, gliding over the hidden nipples until they show pink through the fur.

Byron stops here, and hesitates for a moment. I shouldn't do this in here...I could get caught. The very thought makes him shudder. If someone walked in, he'd never live it down. Four years of it before he graduated...but then again, no one should be in here. Swim practice was long over, and football practice wasn't over for another hour. Besides, he could always step into one of the stalls if he heard the door open. He scrubs further down, his hands kneading the soap into his stomach fur as he ponders. The suds were quickly swept off the flat, toned belly to travel further down, the warm water teasing the otter's hidden excitement. The fingers trace along the sheath, tickling across the opening...and Byron sighs and let his hands drop. "To hell with it. I'll do it at home," he mutters to himself, squirting another dollop of green into his hand to wash his legs. He grunts as he bent over to soap up his thighs and calves, the rushing water thundering across his ears.

Mike mutters as he limped through the empty halls back to the locker rooms. Each step sent a twinge from his tender ankle and made him look forward to the ice pack that much more. A twisted ankle ten minutes into practice...they were still doing warm-ups, for God's sake! Still, he couldn't have been expected to notice the hole in the turf, and no doubt the coach would tear the landscaping guys a new one come tomorrow. He hoped fervently that it was just a twist and he'd be fine in a day or two; the season starter game was next Wednesday, and it would be bad luck to be out for it. Besides, he was one of the biggest guys in the team, and it just wouldn't do to be out one of the star blockers. He swings the locker room door open, noticing as he does so that one of the showers was still running. He snorts at that. "Damn swim team" he mutters to himself as he peels off his sweats, shoes and jock strap. He lifts his leg up to the concrete bench to examine his ankle, poking at the sore bits before letting it back onto the pavement with a wince. He hops across to the tiled shower area, trying to put as little pressure on his damaged ankle as possible. He turns the corner and stops dead, watching the vision in brown before him. The otter was young; there was no doubt about that. He couldn't be more than five foot six; his muscle mass was just beginning to come in and he still had the slender look of a young male who can't quite bulk up yet. And perhaps most tellingly, Mike had never seen him before - Mike knew all the upperclassmen, and this lithe beauty showering unselfconsciously under Mike's lustful gaze was a complete unknown. The young male bent to wash his legs and Mike's breath caught in his throat as the swishing tail snuck him a peak at the hidden tailhole, and he felt his manhood stir in his long mustelid sheath. He smiled to himself briefly. Maybe getting out of practice early wasn't such a bad thing....

"Hey."

Byron spins about as the deep voice rumbles from behind him, blinking quickly to get the water out of his eyes. The huge brown blur blocking the shower room entrance resolves itself as his eyes clear, and Byron takes a step back. The wolverine is huge, his massive brown body nearly occluding the entire entrance, and he towers at least six inches over the retreating otter. Huge slabs of muscle glide under his fur as he steps closer, and Byron feels his eyes flicker to a swaying further down the wolverine's body. He blushes immediately and forces his eyes back up, praying the wolverine hasn't noticed. The wolverine gestured to the nozzle nearest Byron's

"Mind if I use this one?"

Byron's mouth drops open, and he blushes even deeper. "Uuhh..umm...sure, uumm...sure, I umm, guess." He turns away from the wolverine and grabs his soap bottle, lathering up his headfur again to hide his growing embarrassment. At least that's the only thing that's growing, he thinks to himself with a panicked internal giggle. He hears the next shower sputter to life, feels the warm spray as it splatters off his huge neighbor's body and misted on his own. He could feel the warmth radiating off the wolverine; it was like being next to a space heater. He hears the click of the other player's shampoo bottle, then a snap as he shuts it. He switches to washing behind his ears, and jumps when a huge, warm paw lands on his shoulder.

"Hey man, can I snag some soap off you?" the deep voice rumbles again. Byron shakes his head under the spray to get the soap off and blinks. The wolverine was waiting with a friendly grin on his face, one hand just off Byron's shoulder, the other holding a white bottle of soap. The wolverine rumbles laughter and shakes his bottle, dropping his other hand to his side. "I think I'm out."

Byron blinks a few more times, feigning clearing his eyes to take in the sight of the huge chest, the coarse fur slicked down, the heavy musculature clearly visible under the glistening fur. The thick bulges of the wolverine's toned stomach lead downward over the hillocks of his washboard abdominals; downward to a ridge of dark fur in the waves of brown...he shakes his head one last time and met the wolverine's smiling gaze. "S-s-sure." He stutters, quickly grabbing the soap from the shelf and thrusting out his hand. The wolverine takes the bottle, his huge paw eclipsing the lighter one in a coat of warmth and slick fur before sliding back.

"Thanks man, I owe you one," the wolverine grins, squirting the thick soap into hand and lathering it up. "Name's Mike. Haven't seen you around; you new here?"

"Y-yeah... I'm Byron ...Freshman this year. " Byron manages to get out. He turns away from the scrubbing wolverine, distrusting his burning face and the stirrings below.

The wolverine chuckles, the spray of water on Byron's back changing as the huge chest lifted and settled. "Figured; I know most of the upper classmen. 'Sides, you look a bit young for a junior. 'M a senior myself. You on the swim team? I do football...too big for the pool, heh."

Byron says nothing, trying not to think of the huge, muscular male showering not a foot from him, and of course being able to think of nothing else. He feels his shame rising, and turns further from the jock, hoping his silence would dissuade the jock...maybe make him get annoyed and leave.

He feels the jock pause his motions, and to his horror Mike leans over his shoulder "You doing all right over there?"

Everything went white with terror, and Byron slowly forces himself to turn around, his arousal visible to all despite his best efforts. "I...didn't want you to see," he whispers "Please..p-please don't hurt me."

The otter cringes back as he brayed laughter, and Mike feels a bit guilty about startling the little fellow. He shakes his head and smiles at the younger male. "I'm not gonna hurt you." He laughs and lowers his ears in embarrassment, "I'm flattered, really." He steps forward and the otter skitters back, stepping out form under the warm shower spray to stand dripping on the white tiles. Mike sighs and gestures the otter to come back. "Come 'ere, man...I said I wasn't pissed. Besides, look at this thing," he gestures at his swollen sheath, chuckling, "You don't think this thing is like this all the time, do you? I've got my own problems here."

The otter steps closer warily, eyes fixed where the wolverine was gesturing. "I didn't know...I've never seen one of those before," he says quietly, then blushes and looks up. "Not one like that, anyway," "Heh heh...not many like me around, are there? 'Sides, at your age I'd be surprised if you've seen many at all." Mike rolls his eyes at the otter's indignant look, "I meant like this! If you've showered with the team you've seen plenty of schlong." He hooks a long arm around the otter's shoulders and the smaller male flinches but makes no effort to escape as he is pulled closer to the huge, furry body. Mike leans down so his muzzle is on a level with the otter's. Without warning, he swipes his large, warm tongue across the Byron's nape, licking through the warm, wet fur, tasting the residue of shampoo from just a few minutes before. The otter stiffens and quivers in his grasp, a shaky inhalation audible over the hiss of the shower. Mike smiles over Byron's shoulder. "You want this, don't you?" he whispers into Byron's ear, licking around the sensitive organ. Byron whimpers and nods slightly, his lithe body trembling. Mike scoots around so he was looking Byron in the eye. "Have you...done this before?" he asks quietly, grunting as the otter shook his head almost imperceptibly. He glances around the room, then nudges the otter towards the shower stalls. "If you're sure you want to do this, pick one of those. I'll be right back."

With that he turns and stands, heading back to the lockers. And smiles widely when he hears the rustle of the plastic curtain being pulled aside. He opens his locker and pulled out a jar of Vaseline, grinning as he tosses it from hand to hand. Never thought I'd use this stuff for this! he thinks as he almost jogs back to the showers. He turns off the unused spigots as he crosses the room, making his way to the stalls. He steps inside the single open stall, closes curtain behind him, and sets the Vaseline down on the shelf, grinning at the nervous otter. The stall is crowded with two people in it, even more so with the huge bulk of Mike filling one end and Byron bumped up against the wall as he retreats slightly from the wolverine's imposing body. Mike stepped closer and gently stroked his hands down the otter's slender arms. "Don't worry, man...this is gonna be fun," he murmurs as he sinks to his knees in front of the otter. Byron watches him with half closed eyes, his breath uneven as the wolverine's hands stray, the thick fingers tracing across his smooth chest.

Byron tenses as the hands make their way onto his chest, whimpering as the hot tongue joined them, the slow stroking and licking across his sensitive abdomen sending tingles of pleasure through to his spine. He arched his back and gasps as the tongue swipes his navel, his hands tensing against the wall as his fingers clench. He forces his eyes open as the tongue slips lower, watching the wolverine's huge muzzle dip lower and lower...until the tip of his arousal brushes the thin fur of the wolverine's chin. Mike grins up at him, then down at the virgin shaft, opening his mouth widely...Byron can feel the wolverine's hot breath across his shaft as the mouth moves over it making him tremble in anticipation, hands white against the wall. For a moment there is nothing but that hot breath and no sound but their breathing, his and the wolverine's. Then Mike's lips brush Byron's pubis and the hot mouth closes, encasing the penis in warm, wet, living flesh. Byron exhales sharply as the warmth encloses his maleness, his knees trembling against the wall as the tongue shifts slightly, getting used to the shape of the cock. Then the tongue curls along the shaft and Byron gasps, going limp as the pleasure washes over him. Through a haze he sees and feels Mike slide back slightly, then slide forward in a new wave of pleasure. He shudders and moans, his heart beating hard as the wolverine sucks him off for the first time. "Huh..Mike.." he manages to gasp as the wolverine pulls back, earning him a brief grin before the shaft disappears into the hot muzzle again. His hands grip around Mike's head of their own accord, his fingers grasping the wiry fur there and gently pulling the head closer as he thrusts slightly into the warm maw.

Mike takes the whole length without complaint, the shiny pink of the shaft disappearing into his brown muzzle. He begins to suck faster, sliding down half the shaft before taking it all in, each movement of his tongue across the virgin length earning him a pleasured whimper from the overcome otter shuddering against the tiled wall.

Byron grunts and pants, incapable of coherent speech or even thought as the hot tongue rasps and squelches across his flesh. Each wash of the warm muscle along his length feels better than the last, each swallow around his length must surely drive him to orgasm, for no pleasure could be greater than this! The young otter pants faster as he feels something approach, some unseen peak of pleasure never before experienced, and his fingers twist tightly around the wolverine's ears, his toes curling tightly in anticipation of his peak. And then it arrives in a blinding rush of pleasure; the otter gasps as though punched, hunching over the wolverine's bobbing head, and he bucks once, hard, into the warm mouth before descending into shivering ecstasy.

Mike grins at the otter's pleasured gasp as he feels the sleek balls pull up against his hairy chin, the bitter taste of semen making him wince as it splatters across the back of his tongue. He swallows it down anyway, rippling his tongue across the pulsing shaft in his mouth, milking each spurt. After a few seconds he feels the young otter sigh and relax, pushing himself gently away from the wolverine's heavy bulk and leaning shakily against the rear of the stall.

Byron pants heavily as he leans back against the cool ceramic, his eyes closed as he breathes more heavily from five minutes exertion than from an entire afternoon of swimming. He hears Mike's fur rustling together as the wolverine stands, and feels the heat of him as the big jock moves closer. He opens his eyes a little and smiles wanly at the big wolverine, who grins back widely, licking his chops and making a face. "I don't care what people say about the taste of cum, but I think the stuff tastes foul," the jock says with a little chuckle. Byron giggles nervously, not sure how to react after the unusual events, and then leans in to hesitantly run a hand across the bigger fur's hard stomach, "But what about you? You haven't had a chance to...you know..."

Mike chuckles and nods significantly at the jar of Vaseline still sitting on its shelf, running a hand smoothly down the otter's side and rump. "I'm sure I can think of something."