You turn to your left and see Chris' things heaped up on the bench. You climb out of your jersey and take a small walk over to the pair of empty trainers, both on their sides. Instead of being fabric, they are a thick, orange rubbery leather, with the soles being a dirty white inside. You peer into the cavern, taking a deep smell of the dampness, the scent of male sweat gently invading. While enjoying yourself, there is much to do and you can't have long to hide yourself.
You walk towards the bench, unable to get up to the pile of clothes. A third option hits you, unwilling to take a ride under his foot, you can travel in his gym bag. Once he takes you home he'll be for the taking.
Good plan! You run up to the numerous straps and zips and make your way to the opening. Standing triumphantly atop it, you can still smell Chris' feet somehow. You realise the sweat is all over your hands from where you held so fervently to it when you peeked inside. You make a mental note that this kind of activity is going to leave you and put you into rather unhygienic situations.
Oh well you think jumping into the bag. After only a short fall you land softly on what must be a towel. Its soft fabric under your naked skin is soothing, and you being to day dream about the possibilities of being so small. You're getting hard at the notion of being completely enveloped in his mouth, the soft tongue under you with warm, meaty breath making you sweat. He swallows and you wake from your daydream to the sound of voices and footsteps.
Guys are changing around you, and all you can see are the faces of Joel to the right and Chris to the left.
"I'm gonna' hit the showers, you commin'?" Joel asks Chris
"Nah, im gonna' head home once im changed, im so tired you know? I've been working too much" he replies, Joel walking off into the steam undeterred. Chris' body looms over you, glistening with sweat.
"He really should take a shower" you think to yourself, pondering over the consequences of having a guy that reeks of hard work around you. He's down to his jock, which he quickly whips off letting his member and balls fall out directly above you. The result is a few droplets of rain falling around you from inbetween his thighs.
He's soon dressed again and he turns to his bag, arms full of his football clothes, jock included. Shoving them in without much thought, he picks up his bag and beings the short walk home.
Unknown to him, he has presented you with the company of his damp clothing.
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