Water Polo Balls, Part 1a

[Swimmboy]

“Mr. Sanderson,” began the older gentleman calmly, “is it necessary for you to barge into a room and greet fellow students with such crude vulgarity? Please step back into the hallway, knock politely, and wait to be invited inside. Then greet the occupants of this room without profanity or references to any private acts of sexual gratification!”

David meekly replied “Yes sir” as he dropped his head, quickly turned away, and dashed out the door, closing it behind him. For a moment, he thought of just running around the corner and returning to his room, but knew Mr. Witherspoon could easily find him, so he might as well just face the music and get it over with. He knocked, waited to hear Jake’s voice say “Come in”, then opened the door and sheepishly stepped inside. David had thought his eyes were playing tricks on him the first time, but now, he realized what he had seen before was accurate: Dr. Witherspoon was seated on the edge of Derek’s bed, while Derek stood right in front of him, briefs pulled down to his knees, his cock stiff and jutting outward toward the old man’s face, while Jake was seated on his own bed in just his boxers, hands on his groin. David opened his mouth to say a polite greeting, but no sound came out.

“Good evening, Mr. Sanderson,” Dr. Witherspoon finally stated. “I am just finishing my examination of young Mr. Weathers here – seems he took a nasty kick or two in a rather private place during the water polo match earlier, and I wanted to make certain he was alright.”

“Good evening Dr. Witherspoon, Jake, Derek,” David managed to squeak out, though it was barely audible. “I just came by to say hi to the guys, tell them what a great game they played today.” David continued to stare into the elderly man’s eyes, not daring to glance downward at Derek’s naked, aroused genitals, though his peripheral vision certainly gave him an adequate view. “I…um…I guess I should go now. And, sir, I’m sorry about my inappropriate language a few moments ago.” David turned to leave, but the headmaster held up his hand.

“Nonsense,” he said, “don’t leave. I’m sure the boys would like to hear your opinions about their victory in the pool. I’m nearly finished with my exam anyway.” Now facing Derek, the doctor stated: “I am going back to the infirmary in a few minutes. I’d like you to follow me there, since I have a few things to say that should perhaps be stated in privacy. It’s alright for you to now pull your underwear back up and get dressed.” As Derek nodded his head in agreement to the doctor’s request, the man turned toward David, and his eyes were drawn down to the diver’s privates by the activity he noticed there. David, who was shirtless, had remained standing quietly by the door, and had dug his hands deep into the pockets of his cargo shorts, and was absent-mindedly scratching his genitalia through the thin material of the pockets. It had lately become almost a habit of his, as Derek and Jake could both attest – on numerous occasions, they would be talking with him when he would suddenly scratch himself in his small red Speedo at the pool, picking and tugging at the tight lycra, or go ‘fishing’ or playing pocket pool in his pants or shorts pockets. “Mr. Sanderson,” the man stated inquisitively as he nodded toward David’s mid-section, “do you have a problem ‘down there’?”

David froze in mid-scratch, renewed panic on his handsome features. “Oh, um, no sir. I, well lately I just seem to itch a lot down there.”

“Please come forward and let me take a look. Perhaps you have a case of fungal infection – I believe you lads might call it jock itch. Please lower your shorts.” David slowly unbuckled his belt, unhooked the top button, and slowly pulled down his zipper. His shorts dropped to the floor, leaving him in just a pair of Hanes briefs – an older, slightly frayed pair that appeared too small for his body. It wasn’t that they didn’t cover him, it was just that the front pouch was quite stretched, obviously concealing something of quite some size. Something that seemed inordinately large on his narrow, athletic frame. David stood there – and stood there – in his small white briefs, until an exasperated Dr. Witherspoon finally said, “I can’t very well examine you through your briefs. Please lower them also.”

“Oh,” David muttered. He placed his thumbs along the sides of the waistband and began tugging his underwear downward, but then stopped, as he glanced nervously around the room at Jake and Derek.

“Come now, Mr. Sanderson,” said the good doctor, “surely you are not too shy to be seen by your fellow athletes? Why, good grief, you boys must see each other nude in the locker room several times a day! Hurry now, I haven’t got all night.” At that, the older man reached forward and grasped the side of David’s little briefs and began helping him to pull them down.

Neither Derek nor Jake had seen David ‘nude’, for, like many teen aquatic jocks, the diver showered in his suit, then changed under a towel. But his small, form-fitting suit left so little to the imagination that both polo players were well aware of David’s ample masculinity. Still, the sight they now beheld made both boys suck in a quick breath. David’s long, slender penis flopped out of his briefs, and it had to be a good five inches in length. And his balls were just huge – a good bit larger than either polo jock’s. The boys couldn’t help but stare. Even Dr. Witherspoon seemed momentarily taken aback, at a sudden loss for words, until he exclaimed admiringly, “Well, you certainly are quite the he-man, aren’t you?” David’s face turned beet red, and his eyes flickered open and shut as he struggled to swallow. It was obvious the poor boy was unaccustomed to being ‘on display’, so to speak, and his entire body seemed flush with color. Color that only deepened as old Dr. Witherspoon reached forward and grasped his testicular pouch and began to move it to and fro, trying, in the room’s poor light, to get a good view of the youth’s entire genital area. “Usually, the fungus will grow here, along the area where your thighs join your body along the sides of your scrotum. It’s warm and dark here – fungus likes those conditions. Gently pulling David’s sac up and to the side, the old man did not notice that David’s long shaft now rested along his jacket sleeve, where the itchy tweed fabric was working magic on the naked underside of the boy’s shaft.