Cheering Them On (Pt. 01)

My name is Jordan, and I'm a cheerleader. Not for real, but for the night this story happened, and probably - definitely - again. I'm 20 years old, in college. I'm about 5'7" tall, slight of frame, about 120 pounds with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and smooth skin. I was still not able to properly grow a beard or other facial hair, so I've given up in frustration and keep my skin smooth now. I have higher than normal cheekbones for a man my age, with a slender chin and thin and defined nose. Combined, they give me an almost feminine appearance. I tend to dress in a gender-neutral fashion - band shirts, jeans, boots - neither masculine nor feminine.

My voice has a higher than average pitch, I suppose, but nothing extreme. I've been told my body language trends towards the feminine as well, with expressive hand gestures and the way I hold my body when I'm listening to others talk. All these things combined were probably contributory factors to my having been teased in high school for being 'girly', but now in college I was determined to own this aesthetic and make it my own.

September had been hugely successful in that regard, and I'd made friends with so many people. Even the ones who would have been the type to have teased me in high school seemed more welcoming of me here. I was friends with several hockey players, who were like athletic royalty at the school I was at. They wouldn't even have looked my way before, except to tease me about being a 'girl'. I was fitting in for the first time in my life, and I couldn't get enough of it.

On the romance front, however, I'd been less successful. In high school, the idea of not being straight had terrified me, and I had gone to great lengths to only show 'straight' interests, but the truth was, I'd always had interest in people of all genders. Who they were had always been more important to me than their gender. In college, this should have made it easier to get a date, but the truth was that opening my options just seemed to result in more people deciding I wasn't their type.

I had several first dates, but never a second yet. I had gone out with a woman first, and taken her to the classiest restaurant my meagre budget would allow for. She was clearly not impressed by the location, but had been willing to give it a shot anyway. I tried to impress her with my humor, but it landed flat, and at the end of the night, the dodged kiss told me that I'd never hear from her again.

When I tried to flirt with a man, I simply didn't know how. It felt both exciting and terrifying, in nearly equal measure. The entire dance of courtship was new and unfamiliar in unexpected ways. I tried to think of how I'd like someone to approach me, but it wasn't working. I seemed to be treating him more feminine than he was comfortable with, which eventually drove him away and left me wondering what I was doing wrong.

As I navigated the social scene on campus, I tried to lean into this newly-found personal philosophy on relationships and sexuality. The idea of breaking social norms and being open to a less-than-conventional situation was becoming more comfortable in my own mind, and I dearly hoped that it was something that was obvious in my mannerisms and the vibe I give off.

***

Calculus is infinite. Calculus is forever. Calculus classes are interminable hells. I stared at the blackboard covered in more symbols than the walls of an ancient Egyptian tomb, and I sighed inwardly. I heard quiet snickering beside me, and I turned to see Patrick, the captain of the hockey team, beside me. Maybe I wasn't as quiet as I thought.

"Bored, Jordan?" He asked in a whisper.

"Maybe I can calculate all the places I'd rather be right now than right here." I said with another quiet sigh.

Patrick had dark brown hair, the bangs hanging over his hazel eyes. Beautiful hazel eyes. He stood about 6" taller than I was and had the most incredible athletic body. I'd seen him change his shirt and it was enough to stop your heart. That smooth, tanned skin and defined muscles. Patrick was otherworldly. No. Stop. Patrick has been kind and sweet but he's straight and I don't need that kind of heartache. Ignoring it will definitely help.

From the front of the room, the teacher was wrapping up.

"That will be all for today. Jordan, if we're boring you, feel free to let us know next time." The professor grumped at me. I flushed under the laughter of the students in the room and hastily made for the exit at the back of the room to avoid going past the professor.

I looked back to see Patrick hurry out the door behind me and hustle to catch up. He caught me effortlessly, of course. A gentle hand on my shoulder, he smiled at me.

"Hey, Jordan, don't worry about him. He's a sour old bastard and he can't remember how it is to be young and hot and on campus looking for action."

I blushed and smiled back at him. His hand was still on my shoulder and I was starting to flush. He dragged it across my back and grabbed my other shoulder, pulling me in close for a friendly hug. Before I could think, he squeezed me to him and the smell of him filled my mind. I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought of being so close to that magnificent body of his.

I walked with him in silence after that to the arena for his practice. When we got inside, we turned down the dark hallway towards the locker rooms. I hesitated at the door and then decided against it. I've never felt quite at home in a locker room, and I didn't need more seeing Patrick's body today to make this even harder.

"I'm going to go..." I motioned over my shoulder with my thumb towards the exit. "I'll catch up with you later."

"Of course. Talk to you later, Jordan. Please, don't dwell on what the professor said. He was just being a dick."

"Thanks, Patrick. Have a good practice"

In what felt like a dream, I turned away and headed for my dorm. I needed to get to bed, sleep this off. I needed to get my head straight. Maybe I'd go watch the cheerleaders rehearse first. It'd make for a nice distraction before dinner. They moved like angels in a beautiful fantasy. Graceful, sexy, and never quite accessible.

***

Turning towards my dorm room, I tossed my take out wrapper into the trash. Those cheerleaders had been incredible. I headed back to my room to get to bed. Little did I know how much more the night held for me.

As I rested my head on my pillow and felt the day slip away, I had those two images in my mind. The cheerleaders and their sexiness and Patrick, shirtless and changing into his hockey gear.

***

The unmistakable scent of a locker room surrounded me, and I was disoriented. I had no idea how I'd gotten here, all I knew is that I shouldn't get caught. Somehow I knew I wasn't supposed to be here. Girls don't belong in men's locker rooms. Wait...girls? I looked down and saw a pleated, colorful skirt. School colors. The logo of the hockey team on a spandex shirt across my chest. My legs were smooth and protruding from below the skirt which was so short I knew it wouldn't do any good hiding my body if I so much as bent over. I had white socks pulled up just over my knees and a pair of chucks on, also in the school colors.

The disconnected feeling faded rapidly and I no longer felt like I was out of place in the body or outfit I was in. The clothes felt right for me to be in, but at the same time the locker room felt increasingly like foreign territory and a place I shouldn't be.

I heard the door of the locker room open and close, the sound of 3 or 4 voices talking and laughing together entering the room. One I recognized for sure as Patrick's.

"Hey, that practice was brutal. Coach really wants us in top shape."

"Yeah, no kidding. Did you see the new drills he threw at us?"

"I almost wiped out trying to keep up. And those sprints at the end? Killer."

"I heard him muttering something about 'raising the intensity.' I wonder what could possibly be more intense than that."

"I could use a hot shower and a long nap."

As the voices grew closer, I looked in a panic for a place to hide, but it was just row after row of lockers or the shower stalls, and the voices were between me and the way out. I heard the water in the showers turn on. Now was my chance, I'd just sneak past and I'd be out and I could get somewhere safe.

My shoe made a squeak on the wet floor and I froze. Shit.

"Did you guys hear that? Who's in here? I thought we were the last ones"

Patrick was suddenly behind me.

"Well, who's this? And what's she doing in here, I wonder."

I turned to see him standing there, glistening...naked...beautiful. Hands on his hips, the water dripped over the sculpted muscles of his body. Why didn't he recognize me? He's known me since our first class together. My confusion began to fade like the sense I'd had that my body was wrong.

Two other men stood behind him, also naked and similarly built. I felt butterflies in my stomach as I took in the sight of them all standing there. The butterflies feeling felt lower now...in an unfamiliar way, I felt a rushing sensation and a wetness I couldn't describe. I wanted them. They were perfect. In that moment, I would have given anything to feel what I could see inside me. I reached down along the smooth lines of my skirt and pressed the palm of my hand flat against my body.

"It's Jordan," I said, stepping towards him. It's like someone else was using my voice...my body. It was all the things I'd wanted to say but never known how to. I was content to let instincts drive.

"Jordan...you look good. Great, actually." Patrick stepped forward, making no attempt to hide the growing cock between his legs. He seemed to recognize me as a girl, not as the guy who sat beside him in calculus. "But you're overdressed, don't you think?"

I gave a coquettish shrug and bit my lower lip, "I guess you'll have to unwrap me like a present, then, now won't you?"

He reached for the bottom of my shirt, lifting it up slowly. I held my breath as it rose over my smooth belly and then up across my ribs, exposing my chest. Tiny nipples on tiny breasts exposed to the air, I felt them harden and saw his mouth twist into a smile of approval. I sucked in my breath and felt his fingertips grace my nipple. It was like a shock of pure ecstasy being touched like that by Patrick. I'd daydreamed of this moment so many times, although I was not dressed this way in the daydreams.

He took my hand in his and brought it down to his stomach, placing it flat on his abs. They were perfect and firm, his skin smooth and entrancing. I felt every ridge and bump like braille telling me how badly I wanted more. I looked into Patrick's brown eyes as I reached down and took his stiffening cock in my hand, stroking the length of it and moaning at the thought of what it could do to me.

In a trance, I sank to my knees, looking at the delectable cock in my hand. Easily eight inches in length and thicker than my hand could accommodate. It was huge and incredible and, as of now, it was mine. I needed it. I had to have it. Without even thinking, I took the head of it into my mouth and the sensation of that soft, spongy skin in my mouth - on my tongue - was intoxicating.

I squeezed his shaft gently in my hand and moaned at the way he filled my mouth. My lips stretched wider to make room for this gigantic cock. It was all for me. I could hear his buddies whooping and cheering from behind him, and I didn't care. I didn't care about anything, I just needed this to go on forever.

"Oh my god, guys, she's incredible at this." Patrick moaned as he wound his fingers into my hair and gripped it, setting the pace as he worked that delicious cock in and out of my mouth.

I felt another one of them come in from behind me, running a finger up my back. I let the hands guide me up onto the bench between the two rows of lockers and onto my knees. I let my hands settle onto the bench too, letting Patrick take over my mouth completely.

A finger ran up my thighs, and I felt a tingle inside me. I loved being there focus of all this attention, and I couldn't get enough of it.

"You like that." The voice from behind me stated. It wasn't a question, we both knew I did. I mumbled as best an affirmative as I could with a mouth full of hockey player dick, and I was rewarded. Pulling my panties aside, I felt the hard head of another cock line up against me. My body responded without my even thinking about it, arching my back and pushing back onto him.

I was lost in this incredible feeling of fullness, of perfection. The cock inside me from behind pushing against just the right spot with every thrust, I could feel an intensity building inside me, and in my mouth, Patrick increased his pace, properly fucking my mouth now. He was panting and grunting with the exertion of it, cock beginning to twitch in my mouth. He pulled back all of a sudden and tugged back on my hair. My eyes shot open at the sudden emptiness of my mouth and there it was, his perfect cock in his hand above me and I knew what was coming.

I opened my mouth eagerly, but that's not what Patrick had in mind...he aimed right for my face and I felt the first drop of his cum splash onto my cheek, sticky and warm. Then another rope if it landed across the bridge of my nose, dripping slowly down towards my whimpering, hungry, needy mouth.

As he grunted and continued to decorate my face with his cum, I felt the muscles in my stomach clench...my legs clamp together, and an intense, spreading warmth surge through me. I heard behind me the other hockey player start to grunt and then a flood of warmth inside a part of my body I never even knew I wanted until this very moment.

Suddenly I was awake in a dark room, sitting up and panting in my bed, sheets clinging to my body from the sweat. The dream clung to me like the sheets, the details fading. Holy shit. I felt a sticky sensation between my legs. Had I really just cum from that dream?

I had and I didn't care...I laid back on my bed, trying to hold onto the feelings from that dream. I never wanted to forget how incredible that was. I should watch cheerleading practice more often.