Jockstrap Stories Novels & Stories

"I didn't suggest it. I didn't even hint. This came from their medical director." I looked at him. "Would it be weird? Me working with your team?" "Maybe." He met my gaze. "But we've survived weirder." I took the contract. Three weeks into the gig, I discovered that Aiden Sterling, strategic mastermind and corporate survivor, was a genuinely terrible loser at video games, always left his dirty socks on the bathroom floor, and had a quiet, infectious laugh that made the Sharks' equipment manager—a grizzled veteran of thirty seasons—grudgingly admit "the kid's all right."

And if I say, the current scenario is kinda the same, Jenny and her investigation, the search for the mysterious killer isn't for the people who suffer, who become the victims and the dead leaf which even couldn't find their place in the earth. But the tuxedo man is breaking those limits and the borders, because even he doesn't give a hand to anything but he is with them, which makes him their partner. Jenny and Davis both see a square box made up of glass, and the glass was transparent, they could clearly see what was inside of that box. It was jewelry, something like a wristband made for the men in the old times when the empire was splitted in the 5 territories.

I nodded grateful that the first person I came across bought into my story. We started walking down the bush together exchanging stories, and I watched him carefully, gauging his reaction to my fabricated tale. He seems to believe me, and we spend the afternoon swapping stories of our travels and hardships. Jake told me about his own pack, how he left them after a disagreement with their Alpha. "You know, it wasn't easy," he says, "but sometimes you just have to make the tough choices." I nod, understanding his pain. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I've been searching for a place to belong, but it's not easy to trust others after everything I've been through."

Still, Cline doubted Jake would spill anything good without an audience. “It’s not so bad here,” Jake said after a while, picking at the chipped edge of his cot. “I’ve been in worse places.” Cline said nothing. Jake smirked. “You don’t talk much, do you? That’s all right. I can talk for both of us.” He kept at it for hours, stories about fights, women, and how he could’ve been Alpha if “things had gone differently.” He bragged about power he never had, alliances that never existed. By midnight, Cline had half a dozen recordings of Jake’s ramblings.

Vincent said calmly, heart racing. Jaxon had called him Vin. Ryu surprisingly went quiet. "Oh!" Jaxon smirked. They arrived at the mall. Jaxon and Ryu pulled on face caps to avoid fans. They split up, but Ryu and Vincent stuck together. Jaxon wandered into the men's designer underwear section, eyes lighting up at his favorites: indigo shiny waist chains and a sleek black lace jockstrap. He's obsessed with the way they frame and tease—subtle chains that glint under lights, the jockstrap hugging just right.

"Why?" So, Jerald recounted his harrowing tale to Jake, detailing every aspect of his captivity. He described the days he spent as Mostafa's prisoner, the atrocities committed by Mostafa and his thugs, and the relentless abuse he endured. Jerald revealed how he had navigated the treacherous waters of deception, pretending to follow Mostafa's orders while secretly searching for a way to escape. He shared the story of the fights he had engaged in, including the pivotal one that was meant to prove his loyalty to Mostafa's gang, and the dubious reward that came with it.

“Can we please talk about something else?” I groaned as Jake went on to another story about me. “I think that the last story about me running naked through the high school is enough.” I stated, going to grab myself another beer from the fridge. “Isn’t this what families do? Tell embarrassing stories about each other in front of their significant others?” Jake laughed, taking the beer I handed him. “You should have heard the stories Amalia’s parents told me. Skinny dipping in the neighbor’s pool was one of my favorites!”

I grazed my teeth against his neck, and he released a low moan. He released my thumb from his mouth and fell to his knees, his face a mix of fear and anticipation. I circled the post and tied his hands behind it with the bandage. When I re-emerged before him, I slid my pants down. I’d already removed my socks and shin guards, and all that remained from the waist down were a pair of Under Armour pants and my jockstrap. My cock leapt out as I slid the jockstrap to the floor. I took off my jersey, stripped myself of the pads and tank I was wearing, then reached down to where the shoulder pads had landed on the floor and put them back on.

Matt let the boy continue for several seconds before saying, "They're gone, boy. You won't need to wear those anymore, boy. But don't worry, I have some better underwear for you that will showcase your ass perfectly. You will now wear only these." Matt threw ten jockstraps, half of them white and half of them black. Matt smirked as the boy squirmed uncomfortably, before asking, "Do I have to wear these everywhere, sir?"