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Almost Easy: Plantain Series Novella 5.5 by Amelia Oliver, Kate Hastings (1)


Finally! The shrill sound of Coach White’s double whistle fills the air.

“That’s it Princesses, wrap it up and hit the showers.”

A collective groan fills the air and a few of the guys even drop down and lie flat on the court. I swear this wannabe NBA star is trying to kill us. I know high school basketball is a career springboard for some gifted students, but for fuck sake, we’re not training to be Marines.

Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m playing basketball. The seniors get all the game time, and as underclassman we’re mostly benchwarmers. We’re paying our dues I guess, and in a couple of years we’ll be getting all the game time and the new wave of freshman will be complaining about their lack of play.

“Hey Harrington! Aren’t you forgetting something?” Coach calls me out.

I look over and see him gesture at all the practice gear spread around the gym. Yup, we’re not just benchwarmers, but equipment lackeys too.

“Right Coach, I’m on it.” I reply, making my way to the empty canvas bags and begin to collect the balls from the court.

“My guess is you’ve never been on it Harrington. Do you even know what pussy looks like?” Lewis sneers and the other guys near him start laughing. Lewis White, team bully and the coach’s son. Says it all really.

I can’t help it, I feel my face turn bright red and I know I must look like a deer in headlights.

“Stop being an asswipe Lewis. I suggest you start worrying about what little pussy you’re getting instead.” The strong voice of one of our assistant coaches stops the bullshit in its tracks, as he grabs Lewis by the back of the neck and steers him away from me.

“C’mon Nolan, I was only fucking with him”, Lewis defends as they all walk out of the gym, and I breathe easier knowing that they’re gone.

It takes me about thirty minutes to collect all the gear from practice and lock it away in the storage room. I figure at this rate all the other guys will have finished showering by now and left for home.

Hitting the locker room, I’m assaulted with the combined scents of sweat, pain ointment, dirty laundry and axe body spray. I take a deep breath and let the smell fill my nose and lungs. I find it comforting, I don’t know why and I don’t look too closely at it either. At my locker I strip down, grab my shower shit and head towards the showers, taking a clean towel from the cage on my way through.

The space is still filled with steam and water pools across the dingy white tile floor, heading towards the overflow drain in the center of the room. Stepping into the shower recess directly in front of me, I begin adjusting the temperature of the spray.

Hearing humming, I turn my head and notice that the shower on the far end is actually still occupied. Occupied by Nolan. He must’ve stayed back to chat with Coach or something. He’s a former star player on the team, and with his height and natural athleticism, he was a hell of a power-forward. Or point guard. In fairness, Nolan could play the shit out of any position on the team. Given he goes to college in state, Coach hired him to assist with our practices and home matches when he can.

I start to wash my body, running my soapy hands over my chest and stomach, the soreness in my muscles relaxing under the heat of the spray. Nolan turns his body slightly and reaches for something on the shelf next to him. Shampoo. Lifting his arms up to his head, he starts washing his hair.

I can feel my cock lengthen, the skin becoming taut. I’m not shocked; I’m a fifteen-year-old guy. Simply taking in oxygen causes me to throw wood, so a hot shower and my own soapy hands causing one is nothing new.

Watching Nolan move under the water, his muscles shifting with each pass of his arms, it’s clear he’s well on his way to having the body not just of a man, but of a Viking warrior.

Without thought, the washing of my dick turns rougher, becoming firmer with each pass and I’m thankful he seems oblivious to me even being here. My breathing changes and speeds up to match the rhythm of my hand. My balls draw up closer to my body as I watch Nolan tip his head back and rinse the shampoo from his dark blond hair. With my hand still in motion, my eyes follow the streams of sudsy water as they choose their path down his body.  From across his shoulders, down between his pecs, along his taut stomach and into the neatly trimmed hair of his groin, before finally running down his legs and into the drain below. Bringing my gaze back up his body, my eyes are glued to his dick. I’ve never seen a man dick before. I’ve seen old men at the Plantain Recreational Center in the showers, and all these high school guys after practice. But never a virile, strong, girthy, long, fat dick that looks like it would be astonishing hard— wait, what?

Before I know what’s happening, I feel the tingle in the base of my spine and I know I’m about to jizz.  Holy shit! What the fuck is wrong with me? With an intense sickened feeling in my stomach, I drop my hand and quickly turn my body towards the shower wall. My dick begins to spurt, refusing to be denied what my hand started, the muscles of my body finishing the job.

Rinsing away the evidence, I turn the taps off in the shower with such force that the old pipes shudder and complain loudly. Grabbing my towel and throwing it around my hips, I start walking so fast the slippery surface beneath my feet makes my steps clumsy, but I don’t slow down. I can’t get out of here quick enough.

Filled with a strong sense of shame and embarrassment, I’m gulping air like I’ve been holding my breath for hours. I dress without really drying my body, almost forcing my street clothes onto my limbs. My mind is in turmoil, refusing to acknowledge any lingering pleasure of the most intense orgasm I’ve had since I’ve been jacking my own dick. A dick I’d let go of! I don’t even want to think what it would have been like if I had stroked through it. Fuck, stop! I’m not going to process what the fuck just happened. No, I don’t want to process what the fuck just happened. One thing is for certain though, it will not be happening again.  That shit stops now.

As I leave the gym, I’m not really watching where I’m walking. I need to call my Dad for a ride home, so I’m trying to fish my phone from the bottom of my gym bag. Focused on just getting the hell out of here, I don’t see Irys until she speaks.

“Hey Rupert. Is Nolan still in there making himself beautiful?”

Snapping my head up toward her voice, I see she’s leaning against the bench under the trees, just in front of the student parking lot. I respond the only way my scrambled brain can manage.

“What? Who? How the fuck would I know?”

“Damn, chill out.  Who pissed in your Gatorade?  Didn’t you just come from practice?” The look on her face tells me that she’s confused by my reaction, and really, she just wants to know where her oldest brother is. I reassure myself that she couldn’t possibly know what I was just doing while watching him shower. God, fuck. That sick tingly feeling is back in the pit of my stomach. With Irys watching me, waiting for me to answer, I really need to get it under control.

Taking a deep calming breath, I look right at Irys, really taking her in this time.  She’s in a pair of white jean shorts, the pocket insides hanging lower than where the frayed legs end, and a bright blue racer-back tank. She’s as tall as I am, her long lean limbs are covered in bronze skin, and she has a head of hair that belongs in a shampoo commercial. Her tight body, perky boobs and high ass complete the package. Jesus, the genetics in this family really do pack a punch.  Irys is in about half my classes, and hangs with most of the same crew I do. It’s harder not to really. In a town the size of Plantain, everyone knows everyone.  She’s popular, she’s smart, she’s fun to be around and most of the guys my age think she’s hot. It hits me in that moment that she’s also not dating anyone.

“Shit, I’m really sorry Irys” I say, giving her my eyes, “Practice always makes me extra agitated. Forgive me, gorgeous?” I tease while giving her my mega-watt smile.

She grins back at me, a long, pink tipped finger twirling a strand of her hair. “Of course.”

Smirking slightly I add, “Well, how about I take you out to dinner at the diner tomorrow night? You know, just to show you how sorry I am.”



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