Writing Porn With Transformer

As the water thunders down on me, I feel like my knees might give out. My arms hurt, my back hurts, and most of all, the skin on my hands screams at me. I think some of the blisters have opened.

“First time playing?”

I flinch, almost slip on the sleek floor and slam my hand against the wall to steady myself, hitting my elbow hard against the faucet in the process. The pain pulses through me, radiating outward from my arm, making tears spring to my eyes. I thought I was the last person in the changing rooms. A sudden wave of panic takes hold of me and I start to panic. I have to go!

“Shit, I…” My elbow throbs painfully. I blink against the blurry vision, the faucet is still on full power, and rivulets of water are dripping down my face and into my eyes. Gritting my teeth, I step out from under the shower, shake my head, making droplets fly everywhere, and turn to him. “Yeah.” I can’t exactly see the wheelchair, but I can see his naked feet on the footrest, just outside the shower room. I take a step forward to face him.

He stares at the ceiling, not really moving, just staring at it, and I see his eyes are closed, not blinking. And he’s breathing heavily. His hands are on the edge of the chair. He’s got his arms over his face, as if he doesn’t want me to see his face. And then he looks down at himself. His hands are on his belly, like he's trying to get comfortable, and then he looks up. There are dark spots on the shower head to his right. He leans over and turns it on, and turns it off, then transfers to the shower bench in one swift motion, his hands gripping the edge hard. He takes a moment to let the steam off his back, then turns back around, away from the entrance, and looks at me. “You didn’t do so badly.”

Scoffing, I turn off the faucet and cross the room to take my towel off the hook near the exit. “Ha!” I know he’s just being nice, everyone is, because I know for a fact that I did terribly. To be honest, I didn’t think wheelchair basketball would be this hard. I thought if you’ve played basketball on a professional level for years, it would be the same, just sitting down.

It isn’t.

His legs are much less muscular than his back and his arms, but defined. The knees are knobby hills and as the water runs down the length of his dark calves, his legs suddenly straighten, his naked feet sliding forward over the floor. He shoots one hand to the grab bar to brace himself, teeth gritted, while the other adjusts the temperature of the water using the knob in the wall. Then he starts shampooing.

I turn away, acutely aware I’m staring.

I feel my back go tight, but not nearly so bad as it could be. As I turn, I see something in the darkness, something big, that catches my eye, a dark shape, an animal. And I know, I see, the thing is big, and I have to tell the others. I feel the heat of the light, see the thing is close, a black shape, and I have to call. The rest of the world is gone.

His eyes are half-closed as he continues moving his hand over his body, cleaning himself, rubbing soap into his skin. He slides his hand over his knees, toward his groin, and closes it around his large member, just letting it rest there, the fingers slightly twitching. Something prickles up my back, seethes hot and cold in my neck. Too late I think about covering myself up with the towel that hangs limply from my hands, my boner obvious.

“It certainly was entertaining,” he murmurs and his hand starts moving slowly up and down his cock while water continues to pour down on him, running over the shower bench, pooling to his quivering feet. He adjusts his seating, leans with his back against the wall, and slips his other hand down, too, fondling his balls, exhaling slowly.

I didn’t realize he knew I was still there and I flinch again, biting on my lips. My gaze goes to him, drawn to him and at the same time hesitant, scared. I've wanted this, but I didn’t allow my thoughts to travel there. I can't remember the last time it happened. My feet feel glued to the floor, water from the parts of my body that are still wet occasionally drips down on the floor around me. I forgot to dry myself properly and I’m starting to freeze despite the heat in my cheeks.

”So what now?” He isn’t even looking at me, his cock slowly growing in his hands.

”Now?” I realize my voice sounds thin and shaky, reverberating against the naked, tiled walls of the shower room. I can’t turn away and I feel heat pooling in my stomach, my neglected cock twitching. It's a little worse than I had imagined. My dick is leaking pre-cum and I feel it running down my leg. This is even worse than my first day.

I pull my towel away from me and run my hands over the muscles on my belly. They're warm and smooth and I feel the moisture against my skin. I can hear the water running as I get ready. I feel the cold against my bare skin. I can only imagine how cold it feels with a body like mine and a body that isn't mine.

“Come here.” His voice is low all of a sudden, a stark contrast to before, on the court. There’s steam rising up around him now, hot water turning into gas when it hits the floor. I shiver but without even telling my muscles to do so, I step closer. His head is tipped back, leaning against the white tiles, his eyes are closed. He hums through his nose as he hears me approach, his hand on his cock never slowing.

When I’m breaching the radius of his faucet and feel the spray hit my feet and shin, he stops suddenly and opens his eyes. He smiles. I smile back.

“Very good.” He reaches out one hand, slides it over the already dry side of my hips, down the side of my calf, again humming appreciatively. His skin is almost black against my pale complexion. He slides the other hand up between my legs, leaning forward and gently kissing the front of my thigh. I let out a soft moan as my hips start to shift and move on their own. “Really very good,” he repeats. His other hand has returned to his own hard cock.

I flush even more and my lips part as I moan louder, begging him without words to touch me. I place my hands on his shoulder, feel the thick muscles flexing underneath the skin as he leans back again, swaying slightly.

“Please…” I whisper finally. He slides his hand up the inside of my thigh and holds his hand there for a moment, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin. I'm too scared to move, I'm too scared to look.
I feel him slide his finger further up, and I shudder and squeeze his shoulder as he caresses my balls for a moment and then closes his large hand around my cock. “Shit!” It’s all I can do not to come on the spot, the water is drumming on both of our bodies from above, my hips roll back and forth, trying to increase friction while all he does is holding his hand, slightly fisted, his touch barely more than a ghost. “Please, please, please,” I chant, not caring anymore if I sound embarrassingly desperate.

Then he grabs my hips and ducks, taking me into his mouth. It’s hot and slick and I cry out from surprise and need, while stars burst behind my squeezed-shut eyelids as he moves. It’s the most exquisite, exhilarating thing I’ve ever experienced. My hands go to my nipples and I scream at the pain. It is almost enough. The pain isn't nearly as strong as the rush of an orgasm.

Then he is taking me even deeper and I have to fight to stay still, my hands clenching into his shoulders, holding him, and my mouth opening wide as he moves and groans with pleasure. It feels so good to be sucked. It feels so good to be sucked harder and harder, and to feel him taking me deep. I feel as though I am in a dream where time is gone and reality is so vivid that it becomes almost indistinguishable from the images my brain conjures.

When the heat of his mouth around my cock is suddenly gone from one moment to the other, it takes me a fraction of a second to notice the loss, my cock throbbing in the rush of cold, piercing air. “W-what…?” I don’t know what happened, don’t know where we are, what he’s doing. Then I realize he has turned off the shower and is scrambling to stand, his legs almost buckling under him. The muscles on his face are in a constant state of contraction.

“Turn,” he snaps, his voice hoarse. I do as I’m told, almost without thinking, my rigid cock between my legs bobbing as I move. One hand lands hard on my shoulder, gripping tight, bracing himself. I feel his quick, ragged breath on my neck. “A little to the right.” I turn my head and notice he’s holding on to the grab bar on the wall with the other hand and I move closer to the wall as he directs me.

“Perfect,” he murmurs into my ear as he slowly moves, shifting closer, his chin resting on my shoulder. The front of his naked, wet body comes flush with mine, his hard cock poking into my back. I flinch and gasp.

“Should I stop?” he asks, his breath heavy, and stills his motion. I can feel his legs trembling behind me, barely holding his weight.

“N-Not at all,” I gasp. “No one else is here, right?” I close my eyes against the shame but I have to ask.

“No one,” he confirms. “But we can still go back now.”

“No,” I decide. “I need you.” He nods into my shoulder and I gasp as he grabs me and pulls me closer. I exhale in a rush and force myself to relax, melting into the touch. After a second, I can’t prevent myself from squirming back against him. "M-more!" I hear myself saying as I find myself pressing against him even more. I'm practically squeezing back. "It's alright, really," I murmur. "It's not like…" 

His hand travels down to my side and I can feel him rubbing circles there. "Not like what?" he asks remarkably mindfully, and I can feel him pressing harder against me. He starts kissing my shoulder, sucking at it in a way that makes my hands move over my chest, rubbing my skin lightly with my fingers. It's like a song, but it's not quite the song. I moan, my own voice sounding like a moan of joy. I reach up and my fingers wander over the top of his neck and I feel him shudder.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just… don’t stop.”

He drops one hand and wraps it around my cock again, sliding over it with quick, effective motions. His breath has quickened even more and he’s holding on to me harder than before, leaning against my back now more for support than for the enjoyment of it, or so it seems.

“Need to…” He groans, a hint of impatience showing, and I feel him squirm to position himself. I sneak one hand between us to slip his cock between my thighs. “Like this?”

He nods into my shoulder, places kisses there, hot and messy, teeth and spit and moans. I reach for his mouth, I can feel his warm breath, his hot lips and tongue and then I slide my hand down and up, up, up his thighs, his hipbone and his back, my fingers tingling, and he moans when I press my fingers to his spine. He grabs my wrist and shivers, his body quivering, and he opens his mouth and bites my skin, sucking and biting hard until I am bleeding. He's so hungry for me.

"Speak to me," he orders and his hand roars into my stomach and I can't breathe. His fingers are deep in my gut and I can't do anything but let them, feel him, feel my blood running through my fingers.

“Fuck me,” I gasp out, guessing at what he needs. His thrusts are feeble, arrhythmic, I deduce his hips aren’t all that flexible, especially not standing up. I squirm back, pressing my thighs together to grab his cock tighter between them, feeling him slick in and out between the gap. “Please, fuck me hard, fill me up with your come.” He groans into my back, intensifying his pace more, his hands grabbing for purchase on my wet skin. I thrust into thin air, my wet dick glistening and red, angry.

I reach down to rub my cock, but he stops me.

"No," he tells me, pushing his chest against my back so that I have to thrust my hands out to brace against the wall in front of me, and I can't help but feel my breath get caught in my throat. I look down and see his hands clenched around my hip, my cock erect and throbbing near his fingertips. Not touching. His mouth is pressed against my ear, as I feel him straighten behind me with enormous effort and then he looks down over my shoulder as well. He pulls back, and he steps back a little, groaning, and turns me to face him, his eyes glistening. His hands are still gripping my shoulders hard.

He watches me, face unreadable, and then finally tilts his head. “Come here.”

“Oh fuck, yes, thank you,” I manage to whisper hurriedly before our mouths crash together, our hard cocks rubbing against each other between our wet bodies. I rut up against him, my hips rolling back and forth to make up for the lack of motion from him, and I hear a slight moan from him as we breathe out and start breathing in hard again. I have to bite down hard on my lower lip to stop myself from screaming when I’m hit, a full body orgasm. I'm shuddering against him, I feel my legs give out as my body spasms. “Oh my god,” my legs give out for real and we tumble back, I’m hitting the wall hard, catching him and holding him as he practically collapses against me. Feverishly I reach between us before we can both slide to the floor, and wrap my hand around both of our cocks, his rock-hard, leaking, mine still twitching with come shooting from it. I'm cumming hard and then, a second later, he's cumming, too, with a choked-off groan, biting into my shoulder.

After minutes of which I have no recollection, my memory sets back in.

“Need to get up," he says, and then he's shaking me to get my attention.

“Hmmm?”

We’re both on the floor in front of the wall, next to the shower bench that he used. He’s half-lying on top of me, half-slumped against the wet tiles. He pulls me in close and kisses me so passionately I lose all control and kiss him back.

He grins. "Still… Up."

"Yes, Sir." His legs are kicking feebly as I reach under his arms and pull us up, groaning from the weight and the exertion and my muscles finally remembering that this was a hell of a training and then more.

“Shit…” His face grimaces and then his butt slides onto the shower bench and he leans back, sighing, and grabs my wrist before I can let go of him. He kisses me and I feel like I'm melting. It's as if I have a thousand things happening at once.

"You're mine," he says and pulls me into his lap. I want to fall over him, but I don't. Instead I lean away and reach for his towel on the hook near the exit to wrap it around us. It’s warm and comforting, his skin on mine, the towel shielding us from the cold. He's already got my hand around my waist, and is leaning in for a kiss, but I don't pull away. I don't think I'll ever be able to move him that much, I know that, but the thought of him kissing me and not pulling away from me is almost too much. I can feel him pushing at my back, and it feels so good.

“Can you get my chair?” He’s whispering it into my ear, his forehead touching the side of my head.

“Sure,” I mumble and squirm to get down from his lap. His legs jump a little as my weight leaves them, the knees are pressed together and the toes are curled. He slides sideways before managing to catch himself on the grab bar installed to his right. I would have been too slow to save him from falling.

“Sorry,” I mutter and don’t look at him as I push the wheelchair over the wet floor, the wheels squeaking. They are locked and I have no idea how to unlock them, but it works nevertheless. I’m tired of asking, I learned enough for one day.

“Will you come back?” he asks. “For training.”

“No.”

“What’s the matter?” he asks again, now leaning slightly forward, his hands gripping the edge of the shower bench.

I search for words and find none. “I can’t.”

“It's not about what it’s about.” His eyebrows wiggle and he grins smugly for a second, then goes back to serious. “Why not?”

I sigh. “It’s… hard.” I stare at a point on the wall, rubbing my back. “To start anew. I’m not sure I can.” Basketball has been my life since I can think. When my doctors gave me the news that my knees and back wouldn’t survive another season, I honestly didn’t think I’d ever get over it. Wheelchair basketball seemed like my last chance at indulging in my passion while keeping my health. But today I realized that the price I pay is this: I’m back at beginner’s level. I never thought this would feel so humiliating.

“You need to tell me that you're going to do it anyway.” He places his towel on the seating of the wheelchair and puts one fist on it.

“I told you I wasn't.‟

“Then tell me now.‟

“I don't know.‟

He transfers in one swift go, heaving his butt over into the chair, leaning back slightly against the low rest. His legs are quivering as he lifts them on the footrest, the naked feet flopping against each other. “I know you will”.  He finishes adjusting himself in the chair with a low groan as he begins to move again, this time with the strength of a man. The muscles in his upper arms are bulging as he turns the chair and pushes once, gliding into the changing room and out of my view.

“Yeah…” I whisper, dazed, left standing alone in the deserted shower room, the sound of water dripping down somewhere in my ear. Just before I entered here today I thought it would be my first and last time. I had as good as decided to never set foot, or wheel for that matter, into a basketball court again. But now… “Maybe.”