Blindside

After waiting as long as he possibly could without drawing attention to himself, Matt entered the locker room and hurried to his own locker, keeping his eyes down.

In the brief moment between removing his gear and pulling his own clothes on, Matt's ass flared with a sudden, sharp burn. The snapping sound caught up with his ears a moment later, and he spun around while still trying to pull up his pants, almost falling over himself in the process.

Dylan stood there, shit-eating grin firmly in place and his towel still held loosely in one hand. Matt couldn't help a glance down to Dylan's bare, wet chest before tearing his eyes away. Stunned into silence, Matt gave up on the idea of a witty retort and turned back to his locker, more eager than ever to finish dressing and get out of there.

"Oh, don't be like that, Matt. It's the upperclassman's prerogative to hassle the frosh. You're lucky you're not getting the same initiation they were dishing out my first year. I got paddled until my ass was bright red, and I could barely sit for a week!"

Matt felt his face heat as he listened to Dylan's story. The mental image of Dylan bent over bare-assed would be burned into his mind's eye for the rest of his life; his dick twitched at the thought. He was sure his face was getting as red as Dylan's ass had been.