The Jock Blog

I settled on the Red Jockmail Simplified Jockstrap. Yeah, let's keep this simple.  I had been partial to red since that weird Christmas dream I had, the one where I was a steam punk Santa, fucking all my twinks and the narrator in a locker room.

I glanced out the window. I really had to get going.  It was already starting to snow, and I didn’t want to miss the train.  

I touched my jock as I was starting to get drowsy, and giggled. This was going to be a great Christmas. This blow job, Kenny, seeing the guys tonight, all put me in the holiday spirit, just so glad to be alive and to have survived my own cancer. I felt so snug in my bed, with the thick duvet pulled over me. Word-lover that I am, I thought to myself, “And here I am in my Quick Release Jockstrap, having just settled down for a long winter’s nap . . . “  

Mr. Luca was not just any gym teacher; he was known for his friendly demeanor, approachability, and dedication to his students' overall well-being. Little did I know that his expertise extended beyond the gymnasium to the realm of driving. It didn’t hurt that he was sexy as hell. I’ve had a life-long obsession with men of Italian descendant and I think it’s safe to say it all started with him.

The coach, hanging at home on a Saturday afternoon:  barefoot, tapered sweats, fitted tee to show off my “dad pecs.” In my very real life, I’m 61 – super fit and looking great, but 61.  Same-sex divorced, looking again for a partner . . . 

And Lifelong Obsession with Jockstraps