022.04 TONY – Paper Walls 11.9. at 05:00 – 12:30

I arrived ten minutes early. The silence in the locker room always calms me down. Just the buzzing of the old fan, which has probably been here since the communists. I'm sitting on the bench, my diary on my knees.

I write down the date and time. Then the word "fatigue".

I draw a circle and divide it with a line into seven and three parts. I write down the times – 1:05 and 1:08. I connect them with an uneven curve. I've been recording it this way ever since I was a junior.

I close my eyes and it's right back. That blow of the starting whistle. Always the same dream.

I'm standing on the block. The water below glistens. Lungs empty, muscles ready. The whistle – and I jump. Only the water never gets closer. I fall, I fall, and I wake up with a pounding heart.

I quickly write it down in my diary. My hand is shaking a little, the ink can't keep up with my pulse. I snap the notebook shut, slip a yellow rubber band between the pages. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and the paper.

I am naked. My penis hangs loosely, around me only ajar lockers and silence. Then my phone beeps.

Grindr.

I open it and immediately see that "Swimmer2004" and "BlondJock" are nearby. I've known for a long time that Swimmer is Viktor. We run into each other here regularly at practices. But who is this BlondJock? I have no clue. Someone new?

I get a dick pic from someone with an offer. No greeting. Just the dick pic. I block that user immediately. I'm not interested in such impersonal and superficial contacts.

I stand up, the tile underfoot is ice-cold. My bare feet leave prints in puddles of water all around. Another notification pings from my phone, and I feel the blood rush to my groin. I look around quickly—the locker room is empty, I'm alone here.

Between the locker doors, I quietly jerk off and spill my cum into a towel: I picture Viktor, how his toned muscles tense under his wet skin, and right after that, Tom comes to mind with that shy smile of his that he hides when he thinks no one is watching. They blur together in my head—Tom's golden hair, Viktor's graceful movements under the surface, that elegance of his as he glides through the water like some kind of dolphin. I just can't stop thinking about how smoothly Viktor cuts through the water, as if he'd been one with it forever. My whole body shakes in the final shivers of arousal. A wave of intense pleasure floods my body, and then I carefully wipe away the evidence of my momentary flare-up with the towel. I splashed the locker door and the bench too, and even though I was catching the cum in the towel, some of it ended up on the tiles.

Then I hear the shower hiss from the next room. The smell of chlorine snaps me back to the present. I quickly shake off all my thoughts, check the locker, throw my towel in the bag, though what I'm going to dry myself with later, I really don't know.

Seven breaths, three exhalations. Control. Calm.