Forfeit
by David Heulfryn

 

Each month, my tennis friend and I would have a match, and the winner would choose a forfeit for the loser. I knew precisely what forfeit I would choose. But I had to make sure I won first.

I met Sam when my parents moved into the area, and they enrolled me at the local tennis club. We were only eight years old at the time, and since we didn’t attend the same school, we only saw each other when we went to the club. It turned out that Sam and I were evenly matched, and our trainer often paired us together as we would strive to beat each other. Our tennis club wasn’t as relaxed as my old club. I think they had illusions of grandeur as they insisted we play in white, just like they do at Wimbledon.

The boys’ training day was on Wednesday, and we would meet up at the club after school. But it was the first Saturday of the month when we would have our informal contest. Our parents quickly found out about our competition, and it was one of the few times they all got together to ‘talk’ to us.

They had no problem with us playing against each other; they were concerned about what we chose as a forfeit for the loser. We discussed possible rules and agreed upon them. We felt pretty grown up as they made us come up with the rules.

• Nothing illegal
• No physical damage
• No money to change hands
• No doing each other’s homework

I once made Sam tidy my room, and he made me mow his lawn. I remember one Saturday, just as I was leaving to play our monthly match, Dad stopped me at the door and told me that he needed his car washed, so I’d better win today.

I laughed and told him I would make Sam do it. But I didn’t win that day, so my Dad made me wash his car and valet the inside, on top of mowing Sam’s lawn. I was busy that weekend.

I remember one summer, it was one of the hottest days of the year, and I came home from the tennis club soaked in sweat. I was twelve at the time, and my Dad noticed, and it wasn’t just my sweaty white T-shirt.

“Bloody hell, Johnny. You stink!” Dad said when I got home. “I think it’s time you started to shower after exercise.”

“No one showers at the Tennis Club,” I whined.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Dad frowned at me.

“Well, some oldies do.”

“You’re growing up, Johnny. Don’t they make you shower after PE at school?”

“No!” I laughed. “No one showers at school. They can’t make us.”

“So you’re telling me that you put your school uniform on your sweaty body after Gym Class?”

I nodded.

“I don’t think I could cope with being in a class full of sweaty and stinky boys.”

“We use deodorant, Dad. I’ve asked Mum to get me some, but she hasn’t. I have to use my mate’s deodorant.”

“I’ll have a word with her. Now get in that shower!” I ran upstairs, “And think about showering at the tennis club in future. Use their hot water and not mine.” I ignored him; he was always complaining about how much things cost. “And did you win?”

“Yes!” I shouted down the stairs. “Sam will be round soon to weed the garden.”

“I hope he doesn’t smell as bad as you!”

“Worse!” I giggled, slammed the bathroom door, and got in the shower.

 

I never did shower at the Tennis Club, and I was not going to be the only boy to shower at school. However, as I grew older, I would often watch the men at the club who used the showers. Sam and I used to watch together and stifle giggles when we saw an older man with a small wrinkled cock, thinning grey pubes and balls that hung so low I sweat they were halfway to his knees.

Sam and I had grown up together, and we were now almost fifteen. We were good friends, but I had developed a crush on him a few years ago. Initially, it impacted my game, and Sam won six matches in a row. He was ecstatic, but did wonder what was wrong with me. Now, every time we had a match, I would try to put my crush on him to the back of my mind. It worked, and I thrashed Sam at our next match.

I’d thought about getting Sam to do a different type of forfeit that I’d had in my head for about a year. This month, I finally got the courage to make him do it if I won.

Now was the time to put my plan into action. I emptied my mind of everything except beating Sam. It was a tough match. Much tougher than usual. We only played one set, but today, we both struggled to break each other’s serve. It would come down to either dumb luck or stamina to win the match. I was leading 10-9; there had to be a two-game difference for either of us to win. I was getting tired, and so was Sam. It was his serve, and I could tell he was flagging. His serve wasn’t as powerful, but I dug deep into my reserves and returned every serve. I couldn’t afford to get too complacent, so I fought for every point. When I evened the score to deuce, I could tell that Sam felt defeated. He hadn’t given up, but he was exhausted, and his muscles ached, mine too. Sam served a double fault, and it was now my advantage. The final point was quick; I returned his serve, but he couldn’t get to the ball, and I finally won.

I cheered and ran to the net. We shook hands, and I slapped him on the back.

“That was intense.” I grinned at Sam. “The closest match for a long time.”

“I was knackered during the last two games.” Sam tried to catch his breath.

“I know. I could tell. And I took advantage.” We started to walk off the court and head for the locker room.

“If you want me to mow your lawn, wash the car or do any gardening, it’ll have to wait. I’m too knackered.”

“I’m sure I can come up with something else.” Sam didn’t see me grin.

Sam dragged his bag from his locker and sat down. He was packing away his racket and balls.

“I’ve thought of this month’s forfeit.” I looked over at Sam, who sighed and waited for me to tell him.

“Well, get on with it.” Sam grew impatient as I looked at him, building the moment.

“Okay, Sam. This is simple and easy. I want you to shower at the club instead of going home to shower.”

Sam looked shocked. “Fuck off!” He said louder than expected and caught the attention of a few men changing. “No fucking way.”

“That is what I’ve decided, and that is what you will do,” I told him.

“I can’t. I won’t. You can’t make me. Are you a perv or something?”

“Are you telling me that you are refusing? You are breaking our seven-year agreement, and you will not go along with the forfeit.”

“Yes!” Sam was adamant.

“You are going to be the first one of us to refuse the forfeit? Failure will have serious consequences.” I tried to look as serious as possible, but inside I was laughing.

“Oh, come on, Johnny.” Sam pleaded with me, “Choose a different forfeit. I’ll mow your lawn if you want. I’ll do it this afternoon.”

“Sorry, mate. Our lawn doesn’t need mowing, and the weeds are under control. “

“I’ll clean your room, even change your cum-stained bedclothes. I’ll clean your whole house.”

“What are you so afraid of?” I pointed to a middle-aged man walking to the showers with a towel around his waist. “Most guys here shower. It’s normal.”

“Well, why don’t you fucking do it?”

“Because I didn’t lose the match.”

Sam slumped, his shoulders lowered, and his back was no longer straight. I could tell that his mind was whirring. I wondered what excuse he could come up with now.

“I can’t shower. I don’t have a towel or any shower gel.” He looked pleased with himself.

“I delved into my bag and pulled out a towel. “Don’t worry. I have a towel for you, and the club provide all the shower gel and shampoo you could need.”

“You bastard.” Sam laughed. “You planned this. Why else would you have a towel in your bag?”

“I just thought about doing something different.” I shrugged.

“You fucking pervert. Are you really going to up the ante with this? The next time I win, I won’t make you shower. It’ll be much worse.”

“Remember the rules, Sam.”

“Don’t worry, Johnny. It won’t break any rules.”

“So, are you going to do it?” I wanted him to. I wanted to see him naked.

“Fuck it! Give me the towel.” Sam held out his hand.

“Not until you have completed the forfeit.” I held the towel away from him.

Sam pulled off his white T-shirt. “Well, I don’t want to give you an inferiority complex, Johnny. Once you’ve seen my body, you’ll be thinking about it all the time.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sam. I’ve seen you topless mowing my lawn. It’s nothing to write home about.” I laughed.

Sam kicked off his trainers and pulled off his socks. He lifted his arse off the bench, pulled down his shorts, and sat back down. He was sitting next to me in nothing but a pair of white briefs. I sneaked a glimpse at his bulge.

“Right! Here I go.” Sam was about to make his way to the shower. I grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to sit down again.

“No, you don’t. No one showers in their pants.”

“You’re really going to make me do it, aren’t you?”

I nodded, and Sam stood up.

“Are you going to take a shower with me?”

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to be naked with him in the shower, but I didn’t think my cock would behave. I was already beginning to chub up. “No. Because I’m not a perv. I’m sure the other guys in there won’t laugh at you. I don’t think they’re interested in your puny body and tiny cock.”

Sam turned his back on me and pushed down his briefs. He stepped out of them and bent down to pick them up. I got a good view of his dark pubes when he turned, but his cock and balls were shielded from view by his hands.

Sam walked to the showers, and I watched his firm arse as he went. Once he was in the shower, I couldn’t see him, but I kept my eye on the opening, waiting for him to appear again. He was in there for a considerable amount of time. He must be having a proper shower and not just a quick rinse to satisfy the forfeit. I watched a couple of young men as they went to the shower. They weren’t embarrassed to be naked in front of each other, but one of them did give me a strange look as he noticed me watching. They weren’t in there long, and I looked away from them as they went to their lockers to dry off and get dressed.

“Sam! How much longer are you going to be?” I shouted.

Sam appeared covered in soap suds. He kept a hand covering his cock and balls while he rubbed the suds over his skin.

“Just got to rinse off, and then I’m done.” He disappeared again.

It didn’t take long for him to appear again, freshly rinsed. His hands still covered his cock, and the dark patch of pubes that he couldn’t conceal drew my eyes again as he walked to me.

Sam stood in front of me, dripping wet. He held out his hand.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” I handed Sam the towel, and he turned away to dry himself, ensuring I still couldn’t see his cock. But I did enjoy looking at his firm arse.

Every time he turned towards me, he made sure his hand covered his cock.

“You’re not embarrassed by your tiny cock, are you?” I laughed.

Sam turned away and pulled on his briefs. He held his bulge and waggled it at me. “A tiny cock doesn’t make this.”

“I’ve seen bigger bulges on a mouse.” I joked. His bulge was impressive, and I was disappointed he didn’t let me see the flesh behind it.

Sam laughed and got dressed back into his old and sweaty tennis clothes. “I wish I’d brought a change of clothes. I hate wearing this stinky stuff after I’ve showered. I wish you’d told me you were going to do this.”

“You’ll be prepared next time.” I smiled at him.

“You wish. Next time I’m going to thrash your arse, and what I make you do will be far worse than what you just made me do.”

I waggled my finger at him like he was a naughty boy, “Remember the rules.”

“I know the rules, Johnny.”

We were both laughing when we left the changing room. Sam squirmed in his damp clothes and was eager to get home to change. But it didn’t stop him teasing me about what he’d make me do. He would leave me wondering for the next month, but I guessed it would involve me getting naked. But what if I won? I would have to think of something. What else could I make him do? That night I wanked several times to the image of his naked body. But I still hadn’t seen his cock. If I won next month, I had to make him expose his cock to me. But what if I lost? Was I prepared to expose myself to him? My cock hardened as I thought about it. My cock thickened, and I wanked for a third time that night, imagining us both naked together.

 

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