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The jock slams the locker shut, the sound echoing in the empty locker room. He's still in his sweaty practice clothes, the smell of his exertion filling the air. He runs a hand through his damp hair, his eyes landing on his reflection in the mirror. He smirks, unzipping his pants and pulling out his still-hard cock. He's been thinking about this all practice, the way his teammates' sweat-slick bodies moved, the grunts and groans of exertion. He strokes himself roughly, his breathing growing ragged. He imagines their hands on him, their mouths, their bodies. He comes with a shout, his cum dripping down the front of his practice jersey, a satisfied grin on his face.