Bending Eli - Cover

Bending Eli

Copyright© 2025 by Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

Chapter 6: Heels Over Head

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 6: Heels Over Head - I'm Eli, an 18 year old university freshman. I join the school's gymnastics team in search of something new but find myself caught in a world of lust, dominance and kink that I never expected when I become entangled with my sexy Assistant Coach, Casper, all while hiding things from my equally sexy, straight, roommate, Mason.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma   Consensual   Gay   School   Sports   DomSub   MaleDom   Humiliation   Anal Sex   Analingus   Exhibitionism   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex  

... He just flopped onto the bed and started taking off his shirt.

I froze. Hand still wrapped around my dick under the blanket, heart thudding in my chest like I’d been caught stealing.

Mason didn’t look at me right away. He pulled his shirt off in one smooth motion, then stretched out like he owned the room, sweat still glistening on his stomach. He grabbed his water bottle, took a long sip, and groaned like he’d just finished a marathon.

“You good?” he asked, casual.

“Yeah,” I said. “Fine.”

It came out rough. I tried to make it sound normal, but I was pretty sure I failed.

Mason rolled to one side and grabbed his phone. He didn’t seem to think anything was weird. He didn’t even glance my way after that. Maybe he hadn’t seen. Maybe he had and just didn’t care. I had no way to know.

“Casper went full psycho today,” he said. “Legs still feel like Jello.”

I nodded and didn’t say anything. My dick had gone soft, but it still felt heavy under the blanket. The sweat hadn’t dried. The shame hadn’t either.

Mason let out a breath and tossed his phone on the nightstand.

“Practice get you all worked up or something?”

My whole face went hot.

“I guess,” I muttered.

I waited a full minute after he stopped talking, just to be sure he wasn’t looking, then muttered something about needing a shower and peeled myself out of bed.

The blanket stuck to my thighs in one spot. I didn’t look down. Just grabbed my towel, shoved it under my arm, and booked it into the hallway before I could think too hard about anything else.

The shower didn’t help as much as I’d hoped.

The water was hot, the pressure decent, but the embarrassment clung tighter than sweat ever could. I stood under the spray for longer than I needed to, letting it beat down on my face as if that would rinse away the last ten minutes of my life.

God...

Eventually, I lathered up, rinsed off, and towel-dried like a human being who hadn’t just been caught mid-stroke by his gorgeous roommate.

When I got back to the room, Mason was still lying on his bed, one knee up, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

“You alive in there?” he asked without looking up.

“Barely,” I muttered, heading for my dresser. I pulled on a fresh pair of briefs and gym shorts under the towel before dropping it. Didn’t matter. Mason wasn’t looking.

“Dude,” he said after a minute. “You ever talk to that blonde girl from the welcome party? The one with the green top?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You know, the one with the killer jeans and scary eyeliner. She kept asking if we were roommates. Thought we looked like opposites in a hot way.”

I snorted. “Opposites how?”

He shrugged, still looking at his phone. “She said I looked like I’d ruin her GPA and you looked like you’d quietly tutor her back to a 3.0.”

I shook my head. “What does that even mean?”

“I think it meant she wanted us both,” He set the phone down, grinning a little, “at once.” His grin spread further. “Anyway, I got her Snap. We’ve been chatting.”

He stretched lazily, arms over his head, ribs lifting with the motion. “Might hang out this weekend if she doesn’t ghost.”

“Nice,” I said.

“She’s got that whole chill-but-hot vibe. Like Emma Chamberlain and Sabrina Carpenter all in one package.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a selling point?”

“It’s more fun than dating someone who’s predictable,” he said. “Less safe. More stories.”

He looked over at me then — just for a second — and smirked. “You should get out there more, man. It’s college. Somebody out there’s probably into whatever mysterious vibe you’ve got going on.”

I didn’t answer.

I just toweled off my hair and tried not to think too hard about why I didn’t want that kind of attention from anyone like her.

The next week passed in a blur of orientation crap, early morning stretches, and trying not to die in the weight room.

I went to practice. I went to class. I met more of the team, mostly first and second-years who gave off the same exhausted, protein-fueled energy as Mason. Everyone was friendly enough.

Casper barely spoke to me outside of drills.

He’d nod once, sometimes correct my form, but nothing like those first days. No lingering touches. No teasing comments. Just solid, focused coaching.

Part of me was relieved.

The other part of me kept scanning the gym every time I walked in, hoping for something I didn’t know how to name.

I forced myself to get out more. Hit a few of the welcome events, stayed out late once with a group from our floor who dragged me to a glow-stick-infested mixer in the student center basement. It smelled like warm vodka and Axe body spray. I stayed exactly forty minutes before pretending I had an early workout.

I didn’t.

But I didn’t belong there either.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to people.

Or flirt.

Or hook up.

I just didn’t know how to make it happen, the hookup part in particular. It just ... hadn’t happened. Ever. Not in high school. Not at summer camp. Not even on one of those awkward park bench dates after pride club meetings.

I’d kissed a guy once at a New Year’s party in eleventh grade. He was a friend of a friend and we were both buzzed off two sips of champagne. It lasted maybe eight seconds and ended with both of us laughing and wiping our mouths like it didn’t count.

It hadn’t.

I’d never had sex. Never even been touched that way.

At first it was just about timing. I was busy. I was closeted. I had track. Then it became a thing, the longer it hadn’t happened, the bigger it felt. Like it was this huge milestone I was supposed to reach but hadn’t. I didn’t feel embarrassed about it. Just ... afraid. Like I was stuck watching from the sidelines while everyone else sprinted ahead.

And now there was this new feeling. This slow, tight heat in my stomach that hadn’t gone away since I met Casper. Like something had been lit and was still smoldering under the surface, even when everything seemed normal on top.

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So I kept going to practice. Kept moving. Kept trying to catch up to my own body.

I was halfway to the gym when Mason caught up with me outside the athletic center, hoodie slung low over his head and a smoothie in one hand.

“Yo,” he said, falling into step beside me. “Casper was asking about you earlier.”

That stopped me cold. “What?”

Mason shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Dunno. He was just looking around during warm-up and said, ‘Where’s Eli?’ Thought maybe you ghosted.”

“I had a lab,” I said automatically, even though he hadn’t asked.

Mason nodded. “Cool. Just figured I’d pass it on. He didn’t seem mad or anything. Just ... noticed.”

He peeled off toward the vending machines after that, straw between his lips, already focused on whatever snack he was hunting. Like he hadn’t just lobbed a live grenade into my nervous system.

I stood there for a second too long, heart ticking up.

Casper noticed I wasn’t there?

He’d been ignoring me all week. Barely glanced at me unless I screwed up a landing or held a position too long. But now he was looking?

I shook it off and headed inside, trying not to overthink it. Or read into it. Or let the heat crawling up the back of my neck settle into something worse.

Still. My palms were already sweating by the time I pushed through the locker room doors.

The gym was mostly empty when I walked in.

 
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