Steve's cock, although attached to a much larger person, was nowhere near as huge as Bud's. With both my hands around it, only the head and an inch or so of shaft showed. I swung my leg over his and straddled his legs, then I leaned forward and, pulling his cock down to the right angle, slid it between my lips, into my mouth, over my tongue and down my throat. Suppressing my gag reflex was no problem. I found that I could even open my mouth wide enough so I could force myself completely onto his cock and bury my nose into his curly pubic hair.
In this position, I started swallowing and licking to give Steve as much stimulation as I could. I even waited well past the point where I should have backed off to take a breath and when I finally did, I was gasping for air and needed several deep breaths to re-oxygenate.
Steve looked concerned for me, but I was more concerned with displaying my prowess as a cocksucker than worrying about reassuring him. As soon as I could I dove back onto his cock and again sucked it as deep down my throat as I could. I tried to keep suction on it as I worked up and down on his cock, careful never to touch his tender skin with my teeth. My heart leapt as I felt it go rigid in my mouth. He started slowly bucking his hips in response to my loving treatment of his cock.
I let him fuck my face for a while. When he seemed about ready to cum again, I slipped it almost out of my mouth, until just the head was inside, and I started sucking the head and flicking my tongue rapidly across the sensitive underside. I discovered that boys were just as susceptible as girls to the BumbleBee, if not more so. When Steve came, he cried out as though he were in pain. I quickly swallowed his meager offering and continued to lick his cock. Apparently the stimulation was too much for him, because he pulled his cock out of my mouth and rolled over, clutching it between his legs.
Seeing Steve rolled up into the fetal position, his cock still pulsating as it tried to suck more sperm from his already-drained balls, was a heady experience for me. I felt a sense of accomplishment, as well as a good degree of satisfaction, at having turned this hulk of a man into a quivering heap. As I sat there, cuddling against him and stroking his broad back, I realized that with my sexual victory came a new feeling. Beyond the sexual spark, the physical attraction, the ego-boost of having a relationship with the biggest stud in school, and my recent sense of conquest, I also felt a new emotion rising, one that I could only describe as maternal.
While I lay there, grappling with my emotions, Steve gradually recovered and unfolded to lie on his back on the sweat-stained mat.
"Oh. My. God." He said, with equal heavy emphasis on each word.
"Did you like that?" I asked, begging for compliments.
"That was awesome! I've never really just 'let go' like that before. Are you all right? I didn't hurt you?"
"No, Steve. I'm fine. It takes a lot more than that to hurt me." I immediately regretted blurting out the truth, but he was too preoccupied to pursue it. "You were pretty awesome, too." I said to get him back on the subject.
"Thanks, but... Damn! I didn't know... I mean... you. That felt like... I dunno."
I smiled. Steve was clearly confused by the way I had turned the tables on him. He was used to being the fucker and the girl the fuckee that it was hard for him to come to terms with a different outcome. I occurred to me that perhaps I no longer needed to carry through with my plan to convince him that a girl could be worthy of his respect in the weight room, when I had just demonstrated that a girl could be his equal in bed.
I sat up and swung my leg over his and sat on his thighs. I picked up his completely limp cock and started stroking it tenderly.
"Any fight left in Big Steve?" I asked coyly. If he could get it up again after all that, I would admit defeat and go willingly to his harem.
"You got it all, baby. I've got nothing left." He confessed.
I grinned and stretched out full-length on him, stretching and rubbing my body on his like a cat on a rug. I was content.
When Steve had regained his strength, he reached for his clothes, but before he could get them, I picked up his and mine both and slid off the stack of mats onto the stairs. I led him down to the door to the locker room on the floor below where I pulled it open and stepped boldly naked into the echoing concrete and tile room.
I almost hoped that someone would catch me and Steve sneaking through the boys' locker room with the obvious signs of recent sex still drying on my thighs and my chin. I wanted to drag him by the cock down the main hall of the classroom building so that everyone could see us.
I settled for dragging him into the showers so we could get cleaned up and presentable before going back out into the world again. If someone wandered in and surprised us before we finished, well that would just be too bad.
I was washing Steve's back before I realized what I was doing. When I started soaping him up, he looked over his shoulder at me but said nothing. By unspoken consent, I washed all the places I could reach and he did the rest. With one major exception, I used the same method I would have in the girls' shower. When it was my turn, I handed Steve the soap. He took it and looked at me with uncertainty in his eyes. I turned my back to let him start there and he did, after much hesitation. He was so clumsy that I almost would have thought he had never held a bar of soap before.
"You do know how to work a bar of soap, don't you?" I asked with a mock-incredulous tone.
"Give me a break, I never did this before."
"You never showered? I can believe that!"
He pinched my rear for insulting him and I yipped and turned so he could do my front. When confronted with the more interesting bits, he became even more hesitant and clumsy. The second time he dropped the soap, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.
"I'd have thought you would've learned not to drop the soap in the shower by now." I said.
"You're making me nervous." He growled. "Hold still!"
"I am holding still. You know you can use more force than that. I'm not made of glass."
"You certainly aren't. I'm sorry, I've never washed a girl before."
"I can tell. I think that breast is clean enough, if you want to move on to the other one."
"Right. Sorry. I feel like I'm washing a statue by Rembrandt."
It was such a nice thing to say that I hated to correct him.
"Rembrandt was a painter. But thanks, anyway."
He finished soaping me down and stood straight again. He backed off a step to survey his work and said, "I mean it. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever met."
I really didn't know how to respond to that, so I covered by rinsing off while I thought about it. I started to say something flippant, to make a joke, but I didn't because I didn't want to cheapen his compliment. He seemed perfectly sincere, too. He was staring at me almost as intently as Mr. Locke had. That was something to which I knew how to react. I stepped out of the spray and struck a few poses that I had practiced in the mirror, holding each one and slowly moving to the next. Steve seemed to appreciate the show, if his slack jaw and unblinking stare was any indication.
While I was posing, amid the haze of water and steam, I noticed a flicker of movement at the entrance to the shower room. It looked like someone had been peeking around the corner at us and had just ducked back. It looked like my fantasy of getting caught with Steve was going to come true. But why would they hide? If it was one of the coaches, they should be screaming bloody murder. If it was a student, there should be whistling and finger-pointing. Who would peek-and-run?
We dried off and I reluctantly got dressed when Steve did. We were sitting on a wooden bench in front of a row of lockers after putting our shoes on when I realized that Steve and I were just staring at each other. I wondered if we were thinking the same thing.