Lost and Found

[Jockhunter]

When I was in my early 20s I had a job as an electricians helper.
It was summertime and we were working at the local high-school during summer vacation.
The school was built back in the 1930s in Art Deco style.
Our job was to replace light fixtures and we had the whole school building to ourselves.
The custodian spent his days sleeping in a small storage room and we rarely saw him.
One day I needed to use the bathroom and found my way to the boys gym.
The doors were unlocked so I decided to take a look around.
The locker room was filled with grey lockers and there were long benches down the isles.
It was cool to be in the locker room all by myself and I soon found myself exploring the showers.
Thre were long opaque windows that cast a soft grey light over the huge shower room.
The tile work was original with long rust stains going down the walls at each shower head.
Next I walked into the towel room with shelve space for hundreds of towels. There was a stool where the towel boy must have sat as he passed towels through a small window.
Just as I was getting ready to leave I noticed three large cardboard boxes in a dark corner of the room.
I walked over to take a look and realized I had stumbled onto the lost and found.
I started looking through one of them and found everything you can imagine might get left in a Gym. There were jockstraps, white briefs, boxershorts,
Gym shorts and white gym socks.
I quickly stuffed four jockstraps into my pockets and then left to hide them under the seat in my truck.
When I got home after work I took a close look at the jocks.
They were all in great shape and had the wonderful aroma of the lost and found.
I had only gone through one box and couldn't wait to go back for more.

 

[Suter82]

Amazing story! Would love to hear more of the other boxes! That sounds like a fantasy for me!

 

[ScottTheJockGuy]

That's fantastic! I wish I could stumble across a list and found box like that

 

[Jockhunter]

Thanks,
It's actully a true story and I remember how much fun it was to search through those boxes not knowing what I would find next.

 

[ScottTheJockGuy]

Thanks,
It's actully a true story and I remember how much fun it was to search through those boxes not knowing what I would find next.

I did custodial work over summer one year at a school. Similar situation, I found myself going through the locker room. Unfortunately all I found was a pair of briefs. But they still came home with me.

 

[Jockhunter]

Nice.
I would have done the same thing.

 

[jocksnsocks2002]

If you can keep a secret ...
One of the "duties" when I was a young, new assistant coach, was to clean out all of the lockers at the close of each season. I think that the older coaches considered such work as both below them and a form of hazing of the new guy. After rummaging through the rotted banana peels, sour milk cartons, and other assorted debris, it was always amazing how many high school and college athletes paid no heed to the several weeks of postings "Clean Our Your Locker". I will tell you that I was always very careful to place valuables - money, eyeglasses, and hand-held calculators (which were frightfully expensive back then, though why they were left in lockers is a mystery) - into a pouch and would make certain that the parents received the important items which their sons carelessly left behind.
Nevertheless, I am sorry - or happy! - to tell you that most of the jockstraps which were retrieved during locker clean-out, never made it as far as the "lost and found" boxes.
And No, I do not know what you are smelling inside my garage ...

 

[ScottTheJockGuy]

If you can keep a secret ...
One of the "duties" when I was a young, new assistant coach, was to clean out all of the lockers at the close of each season. I think that the older coaches considered such work as both below them and a form of hazing of the new guy. After rummaging through the rotted banana peels, sour milk cartons, and other assorted debris, it was always amazing how many high school and college athletes paid no heed to the several weeks of postings "Clean Our Your Locker". I will tell you that I was always very careful to place valuables - money, eyeglasses, and hand-held calculators (which were frightfully expensive back then, though why they were left in lockers is a mystery) - into a pouch and would make certain that the parents received the important items which their sons carelessly left behind.
Nevertheless, I am sorry - or happy! - to tell you that most of the jockstraps which were retrieved during locker clean-out, never made it as far as the "lost and found" boxes.
And No, I do not know what you are smelling inside my garage ...

"But coach, you're wearing my son's jockstrap now. His name is on the waistband under your shirt."

 

[Jake]

When I was in my early 20s I had a job as an electricians helper.
It was summertime and we were working at the local high-school during summer vacation.
The school was built back in the 1930s in Art Deco style.
Our job was to replace light fixtures and we had the whole school building to ourselves.
The custodian spent his days sleeping in a small storage room and we rarely saw him.
One day I needed to use the bathroom and found my way to the boys gym.
The doors were unlocked so I decided to take a look around.
The locker room was filled with grey lockers and there were long benches down the isles.
It was cool to be in the locker room all by myself and I soon found myself exploring the showers.
Thre were long opaque windows that cast a soft grey light over the huge shower room.
The tile work was original with long rust stains going down the walls at each shower head.
Next I walked into the towel room with shelve space for hundreds of towels. There was a stool where the towel boy must have sat as he passed towels through a small window.
Just as I was getting ready to leave I noticed three large cardboard boxes in a dark corner of the room.
I walked over to take a look and realized I had stumbled onto the lost and found.
I started looking through one of them and found everything you can imagine might get left in a Gym. There were jockstraps, white briefs, boxershorts,
Gym shorts and white gym socks.
I quickly stuffed four jockstraps into my pockets and then left to hide them under the seat in my truck.
When I got home after work I took a close look at the jocks.
They were all in great shape and had the wonderful aroma of the lost and found.
I had only gone through one box and couldn't wait to go back for more.

.....a *great-story*...got me pretty aroused imagining that was "me" stumbling across ...not one or two...but, three boxes of used, sweated-up jockstraps!.....mmmmm!.....what a *treasure-trove*.....I know "I" would pretty-much be wanting just about *all* of them!...sniff sniff sniff

 

[Jake]

"But coach, you're wearing my son's jockstrap now. His name is on the waistband under your shirt."

.....WOW, MAN!...yeah!...I kNOW that if it were ever up to "me" to have the delightful-job of cleaning out the gym-lockers, any well-used, old-school, vintage jockstraps that I might find, especially if they were pretty damn *well-seasoned*, and had cum-stains, piss-dribble, and sweat-stains and good, "manly-smells*...they`d never make it to the "lost-and-found" boxes

 

[Jake]

Thanks,
It's actully a true story and I remember how much fun it was to search through those boxes not knowing what I would find next.

.....ooooh yeah!...I`d *love* the opportunity to go-through those *lost-and-found* boxes, and whatever looked, and smelled "good" to me, would surely end-up going-home with me!

 

[Jake]

When I was in my early 20s I had a job as an electricians helper.
It was summertime and we were working at the local high-school during summer vacation.
The school was built back in the 1930s in Art Deco style.
Our job was to replace light fixtures and we had the whole school building to ourselves.
The custodian spent his days sleeping in a small storage room and we rarely saw him.
One day I needed to use the bathroom and found my way to the boys gym.
The doors were unlocked so I decided to take a look around.
The locker room was filled with grey lockers and there were long benches down the isles.
It was cool to be in the locker room all by myself and I soon found myself exploring the showers.
Thre were long opaque windows that cast a soft grey light over the huge shower room.
The tile work was original with long rust stains going down the walls at each shower head.
Next I walked into the towel room with shelve space for hundreds of towels. There was a stool where the towel boy must have sat as he passed towels through a small window.
Just as I was getting ready to leave I noticed three large cardboard boxes in a dark corner of the room.
I walked over to take a look and realized I had stumbled onto the lost and found.
I started looking through one of them and found everything you can imagine might get left in a Gym. There were jockstraps, white briefs, boxershorts,
Gym shorts and white gym socks.
I quickly stuffed four jockstraps into my pockets and then left to hide them under the seat in my truck.
When I got home after work I took a close look at the jocks.
They were all in great shape and had the wonderful aroma of the lost and found.
I had only gone through one box and couldn't wait to go back for more.

.....I know that "I" would damn-sure go back...and take my good-ol-time going-through those lost-and-found boxes for even-more *treasures!*

 

[Jake]

Amazing story! Would love to hear more of the other boxes! That sounds like a fantasy for me!

.....yeah!...did you make it back there to go-through those *other two* lost-and-found boxes?...I`m pretty-sure we`d all like to know???

 

[Opinionman]

I love anecdotes like this. So classic. And yet now, where would you find a discarded jockstrap since no one wears them anymore?
I stole a lot of jocks from 6-12 grade. The football players' lockers had relatively large rectangular vent holes (1x2"). The standard technique was for the guy to strip, take his jockstrap and poke an inch or two thru one of the rectangles from the inside, so that just a kind of "loop" protruded out to the outside of the door. After practice, I could see a row of closed locked lockers with some of these waistbands sticking out. It was the work of a moment to grab the loop, and yank that strap out and take it home. I look back now of course and am amazed I never got caught. Can you imagine the shame? My parents being brought it and told "Your son is stealing athletic supporters." I suppose now when things are going badly, I should be grateful that I escaped THAt particular scenario!

 

[BillyC]

I love anecdotes like this. So classic. And yet now, where would you find a discarded jockstrap since no one wears them anymore?
I stole a lot of jocks from 6-12 grade. The football players' lockers had relatively large rectangular vent holes (1x2"). The standard technique was for the guy to strip, take his jockstrap and poke an inch or two thru one of the rectangles from the inside, so that just a kind of "loop" protruded out to the outside of the door. After practice, I could see a row of closed locked lockers with some of these waistbands sticking out. It was the work of a moment to grab the loop, and yank that strap out and take it home. I look back now of course and am amazed I never got caught. Can you imagine the shame? My parents being brought it and told "Your son is stealing athletic supporters." I suppose now when things are going badly, I should be grateful that I escaped THAt particular scenario!

My best buddy in high school, Jay, had a moment of shame a la the one you avoided. Total baseball jock, my team captain, very masculine, totally closeted. One day in the locker room the football quarterback, Bobby Miller, returned after a two week absence because he’d had a fall . . . and had broken both of his wrists. Yup, two casts up to just shy of his elbows. He wanted to suit up even though he couldn’t practice. His locker and Jay’s were the closest to eachother, so Bobby turns to Jay and asks him to help him by unbuttoning his jeans. Jay hesitated, and did so the wrong way. Bobby was surly, apparently from weeks of pain and discomfort, and he just rails on Jay — “Don’t be such a faggot, Getler. Can’t you help a dude whose hands are in casts by unbuttoning his pants? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to resist and will grab my dick?” Jay was red-faced and shakily went to try and unbutton Bobby’s jeans, but I knocked Bobby to the floor and forced him to apologize first. He did — actually meaning it and saying how much he’s going through. I grabbed his jeans waist and yanked the buttons all open and told him “There!” and walked away.

Yeah I’m getting to that part. After practice Bobby was soaked in sweat because he couldn’t do anything but run the track. So while the teams practiced that’s what he did. So in the lockers after, Bobby gets out of his jersey but can’t shower because of the casts. Jay makes an effort to be cool after the pre-practice altercation and buttons Bobby’s jeans again but also picks up his sopping jockstrap and hangs it in the gym locker by hooking it in the vent.

Next day the jockstrap is gone when we get there for practice. Bobby opens the locker, and it’s not inside. He’s surly again and turns to Jay and accuses him of stealing his jockstrap, saying he obviously hooked the waistband in the vent so he could go back and take it. Jay brushes him off, opens his own locker . . . and there’s Bobby’s jockstrap (name in marker), it’s still damp, and it has a very healthy semidried cumload on it! All hell broke loose, including Jay taking a right cross from a cast and having a broken nose.

Coaches got involved, and ultimately Jay’s parents were told he’d stolen Bobby’s sweaty jockstrap. He was shamed and ruined — this was 1983 in the suburbs of Annapolis, not a bastion of inclusiveness. Jay ended up transferring to a high school in a nearby town. I saw him only a few times after that.

Thing was, Jay didn’t swipe the sweaty strap. Another guy who was a homophobe and had “experimented” with Jay and then broke ties ultimately boasted about it one night drunk on beer. I found out . . . and what I did to that asshole is another story.

 

[billTO]

My best buddy in high school, Jay, had a moment of shame a la the one you avoided. Total baseball jock, my team captain, very masculine, totally closeted. One day in the locker room the football quarterback, Bobby Miller, returned after a two week absence because he’d had a fall . . . and had broken both of his wrists. Yup, two casts up to just shy of his elbows. He wanted to suit up even though he couldn’t practice. His locker and Jay’s were the closest to eachother, so Bobby turns to Jay and asks him to help him by unbuttoning his jeans. Jay hesitated, and did so the wrong way. Bobby was surly, apparently from weeks of pain and discomfort, and he just rails on Jay — “Don’t be such a faggot, Getler. Can’t you help a dude whose hands are in casts by unbuttoning his pants? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to resist and will grab my dick?” Jay was red-faced and shakily went to try and unbutton Bobby’s jeans, but I knocked Bobby to the floor and forced him to apologize first. He did — actually meaning it and saying how much he’s going through. I grabbed his jeans waist and yanked the buttons all open and told him “There!” and walked away.

Yeah I’m getting to that part. After practice Bobby was soaked in sweat because he couldn’t do anything but run the track. So while the teams practiced that’s what he did. So in the lockers after, Bobby gets out of his jersey but can’t shower because of the casts. Jay makes an effort to be cool after the pre-practice altercation and buttons Bobby’s jeans again but also picks up his sopping jockstrap and hangs it in the gym locker by hooking it in the vent.

Next day the jockstrap is gone when we get there for practice. Bobby opens the locker, and it’s not inside. He’s surly again and turns to Jay and accuses him of stealing his jockstrap, saying he obviously hooked the waistband in the vent so he could go back and take it. Jay brushes him off, opens his own locker . . . and there’s Bobby’s jockstrap (name in marker), it’s still damp, and it has a very healthy semidried cumload on it! All hell broke loose, including Jay taking a right cross from a cast and having a broken nose.

Coaches got involved, and ultimately Jay’s parents were told he’d stolen Bobby’s sweaty jockstrap. He was shamed and ruined — this was 1983 in the suburbs of Annapolis, not a bastion of inclusiveness. Jay ended up transferring to a high school in a nearby town. I saw him only a few times after that.

Thing was, Jay didn’t swipe the sweaty strap. Another guy who was a homophobe and had “experimented” with Jay and then broke ties ultimately boasted about it one night drunk on beer. I found out . . . and what I did to that asshole is another story.

Oh yes, BC, please tell us the other story!

 

[WpbMike]

My best buddy in high school, Jay, had a moment of shame a la the one you avoided. Total baseball jock, my team captain, very masculine, totally closeted. One day in the locker room the football quarterback, Bobby Miller, returned after a two week absence because he’d had a fall . . . and had broken both of his wrists. Yup, two casts up to just shy of his elbows. He wanted to suit up even though he couldn’t practice. His locker and Jay’s were the closest to eachother, so Bobby turns to Jay and asks him to help him by unbuttoning his jeans. Jay hesitated, and did so the wrong way. Bobby was surly, apparently from weeks of pain and discomfort, and he just rails on Jay — “Don’t be such a faggot, Getler. Can’t you help a dude whose hands are in casts by unbuttoning his pants? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to resist and will grab my dick?” Jay was red-faced and shakily went to try and unbutton Bobby’s jeans, but I knocked Bobby to the floor and forced him to apologize first. He did — actually meaning it and saying how much he’s going through. I grabbed his jeans waist and yanked the buttons all open and told him “There!” and walked away.

Yeah I’m getting to that part. After practice Bobby was soaked in sweat because he couldn’t do anything but run the track. So while the teams practiced that’s what he did. So in the lockers after, Bobby gets out of his jersey but can’t shower because of the casts. Jay makes an effort to be cool after the pre-practice altercation and buttons Bobby’s jeans again but also picks up his sopping jockstrap and hangs it in the gym locker by hooking it in the vent.

Next day the jockstrap is gone when we get there for practice. Bobby opens the locker, and it’s not inside. He’s surly again and turns to Jay and accuses him of stealing his jockstrap, saying he obviously hooked the waistband in the vent so he could go back and take it. Jay brushes him off, opens his own locker . . . and there’s Bobby’s jockstrap (name in marker), it’s still damp, and it has a very healthy semidried cumload on it! All hell broke loose, including Jay taking a right cross from a cast and having a broken nose.

Coaches got involved, and ultimately Jay’s parents were told he’d stolen Bobby’s sweaty jockstrap. He was shamed and ruined — this was 1983 in the suburbs of Annapolis, not a bastion of inclusiveness. Jay ended up transferring to a high school in a nearby town. I saw him only a few times after that.

Thing was, Jay didn’t swipe the sweaty strap. Another guy who was a homophobe and had “experimented” with Jay and then broke ties ultimately boasted about it one night drunk on beer. I found out . . . and what I did to that asshole is another story.

Great memories! Now we need to hear the other story!

 

[BillyC]

Oh yes, BC, please tell us the other story!

LOL That doesn’t involve a jockstrap; just my fists.

 

[billTO]

You fisted the offending party?

 

[Opinionman]

My best buddy in high school, Jay, had a moment of shame a la the one you avoided. Total baseball jock, my team captain, very masculine, totally closeted. One day in the locker room the football quarterback, Bobby Miller, returned after a two week absence because he’d had a fall . . . and had broken both of his wrists. Yup, two casts up to just shy of his elbows. He wanted to suit up even though he couldn’t practice. His locker and Jay’s were the closest to eachother, so Bobby turns to Jay and asks him to help him by unbuttoning his jeans. Jay hesitated, and did so the wrong way. Bobby was surly, apparently from weeks of pain and discomfort, and he just rails on Jay — “Don’t be such a faggot, Getler. Can’t you help a dude whose hands are in casts by unbuttoning his pants? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to resist and will grab my dick?” Jay was red-faced and shakily went to try and unbutton Bobby’s jeans, but I knocked Bobby to the floor and forced him to apologize first. He did — actually meaning it and saying how much he’s going through. I grabbed his jeans waist and yanked the buttons all open and told him “There!” and walked away.

Yeah I’m getting to that part. After practice Bobby was soaked in sweat because he couldn’t do anything but run the track. So while the teams practiced that’s what he did. So in the lockers after, Bobby gets out of his jersey but can’t shower because of the casts. Jay makes an effort to be cool after the pre-practice altercation and buttons Bobby’s jeans again but also picks up his sopping jockstrap and hangs it in the gym locker by hooking it in the vent.

Next day the jockstrap is gone when we get there for practice. Bobby opens the locker, and it’s not inside. He’s surly again and turns to Jay and accuses him of stealing his jockstrap, saying he obviously hooked the waistband in the vent so he could go back and take it. Jay brushes him off, opens his own locker . . . and there’s Bobby’s jockstrap (name in marker), it’s still damp, and it has a very healthy semidried cumload on it! All hell broke loose, including Jay taking a right cross from a cast and having a broken nose.

Coaches got involved, and ultimately Jay’s parents were told he’d stolen Bobby’s sweaty jockstrap. He was shamed and ruined — this was 1983 in the suburbs of Annapolis, not a bastion of inclusiveness. Jay ended up transferring to a high school in a nearby town. I saw him only a few times after that.

Thing was, Jay didn’t swipe the sweaty strap. Another guy who was a homophobe and had “experimented” with Jay and then broke ties ultimately boasted about it one night drunk on beer. I found out . . . and what I did to that asshole is another story.

Holy fuck. That's an incredible tale. The agony of Jay and family will be part of their lives until the bitter end.Will we hear what you did to "that asshole"?

 

[Opinionman]

You fisted the offending party?

HA! Wise guy... ; )

 

[BillyC]

You fisted the offending party?

LOL That was something I didn’t know about when I was a teenager, or I might have.

 

[BillyC]

Holy fuck. That's an incredible tale. The agony of Jay and family will be part of their lives until the bitter end.Will we hear what you did to "that asshole"?

My husband, the retired judge, assured me that the statute of limitations has passed, so I can cop to beating the living crap out of Bobby Fucking Miller. Including wailing on his nuts until he passed out. Yup, I did, and I don’t regret it — he was a total asshole. I confessed to my stepdad what I’d done, and he gave me the talk about my dad not having taught me to fight to hurt others . . . then he said, “But your heart is in the right place, buddy, and I know your dad would be proud of you,” and hugged me. I’d do it again. And I’d do anything to have my dad alive again to have him be proud of me and to have my second dad alive again to get one more hug from him.

And if you’re wondering what happened to Bobby Miller, he got a football scholarship to USC, didn’t stack up and got cut and lost his scholarship over . . . bullying the team manager. Some assholes never learn.

 

[rapidcityjock]

My experience is very similar to the OP's: About 20 years ago I was working in IT and one morning during winter, I was asked to assist one of the cablers in running some new network cables at one of the local high schools. I grudgingly agreed and went along with him. Our job was to run some cables from a couple of the teachers' offices located by the gym to the IT room, not too far away. One of the offices was located right next to the boys' locker room. While my coworker was busy elsewhere, I entered the locker room. My excuse was that I had to pee if I ran into anyone but luckily, no one was there. The intense smell of dampness, sweat and man musk hit me in the face as I entered. That smell has always acted as an aphrodisiac, starting in my younger days in jr hi and high school. There must have already been a class that morning that used the locker room as damp towels were everywhere. I quickly explored the area and eventually found a couple of jockstraps laying on the floor. I examined them, taking a few that I thought would fit me and stuffing them in a jacket pocket. In the office next to the locker room, I also found a box full of old discarded jocks. I rummaged through it and found a few more straps to add to my other pocket. Later I ran my jacket out to the truck for safekeeping as I didn't want my treasures to fall out of my pockets. I was horned up all day thinking about my finds.

 

[Opinionman]

My experience is very similar to the OP's: About 20 years ago I was working in IT and one morning during winter, I was asked to assist one of the cablers in running some new network cables at one of the local high schools. I grudgingly agreed and went along with him. Our job was to run some cables from a couple of the teachers' offices located by the gym to the IT room, not too far away. One of the offices was located right next to the boys' locker room. While my coworker was busy elsewhere, I entered the locker room. My excuse was that I had to pee if I ran into anyone but luckily, no one was there. The intense smell of dampness, sweat and man musk hit me in the face as I entered. That smell has always acted as an aphrodisiac, starting in my younger days in jr hi and high school. There must have already been a class that morning that used the locker room as damp towels were everywhere. I quickly explored the area and eventually found a couple of jockstraps laying on the floor. I examined them, taking a few that I thought would fit me and stuffing them in a jacket pocket. In the office next to the locker room, I also found a box full of old discarded jocks. I rummaged through it and found a few more straps to add to my other pocket. Later I ran my jacket out to the truck for safekeeping as I didn't want my treasures to fall out of my pockets. I was horned up all day thinking about my finds.

Fantastic story!