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Jocked Orange Singlet

Posted Tue Oct 15, 2019 | 617 Words | Tagged story singlet jock

That orange singlet. You keep seeing it pretty much everywhere. Wish, AliExpress, DHGate. All of the cheap places selling stuff directly from China. Everyone looked just so good in the stretchy bit of fabric which seemed to cost no more than $15. How did such a thing come about, how could it even be that nice to wear for such a small amount of money anyway? Especially when it had to be also shipped almost all the way around the world.

Still, it looked pretty hot and tempting.

You weren’t sure if your body was even going to fit inside of one, but you thought that it wasn’t a lot of money and the biggest size should fit right? You ordered, fell asleep as it was late at night and forgot for the next few weeks that you had even ordered the item.

A small bundle of plastic had been stuffed through your letterbox with the smallest, but legibly printed label of your address and a return address to what sounded like someone’s house in China.

A lightbulb went off in your head, not that such a thing happened that frequently for you, and you remembered that it was the singlet you had ordered quite some time ago. You start pulling at the bag, trying to release it from what seems to be the tightest wrapping and sealing imaginable (at least it arrived untouched).

You placed it on your body and was still not convinced it would fit you. Maybe you did need to do some work on your body after all if even the largest size online was too small for you. Although being direct from China you weren’t too bothered about the sizing being small. The material seemed stretchy enough, so you decided to try and wear it anyway.

You stripped entirely naked to wear it. That’s how you wore a wrestling singlet right?

Placing your legs in and pulling up, the material hugged around your legs, leaving just enough room to lift the singlet over the rest of your body. You heard the material stretch as you tried to pull it over your shoulders. It would take a few attempts to even get comfortable doing that movement, never mind something so body hugging as well.

Yet still, wearing the singlet and running your hand down the soft smooth material felt really good. Incredibly good. So much so you were rubbing at your dick underneath the stretchy material.

Lying down, continuing to rub yourself, you felt almost lost. Empty. Your mind was completely lost thinking of your ideal guy wearing the singlet. As you felt closer and closer, the images singled down on a few, and then a single one.

Just before you came you were certain the guy had exactly your face for some reason. None of the others really did, nor this one at the start. After all, why would you jack off to your own face anyway. Confused and tired from the experience, you drift off without even a thought of cleaning up after yourself.

You toss and turn during your sleep. Almost as though you’re fighting something. Wrestling against something. You dreams become more vivid over time.

You remember wrestling with someone of your own face, but they were different. They fit and looked like a wrestler in their singlet. You tried to fight but he was much much stronger.

Eventually, feeling tired and worked out. You ended up loosing to the other wrestler.

Then waking up and looking in the mirror. You were one of them now. An orange singlet boy. And you had urges. Needs. To work out and win.

Orange Singlet

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