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  1. The Football Life pt. 1
  2. The Football Life pt.2
  3. The Football Life pt. 3
  4. The Football Life pt. 4
  5. The Football Life pt. 5

The Football Life pt.2

Categories Fiction, Black, Teen

Authror: RC38

Published: 09 January 2018

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Casey and I left Alize’s house and I decided to at least walk her home.

During our walk she told me, “You’re not like most of your teammates.” I eyed her questioningly. “Like, a lot of them are so much more bold than you are.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, it just takes me a while to get used to people I guess.”

“No no don’t apologize, it’s great,” she assured me. “I’d rather you air on the side of caution than be too forward. A lot of guys don’t even wanna take the time to get to know you, you know what I mean?” I nodded. “They just see girl and they think ‘oh, let’s see if I can fuck her.’”

“Isn’t it a shame that you have to say that to me? I feel like at the bare minimum a guy should at least get to know you.”

She just shrugged and said, “The more you observe, the more you see how naturally indecent humans really are.”

We reached her house, and I walked walked her to her door. She looked up at me and said, “You’re really fun to be around, Ramesses. We should hang out again real soon.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll hit you up.” We hugged, and as I was about to pull away she grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me into a soft kiss. Her lips were so full and kissable, I could kiss her all day. We parted lips and she smiled at me, then she quickly retreated into her house.

Kai and I continued to dominate on the varsity level, garnering more and more media recognition every week. The newspaper started to call us the two best freshman in the state, and quite possibly the whole nation. Our team had gone 6-2, but was outed in the first round of the playoffs. Casey and I started to hang out more, alone. We progressed from just kissing to full-on making out.

It was during winter break, we were seeing this shitty movie in the back of the theater. We were literally the only people in there, so like any couple would do, we started to make out. It wasn’t strange for her to rub my solid wood through my pants, but her hand slipping down inside my waistband was something that came way out of left field. She grabbed my dick, causing me to moan into her mouth, and then started to slowly stroke it from inside my pants. I yearned for her to just go harder in my head, but she kept it at her slow and steady rhythm. Finally, after what seemed like days, she stopped, and pulled my dick out of my sweatpants. She was officially the first girl to ever see my dick in person. She looked at my thick 7 ½ inches and beamed at me.

“I knew you’d have a huge dick,” she whispered. She lowered onto it and started tonguing the head of it, ever so slowly. At this point, I just wanted to bust my nut down her throat so bad. She brought the head of it into her mouth, the warmth and moistness sending surges of pleasure through my body. There was no way I was gonna last long through this. She started to rhythmically bob her head up and down on my shaft, fitting more and more of my length into her mouth. I started to feel the tingle.

“Fuck Casey I’m gonna cum,” I could barely utter through the euphoria. At the sound of my declaration, Casey started jerking my dick at hyper speed while keeping her lips around the tip. “Ughh fuck!” I grunted as I unloaded my seed into her mouth. Blast after blast of cum erupted from my dick as she kept milking it. Finally when she was done, she lifted her head and covered her mouth with her hand. She grabbed her empty cup of Sprite in the cup holder and spat my cum into it.

She grimaced and hissed, “That shit is so nasty!” Was I disappointed that she spat it out? Yes. Did I dare complain about it? No. She gave me one hell of a first BJ, so I can live with her spitting my cum out for now.

After the break, I was on my usual jog when an all-black Dodge Charger pulled up next to me on the street. Now, in the streets of South Philly, if a car pulls up to you in the dark, you run. You don’t pass go, you don’t collect a hundred dollars, you haul ass as quickly and efficiently as possible. So that’s what I did then; I took off.

“AY RAMESSES CHILL OUT!” a booming voice said behind me. I stopped in my tracks and looked back for the first time at who it was. It was a tall black man who had a slender but athletic build. He wore a leather jacket with a checkered blue blazer underneath, and gray dress pants. He motioned me toward him. “You that freshman boul that play for the high school right?” He asked when I reached talking distance. I didn’t say anything, I just eyed him down. “My fault, my name is Jerome Robinson. I see you running out here every single morning,” he extended his hand. I reluctantly shook it. “Look man, just ask your coach about me, he’ll tell you who I am. If you serious about this football shit, come meet me at 4 A.M. down the park two blocks away. I’m there every morning.” He shook my hand again and told me that it was nice to meet me, then drove off.

At school that day, I asked Coach if the name Jerome Robinson rang a bell and his eyes lit up.

“Absolutely! I coached him years ago. He went on to play wide receiver for Oregon for four years, even though he didn’t have to, he was good enough to go pro early. But he was determined to be the first one in his family to graduate college, so he stayed in school. He was projected to be a first round pick, but he blew his knee out at his Pro Day. The Philadelphia Eagles signed him onto their practice squad as an undrafted free agent, but he didn’t have the same burst that made him a great player before, so he retired football and started working in Finances. Now he works on Wall Street and still rakes in one hell of a check. He was one of my favorite players to coach, a work ethic like you’ve never seen before, man.”

I went home that night and did a little research on my own. Sure enough, when I searched his name, a picture of the man I saw this morning popped up with him in an Oregon jersey. Following his Wikipedia page, I saw his draft profile and clicked on it. The scouts were really big on this guy. “If he could just polish his his route running and run blocking, his pure talent could sneak him into the first round,” the overview of his profile stated. Of course, his talent would also become a question mark, causing him to not be drafted. I watched his highlights from while he played at Oregon, and the guy was good. He towered over every defender and made all types of acrobatic catches leaping over defenders. I found myself just watching video on video on video, and before I knew it, it was already 10 P.M.

The next morning, I found myself right at the park, where he’d asked me to be five minutes early. It was pitch black outside, it looked like the night had just come upon. I felt a chill in the air from being greatly underdressed, donning a dri-fit tank top and basketball shorts. At the scheduled time, the familiar black Dodger pulled up.

Jerome got out of the car and shook my hand. “Good morning, sir,” he greeted me.

I looked him in his eye and said “Good morning,” back to him.

“Well, let’s not waste any time talking, we got some work to do,” he stated after shaking my hand.

I don’t know how I got through the day after that workout. Sleep-deprived and physically drained, I was mentally checked out of school today. I went through the motions both in the classroom, and socially, and was even a little sluggish in the weight room after school. I was knocked out in bed that night by 8:30.

When my alarm went off the next morning, I seriously contemplated whether I should just say in bed or not. I could just go right back to sleep, regain a humane sleeping schedule, and go about my life per usual. I had just made the decision to do so when I heard my mother snore from her room. I looked up and saw four Vodka bottles lined up outside of the door. She was gonna miss a day of work today. So by 4 A.M., Jerome and I were back at the park, working on my craft.

After the third day, my days started to get easier. My body started adjusting to the rigor it was being put through, and I was starting to behave like myself again through the rest of my days.

Before lunch, I felt a tap from behind me on my shoulder. When I turned, it was Casey. “You should come over after school today,” she proposed.

“Uh sorry, I gotta lift after school.”

“Well what about after lifting?”

“It’ll be like 5 o’clock, I gotta shower, and do homework, and eat, then get to bed.”

She pursed her lips. “Well we haven’t hung out in forever, I just wanna see you again,” she said, the cheerfulness evaporated from her voice.

“Yeah Case, I get it. But I’ve been pretty busy lately. I gotta get ready for next football season. What’re you doing this weekend?”

“I think we can squeeze something in Friday night. I’ll check,” she said.

“A’ight, cool,” I said. I leaned in to kiss her but she pirouetted away swiftly and headed toward the cafeteria. Well, fuck. I thought.

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The Football Life pt.2

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