52164 Stories
Create account

New Stories 52164

Fiction 24639

Blowjob 12608

Consensual Sex 10020

Anal 9868

Fantasy 9417

True Story 9268

Incest 6204

Cum Swallowing 5589

Dark Fantasy 5126

Male / Female 5093

BDSM 4415

First Time 3787

Bi-sexual 3744

Teen 3102

Cheating 2877

Erotica 2636

Lesbian 2569

Domination/submission 2543

Gay 2372

Ass to mouth 2299

Oral Sex 1998

Exhibitionism 1857

Bestiality 1853

Authoritarian 1849

Romance 1821

Group Sex 1747

Fantastic 1665

Female solo 1598

Masturbation 1596

Diary 1475

Hardcore 1470

Boy 1354

Coercion 1311

Black 1304

Blackmail 1243

Cruelty 1227

Asian 1183

Humiliation 1007

Body modification 885

Job/Place-of-work 852

Young 846

Interracial 817

Female Domination 816

Rape 764

Mature 737

Discipline 687

Sex Joke 668

Drug 661

Non-consensual sex 640

School 603

Death 596

Non-Erotic 579

Written by women 543

Cuckold 532

Extreme 531

Virginity 486

Threesome 472

Reluctance 470

Poem 426

Mind Control 421

Wife 412

Voyeurism 402

Pregnant 336

Male Domination 327

Violence 282

Spanking 227

Fisting 207

Foot or shoe fetish 203

Transsexual 195

Prostitution 191

Monster 189

Slavery 162

Lactation 161

Toys 150

Gothic 147

Murder 140

massage 138

Latina 134

Water Sports/Pissing 129

Enema 103

Torture 93

Stories in DB: 52164
Comments: 538711

  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. 4

Categories Fiction, Black, Non-Erotic

Author: RC38

Published: 19 February 2018

  • Font:

The high spirits from our week 1 victory were soon diminished, as we lost our next two games. Opposing teams got the bright idea to throw away from me, and exploit the rest of a sub-par man coverage team. While on offense, they stacked the box and forced us to throw, something else we lacked the personnel to do. Starting off so poorly meant that we at least had to win the rest of our games to even consider playoff hopes. The Monday after our Week 3 loss, Coach Bradley sat me down in his office before practice.

“Ramesses, I know it’s been a rough season for us,” he said in a somber tone. “And as a coach, I have to believe that that falls on me first and foremost.” I nodded my head as he was speaking. “One of the things that I think needs to be fixed is that I need to use the best athlete on our team properly. So I’m gonna have to ask you to learn Safety and a new offensive package that we’re putting in today.”

“Absolutely, Coach,” I replied eagerly. “I’ll have it down by this Friday night.”

“Thank you. I know I can count on you.”

It was weird. I’d never considered playing safety before, but it made sense. I was learning that instead of me just covering one receiver or occupying a tiny zone as a Cornerback, Safety allowed me to cover a lot more ground and make it exponentially harder for the Quarterback to throw on us. Offensively, coach put in a brand new formation that featured me as the Quarterback and Kai right next to me in the backfield, leaving the opposing defense clueless as far as who was going to get the ball. And as far as throwing, I could pretty much complete any pass less than 20 yards down the field, perfect just to keep the defense guessing.

Friday night’s game came around, and as expected, our opponents were completely thrown for a loop seeing our new implementations from earlier in the week. We won handedly, and I ended the game with 2 interceptions, my first of the season. Offensively, Kai and I flourished, both breaking off big runs for touchdowns during the game. We rode the wave of our adjustments, winning our next three games, as we needed to. We were just one win away from sneaking into the playoffs.

On Thursday night, I was on FaceTime with Alizé and it was my time to go to bed. We said our goodnights, and as I was about to hang up, she stopped me.

“I love you, Ramesses,” she spoke.

Fuck no, I was not ready to go there yet. I’m a 15 year-old kid in highschool, I’m not telling any girl I love her no matter how strong my feelings are. In a fit of panic, I hung the phone up without saying anything back. I stayed up for most of my night tossing and turning, her words bouncing around my head.

We completely avoided each other in school the next day. We didn’t walk each other to class, she didn’t come up to my table at lunch to give me her milk like she always does, and every time we passed each other in the hallway she would act as if I were invisible. It was killing me on the inside, and while I was trying to focus on what could be the biggest game of my life so far, the thought of missing her would invade my mind. We had to have a conversation after the game tonight.

If things worked out the way they were supposed to, meaning the #1 team in our division had to beat the #5 team, we would be in the playoffs with a win tonight. Pregame we were motivated, hungry for another shot at the playoffs. Nobody had to say much to get the grittiness into us.

We came out hot, going up by 3 touchdowns to start the game. But after halftime, a combination of our complacency and their halftime adjustments to our defense, they were able to tie the game up at 21 with a heavy run game. No other team was able to exploit that part of our defense all season, but the offensive line on this team was just way more physical than our interior defenders.

With 55 seconds left in the 4th Quarter, they were building a drive on us to take the lead. They had just gotten a 4th down completion that landed them on our 43 yard-line, and they had called a timeout to stop the clock. Watching my playoff hopes dwindle before my eyes with each play, I had to gayer the team together.

“Yo we gotta be tough out there man! There is no tomorrow! There is no next game! This is it right here! Whatever you gotta do, get it done! Fly around, don’t let nobody snatch what we worked so hard for man! Don’t let this be your last game! Make a play!” I was pouring my heart out to my team. I needed to do something to get everybody to feel the sheer fire that I had to win. But on the next play, I delivered. The quarterback tried to look me off one way, then throw back to the middle of the field, but I didn’t fall for it. I swooped by and intercepted the ball, getting tackled at our 49 yard-line. I swear I could feel the stadium quake with how loud the crowd was booming. I ran off the field to the sidelines, and after being congratulated by my teammates I jumped up onto the bench, facing the crowd with my arms outstretched, yelling, LETS GOOO!

Our first offensive play, our QB dropped back, and every defensive lineman was in his face. Just as he was about to get mauled, he lofted the ball over their heads into the hands of an unnoticed Kai, with blockers out in front of him. Kai turned and jetted into open space, eventually being brought down at their 33 yard-line. The crowd was deafening, I could barely even hear my own thoughts. I looked at the clock. 39 seconds left.

Coach ran up to me on the sideline and said, “Let’s go, go to QB. We’re winning this game on this play.” The play was a fake to Kai, and sort of a fake run by me, so I could throw it across the middle. When we ran it, it went perfect at first. The defense froze when I faked the handoff to Kai, attacked with little thought when I ran with the ball, and left my receiver open over the middle for me to complete the pass. What I didn’t see was the Safety that came up to play in the box. As soon as our receiver turned up the field—CRACK! The safety wrecked him sending the ball skidding across the ground. One of their Corners scooped the ball up with nothing but green in front of him and charged into the endzone, leaving 21 seconds left on the clock. As our last offensive attempts failed, I sat on our bench with tears welled up in my eyes. Coach Bradley came over and knelt next to me.

“Hey kid, you played your heart out. I can’t ask for more than that,” he spoke softly.

“Coach—“ the tears broke out. “I’m tired of losin’, man. I’m just tired of this shit,” I cried. I wasn’t looking at him, but he didn’t have anything else he could say to me. He just knelt beside me, patting my back in silence for about 30 seconds, then, he went off.

I must’ve been sitting there forever when I felt a tap on my shoulder pads. “Hey kid, we need ya to get outa here, we’re locking this up soon,” a middle-aged white man in a uniform told me.

When I got home the first thing I did was call Alize. “What?” She answered in an annoyed tone.

“Uh, I just wanted to talk,” I said, taken aback.

“Look Ramesses, I don’t know what you wanted when you decided to date me but obviously it wasn’t as serious as I was expecting. I got the message loud and clear. Consider us done.”

Before I even got the chance to rebut, the phone was already hung up. 4 failed calls before I realized that my number was blocked, and I was sent to sleep with a tear-stained pillow.

The next week of school was probably the hardest of my life. I had no energy to do anything, I trudged around the hallways, my heart skipping a beat whenever I would cross paths with Alize, who pretended I was invisible, and couldn’t bring myself to pay attention at all in class. But that Thursday would kick me back into gear.

When I arrived home after being in the weight room, there were two white vans in the parking lot; the type that you’ll see companies use. I slowly and quietly eased the door open to see a man holding my mother under her arms, her knees dragging on the floor. My vision went blurry as I strode toward him and slammed my fist into his eye as hard as possible, sending him tumbling back and forcing him to drop my mother.

“Mom you alright!” I shouted to her as I picked her up. She had been drinking, she reeked.

“Ramesses they have to take me!” She screamed, crying into my shoulder. The man had gotten back up, and was now covering his eye.

“Listen kid,” he spoke in a calm tone. “I’m sorry we startled you, but we gotta get your mom to rehab, and you’re off to Texas.” Texas?

“Woah what?” I questioned. All of this dramatic information was coming at me so fast, I didn’t even know what to ponder first.

“Look, after we get everything out of here we’ll explain everything to you in the car,” he said understandingly. “Right now we gotta get all your stuff outta here.”

An hour later, I was saying goodbye to my mom. “I’m so sorry my son!” She said through sobs.

“Mom, you don’t have to apologize. It’s great that you’re getting help.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Goodbye Mom, I love you.”

So what had happened was that my mom had been missing work all week, so somebody from her job came to check on her. Upon seeing the state that she was in, she called for her to go to rehab, and my mom wanted me to stay with her best friend that lives in some small town in Texas. I had no chance to formally say goodbye to my friends. Or my teammates. Or my coaches. Instead I was on a flight to Texas that night.


I arrived in Texas early Friday morning. The lady whose house I was gonna stay at, Ms. Ashlee, was an unbelievably gorgeous white woman. She was so tall, almost as tall as me, and her body was so toned for a woman her age. She also had had these piercing blue eyes that you just couldn’t look away from. The house was like nothing I’ve lived in before. I actually had a whole room to myself for the first time rather than just sleeping in the living room. Ms. Ashlee was very friendly and understanding. She was a teacher at the highschool that I would be going to; she actually taught my mom. I guess there was a mixup in the story I was told, because Ms. Ashlee wasn’t my mom’s high school friend, but it was actually Ms. Ashlee’s stepson, Ryan. When I heard his name I immediately recognized him as an All-Pro NFL tight end. He’d heard about what happened to my mom and immediately wanted to help me out however he could. Part of me was thankful for that, but another part was resentful. I didn’t need no rich white man to come through and save the poor ghetto kid from the projects. Especially without giving me a chance to say goodbye to the people I’d known all my life. Ms. Ashlee, as kind as she thought she was being, didn’t get it. I could tell by the way she looked at me like I was a wounded dog that she could never relate to me.

My first night, I thought about Alize. We’d ended off on such a horrible note, and I’d taken the time that passed for granted. I should’ve told her the truth. I did love her, I was just not letting myself admit it. So many times I’d been warned by my mother to watch out for what she called “teen love”, your first taste of intimacy that’s mistaken for true love. But my being circumspect was not worth the part of my life that was snatched from me. I loved Alize. I missed seeing her gorgeous smile everyday, I missed hearing her voice over the phone every night as I fell asleep, I missed her jubilant look when I would show up to her house, I missed having her by my side when it felt like the whole world was against me. Now it’s me against the world again, one on one. I didn’t have my sidekick anymore.

It didn’t take long for news of my transfer to spread around school. By the next afternoon, my phone was flooded with text messages and calls, none of which I had the energy to answer. But a call I received that night made me instantly pick up the phone. It was my old teammate Jordan.

“I heard you transferred out on us, kid,” he said.

“Yeah it was… complicated,” I replied quietly.

“Hey, I ain’t gonna yell at you over things you can’t control brotha. I just wanna wish you best of luck at ya new school, man. Keep ballin’ young blood.”

I had been following Jordan since he went off to LSU. He was the second player to ever be named a team captain as a true freshman, he played right away, and he dominated. Analysts said he would be a late first round pick if he entered the draft after next season. It made me proud to see him represent not only my city, but my school on such a big stage. Where we’re from, most people don’t make it as far as he has.

I didn’t start going to school until that Monday, and it was culture shock at it’s finest. I’d never been to school with so many white folks before. They all knew that I was a transfer, they’d never seen me before in their small school and a black kid with dreads stuck out like a polar bear in a desert. I felt the eyes watch me all day as I walked from class to class, smelling the micro fears in the air. Only the football players came up to talk to me, marveling at my accolades from my past school, excited to have a new addition. The head football coach, Coach Rodgers, asked me to meet with him after school.

“First and foremost, I wanna welcome you to our school,” he said with a noticeable southern drawl. “Now Philly football ain’t quite Texas football, son. We eat, sleep, breathe, and shit this stuff. Now I understand you’ve got a little bit of talent, but we gon’ need you to prove that you can play in the hardest conference in the country.”

“Coach, I’ll be the best player on that field,” I assured him.

“Well, I guess we’ll see then,” he replied grinning.

Views: 1004     Rated: +8.89

Add to favorites
  • Abuse on a story

    * Required field

The Football Life pt. 4

Rate this story:

  • Comment story

    * Required field

Last Stories author RC38

The Football Life pt. 5

Categories Fiction, Black, Teen

Football in Texas was indeed different than Philly. For one, football was a year round sport. They took weight-lifting to a whole other level, some of these kids even juiced. It was evident when I first started to workout that I wasn’t used to being pushed so hard in the weight room. But in...


Views: 4277     Rated: +8.89 (54)   

The Football Life pt. 3

Categories Fiction, Black, Teen

As spontaneously as me and Casey started, things came to an end. Preparing for the next football season dominated more of my time than she’d liked, and we eventually just stopped speaking all together. I don’t think I had any time to worry about keeping a girl happy anyway. I was...


Views: 1126     Rated: +7.27 (11)    Comments: 1

The Football Life pt.2

Categories Fiction, Black, Teen

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,...


Views: 1898     Rated: +9 (20)