He Touched Me

He Touched Me

            I was fourteen.  I was in a squatting position on a cold cement floor in the equipment area of the football team’s locker room.  It smelled of sweaty jerseys and smelling salts.  It was dimly lit with fluorescent white lights which did nothing for my pasty complexion.  The equipment area was a large closet just off the locker room behind the bleachers of the football field.  My head was pressed against a makeshift shelf made of two-by-fours, and Steve Avery’s dick was ramming in and out of my mouth. 

I played doctor at the age of eleven with a twelve-year old neighbor up the street, but this was heavy stuff.  I couldn’t control the saliva that was running out of my mouth and down my chin.  I could barely breathe, and I saw stars.  His dick was merciless—in and out, in and out.  He was so strong that my hands couldn’t push his solid legs away…not that I was trying very hard.  He was moaning with pleasure while I was suppressing my gag reflex.  His penis seemed to fill my entire mouth all the way down my throat.  It would disappear and then reappear.  I hated it…and I loved it.

            Steve Avery was a senior in high school and a star on and off the football field.  He was the most popular boy in school, a ladies’ man, a real guys’ guy.  Now I knew that he was, literally, a guys’ guy.  Since Linden, Alabama had only two traffic lights, everybody knew everybody.  So I knew of Steve since I was in grade school.  Every boy wanted to be him.  Every girl wanted to marry him.  I wanted both. 

When I entered junior high school, my dad thought it important that I be a member of the football team.  Thought it would help bring out my masculinity, I guess.  Since I threw like a girl, he pulled a few strings with his friend, our football coach.  Just like that, I was sent off to a weeklong camp and when I got home, I was the football team trainer.  Generally, my job was to tape ankles and administer smelling salts to players who passed out in the summer heat.  Specifically, I fashioned a peephole so I could see into the showers, and I planted the smelling salts in the lockers of any players who disrespected me.  Steve Avery never disrespected me.

We both got detention in study hall one afternoon for chewing gum.  Since we were late for football practice, he was forced to give me a ride.  I entertained him by doing impressions of various teachers.  I assume that upped my cool factor, because he offered me a ride to practice everyday thereafter.  While other football players made me carry their equipment and cater to their every whim, Steve always treated me kindly.

            Much to my chagrin, he never showered in the locker room.  I knew because I couldn’t see him through my homemade peephole.  The first time I laid eyes on his stunning body was one night after a performance in the baptismal pool during the summer before my eighth grade year.  I watched him get dressed after both of us were baptized on the same night.  Maybe he was seeking cleanliness for his thoughts of cocksucking as well.  He took his time getting dressed that night.  Almost as if he enjoyed being watched.  Because he knew he was being watched…subtlety was not my thing. 

            And now here we were, months later.  On this chilly fall afternoon at practice, Steve’s helmet broke, and I escorted him to the equipment room to fix it.  After I jabbed the screwdriver into my hand for the third time, Steve took a bandage and nursed my superficial wound.  His face was so intense and strong, and he was so focused on bandaging my hand that I couldn’t pry my eyes away from his gaze.  He caught me several times.  He finally grinned and asked, “What?”

            “Nothing.  You look so serious,” I shakily replied.

            “I am serious.  I’m your doctor.”

            Oh God, he knows about me and Bobby, dog’s best friend.

            “Have you ever played doctor?” he asked.

            “Sure.  But it’s been a long time, and it was with a girl.”

            Steve looked at me knowingly while I fixed my stare on my bandaged hand.  An eternity passed.

            “Playing doctor with boys is a lot more fun,” he teased. 

            With that, he pulled me into the corner of the room and gently pushed me down into a squatting position.  I looked as though I were about to take a dump.  He pulled his shorts down to his ankles, exposing that perfectly hanging dick that I had seen after my baptismal performance.  Except this time, it was erect, standing at attention like our drum major did during the halftime show. 

            “Do you want to taste it?” he asked.

            “Uh.  Yeah.  Sure.”

            I cautiously licked it.

            “Now put your mouth around it,” he instructed.

            I put my lips around the head, and that was it.  His cock played a perverse game of cat and mouse with my tonsils for what seemed like forever.  In actuality, about two minutes later, just as my jaw felt like it was going to become unhinged, I tasted something sweet and salty and bitter all at once.

            My mouth was full of a warm sticky liquid.  Just a month earlier, I was spending the night with my classmate William, and he taught me how to masturbate with a warm washcloth.  It was the first time that I had climaxed although nothing came out.  But William shot a huge load, so I got to see first-hand what spunk looked like.  So, at that moment, in the equipment room, my mouth was full of Steve Avery’s spunk.  It didn’t taste good, but it didn’t taste bad either.

            “Do you want to spit?”

            That was rhetorical since I couldn’t help but to spit it out all over the floor.  Steve muttered something under his breath, asked if I was okay, and then left me with a bandaged hand in the cold and smelly equipment room to clean his spunk off the stained cement floor.

            I didn’t mind.  I was in love.