All that was happening was us five ¼ backs just throwing the ball to some 9th graders to catch. I mean fuck—no plays, no running, no weights---what...the fuck. I was already miserable. I noticed Maurice going out for some catches. Guess he would prolly make it—but with no control of the team, I could kiss that deal of that sloppy head every week goodbye. “Im sorry Matthew—but I got three Seniors. You can't be first string—let alone a starter”. The words hit my brain like a bullet. “These b o y s. My dear, you will be fucked and caused to orgasm more times this afternoon than you have at the hands of your husband in the first half of the year.”“You bastard! You know he has not made me cum in nearly a year!”“I know. And I know you want what I can give you but if you turn and walk away, I will not be back up here to this part of the state again for a very long time. So the decision is yours. You walk out that set of doors with me or you walk out the same doors you walked in through a while. More

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