“I’m sorry,” she said. I was back on the field again, praying that Coach kept running the ball. It was about a 40-yard field goal, which was pretty far, but definitely makeable. Nobody even looked at me when I jogged off to the sideline. I leapt up and dove over the top of him, causing him to clip my knee and leave me somersaulting into the endzone. There was 7:32 left on the clock when then possession started. “This is your game to win,” Coach said to me, looking me dead in the eye. Take care of yourself.”
Instead of football, I drowned myself into working with Javon and his crew, tirelessly putting in hours and devotion and earning a good cut of money in return. I caught the snap and took off to the right, searching for a hole but failing to find one. I saw the opposing team’s body language sag after that. I dropped down and sprawled out on the turf in relief as pandemonium struck in the stadium. I felt the cum starting to work its way up and started to moan louder and tense up. Their cornerback caught the underthrown pass without even trying, and bursted down the sideline into the endzone without being touched.
