Still Thirsty

Fiddling at the Game We Lost

It was only Allan's 5th game that he's ever been to. He's tried making friend's with his lover's friends, but they continue to turn their backs to him as he had tried talking to them several times. Maybe it was because he doesn't dress like them. Or date and love girls like them.

He was in love with basketball player, number 30. The tall, lanky ginger with the baby blue eyes and the big, strong....hands. The ginger was good at what he did...on and off the court. Guess he just had an attraction to....balls. Allan has been helping pass out the water in between games to the players. During his first game, he had spilt water on Number 30 while trying to give him a cup and had to pat him down with a towel. That's the first night that number 30 took him back to the locker rooms after the game. Allan had guessed that he was still thirsty.

Allan had began to become bored after the first half of the game, his team losing by over 30 points or so, which made him having to get up more due to the couch getting upset and taking so many time-outs that it'd beat the times-outs that Number 30 and I take in the locker room together. We don't do that as much though. Pausing, I mean. My lover's friends next to me had their backs to me facing the score board as if staring at it long enough would give our basketball boys miraculous good luck. The only luck they had were being sluts. Only one of them really cared for game play as it was. Allan didn't feel like talking to anyone though. He was too busy paying attention to the way that number 30 gripped the ball so harshly and shot the ball with such force that it made Allan shake with anticipation for after the game. The time when number 30 would actually score.

By the end of the first game, Allan was already passing out several cups of water to the boys, most of which some of the boys threw away half full, but Allan only cared for number 30, chugging that water like he chugged something...else. He loved watching his neck movements, the way that he drank that water and crumpled the cup, making eye contact with him, which made Allan's legs tremble. His icey blue eyes still in game mode as if he was on top...which he usually is. He tightened his jaw line while staring at Allan, looking him up and down quickly, then threw his cup away in the trash bin under the water jug, close to Allan's waist. Allan's DNA rifle quivered with the thought of what Number 30 might do if their team lost the game. He might be more rough tonight.

Allan watched the players as he stood by the water stand, the players switching out Junior Varsity with Varsity for the next game and discussing game plans with the coach. He never payed much attention to the actual plans of the game or really anything about basketball unless it's half times or game-ending times. He does, though, pay attention to how scary the cheerleaders think that number 30 is. They think that he's so secretive and defensive since he won't sleep with them like everyone else does. Allan likes that about him. He likes that number 30 is all his.

He took his spot back on the bleachers to be ignored by Number 30's friends again. Fiddling with his phone during these intense moments never helped him. It never distracted him from how much he'd like a piece of number 30's ass. God, it looks so good in those gym shorts. He could practically see the outline of his yogart slinger in the front. Allan wouldn't mind to catch yogart any day.

After distracting himself with his phone (which had plenty of close up booty shots of his lover), varsity had lost the game and it was time to load the buses up with the cheerleaders and yada-yada. Allan made his way slowly down the bleachers, making eye contact with Number 30 only to blush because he gave him that nod. That ''I'm angry and I'm on top'' nod. That ''You better not be loud because the locker rooms echo'' nod. He made his way down the bleachers at a much faster pace because he knew that Number 30 would want to make it quick. He started jogging towards the locker rooms, making his way through the crowds that actually wanted to leave this place and get laid somewhere else, possibly. Allan and Number 30's time was always now. His felt a quick and forceful SMACK on his ass as his lover came up behind him, pushing him into the locker rooms and locking the doors.

Number 30 pushed Allan against the nearest cold brick wall of the room, kissing his neck and digging out his ding-a-ling to hold it in his hands.''You were great out there tonight.'' Allan managed to gasp as he became aroused by Number 30's movements on his Southern Regions.

''And you'll be great in here tonight.'' Number 30 replied, raspy in Allan's face just inches away with his jawline tight and his eyes determined. He then picked up Allan to straddle Allan's legs around his waist to carry him to the showers. Allan knew what was going to happen now.''By the way, the name is Brett.''Number 30 said as he carried him into one of the shower stalls. Brett turned on the shower as he entered.''You still thirsty, water boy?''