Brandon

The workout was fun. I ended up pressing more than Denver – we're always trying to outdo each other. "Man, you did so good today. What are you on, some kind of steroids?" He jokes. I've never taken steroids in my life, and I don't intend to start. That shit just fucks with you. Besides, I don't want to be some Arnie lookalike; fuck that shit.

I shake my head. "Nah, just better than you are. Admit it, Denver, you ain't never going to be as good as me."

"Jerk," he responds before starting to kit up for our practice session.

"Hey, Brandon. You're an ass," shouts out Stetson from his locker area.

I flick him the finger. He throws his gym tee at me. It stinks. I stink. I can't wait for practice to be over, and we can hit the showers.

"Guys, let's hustle. We don't have all day. Unless you want to be losers next week, I suggest you get your butts on that field right now." Coach T.J is in one of his grouchy moods; I can't blame him. The game coming up is the last of our school season, and he wants us to win. Hell, we all want to win. There's a lot of pressure on us right now.

"On it," I shout back. Denver rolls his eyes, and Stetson just shrugs his shoulders.

"The opposites are going to give us a real hard time next week," Denver says whilst lacing up his boots. "I'm looking forward to creaming them all over the field."

"Same," I say, finishing off my own laces. I'm ready to practice.

The others join us, and Denver pulls us into a circle in the locker room. We all bend forward in a huddle, our arms around each other. "We've got this, guys. We've got this. Now let's go out and show the coach what we're made of. We gotta treat practice like a game. We don't want a shit show next week. Are we good?"

"We're good." We all say back in unison.

Standing back up, I look at our team. We're the best. We've won all the games except for four this season. It's been the best season for our school in ten years, when somehow they lost just one game. Our school has a record for being one of the top five in the country for wins. Let's keep it that way I think to myself.

Practice is fucking hard. Sweat is trickling down my back and in the heat of the summer, let me tell you it's no walk in the park. With temperatures hitting well into the nineties, it's a helluva slog to get through the next ninety minutes of practice.

"You gotta catch the fucking ball, man," Denver shouts out to one of our team players, Cobden, who plays wide receiver. "What have you got going on, butter fingers?" It's the second time Cobden has dropped the goddamn ball. His mind isn't on it today, and it's showing.

"Guys, give me a break." He shouts out, exasperation laced in his voice.

"We don't have time for your shit today, Cobden. Get it the fuck together, man." I yell back. He shows me the v's. Real nice.

"Stop. Stop. Stop." Coach T.J. blows his whistle. I look around, the ball in my hand. We're nowhere near halfway through the session.

"I expect more from you. This isn't good enough." His voice is tight; man, is he stressed. Sure, we all want to win, but seriously, let's recognize that this is just a game of football. We've got our exams to worry about and other shit going on. He's stressing me out.

I lower the ball with my both hands and kick it far to the other side of the field. "Done for the day, coach."

"Don't you walk off my field." He yells at me, shit, he has some serious lungs on him.

"Hey, Brandon." Denver starts, who is standing close by to me. "Wait up. You can't just walk off."

"Why the fuck not? Cobden is playing like a pussy, and it's too friggin hot. I'm not giving it my all when the rest of them are playing like fuckwits. I'm outta here."

"If you walk off the field, I'm warning you, Brandon, you'll be off the field on play day." Coach's voice sends out warning signals that right now I am simply ignoring.

"Ground me then. I don't give a shit. You know, I know, and they know this is a shit show of a practice session. We can call it a day and pick up on Monday." Fuck him, fuck them. I'm not staying. I'd rather be back home listening to my music, getting my assignments out the way than being on the field right now. I love the game; I breathe and live it. It's in my blood and veins. NFL is in my sights; I've already been scouted by more than one Lizzie team. But this session today, nah. It's just wasting my time.

Coach is glaring at me. I'm glaring back. Denver looks like he's about to shit a brick, and Stetson is standing with his hands on his narrow hips. I know they're thinking like me. Some days are good days on the field; others aren't worth it. Today is one of them.

There's a long silence. I can see Coach T.J's face go from his usual flesh tone to red, then beetroot. Yep, he's mad alright. Let him be. He needs to recognize we're wasting our time.

"Right." He says. "Laps. I want ten laps of the field now." I shake my head and walk away. He doesn't say anything. What's he really going to do? Not let me play next week. I'm the goddamn fucking quarterback; he needs me. Our replacement isn't anywhere as good as me; he hardly sees any play time in any case. I've the upper hand here right now.

Coach lets me walk away and leave the others to the laps. Denver shakes his head; he's mad at me. I can tell he is by the way he's scowling at me, pretty much the same as Stetson is right now. They all blame me for the lap call.

"You better be here early in the morning before school for drills, Brandon." Coach T.J always has to have the last word. Of course I'll be here. I'm always here.

I raise my hand to acknowledge him and continue to walk towards the changing rooms.

A cold shower is required; I stink worse than a skunk right now. Then I'm heading home, catching up to see where Lizzie is and hooking up with her. She springs to my mind and causes my stomach to stir with a warmth creeping up it, and I feel my dick respond to a semi. Fuck's sake.

This shit has seriously gotta stop.

The water sprays over my body, and it feels amazing with every cool droplet after the gruelling sun out there. Summer is great, it brings the end of the school term, the long break, but right now the weather seems to get hotter and hotter every year. I used to look forward to the summer so damn much, but now – give me Fall anytime.

As I lather myself with soap, it drips down my perfect flat body with abs so tight the girls love to run their fingers down them and plant their pouty lips all the way down my stomach, to my perfect v. Just thinking about it gets me semi again, and I resist the urge to take myself in my hand and give myself a nice firm grip and jerk myself off. It's been a few days; I need it so badly. As I wash my balls, I think of Lizzie and her cute ass in her cut-off shorts, those long, lean legs like a colt and her perky tits. Man, that's got me stiffer than a rod. I look around me to make sure the guys haven't come back in because my need is too fucking much right now. I imagine her going down on me and licking my dick and sucking on my balls. My grip is so tight around my shaft that I begin to pump. Fuck it. I wanna come like no tomorrow, thinking about my Lizzie Baby. Fuuuuuck, it's so good as I feel myself come and drip over my own fingers.

My breathing is ragged as I stand with my dick in my left hand and my right hand pressed up against the shower wall with my legs hip distance apart. So fucking good. Then why do I feel weird inside? Thinking about Lizzie, jerking myself off is a fucked up scenario. I've gotta sort myself out. I feel bad for having her tits in my head whilst I jerked.

The shower is colder now, and I finish cleaning myself off and shake my head. I'm feeling a lot of mixed emotions going on now with what I've just done, and guilt begins to creep in and seeps its way to my grey matter. How could I be thinking about my best friend, jeez-us?