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I jerked my hands and head away. “Sorry, sorry, I’d never, sorry, I didn’t know,” I stammered, scrambling for words.
“It’s fine,” she said. “You just don’t know what you’re doing yet. You need practice, but I’m past that.” She scooted up on the bed. “I don’t really have time for you to figure out how to get me excited. Let’s just get to the sex part, so when you’re a model someday I can tell people I slept with you.”
I had the distinct feeling that was her way of making me feel better, but somehow, I felt worse. Until moments later, when she lifted her skirt and pulled her panties down, revealing her vagina covered in soft blondish hair. Then my penis made it clear that it didn’t give a damn about my emotions.
“Well, get your pants off, Jakee.Thisdoesn’t work if you keep your clothes on,” she said, breaking me from my dazed stare at her open legs. “You have done this before, right?” Her tone edged toward an incredulous accusation rather than a question.
“Sure, yup,” I lied, kicking off my black cowboy boots and pulling my Levi’s down my long legs, fishing in the pocket for the condom I’d been carrying around for six months in the hope that someday, just someday, this would happen for me. Shaking, I pulled my briefs down, rolling the condom onto my stiff penis, so grateful I had practiced doing that at least a dozen times. Iturned toward her lying on the bed. I’d been too nervous to look at her while I was getting undressed. The lights were on, making me keenly aware that I appeared clueless.
Tabitha looked me up and down, staring straight at my penis, which was standing out straight, perpendicular to my body. “Well, you got a big one. Got that going for you,” she commented, as if I was trying out for a porno shoot.
“Come here.” She patted the bed between her legs. I left my shirt and socks on but wished I had taken them off. “I don’t know if the other girls you’ve been with had enough experience to give you advice. I kinda doubt it. So here you go: Go slow at first, always, or else you’ll ruin it.”
“Uh, okay,” I said, kneeling between her open legs, very much wishing I could touch her there before I did this but not sure exactly how I would do that anyway. I knew my dick couldn’t take the pressure. Mentally, I was trying to picture something other than what was right in front of me, but I’d never had great self-control. My brain wasn’t really helping right now, and I could feel the insane ache pulsing in my balls as I was acutely aware of Tabitha’s judgmental stare.
On my knees, I inched myself toward her opening, holding my penis, directing it to where I thought I should push it in. I tried, and she squirmed and made a huffing sound. “Let me do it,” she said, tilting her torso up and wrapping her hand around the base of my penis, guiding it into her slit. When her hand touched it, my balls tightened, holding on for dear life. My brain begged my penis not to expose me before Tabitha Mclean.
I pushed in, looking at her impassive face, not knowing what to say or what to do. We hadn’t even kissed. I just pushed in, slowly, but then fast, and then she moaned, so I started to pull out because I didn’t know if she was in pain. I didn’t want to hurt her.
“Go,” she egged, so I pushed back in.
As I pushed back in, I pleaded for my fucking traitorous penis to ‘go slow,’ to no avail. Then my balls joined the traitor, demonstrating complete lack of control. Holding on was not an option. The mounting explosion could not be stopped by any begging or willing. I felt like everything inside me was emptying out through my penis. “Oh, no!” I cried out. “Oh, God. Sorry, sorry.” Washed in shame, I stopped, still inside her, and looked down.
“You’re done? Okay then,” she said. Her face was frozen, utterly unimpressed.
“Sorry…I, um, yes,” I replied, pulling out before scooting off the bed to discard the condom, sure I’d shrunk a foot in the process. When I walked past the bed, I saw her grabbing her phone, not even looking in my direction.
When I returned, she didn’t look up. She was madly texting someone. She had one of those brand-new smart phones, the first of its kind. I got dressed, and she told me I’d better get going because she needed to go back to the house before her mom woke up. I sheepishly asked if I could see her again, and she said, “I need to think about that,” her tone deadpan. I interpreted that as ‘Are you fucking kidding, loser boy?’ I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so humiliated. Even wetting the bed at a sleepover when I was ten didn’t compare to this.
At home, I lay in bed, dreading Monday morning, wondering what Tabitha would tell her friends. I could hear the whispers,Two-pump chump. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I got in two pumps before I blew. One-pump chump, ugh. I grabbed my pillow and burrowed my face in it. I would definitely be super sick Monday morning, telling my parents I’d thrown up all night.
I tossed the pillow off my head and looked up at the poster of a grinning Randall Adams. Closing my eyes, I imagined Randall saying,Performance counts everywhere, bud, not just on thefield. Don’t play out of your league.“Thanks for the heads-up,” I said to the poster before drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Eight
The excited shouts of teammates and the jarring of the wheels hitting the runway jolted Jake back. He huffed to himself, thinking about his junior year in high school and how badly he’d wanted Tabitha to be his girl. How wrong he had been about her, about himself and what he really wanted in life. How he yearned to be right about Rakell, how much he ached for the truth to be that like him, she wanted something ‘normal.’ He kept reminding himself that she had fallen for Jake Skyler, an Austin, Texas boy, not Pretty Boy Skyler, the NFL quarterback. Damn, how that made him feel somehow safer about their relationship. It made sense that she hadn’t shared her goals with him because he’d made it clear he didn’t want a girl like that. He had emphatically stated that his desire was to get as far away from the famous type as he could. That speech rang in his head, the words he had uttered in desperation to convince her that she was what he dreamed of—a normal girl in Austin, Texas. But she was emerging into a different persona: Rakell McCarthy,Sports Illuminatedcover model.He shook his head, the two sides of the girl he was drawn to melding in his head.That’s you, Jake, here you are on your way to play in the biggest game of the year, but who you are is the boy from Austin. They coexist in the same person. Isn’t that Rakell, too?
Jake:Just landed. Hope you got in and everything’s good with the hotel…Send
Rakell:Yes, it’s beautiful. New Orleans is amazing. I can’t wait to see you play…Send
Matt:Have fun, Princess…just stay out of his bed until you talk…Send
Rakell:I’m going to talk to him first…Send
Jake:Well, maybe we can sneak off and play tonight…Send
Rakell:No. You need ALL your energy for tomorrow…Send
Jake:I have energy for both…you and football…Send
Rakell:I heard ‘it’ zaps energy and focus before a big game, just like drinking…Send
Jake:That’s BS! Coaches made that up to keep players in check. Drinking isn’t good, but sex helps focus…I read that in a medical journal…Send
Rakell:SURE you did! I need to talk to you before we can…delete
Rakell:Not sure what medical journal that’s in. I’m here to cheer you on quietly and then we’ll talk back in Austin. See you tomorrow WINNING!...Send
