Our team was terrible, but we went anyway—more for the mischief afterward than the game itself.

As expected, the post-game foolery began. Eggs, toilet paper, shaving cream—classic tools of suburban chaos. I got an egg from a friend and scoped out a group of upperclassmen. One of them spotted me and smirked. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned. So, naturally, I did.

I launched the egg. It narrowly missed, and a couple of them came charging. I ran, but not fast enough.

When they finally let me go, I was drenched in shaving cream—inside my clothes too, thanks to one particularly wandering hand. I was a mess. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

One of the guys from that group came over afterward. He was more chill than the others, kind of cute, and asked if I was okay. I was—but I had no idea how I’d explain the mess to my parents.

“My house is just a few blocks away,” he offered. “You can clean up there. Shower, wash your clothes. No strings.”

I took him up on it.

We walked to his place. He took me downstairs, where the laundry room had a toilet and a small shower. He handed me a towel, one of his oversized t-shirts, and a pair of sweatpants. “You’re good here,” he said, closing the door behind him.

I undressed, loaded my mess of clothes into the washer, and stepped into the shower. The warm water felt good, and I wasn't sticky anymore. When I came out twenty minutes later, I had the towel wrapped around my hair, his t-shirt hanging off me like a dress.

He was sitting in a chair in the living room. I took the couch. We chatted for a while as the washer rumbled in the background. Eventually, he handed me the remote and went to the bathroom.

I flipped through channels and paused on a softcore scene. I didn’t mean to stop there, but I did. Too curious. Too into it.

He came back in just as I fumbled for the remote.

“If you wanna watch porn,” he said, grinning, “you could’ve just asked.”

Before I could reply, he disappeared into his room and came back with a disc—an actual porn video. He popped it into the player and switched the input. It was full-on: MMF threesomes.

Five minutes in, I felt myself flush. Turned on.
By the second scene—anal and double penetration—I was on beyond turned on. He mentioned casually that one of the girls in the video was someone we both knew. Sweet, innocent, straight-A type. That alone made my head spin.

By the end of that scene, I knew I wasn’t leaving untouched. We were about to head to his room when he reminded me to toss my clothes into the dryer.

When I walked in, he was already undressed—his long, lean body waiting, his cock standing tall and hard. I just stared at him.

I let the t-shirt slip off and tossed it in front of him.

I took him in my mouth, slowly at first, then deeper. He let out a low moan and threaded his fingers into my damp hair. Before long, he had me on his bed, kissing my chest, playing with my breasts, his mouth everywhere. He worked his way down and licked me until I was squirming.

Then he moved between my legs and slid his cock into me—long and thin, just right. He adjusted my legs a few times, finally lifting them to his shoulders as he thrust harder, deeper, towering over me. He grunted as he came, filling me with his semen.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned. I couldn’t help but laugh at the way he said it.

He lay beside me, still catching his breath, and looked over. “You ever try anal?”

Inside, I was screaming Yes and No all at once.

I hesitated. Asked a few questions. Finally, I said, “I’ll give it a try.”

His face lit up. “You’ve got a perfect little ass for it.”

He had me stack a few pillows and lean forward, chest resting, knees wide. Behind me, he got the lube and rubbed some on his fingers. “Just relax,” he whispered.

It felt strange—unnatural—but I trusted him. His finger circled my opening, then slowly pressed in. I tensed. He told me to breathe, to let go. With time and lube, his finger slipped all the way inside.

Eventually, he worked in a second finger. I whimpered. “Oh Jesus…”

After a few minutes, he pulled out and told me he was going to try with his cock.

He pressed against me, firm and patient. “Push out,” he said gently. I did—and I felt my body open.

There was pressure, tightness, a sting—but also something deeply intense. A little “pop,” and the head was inside. I gasped. Dizzy. Breathless. Groaning louder than I meant to.

He paused, then pushed deeper until his hips met mine. He was fully inside.

He rocked slowly at first, sliding in and out of me. It was surreal—sharp and raw and somehow thrilling. I didn’t love it, didn’t hate it. But I kept asking for more lube.

I held on.

He came deep in my ass, grunting low as he did. When he pulled out, he told me to squeeze tight. When his cock popped free, I let out a breathless, stunned “Holy shit…”

After that night, I saw him often. And just about every time… he ended up in my ass.