Jock tales—Devastation PT 1

(This is a pretty long story, so I broke it up in two parts. There is no sex in pt 1, it just tells the events that led up to pt 2–thanx for checking me out)

Summer had been totally awesome. The best ever. Having finally got the jeep prolly helped the most—independently mobile, lol. The yard jobs were going great, and the ‘personal service’ that followed up on about half of them, I was bringing in about a grand a month. That was just about a years salary for a teenager working part time at a grocery store.

I took a 3rd place ribbon at the motocross meet, which was fine. Mostly just a stress reliever, and a chance to get dirty. I also knocked down my first golden gloves—again not a major thing in my life, but it was kinda cool to just get in the ring and just beat then shit outta some dude.

Today was the first day of practice. Varsity at last. I went into the day gleaming with pride, and totally psyched up. But the day would soon come crashing down, and I was gonna feel like the biggest fool on the planet, and all I wanted to do was disappear.

Practice was nothing like last year. I guess I had gotten used to running the show—but not anymore. Fuck—we had 5 coaches. And neither of them were interested in my input. All that was happening was us five ¼ backs just throwing the ball to some 9th graders to catch. I mean fuck—no plays, no running, no weights—what the fuck. I was already miserable. I noticed Maurice going out for some catches. Guess he would prolly make it—but with no control of the team, I could kiss that deal of that sloppy head every week goodbye.

“Im sorry Matthew—but I got three Seniors. You can’t be first string—let alone a starter”. The words hit my brain like a bullet. “These b o y s got a dream just as big as you—you got to play the team now, and support them. I know you probably haven’t thought this through—but we did have ¼ backs before you got here. Now, unless you want to consider another position for a while for some more game time, your going to have the take the bench for awhile. It’s not all about you anymore”. “So, I guess ur saying I might as well get on my knees and start suckin dick, huh coach? Cause looks like that’s all the action I’m gonna get this year”. Someone had just walked into the room, and all I heard was “woooah there cowboy”.

I grabbed my helmet and headed for the locker room. Another fuckin posistion ? I was actually a pretty good tite end, but I had never played on a team anything but ¼ back. Slamming into my locker door made a few heads turn. I sat on the bench to take off my cleats, and socks. Didn’t even have any funk going on, not even my pits, cause I hadn’t done a fuckin thing all day. I tore out of my practice jersey, and turning, slammed my fist into the locker door. Yanking it open, I threw the jersey, and cleats into the floor. Sitting back, now coming out of my football pants, and striping down to just my jock, I likewise threw them and my helmet into the floor of my locker, didn’t even bother to hang anything up.

I grabbed my Levis, but before I could get them on, someone barked out “woah there boy—what’s with the attitude?” It hit too fast, and too hard. I lunged towards the player, not even seeing who it was. Grabbing him by his jersey, slammed him into the row of lockers just behind him, and literally knocking them over. Jumping up on his chest and shoving my jock right in his face, I just scream out “does this look like a b o y to you”?

In moments about half the players in the room were on me, pulling me off what turned out to be Cameron White—just the starting Senior ¼ back. Cameron jumps up from the floor, and calmly, but urgently, pointing his finger right in my face, comes back with “Don’t know what ur problem is Dillon, but you better get it in check. You not the star here punk—just a Sophomore walk on. One more stunt like that, and you will be cut”.

“Jesus fuckin H Christ—what’s all this racket”? Three of the coaches had blasted into the locker room. “It’s nothing coach—we got it under control. Dillon there just wanted to wrestle around with some of the big dawgs”. “Looks like he found out he ain’t all that badd”, replied one of them. A few chuckles were heard, which was just adding fuel to the fire. I turned back to my locker, and sat again on the bench, just long enough to tie up my PF Flyers, and sling them around my shoulders. I stuffed my tee in my back pocket, and proceeded out the locker room, shirtless, and bare foot. As I exited into the hallway, I hear one of the coaches hollar “somebody git him—see what the fuck is up his ass”

I made it about halfway across the parking lot, heading for the jeep. Someone was hollering at me from behind, but I just ignored them. Just as I get to the jeep, several hands are grabbing at me now, and as I spin around, I see it’s about four guys from the team. “Look dude—we don’t know what’s up ur ass, but you seriously gotta chill. You got a team back there—and you just walked out on them” I shouted back “Me ?? I gotta Team ?? Oh for sure yo—a 3rd string team”.

“Shit—I think I know what’s going on guys. Come on Dillon, lemme ride you home. You don’t need to be driving right now”. I realized that it was Cameron, and with a brief moment of sanity, decided it was pretty kewl that the starting ¼ back, whom I had just jacked up against the lockers, was offering me a ride. LOL, I was prolly lucky to still be standing. The others kinda mumbled “ya Dillon—get a ride dawg—chill the fuck out”

As we rode towards my house, Cameron didn’t talk too much. Other than to tell me I was acting like a little prick, and a spoiled brat. “And I meant what I said Dillon—you come in showin out like that again, and I will be the one to cut ur ass. Keep it in check cowboy. You will get some play time—don’t worry about that. But when you do—don’t go out there on MY field and start showin out—just throw the fucking ball. And oh ya—nice fuckin tackle”.

I took the piece of paper from Cameron, and just mumbled “thanks” as I headed for the front door. I headed straight for the basement, and grabbed a beer from the mini fridge, and started calling. I called Kelso, and Patroni, and even Maurice and Mark. I explained it was urgent, and I needed them right away.

They each arrived in about 30 minutes, and we all head for the basement. Asking about the jeep, and what was up, I told them to just sit, Id explain later. Dustin hollers from the top of the stairs that he was hungry. I didn’t have time for that shit, so I told him to just call up and order 4 pizzas.

“So—you guys are here cause I consider you my inner circle. My closest friends. In other words—my bro’s. I want to believe there’s nothing I couldn’t tell you, or confide in”. They respond with ‘sure’, and ‘of corse Dillon’, and such. Kelso pipes up with “Jeez Dillon—you fuckin got cancer or something”? I kinda chuckled a bit, and just said no—not quite that bad, but almost. I went on to say that in spite of the seperation from Maurice and Mark over the past year, that I still considered them friends deep down, and that Maurice didn’t have to worry about keeping up his end of our recent deal. It’s just not important anymore.

“So dawg—what the fuck is up ? You know some of us actually ditched some pussy tonight just to be here for you”. I grinned at Mark Mattox, and just said thanks.

“So—I wanted to ask you guys something. And I want the pure naked truth—from my bros. Do you guys think I’m an arrogant prick?” There were a few snickers, but mostly silence. It went on for what seemed like hours. Prolly a minute in real time.

Finally, it was Mark Mattox that cleared his throat. “Aight dawg—you asked for it, so here it is. Yes—you are a prick. Not only that, but ur like this blue ribbon jock prick—the worst kind. And arrogant ?? Jeeze bro—you really had to ask us that?? It’s like you practice it every night”. As I looked across the room, most were repositioning, lightly coughing, and basically nodding yes. Could this day get any worse ? My closest bro’s just told me I was a pile of shit.

“Aight then—I’m a man—go on”. Kelso speaks up next. “Look Dillon—when your on that field, ya, ur a superstar. You took us to a state championship, and that was awesome. You always give credit to the team—the cheerleaders—the band—hell, the dudes that pick up the trash. But, when ur walking down the halls at school, or especially in the locker room, ya—your a total fuckin prick. And a few of us have noticed the way you treat ur lil bro—pretty fucked up dude”.

“Jesus fuck dudes– the way I walk”? I practically shouted it out. Each of them just laugh at each other. “Really ?? That swagger ?? You look like fuckin Disco Duck” Maurice piped in. I just looked at him with my mouth slightly open. “It’s arrogant as shit dude”. Now Mark again, “and that bounce ! I mean, some dudes bounce when they walk, but it’s like ur doing calf raises or something”. I sheepishly respond with “I like my bounce—it makes me feel happy”. “Fine Matthew”, it’s Kelso again, “Just tone it down dude—make it more natural, not an act”.

“OK then—so what about the locker room”? “Ah jeez—arrogance alah perfection” starts up Patroni. “Really Dillon—everybody on our team, and half the school knows—you got a big dick. And we are all very happy for you—maybe a bit jealous even. And that hairy ass—ya, it’s awesome. But for most of us, it’s demeaning the way you parade around the locker room, or the weights cage, like you are gods gift. Almost all the time, ur butt naked–‘cept for the jock. You throw it in everybody’s face, and makes sure we all see Matthew Dillon’s big 8” jock dick”. Sheepishly again, I respond “It’s 9” now bro” Patroni just grins, shaking his head back and forth.

“And your secrets aren’t all that secret either. Some of us know how you will put a dude on his knees and make him suck your dick, for whatever it is he may be wanting. On top of being a prick, your a power hungry control freak. You may talk ‘team’ in public, or when ur on TV, but when it comes down to the team, in that locker room, it’s all about you”.

“Well—I sure wouldn’t want you guys to not be honest with me”. Mattox pipes up again “Yo dawg—you asked for it. You rather we all sit here and said “no Matthew—ur the coolest dude ever”? While your asking us to be your best closest friends”? “Naaa—I guess not. But I just feel like shit now. Guess I been humiliating myself all year, and too dumb ass to see my own self”. Kelso came back with–”Sometimes it happens dude. You just get caught up in the attention and excitement, that’s all. Now, in your own words—cowboy the fuck up”

“Matthew—pizza’s here”. We all head back upstairs, and scarf down the pizza. I tell the guys it hurt like hell, but I’m glad they were str8 up with me. Mark and Maurice offer to take me back to school to get my jeep. I tell Dustin to lock up, and I would be back later.

I wasn’t sure if I felt better, or worse. But I knew I wasn’t satisfied. I needed to fuck. And I knew just where to go.

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