Even for Alabama it was a hot day in May. I had no awareness of soccer really, football dominated the south, but my boyfriend had gone home for his grandfather’s funeral so I tagged along with a couple of girlfriends to an exhibition game with a visiting Italian team. I was a junior in college and had been having sex with my boyfriend most of the year. Things were pretty serious. Though Catholic I was on the pill. It was 1984 after all and I was a modern girl. Empty seats outnumbered spectators in the stands. Soon my friends lost interest in the lopsided game and left to get ready for a night of partying. I stayed on, intrigued not so much by the game itself as by the incredible level of fitness of the players. This wasn’t the American football mixed bag of huge heavyweight linemen, stocky running backs and tall receivers. These guys all possessed similarly trim strong bodies with great legs and sexy abs. I was enjoying watching them play. Shortly after the girls left I saw one of the players get injured. Apparently his ankle sprained when an opposing player tripped him. He was yelling obscenities in Italian. It was hard to tell if he was more upset about his ankle or about having to leave the game. He was good looking, medium build with shaggy sandy colored hair, unusual for an Italian I thought. After a trainer looked at his ankle on the sideline the injured player hobbled off toward the field house locker room. I had been in that locker room more than once. etimesgut escort My boyfriend and I found it open one night while we were walking around the abandoned athletic fields looking at constellations for our astronomy class. We had sex on one of the benches that ran between the aisles of lockers. I liked the excitement of it. We found the door unlocked two other evenings as well when our roommates somehow conspired to take away our privacy. I pictured the cute Italian soccer player alone in the locker room, angry, slamming locker doors, cursing in Italian and throwing his shoes in a clang against the metal lockers before finally settling down and taking a long shower. I don’t know what came over me. I left the bleachers and before I knew it I was walking down the entrance hallway beyond the door of the field house to find myself peaking around the corner of the dividing wall into the locker room. No one was there but I could hear the unique hissing and splashing of water in the large shower room. I leaned against the end of a row of lockers just a few yards away from the hallway where I would be able to see him come from the showers and he would be sure to see me. I positioned my straight hair three times before draping it forward over one shoulder to extend down to the lower edge of my tube top. I didn’t know what to do with my hands to appear nonchalant. I would like to have leaned back with my hands in my pockets, but eryaman escort there were none in my light athletic shorts or my blue tube top, so when I heard the water turn off I folded one arm beneath my breasts and gripped my other arm above my elbow as I slouched against the locker. I saw the boy before he saw me, shaking water from his head, his soft penis jumping around innocently. He picked up a towel from the pile of them and pulled it down over his face to dry it. When his face reappeared from behind the towel he saw me. His look of surprise was in itself worth being there. Without saying a word, I walked over to him, crossed my hand to his far shoulder and walked around behind him, my fingers dragging across the light wet hair of his upper chest to press against the front of his shoulder as I pulled myself against his back crushing my breasts against him. He was a compact boy, no taller than me. He stood still as I circled my other arm around to his stomach. I felt the water on him seep through the front of my tank top and shorts. He brought his hands behind onto my rear and pulled me tighter against his ass, it was his first response to me. Both of my hands trailed down along his abdomen and met at his groin cupping his balls with one hand while my fingers curled around his penis. I stroked him gently enjoying the feeling of his shaft as it stiffened in my hand. When I felt him start to move I let go of him to pull my shorts sincan escort off over my sneakers and lied down with my back on the long wooden bench, my legs straddling it with my feet on the floor. I let my knees fall further apart blatantly offering myself to him. He leaned over me and looking straight into my eyes slid one hand up under my tube top to grip my breast in his palm. I felt the fingers of his other hand on my sex and he wiggled two of them into me and fingered me. I held his gaze for as long as I could before the sensations of his hand kneading my breast and his fingers rhythmically hooking up into me forced mine to close. Before I could come he removed them. I opened my eyes to see him bring his fingers to his lips and nose. He breathed in deeply closing his eyes for a moment and then licked them both before stepping across the bench. He slid into me easily with a mixture of exquisite pain and pleasure, the base of him pressing tightly against my most sensitive area and holding there firmly as if he never wanted to leave. I opened me knees further and pulled on his buttocks with my hand. He felt so solid, so strong, so good, and when he began to fuck me it was gentle at first and grew more and more fierce. Not a word had yet been spoken. Soon he was driving into me like an animal. I was almost carried away by it when I heard the fearful sound of cleats echoing in the hallway entrance of the locker room. My newfound Italian lover heard it too. I could tell. Even though he continued to fuck me the frenzy of his pace was gone. I tried to push him off but he kept me pinned to the bench whispering “soltanto uno” into my ear. I somehow knew what he meant because I too had determined it was only one player coming and not the whole team.