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Chapter 34

All throughout practice the next day I tried to stay away from Jason

Foster. I had lied straight to his face when he asked about Brad and Coach

Jackson and I was a bad liar. As much as I liked that tight hole of his

around my cock, I couldn't risk outing Brad and Coach Jackson. Coach

sleeping with one of his athletes could have serious consequences, even if

Brad was over 18.

I was changing out of my gear with Brad when Jason walked over to his

locker. Brad stared him down as the all-American pretty boy stepped out of

his pads.

"Be right back, Ollie." Brad said as he stood up.

"Brad, what are you-"

"Relax, Ollie."

I watched nervously as Brad walked over to him, running through the

possible scenarios in my head. Was he going to hit him or something?

"Hey Jase." Brad said, sitting down on the bench next to him.

"Hey Brad." Jason gulped, looking his former best friend and one-time fuck

buddy in the eye.

"I heard you had some questions about me." Brad said simply.

"Look man, I'm sorry, it was just some stupid thing I had in my head,

honestly I-" "It's not stupid, it's true."

"W-what?" Jason stuttered.

"I am fucking Coach Jackson."

Jason's eyes widened and he looked down at his feet. "Shit, man."

"So what happens now, Jase?"

"What do you mean?"

"So you know I'm fucking Coach Jackson. Are you going to snitch on us or


"What? Of course not, man."

Brad breathed a little easier. "Well. . . thanks. I guess." For the first

time in a long he was able to smile at the guy he used to call his best


"Look, Brad, about what happened with us. . ."

"You don't need to explain yourself, Jase, I get it. You're in love."

"What, me and Ollie?" Jason laughed. "No, we're just fucking."

"Not Ollie, you doofus, I mean your girlfriend." Brad laughed before

pausing. "Wait. . . What's going on with you and Ollie?"

They both turned to me and even though I couldn't quite make out what they

were saying, I knew the jig was up.

I slowly made my way over toward the two of them, scratching the back of my

neck, blushing.

"You sneaky little bastard. . ." Brad laughed, smiling at me. "You and


"Sorry man." I shrugged apologetically. "I promised him I wouldn't tell

you. I really, really wanted to."

"You don't have to apologize for one thing, brother. I know what it's like

fucking someone you can't tell anyone about." He smirked. "So how long has

this thing been going on?"

"About a week, I guess." Jason blushed. "Ever since I broke up with


"And so you just hopped right back on that big black cock and started

making up for lost time?" Brad laughed.

"Well. . . Yeah, I guess." Jason blushed again. "Actually, I uh. . ." Jason

mumbled. "I wouldn't mind a swing on what you've got under here." He said,

patting Brad's briefs. "You know. For old time's sake."

"I always knew you'd be back, Jase." Brad grinned, getting up. "What do you

say we come over later this weekend for some fun." He looked at me. "Ollie

and I will make sure that tight jock hole of yours gets treated right."

"Fuck. . ." Jason mumbled, standing up and extending his arm out for a

shake. "I can't believe the three of us are back at it."

"Back and better than ever, Jase." Brad grinned. "You'd be surprised all

the new stuff Ollie and I have learned since you've been away. . . Hope

you'll be able to handle us."

"Sounds like fun, guys." Jason winked, throwing his shirt over his head and

shutting his locker.


On Friday afternoon Dan Jackson slammed his truck door as he marched up the

steps to the Williams household for the second time in a week,

frustrated. He brought his phone to his ear and redialed again, cursing as

it went to voicemail again.

"Damnit Williams. . ." Coach Jackson muttered as his hand went inside his

pants and rubbed his rock-hard cock, frustrated.

He rang the doorbell urgently, tapping his foot.

"Mike?" He called out.



No answer. He went around back to the patio hoping for any sign of life,

but it too was empty.

"Anybody home?" He shouted, cupping his hands to his lips to amplify his

voice. "Fuck, what do I have to do to get some fucking dick around here?"

He muttered, stepping up to the patio door.

He knocked on the glass, frustrated. "Christ, my cunt's so fucking wet for

it, I could sit on a fucking traffic cone." His dick throbbed at the


"Mike! Africa! Williams! Seriously! If you've got a fucking pulse, you're

getting laid! No questions asked!" He yelled, circling back to the


Still no answer.

The erection in the man's shorts was almost excruciatingly hard. "DAMNIT!"

He yelled, punching the side of his truck with his mighty, muscled arm,

leaving what was sure to be a permanent dent in the side of the car. "WHY



"God I've missed this jock hole. . ." Brad said under his breath as he

pushed his tongue through Jason's opening, sprawled out on my bed.

Jason groaned as Brad's tongue entered him, grabbing the sheets in

ecstasy. It was a hot sight to behold, watching these two all-American

jocks going at it. But I had to admit, my eyes kept wondering back to

Brad's ass, and how perfect and inviting that tight jock hole was.

Brad turned back to me. "You know what would just be the icing on the cake,


"What?" I asked, trying not to seem to eager.

"If you gave me a rimjob while I ate Jason out." Brad replied with a grin.

Oh fuck yes.

"Spread those cheeks then, boy." I laughed, slapping his ass cheek audibly.

He reached behind him and spread his cheeks for me, inviting me in. That

perfect, tight jock hole awaiting me.

I positioned myself right behind him and didn't waste any time. There was

no time for foreplay. I was going to spend as much time in Brad Williams's

ass as possible.

"Oh fuck, Ollie." He groaned as my tongue entered him. I could hear Jason

moan in front of him as Brad seemed to copy what I was doing to him onto


I slowly licked up and down his crevice, teasing my tongue in and out every

so often, coaxing it open.

"Goddamn that's good brother. Fuck." He groaned.

It was still impossibly tight. Tantalizingly tight.

"You sure that beer-can cock Coach Jackson's working with has been up here,

brother?" I asked, spanking his ass hard.

"Just the one time." He laughed, leaning his head down and groaning as my

tongue entered him again. "Trust me, I've got the rearranged organs to

prove it."

"Fuck, you're just so fucking tight." I mumbled, licking up and down his


"Don't be getting any ideas, man." Brad teased me, pushing back on my

tongue. "I know all the moves to try and get some guy to give it up. . ."

"Man, I can sure see why Coach Jackson put up such a fight to get in this

ass." I said, marveling at its sheer perfection.

Brad leaned up, his back to me, turning his head to kiss me. "Sorry man."

He said, lapping at my tongue. "It's not gonna happen."

I pushed him back down and continued my assault with my tongue. "Then at

least let me treat it right with the best rimjob of your life."

"Now that, you can do." He grinned, going to town on Jason's meaty ass in

front of him.


"Oh fuck! FUCK! FUUUCK!!" Jason yelled as I pummeled into him hard while

Brad shoved his cock down his throat. He was furiously jacking himself off

as I railed into him and he started shooting his third load of the

afternoon all over his chest and abs, a glazed look on his face.

I was just about to go for my own nut when the distraction of Brad's phone

ringing again brought me out of it.

"Brad, seriously, go answer your phone." I said, wiping my brow. "That's

like the fifth time man."

Brad looked conflicted as he stared down at the soft, velvety throat

currently wrapped around his cock but decided to take my advice, sighing as

he sauntered over to his phone.

"Uh oh.  . . This should be good. . ." He muttered as he read the

notifications. He called whoever it was back and pressed the speaker


The line clicked on the other end and Coach Jackson's low, gravely tone

sounded from the speaker. "Not one fucking word, Williams."

"Sorry Coach, I was tied up-" Brad began before he was interrupted.

"What the fuck did I just say?" Coach Jackson interjected, commandingly.

He paused, and Brad kept his mouth shut, obediently.

"Williams, you're going to keep that mouth shut until I give you permission

to speak, are we clear?"

Again, Brad said nothing.

"Good boy." Coach Jackson smirked through the phone. "Now listen to me and

do exactly the fuck I say. I'm not asking, I'm telling, Williams. I don't

give a shit where the fuck you are. I don't give a shit who the fuck you're

with." Jason and I looked at each other, gulping. "You will get into your

car. You will drive home. You will walk me inside. You will not fucking

open your mouth. You are going to take me up to your room and you are going

to fuck the shit out of me. I don't want any bullshit. I don't want any

attitude You are just there to provide the dick and get me off, like the

pretty boy jock dildo you are. Now is there anything I just said that isn't

fucking clear, Williams? If not, you will nod that pretty little head of

yours and say 'yes sir'. Nothing more."

Brad stared down at the floor, conflicted. I knew he hated being told what

to do, especially like this, but I could also tell he was extremely turned


"Yes sir." He muttered, begrudgingly.

"That's a good boy." Coach Jackson smirked through the phone again. "Now

how about a 'thank you for letting me have your pussy, sir'?"

Brad shifted in his stance. "Thank you for letting me have your pussy,


Coach Jackson sniggered through the phone. "Don't keep me waiting,


                                        Chapter 35

When Brad Williams pulled up to the driveway Coach Jackson was

sitting on the front steps sprawled back, a satisfied look on his face.

Neither one of them said anything as Brad unlocked the front door,

sizing the other up with a smirk.

Coach Jackson followed him upstairs and the second they walked

through his bedroom door, he pinned him up against it, thrusting his tongue

into his mouth as he guided his athlete's hands through his signature

slutty wind-shorts, teasing his hole.

"Fuck Williams." Coach Jackson huffed as they made out. "You've got

me so hot for it."

Brad thought about replying, but remembered his orders. He was to

keep his pretty little mouth shut.

"You feel how wet my cunt is for that jock dick?" Coach Jackson

groaned, biting his athlete's lip and grabbing his cock with a

squeeze. "You're gonna fuck me until I'm satisfied, understand?" He lapped

at his tongue and moaned. "You make me shoot my load and you just keep

going, are we clear?"

Brad nodded his head, slipping his finger into his superior's


"Fuck. . ." Coach Jackson groaned, reaching up and rubbing his

nipple. "Gotta have it, Williams. I can't wait anymore." He slipped his

shorts down and dragged his athlete to the mattress, throwing him down on

it and shoving his pants off before squatting over him, leaning down to

kiss him.

He reached over to the bedside table and retrieved the lube,

slicking up his athlete's cock and his hole, his own cock throbbing with

his heartbeat he was so hot for it.

He brought the fat jock cock he craved so much to his opening and

sank down on it, inch by inch.

"Fuuuuuuck. . . " He moaned, lapping at his athlete's tongue.

"Fuck Coach!" Brad groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure as

he entered him.

"I thought I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut, Williams."

Coach Jackson grunted, swatting his cheek with his palm, as he slammed his

muscle ass down on his cock.

Brad looked up at him, seething mad but incredibly turned on.

"Yeah, that's it, kid." Coach Jackson smirked. "You just sit there

and look pretty while I sit on that cock of yours and use you to get off."

His beer-can cock throbbed against his concrete abs as he sank down

as far as he could go, throwing his head back in ecstasy. "Goddamn, that's


He slammed his ass down hard, giving his rock-hard cock another

jolt and couldn't wait any longer. "Fuck, Williams, you're gonna bring me

off already. FUCK!!" He brought his hand to his flared cock head and jacked

himself off with powerful strokes. He ground his ass down as far as it

would go, giving his prostate as much stimulation as possible before he

looked down at his fucker with an evil glint in his eye. At the very last

second, he aimed his cock down at his athlete, roaring as his orgasm

approached, before he erupted, shooting all over Brad Williams's face with

his thick, heavy load.

"What the-!" Brad shouted, instinctively blocking his face with his

arm as his hulking superior continued shooting all over him.

Coach Jackson easily pinned him down with one arm as he kept

jacking himself off, shot after shot landing on his athlete's face and


Brad looked up at him, angrily, wiping his face, breathing in and

out heavily.

"Jesus Williams, you're fuckin' soaked!" Coach Jackson panted,


"Get off of me, Coach." Brad slapped his ass, not able to hide a

slight grin.

"Oh, we're just getting started here, kid." Coach Jackson shook his

head, holding him in place, leaning down to lick some of his load off of

his athlete's face. He brought his tongue to his athlete's lips and kissed

him softly.

He slapped his still rock-hard cock against his fucker's abs as he

made out with him. "No, you're gonna keep fucking me until I say I'm

finished with you, kid."

They made out with each other hungrily as Coach Jackson continued

to rock back and forth on his athlete's cock.

"Roll over, Coach." Brad said, breaking away from his lips. "I'm

gonna fuck the shit out of you."

"Yeah, Williams?" Coach Jackson smirked, kissing him. "You think

you can fuck me like I want it?"

"On your back." He ordered him, staring him down.

"Aw fuck yeah, Williams." Coach Jackson groaned, finally rolling

off of him and onto his back, spreading his legs.

Brad knelt over him, spanking his ass hard and leaning down to make

out with him.

"You've got some balls, Coach." Brad said, tapping his cock against

his superior's opening.

"What about you, Williams?" Coach Jackson replied, pulling at his

lip with his teeth. "You gonna show me you've got balls too?"

Brad reached down and grabbed the beer-can cock jutting from Coach

Jackson. "How many more loads do you think I can get out of you, Coach?"

"I think you'll be the judge of that, kid. You keep fucking me

until I give you permission to stop, understand?"

"Whatever you say, Coach." Brad replied, slipping the head in and

out of his superior's opening, teasing him. "I guess I can let you pretend

you're the boss today."

"Cocky fucker. . ." Coach Jackson smirked, grabbing the back of his

athlete's hips and fully impaling himself on his thick jock cock. "One of

these days you'll finally get it. I'm the boss every fucking day,



Coach Jackson gave a satisfied sigh as he patted his athlete's abs proudly,

staring up at the ceiling. "You know Williams, you really piss me off

sometimes but you sure as hell always deliver a top notch fuck. Every

goddamn time. You're lucky you're worth all the trouble."

"See Coach, I'll always make sure you're taken care of." Brad

replied with a cocky grin. "There's plenty of Brad Williams to keep

everyone satisfied. You don't need to worry about Greg Foster or any of the

other dudes I'm fucking."

"Ugh, there you go again with Greg fucking Foster." Coach Jackson

rolled his eyes.

"Wait, don't tell me. . ." Brad trailed off.


"You're not. . . jealous are you, Coach?" Brad grinned.

"Fuck off, Williams, you know I don't do that shit." Coach Jackson

retorted, defensively. "I don't get jealous, okay? It's just. . ."

"Yeah, Coach?"

"It's just. . ." Coach Jackson fumbled around, trying to find the

right words to say. " It's just-" He brought his athlete's hand to his

hole, where his cum was still dripping out of it. "I want it to be my pussy

you're after. . . Not Greg Foster's." His face turned red.

"Holy shit, Coach, you really are jealous." Brad sat up, loving


"Shut it, Williams, I'm not fucking jealous." Coach Jackson

grunted, clearly embarrassed. "I don't get jealous."

"Okay, I think I get it." Brad said. "You're not jealous. . . You

just know that I've been fucking another guy on the regular and you want it

to be you I'm fucking instead."

"Right." Coach Jackson nodded.

"Jesus you're stubborn." Brad laughed, slapping the man's shoulder

playfully. "What's the matter Coach, are you not getting it enough lately?"

"With you and your constant need to get your fucking balls drained?

Please, Williams." Coach Jackson scoffed., crossing his arms.

"Then what is it, Coach?"

"I don't know . . Shit, Williams, you've got me thinking like a

fucking chick."

"You're not a chick, Coach." Brad insisted, grabbing the man's

giant prick.

"I don't know, Williams. I just think about you putting the moves

on some poor sucker. Getting them to put out for you. Like you get me to

put out for you. And. . . "

"Yeah, Coach?"

"It really fucking turns me on." Coach Jackson grinned, slipping

his finger down to his hole to play with it.

"So then what's the deal, Coach? If you're fine with us fucking

around then what are you saying?"

Coach Jackson sighed. "Look Williams, I'm not gonna try and compete

with a guy like Greg Foster. Where you say the word and he'll drop whatever

the fuck he's doing and lift his legs for you, no questions asked. That's

just not me. With me, you earn it. I make you work for this hole. And

that's the way it's always gonna be. With me, every time you get me to give

it up, you know you earned it."

"You don't think I know that, Coach?" Brad laughed. "You know that

guy offered to pay me to suck my cock? No shit, 200 bucks a pop. And that

was just his starting offer."

"Jesus, as if Brad Williams needed anything else stroking his

fucking ego. . ." Coach Jackson muttered, shaking his head laughing.

"I told him no, obviously."

"Damnit Williams, you really are a moron, you know that?"

"I don't fuck people for money, Coach."

"Beats me why the hell not." Coach Jackson laughed. "As much as I

hate giving you compliments, you sure know how to fuck."

"I don't know why you're so into this idea, Coach. Between all the

times I've let you suck me off or fucked you over these past few months

you've worked yourself up quite the tab. . ." Brad grinned.

"Uh huh. . . And I don't suppose offering you my ass is fair for

calling it even?" Coach Jackson grinned back at him.

"Sorry, Coach. That's not the way this works."

"So what do you say you keep fucking me for free and swindle this

cocksucking billionaire for all he's fucking worth?" Coach Jackson smirked,

bringing his finger to his hole and collecting some leftover cum, sucking

on it.

"Sorry, Coach." Brad laughed. "You're going to have to think of

some other 'get rich quick' scheme, I guess."

"Ah, you big softie. . ." Coach Jackson smiled, punching him

playfully on the shoulder. "Just as well, I guess. I couldn't handle that

fucking ego of yours knowing you can get dudes to pay you to give you

something you should be fucking grateful for getting in the first place."

"Just admit it, Coach. . ." Brad smiled back, wrapping his arm

around the giant man and hugging him close. "You missed me this week."

"Cut it out, Williams, you already know I fucking love

you. . . It's the liking you part that's a real pain in my ass."

"I guess I can live with that." Brad laughed.

"Well we know one thing's for sure though."

"Yeah, what's that, Coach?"

"I turn into a real nasty piece of work if I haven't gotten fucked

in a while." He grinned.

"Yeah, I guess that's something I'll have to watch out for." Brad


"Fuck, another day or two without a dick up my cunt and I might

have turned into the incredible hulk." He flexed.

"You're already the incredible hulk, you big doofus." Brad laughed,

running his hands over the man's gigantic muscles.

"Yeah, well do you want to find out what the incredible hulk is

like when he hasn't gotten laid in a while?" Coach Jackson smirked at him.

"Fuck no." Brad laughed. "For the sake of humanity I'll make sure

this pussy is well fucked." He said, rubbing the giant man's opening and

slipping a few fingers inside.

"Not if you're spending all your time fucking Greg Foster you

won't. . ." Coach Jackson retorted, a little peeved.

"Hey." Brad said softly, leaning up and kissing the giant man on the

lips. "If I was satisfied with a guy like Greg Foster do you really think

I'd be here right now with you?"

Coach Jackson blushed a little, as much as he hated showing any

sign of affection whatsoever. "Well good." He said, stiffly. "Just wanted

to make that clear. I know what it's like being a horny 18 year-old with

access to pussy whenever he wants it. . ." He muttered. "I'm not gonna

compete with that, kid."

Brad leaned in and kissed him gently. "Having a yes-man in your

pocket is nice but no one turns me on like you do, Coach." He kissed up and

down the man's neck and nibbled at his ear. "I like that you make me work

for it, Coach."

"Yeah, well good because no one's gonna put up with all your shit

like I do, Williams, so remember that." Coach Jackson pulled at his lip

playfully. "Even Greg Foster has his limits." He brought his athlete's

hands down to his ass, letting him good a good feel at what he had to

offer. "I just want to be your number 1. You can fuck other guys as much as

you want, but when I want it you stop what you're doing and give it to me,


"Yeah, I get it, Coach."

"I don't care if you're balls deep in the tightest hole you've ever

had, Williams. I call, you pull out. That's my load."

Their kissing intensified as they got more and more turned on.

"You got it."

"Fuck Williams, I want it again."

"Right now, Coach?"

"Right now." Coach Jackson huffed, lifting his mighty calf up and

guiding his athlete's cock back to his already used hole.


The next few weeks seemed to crawl by like molasses as Brad and I

waited to hear back from colleges. I hadn't started to panic until the

other guys on the team began hearing back, high fiving each other for which

schools they got into whenever they heard the news. At one point it seemed

like Brad and I were the last ones left to receive anything back from our

applications. And it's not that I had gotten in to all my safety schools

and was just waiting on my application to USC. . . I hadn't heard from

anything. My grades were good. Outstanding even. So what was taking so


As for Brad, he wasn't exactly sweating it. He had viewed USC as a

long-shot for him, so he had just decided whatever happens, happens. . . An

attitude Coach Jackson wasn't particularly fond of.

"Damnit Williams." Coach Jackson cursed over dinner with the four

of us one evening as we discussed the college situations. "This is your

college career we're talking about. You know, having a pretty face can only

get you so far in the real world. I'll be damned if you don't start taking

this shit seriously."

"Wow, Dan." Mr. Williams smiled from across the table. "I've never

seen you like this."

"Yeah, well I care about him, the prick." He blushed, looking his

athlete over. "I want him to have every opportunity he deserves."

Brad picked at his food with his fork, moodily. "It's no use


"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Williams?"

"Look Coach, I just don't see the point in getting my hopes up,

alright?" Brad fired back, defensively. "I didn't make straight A's like

Ollie did, okay? So I can throw around a football. . . who cares in the

long run? I'm just some stupid jock who doesn't belong at a place like


"Brad, don't say that." I said, trying to comfort him.

"Why not?" He fired back. "We knew it was going to happen

eventually, right? I mean, things were just going too well, weren't they?

You, me, Dad, and Coach. We all knew it couldn't last forever." Tears were

starting to form in his eyes. "18 years of my life, all I wanted was a

brother. . ." His voice started shaking. "And then- and then I finally got

one, and. . ."

"What, Brad?"

"I finally got one and it's. . . it's all gonna end."

"What do you mean it's all going to end?" I asked him.

"I'm- I'm not smart like you, Ollie. I was never going to get in at

a place like USC. They don't take in stupid jocks like me."

"Hey." Coach Jackson said sternly. "Look at me, kid."

Brad stared down at his plate, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Look at me." Coach Jackson repeated. Brad finally complied, wiping his

eyes. "You are not fucking stupid."  He said seriously, looking him right

in the eye.

Mr. Williams breathed in emotionally as he watched the two of them.

Coach Jackson brought his head close to his athlete to the point they were

almost touching.

"You, Brad Williams, are not fucking stupid. You understand me?"

Brad looked away, tears welling up.

"Are you a moron a lot of the time? Hell yeah. But you are not stupid."

For once Brad managed to laugh a little, wiping his eyes.

"Williams, you know me. Hell, you know me probably better than anyone else

on this fucking planet. Do you think I'm scared to tell you things you

don't want to hear?"

"Fuck no." Brad laughed, breathing a little easier.

"When you fuck up, do I shy away from it or do I say it to your fucking

face and let you know you fucked up and that I expect better from you?"

"Oh you tell me alright. . ."

"And when you're being a complete fucking moron. Do I care about sparing

your feelings or any of that bullshit or do I tell you you're being a

fucking moron?"

"You tell me I'm being a fucking moron." Brad answered him.

"Exactly. So when I tell you that you are not fucking stupid, then you are

not fucking stupid Not by a long shot. I'll be damned if you're gonna sit

here feeling sorry for yourself when you're headed for greatness. I expect

perfection from all my athletes, but with you, it's fucking inevitable."

Brad looked away from him, so overwhelmed with the praise he was getting.

"Look at me, Williams." Coach Jackson turned his athlete's head toward him

again. "Hey." He muttered, staring deep into his eyes. "You are more than

just a good fuck." He said, pointing at him with extra emphasis on the word

'you'. "And that's saying something, because you're a pretty fantastic


Brad grinned, turning red in the face. "Someone's watched too many of those

inspiring speeches from the locker room in movies, Coach." He laughed.

"I meant every word I said, Williams. You know damn well I couldn't care

less about sparing your feelings." He turned to the rest of us and stood

up, taking his plate to the sink. "Later, fellas. Got shit to do."

"Come here, Dan." Mr. Williams said, getting up. He opened his arms and the

two of them embraced in a big, fraternal bear hug. "Thank you." He said

into his ear, patting him on the back.

"Don't mention it, Mike." Coach Jackson replied. "I love that kid."


The next morning when Brad and I headed downstairs for breakfast, we were

surprised to find Coach Jackson and Mr. Williams at the kitchen table, a

pot of coffee between the two of them.

"It's about fucking time, sleepy-heads." Coach Jackson smirked at us as we

sat down. "Mike and I had a nice, long talk this morning."

"What about?" Brad asked, spooning some eggs and oatmeal on his plate.

"The head coach at USC is an old buddy of mine." Coach Jackson said,

crossing his arms. "Every year or so he has me bring in my best athlete to

see if they have what it takes to be a part of his team."

"You're shitting me, Coach." Brad gasped, his mouth open.

"Dead serious. To be honest I kind of wanted to act like it was my doing so

you'd owe me big time, but this was all you, kid. He actually asked for you

by name."

"The head coach. . . asked for. . . me?"

"You bet your ass he did, kid. It's his job to be aware of who the big

names are."

"So what does this mean?" I interjected, feeling excited for him.

"Well, Dan and I were talking." Mr. Williams replied, straightening up in

his seat. "He mentioned it to me a couple of weeks ago that he wanted to

take you down to USC to introduce you to this guy, but I kind of was

looking forward to taking you there myself. I was really looking forward to

that trip, you know? Just you and me, son. Looking at colleges."

"Me too, Dad."

"But Dan sat me down and really explained to me that this would be an

amazing opportunity for you. Especially with him having an in with the head


"So what's happening then?" I asked.

Coach Jackson pulled a couple of plane tickets from his pocket and tossed

them across the table to Brad. "You and I are taking a trip, kid." He

smiled. "God help me."

"No way!" Brad exclaimed, looking at his and Coach Jackson's plane tickets.

"This is a business trip, Williams. Not a pleasure trip. Understand me?"

"Of course, Coach, I-" He paused. "Well. . . I mean, won't there be a

little pleasure? You know. . . You, me. . . nice hotel room. . . "

"Jesus, the day this kid thinks about anything other than getting

laid. . ." Coach Jackson laughed. "I tell you what, Williams. You manage to

get through a whole weekend doing exactly as I say and not fuck this up,

then sure. . . I guess there can be a little pleasure involved. When I see


The complete turn-around on Brad's face from last night was so refreshing

to see.

"Congratulations brother." I smiled, hugging him. "Really. This is your


"I know, man." He smiled back at me. "Fuck, could you imagine? Us being

together through college?"

"You've got to make this happen, Brad."

"I will, brother." A sly grin spread across his face. "How much you wanna

bet I can get Coach Jackson to put out on the plane? It's about time I

joined the mile high club, you know?"

"Fucking 18 year-olds. . ." Coach Jackson sighed. cupping his face in his

hands. "Christ Mike. I've really got my fucking work cut out for me this

weekend, haven't I?"

"You get my kid into USC and I'll owe you, Dan." Mr. Williams smiled,

patting his shoulder.

"Yeah. . . Coach Jackson muttered. "Assuming I don't ring his fucking neck


- "A whole weekend just the two of us. . ."

I smiled, getting into bed with Mr. Williams later that night, rubbing his

chest. "I say we spend it in bed, what do you think, sexy?" I leaned in to

kiss him as I felt him up.

"God, that sounds amazing, Ollie." He grinned, kissing me back. "You may

want to hold that thought, though. . ." He teased me, reaching under the

covers to pull out an envelope.

"Is- is that?" I stammered, my heart beating fast.

"Uh huh." He grinned. "I found it in the mail just before I came up here

for bed."

I could see the USC crest on the front and everything. "It's thick." He

beamed, handing it to me.

"D-does that mean. . .?"

"Open it and see, Ollie."

I held it in my hands for a moment before I opened it. This could be it. My

final obstacle in getting to stay here in the United States for another

four years. A reflection of not only all the hard work I had done this year

to maintain my GPA, but all of my hard work to get here in the first

place. All my years of schooling had come to this final moment. Would I get

to stay here? With Mr. Williams? With my brother? Could this finally be the

answer I had been waiting for?

But wait. What if this was the answer, and the answer was just no?

What if this little envelope was the deciding force that sent me back to

Africa? What if-

Mr. Williams looked at me, love in his eyes, and I couldn't prolong

it any longer.

With a deep breath I tore it open and spread open the first page on

my lap. My eyes darted across the page.

"Well. . .?" He pressed, nervously.

"I got in." I said, almost out of breath.

"You got in?" He asked, leaning up, excited.

"I got in!"

"You got in!"

"I GOT IN!" I exclaimed, a huge grin on my face.

"YOU GOT IN!" He yelled, bringing my lips to his and kissing me.

At that moment the bedroom door opened and Brad stood there,

toothbrush in hand and tooth paste running down the side of his mouth.

"What's going on, guys?"

"I got in!" I yelled, holding up the envelope excitedly.

"You got in?" Brad beamed, running up to hug me. "Ollie, you got


"I got in!" I beamed, holding the love of my life in one arm and my

brother in the other. I had never been happier in my entire life than this

very moment. Knowing these two guys would be permanent fixtures in my life.

"Does this mean you can come with Coach and me to look at the

campus this weekend?" Brad asked, turning to his dad.

"Of course, son, I'll buy his ticket first thing in the morning."

"Just one?" I looked at him, batting my eyes.

"Oh I don't know, Ollie, I really have a lot of work to get done

this weekend." He replied, thinking about it.

"Come on, Dad." Brad said, wrapping his arm around his

father. "It's my college tour. I really want you there with me."

I looked at Mr. Williams and knew we had won.

"Of course, son." He beamed. "Of course I'll be there for you."

We all sat down on the bed and talked excitedly into the night

about all the things we needed to do and all the things we wanted to happen

during our trip. It was looking to be a fun weekend, for sure.



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