Page 1 of Scoring Chance
1
Will
Twelve hours ago, I was on the Ohio Turnpike, heading east to start college at Bainbridge University.
Right now, I’m standing half-naked in a stranger’s bedroom in a frat house with Chelsie,a beautiful girl I met twenty minutes ago.
“You’re cute, Will, but you seem nervous. Do I make you nervous?” Chelsie asks as she toys with the drawstring of my shorts.
“No…uh…no, I’m good,” I stammer, trying like hell to sound remotely relaxed or smooth or like I’ve ever been alone in a bedroom with a girl before.
She smiles up at me, her teeth a brilliant white. “That’s good, because I’m tired of dancing. I thought maybe we could hang out here and get to know each other. Does that sound good?”
My dick is thinking “hell yes” while my brain is screaming “oh, no.”
I do not listen to my brain.
Because yeah, my brain might have a point that, as a twenty-year-old virgin, I am completely unprepared for this moment unless a mild porn addiction counts as studying up. In that case, put me in, Coach.
My dick and I tell my brain that this—being naked in a bedroom with a pretty girl—is literally my life’s mission, so my brain needs to shut up or shut off.
Taking the hint, my brain turns off and lets my dick take over.
Chelsie giggles as she playfully taps my shoulders and I stumble back onto the bed. There’s a momentary pause where my brain wants to throw a hissy fit about getting naked on some stranger’s comforter.
But I don’t give him the chance.
I’m too busy tearing my shirt off to listen to his logic.
Chelsie leans in close and runs her greedy fingers over my abs.
This is why God invented abs and crunches and burpees. Not for strength. Not for agility. Not to drive a puck down the ice at lightning speed. Nope. Abs were invented so women could touch them.
My dick gets impossibly harder in my board shorts, and I pull her small body flush with mine. Keeping my touch featherlight, I trace the tips of my fingers along her slender curves.
And she laughs.
Oh, shit. I may have never gotten half naked with a woman before, but I know that laughter is not part of the plan.
“I’m ticklish,” she tells me, biting down on her bottom lip to stifle another laugh.
“Oh, crap. Sorry. Ok, like, where are you ticklish? Just your sides or—”
Taking my large hands in her smaller ones, she fits my palms against her bare stomach. “Touch is good,” she tells me, and I couldn’t agree more. “It just has to be firm touch. None of that light, teasing touch. I like it hard, Will.”
Fuck. Hard is not going to be an issue.
She's touching and teasing and rubbing up against me. We’re rolling around on this questionably clean bed like we were born to do it, and sweet fucking hell, I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. Her delicate skin against mine, her soft, lithe body straddling my hips. Jesus. I’m about to come in my damn pants like I’m new at this.
But that's because I’m new at this.
Just before I totally freak out, my brain remembers something my high school hockey coach used to say. When I was a sophomore, we made it all the way to the state finals for the first time in our school’s history. We were nervous as shit in that locker room right before the game, but Coach Clemson told us to calm down and act like we’d been there before. He said that was the key to winning—to act like you know what the fuck you’re doing. According to Coach, if you start gawking at everything and taking it all in, you'll get distracted and get sloppy.
The guy had a point.
So, I channel all the confidence I can and act like I know what the hell my hands and lips and teeth and tongue are supposed to be doing. I pretend like I know what it’s like to be half naked with a woman. I don’t. The farthest I’ve ever gotten was copping a feel of Alana Woodson’s left boob at a cookout two summers ago.
Chelsie peels her bikini top off, and every cell in my brain screams at me to focus. I reach for her, my touch firm, just the way she said she likes it. She leans into me and I do what comes naturally. My lips part and cover hers. She tastes sweet and I’m hungry for more. I nip at her full bottom lip. It’s good, so good.
