Page 115 of Forgotten Comeback
“Smells good.” I don’t know what that is, but I’ll take it.
She presents me with a bowl, and I grab the spoon, blowing on it before taking a bite. “Delicious.”
“Thank you.” She beams. “Do you have someone taking care of you?”
Not exactly, but I answer, “I live with my mama and my older brothers.”
“You come here after training, and I’ll feed you.”
“And you’re sure Coach won’t mind?” I wonder.
“He’s too busy with his whores.” She begins crying.
“It’s alright, Mrs. Silva.” Not knowing what to do, I pat her hand.
“Forgive me. You finish your meal.” She busies herself cleaning up the kitchen while I eat, unsure why I can’t shake this weird feeling that I’m going to get in trouble for being here.
I finish the food, bringing my bowl to the sink. She takes it from me, her hand brushing mine.
“Such a good boy,” she coos.
Nobody’s ever told me that, and my ears heat.
“Um, I need to get going,” I say, stumbling over my words.
“Keep me company for a little bit longer,” she begs. “Please?”
“Okay, for a little bit,” I mumble.
She leads me to the couch, and I sit, with her sitting close to me. “Such a pretty boy you are, Rocco.”
“Um, thank you?”
“And those lips,” she says, eyeing mine. “Have you ever kissed a girl?”
I cast my eyes to the carpet, feeling weird. “No.”
She inches closer, and when I look up, she’s pressing her lips to mine.
“Mrs. Silva, what are you doing?” I pull back in a panic.
Her hand falls to my crotch, and my penis becomes hard under her touch.
“Shh, it’s alright,” she assures me, moving both her hands to my jeans and beginning to unbutton them. “I see the way you look at me. I feel the same way about you.”
“Coach—”
“Won’t have to know. Nobody has to know.” She pulls my penis out, wrapping her hands around it. “Be a good boy for me,” she begins moving her hand, “and I’ll teach you how good that can feel.”
Taylor
“Gavin, are you alright?” I ask, gently touching his arm.
He returns from whatever that disassociated place was, giving his head a little shake.
“Come sit with me, and let’s just talk.” I crawl under the covers, patting the spot beside me. He joins me, and I take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Something triggered you. It’s okay, I just want to know what it was, so we can avoid it in the future,” I assure him.
“I need water,” he mumbles, refusing to make eye contact. “You need a drink?”
