Shameless Game (Shameless Sport #1)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

“You fuck Puffs with lotion, and I ain’t judging.”

COLTON

Our senior year in high school

“Dude,” I adjust the focus knob on the binoculars, “forget your mom’s birdwatching for a Tufted Titmouse. Look at the tufted tits by your pool. Four pairs of them.”

“Yeah, Dickweed.” Beau tries snatching the binoculars from my hands. “One pair is my little sister’s, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

But I yank away. “I ain’t interested in Bailey.” She’s hot, but yeah, she’s my best friend’s little sister, and I’d never do that. “But damn, look at the rack on Ashley Porter. And when did Maria and Piper grow a pair, too? Fuck, they’re sophomores and so fucking ripe like peaches, I’m getting hard.”

But when you’re eighteen, a gentle breeze gets you hard, so I don’t care.

I share everything with Beau.

Hell, I’m surrounded by swinging dicks all day in the locker room, no need to be shy about mine. It’s surging hungry under my khaki cargos.

Beau growls, “Man, put that thing down.”

“What thing?” I joke, scanning the glistening titties lounging in the April sun by Beau’s family pool. “My boner or your mom’s binoculars?”

“Both.” Beau smacks my skull. “I know what you do with those hands. You touching my mom’s binoculars with them is fucking gross.”

“But look.” I laugh, shoving them into his hands. “Piper Riggins has been begging you to pop her cherry all year, and she’s right there, in a pink bikini by your pool, knowing your parents are out of town and your brother’s away at college. You’re in charge, and you know you wanna.”

Beau rolls his eyes but can’t resist. Lifting the lenses to his stare, he focuses on Piper, I can tell. I know him like the back of my horny hand.

So, I’ll go after Ashley. And Maria. But I’ll leave Piper to him and promise my unwavering protection of his little sister because that’s what horny best friends do.

“Damn, man,” Beau sighs, “Piper is hot. Fuck, I can see her cameltoe. I bet her carpet matches her blonde drapes.”

We’re such pervs and don’t care.

From his second-story bedroom, where we’re supposed to be playing Madden NFL on Beau’s Xbox, we were lured to the window by giggles and titties bouncing around his backyard pool.

I practically live with his family, in Beau’s bedroom, on his top bunk.

It’s not that I don’t love my mom; she’s just never home. She works a lot, and I understand, but I get lonely. It’s just the two of us, and we can’t afford an Xbox or a pool or the steaks Beau’s dad buys us, too. He says he’s beefing us up for Bama.

My mom’s relieved I have Beau’s family, too. Hell, our moms are best friends.

“Come on, dude. It’s time.” I watch Beau, not the girls, while he’s peeping from his window. “Since Hannah cheated on you, you haven’t been laid, and I’m tired of hearing you fuck Kleenex all night.”

“Whatever, man,” Beau huffs. “You fuck Puffs with lotion, and I ain’t judging.”

“I keep telling you Kleenex is sandpaper. But Puffs with lotion is very gentle and soothing, just like a nice tight wet pussy.”

Beau starts laughing. “Yeah, but not Puffs with Vicks vapor rub. You were fucking a tight ring of fire.”

“Damn, dude. I didn’t know that tissue box had Vicks on it,” I groan. “Today, my dick finally stopped burning.”

“My mom bought ‘em with Vicks because she thinks you have a cold.”

“She thinks we have a cold. We’ve gone through three fucking boxes of tissues this week.”

Damn, the truth stirs my dick. When I glance down at Beau’s, waking in his matching khaki cargos, it only makes mine worse.

He can’t see me watching him. He’s watching Piper, and I’ll never tell him how hearing him jerk off on his bottom bunk while I lie on his top bunk drives me insane. I crave it every night. Beau’s muffled grunts and stifled moans and bed springs barely squeaking make me hard as hell.

He didn’t even care if I heard him the first time.

Did he want me to?

So I joined him.

I heard that subtle, seductive, fabbing sound. It was his fist, pumping his coming tip while he grunted with his orgasm, and I started jerking off to his sounds. I swear he could hear me jerking off, too. I didn’t hide it.

I made sure the mattress squeaked to my thrusting hips. I made sure he heard my moans and grunts. I wanted him to know I was thinking about his hard dick, his creamy cum squirting over his fist. I imagined that he was coming for me.

I think he was.

It had him jerking off again minutes later and not being so quiet about it, either. So I turned over and started fucking my mattress, rubbing my aching dick on it like he was under me, my bed creaking even louder. It only made him louder, too, like he felt me on top of him. We moaned and thrust and muttered, “Fuck yeah,” fucking in our imagination until we were muffling our grunts, coming together.

We’ve been doing it this whole week. Three, sometimes four times a night, we come for each other. We’re not getting much sleep and say nothing in the morning. The only evidence?

A pile of used tissues on the floor beside his bunk bed.

Maybe it’s normal.

Maybe it’s not.

But it’s real.

Beau Bronson has been my best friend since we were the only two sophomores playing varsity football for our high school. My mom gave up her dream job, her yoga studio, to move to the city with the best football school in the state, while Beau’s family already lived here.

And from the day I puked during our first practice on the field, and Beau passed me a berry Gatorade, he’s been my friend.

My best friend.

I’m the wide receiver and Beau’s the quarterback. If he throws it, I catch it. I can run, close my eyes, open my hands, and just sense him.

Every. Damn. Time.

“I thought Piper’s with Mike Hernandez.” Beau studies his options while I study his handsome profile.

I can’t deny it.

His chestnut hair with the perfect scruffy style. His dark shadow, even for eighteen. His square jaw and full pink lips I’m not supposed to notice. But his eyes? Damn, they’re so blue and rimmed by sexy lashes. When they find mine from under the shadow of his helmet, all I see is all I’m not supposed to feel.

“Mike broke up with her,” I answer. “He’s with Claire now.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I listen to your sister while you just bitch at her about stealing your golden Oreos.”

“They’re my favorite, and she knows it.”

“Yeah, well, let her eat your Oreos while we eat her best friends. Deal.”

“I don’t know, man.” Though Beau’s dick clearly likes what he’s gawking at, he always does this. He’s always cautious. “I don’t need a distraction, and sophomore pussy is drama, too.”

“Then pick a senior. You’re taking Anna to the prom. Fuck her. Fuck someone, please, because Kleenex can’t keep up their production.”

“Puffs, neither, you hypocrite. Besides, we got two months til graduation. I don’t need senior distractions, either.”

“Dude,” I roll my eyes, “you’re not marrying them. Why do you always date like it’s destiny? You can just fuck girls, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” he mutters. “Fuck girls like you did this season? Almost the entire varsity cheerleader team to the point where even Coach Smith told you to keep your rocket in your pocket or he’d bench you?”

“It ain’t my fault my Space Shuttle makes pussies cry.”

He laughs.

I always make Beau laugh.

He needs it. He’s too serious. I know it’s a quarterback thing. He’s always in his head. He’s always thinking about plays and performance and passes.

Not pussy.

And I need him. I don’t have anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. All a guy needs is his best friend, teammates, and mom.

But Beau is more to me. I don’t have to be the fastest or the best with him. I’m just me—the best friend who always buys him golden Oreos. And he’s the best friend who bought me a pair of Air Jordans for my birthday. He knew I wanted them but couldn’t afford them, and now we wear matching red pairs for Bama.

Beau’s always watched out for me, for everyone. It’s like he has to save everyone but himself, and I’ve always wondered why.

Maybe it’s another quarterback thing, maybe it’s a big brother thing, or maybe it’s more. Maybe he focuses on others so he doesn’t have to be honest about himself.

I know the feeling.

I’ve had it since the day I warned him at practice about the back of his neck getting sunburned. So he sat on the bench and tossed me a bottle of sunscreen. “Hook me up,” he said, spinning the ball in one hand.

It hit me so fast when I rubbed his hot skin, how he barely moaned, and I definitely heard him. I definitely got hard. I had to stop. I had to leave.

“Where you goin’?” he asked.

“To squirt the dirt,” I answered before I found a shitter stall in the locker room to jerk off, and I’ve known it ever since.

I love Beau Bronson, and he loves me.

“I say we leave the sophomores alone,” he mutters. “Most pussy’s not worth it.”

Still, he’s ogling Piper’s tits by the pool, and he’s hovering hard and thick and left toward me, and that feeling, the one that scares me, the one I crave, too, surges inside.

It’s more than a painful urge for Beau in my hard dick. It’s in my soft heart for him, too.

I can’t help it. I lick my lips at Beau’s desire because it matches mine.

I’ve caught him, flicking his glance away from me naked in the locker room. Or when I step nude out of his shower, hoping he’ll do it again while he’s brushing his teeth. I especially love it when we sit across each other and scarf down a dozen scrambled eggs with salsa.

The way Beau looks at me feels like home.

Because I fight it, too.

I fight how I smell Beau’s pillow when he’s in the shower. I fight how I’ll use his soap, loving how we smell alike. I fight how we wear each other’s T-shirts and grey boxer briefs because his mom is sweet and throws my laundry in with his.

The truth is I practically live with Beau because I love Beau.

“If we leave the sophomores alone.” My voice gets gruff because I can’t stop staring, from his hard arousal, up to his parted lips and back down again at the temptation jutting in his shorts. “Then what am I supposed to do with this?”

I’m aching. I’m scared. I’m curious. But I can’t fight it because I’m in love. I’m tingling everywhere. I’m sweating. Heat coils tight in my spine. My dick aches raw and ready. It’s like the first time I fucked a pussy, but it’s more.

It’s Beau.

He lowers the binoculars, lowering his gaze, too, and when the tip of his tongue licks his lip at the sight of my matching erection, I know exactly what comes over me.

It’s lust. It’s love. I won’t hide it when we’re alone.

It’s the first time I reach for Beau, grabbing the back of his neck. It’s the first time he grabs me back. It’s our first kiss, which I swear lasts for hours, our tongues and lips exploring what’s been building between us. It’s our deep moans, our flesh burning with need. It’s the first time we yank our shirts off, our hands grabbing and groping for what we need. It’s our breath that can’t keep up as we rip our shorts open, shucking our boxers down just enough to free ourselves.

And it’s the first time I nuzzle my forehead to Beau’s and fist his thick cock against mine where it belongs.

We gasp together. After all the nights of jerking off solo, we do it together. We watch our cocks together. It’s beautiful, glazing my swollen tip over his, my aching shaft rubbing, pumping against his hard velvet, swelling tighter and tighter for us.

When I hear his desperate, thinning breath match mine? When I see his tempting pre-cum drip and mix with mine? When I thrust against his cock, clenched tight in my grasp with mine, I don’t last.

I shake so hard I can’t speak. I just groan, watching while I spill my thick pearly cum, spurting over his raw tip like it’s kissing mine, and my cum makes him come.

“Fuck,” he shudders. “Fuck, Colt. Fuck, baby. Yes, shoot your cum on me. Shoot it on my dick.” He groans before his fat tip squirts with force, splattering my abs before coating my fist, spilling his warm cream over our raw tips, and it makes me grunt again, granting his wish, watching our slits open and spurt even more.

Witnessing our orgasms, my desire mixing with Beau’s is everything I want, and I’m overwhelmed. I’m hopeful. I’m unguarded. “I love you,” it falls from my parted lips.

But Beau stiffens and pulls away, his hard cock still dripping with his love for me, his blue eyes soft and filling with regret. “We can’t, man. You know we can’t. Not again. Not ever. They’ll kill us if they know.”

Who are they?

Name an out openly gay or bisexual Division 1 or top NFL player on any roster. You can’t because you can have all the laws, policies, and fiction you want. It ain’t reality. Not yet.

Still, that hurt like hell. My heart shatters. I shove the tears away.

I don’t know what to do with my feelings or Beau’s rejection, though I know he’s doing it to protect me. I know he loves me, too.

So…

I stop spending the night at his house. I stop hanging out with him and the guys from the team.

I do my thing. I start fucking Ashley Porter and Maria Thompson every chance I can. Because I still like pussy though I love Beau.

We won’t survive four years at Bama together, not like this. It’ll hurt too much, so I do the one thing he’ll hate me for because I love him that much, too.

I make some calls and change my plans, our plans. I sign a scholarship deal to play for Auburn University, while Beau plays for The University of Alabama.

When you’re arch rivals, you can’t be in love.

Right?