Semi-Standard Disclaimer: As usual, this is your 'vanilla' type of male/female sex/love story here. This is NOT a story about a nympho teenage cheerleader naked skydiver having midair sex with her coach before landing in a cucumber patch guarded by a horny St. Bernard. Sorry. As usual, this is material of an explicit, adult nature, and should only be viewed or posessed by adults of legal age in whatever villiage, town, city, community, state, or country you happen to harken from. Failure to safeguard this material in an appropriate manner might result dire consequences. You have been warned.
NOTE: This story does contain 'sexual contact' (although NOT intercourse) with characters that might be considered too young in some places. Both characters in question are in their late teens, and in the context of the story it is not (in my opinion) exploitative or seemy. Faithful Readers will have to make their own judgements, however.
Now that THAT's out of the way, let's get on with the story.
Walking back down to the old field brought back all the memories, all the wonderful moments of high school. I'd had a better time of it than most kids these days, and I remembered those autumn afternoons spent on the gridion fondly. I guess the fact that I was the starting quarterback and captain of the team had a little bit to do with it. The memory of those years was running through my mind as I approached the field. There was another game going on today, one with different players and different opponents, but some things remained the same. Youthful enthuasism, dedication, drive, determination, the hunger to win...it was all still there, out on the field and in the stands.
I stopped down by the end zone and leaned over the waist-high fence that surrounded the football field. This was the same exact field I'd spent four years on as QB. I looked over at my high school team, in a huddle, and had to grin. The QB was wearing my old jersey, #15. Only, instead of my last name written across the back, it said "JENNINGS." I wondered who Jennings was, and if he was any good. I decided to stick around and watch a while.
Looking over at the home crowd, I spotted the cheerleaders working the stands, their short, dark blue skirts swishing side to side as they went through their routines. I had to smile, and then I had to remember.
My breath was coming hard. I chanced a glance over my shoulder. The clock on the scoreboard, and the scoreboard itself, told the entire story. There was less than a minute in the game, the score was 28-0, and my team, the Falcons, were leading. I'd passed for four touchdowns and over 200 yards that day. It was the last game of the season. After coming off a perfect 8-0 undefeated season, I'd taken the Falcons first to sectionals, then regionals, and finally, to the state championships. Well, the Class III-C championships, but it was still the state championships. And we were winning. With less than sixty seconds to go, nothing could stop us. The clock was stopped, and I took a few seconds to catch my breath.
I looked at my teammates in the huddle and had to smile. We'd come far as a group, playing together for four years, first as the Freshman team, then as JV, and finally when we were Juniors, we were all promoted, en masse, to Varsity. And we'd kicked some serious ass all up and down the county. This was our crowning moment. I looked from face to dirty face, uniform to muddy uniform. And then my eyes came to rest on Todd.
His uniform was spotless. His helmet unscratched. The back of my own helmet had sixty-three small football decals on it, one for every touchdown I'd passed, handed off, or run across the line myself. Todd's helmet was bare. In four years of playing football, Todd had been in on exactly six plays. This was his seventh.
Todd was my best friend, had been since the 2nd grade. Todd was a great guy, the absolute heart and soul of the team. Everyone liked him, a few of the guys might even have loved him. He was at every practice, giving 200 percent, doing everything the starters did, only slower and a little less gracefully. Hell, a lot less gracefully. Todd was a great guy, my best friend, but possibly the worst football player the world had ever seen. The six previous plays the coach had put him in on were all in games where we led by at least three touchdowns, and always late in the fourth quarter. He'd played hard and sweet and honest, but I'd never given him a pass or a handoff. The coach called the plays, and as much as the coach knew Todd wanted to handle the ball just once in a game, he'd always called running plays or passing plays to the opposite side. I smiled at my best friend and he smiled back, excited to be playing in this, the state championship game. SOmething he would be able to tell his grandchildren about, I thought.
I glanced over my other shoulder and took the sign from the coach. He wanted me to fake a handoff to one running back and give it to the other. I nodded, turned back into the huddle...and set a completely different set of circumstances into motion. We were one, maybe two plays away from the end of the season, the end of our high school careers, the end of a championship year. I was captain and QB. I was taking control.
I looked at my teammates and said it. "Red right 39. Todd." Todd gulped. I looked from face to face, looking for dissention. At least three of the linemen had seen the sign, and knew that I'd changed it. All I saw were warm smiles and knowing looks. They wanted this, too. They wanted to give Todd the chance to catch a ball in a game, make a contribution. He'd earned it, and I knew that my teammates would give their all to make sure that it happened.
We broke the huddle and assembled, Todd on my left, at tight end. The play was simplicity itself. A twenty yard run, then ten in. When he turned, the ball would be in his hands. He knew it, I knew it. He had only to catch it.
The defense lined up, and I checked it. They were expecting a run play, or perhaps even for me to fall on the ball and run down the clock. Everything started moving in slow motion. I could see my breath coming in soft white puffs as I leaned over the center and looked right, then left. My eyes met Todd's, and then unfocused a little more, and I saw Lynn standing behind Todd, on the sidelines, her pom-poms forgotten, her hands at her face, looking at her boyfriend.
Lynn and Todd had been going out since anyone could remember. He had asked her out in the seventh grade, when she was...well, not exactly ugly, but she was nothing to brag about. Kind of short, with dirty blonde hair she wore in a listless ponytail. Todd had shyly approached her and asked her to go out with him, and thrilled, she had accepted. They had been together ever since, and were a shoe-in to be named Senior Couple when the yearbook came out later that spring.
Lynn had changed a lot in the six years she and Todd had dated. Sometime over our sophmore summer, she had bloomed. She was gorgeous, tall and lithe and blonde and tanned and perfect. Her high, saucy breasts caught more than one eye as she walked down the hall, and the rear view was even better. Her tight, taut ass was something to behold. The boys had started coming around then, hanging around Lynn's locker, asking her out, trying to pry her away from Todd. To Lynn's credit, she had stayed loyal, remembering when none of the boys would even give her a second glance. Remembering that Todd had loved her when she looked just OK...and she loved him. Todd loved her. And I loved her.
My head swivelled back to stare at the opposing noseguard, and as I called out the count, I remembered...
June 1972...three months earlier
The phone call caught my by surprise. It was the first week of summer vacation, and I was planning on sleeping in. My summer job wasn't scheduled to start for another week, and Todd was away at summer camp, working as a counselor. My own girlfriend and I had broken up about a month ago, so it couldn't be here.
"'Lo?" I mumbled from under the covers.
"David? It's Lynn." There was something wrong, something in her voice that snapped me awake in a second. "Could you come over please? I... I...oh, God, David, please just come over!"
"I'll be right there," I said, and hung up. I jumped out of bed and threw on a pair of old, faded jeans and a t- shirt. I slid my naked feet into some topsiders and ran down the stairs, grabbing my carkeys as I went out the front door. My new car, a 69 Mustang, sat in the driveway, sleek and silent. Dad had given it to me for my 17th birthday a few weeks ago, and it was the love of my life. I jumped in and fired it up, backed into the street and turned towards Lynn's house. It was normally about a ten minute drive. I made in three.
I knew something was up when I turned down her street. Cars were parked everywhere. I parked in a neighbor's driveway and made my across the street. Parked directly in front of Lynn's house was an olive-drab Army staff car. Standing on her front porch were an Army Captain, a chaplin, and a woman, probably the Captain's wife. It was a notification team, and I knew instantly what had happened.
Lynn's brother, Kevin, was in Vietnam, with the Army. He was a LRRP (Long Range Reconnisance Patrol), assigned to the 173rd Airborne Division near Chu Li. LRRP duty was among the most dangerous duty there was. Their name said it all. Long Range Recon; deep into enemy territory.
I ascended the stairs and nodded to the Army personnel. I tapped the Chaplain on the shoulder and motioned him over with my chin.
"Yes, my son?"
.... There is more of this story ...