On a dare, sixteen year old Gertrude
Raced onto the soccer pitch nude.
The ref showed her a red card
As she had bared and was barred.
Upset with that call, many fans booed.

“I dare you, Trudes.”

Well, I wasn’t about to take that lying down. So to speak.

We’d been discussing the panty raid of a few days ago, and which of the guys we thought was the hottest, and Kerry reminded me that the team was playing this afternoon. “We should seriously check it out,” she said.

Kerry was kind of a soccer buff, and in art class she’d made this semi-X-rated poster of a soccer guy doing some fancy kick.

I’d been a cheerleader in high school, but when it came to sports I could take it or leave it. Turned out the guy in the poster was on the other team, which explained Kerry’s interest. Kerry knew all his stats. And she said this guy’s team hadn’t lost as long as he’d been at the school. “Our guys don’t stand a chance,” she said with a smirk. This was after she’d fucked two of them and sucked off a third at that panty raid.

Okay, I’d had a taste of them, too.

“Every winning streak has to end sometime,” I felt it my duty to point out. “And I think it’s really poor sportsmanship to root against our own school.”

Mention of winning streak reminded me about back when streaking was popular. “My dad and mom met at a streaking party,” I told Kerry. “If not for that, I might not be here today.”

“Maybe you should streak at the game,” Kerry suggested.

“Maybe you should,” I countered. “You might meet that soccer stud you’re all het up about.”

“No way,” Kerry said.

“Chicken?” I said.

“Hey, you’d never do it,” she accused me.

Ended up that she dared me.

For a while it was a close game. Kerry’s poster guy had scored twice, but we, meaning the home team, were only down by one. Not much time left, according to Kerry. “I knew you wouldn’t do it,” she said.

I’d worn clothes I could easily ditch. I figured what did I have to lose. I scuffed off my shoes, stripped off my top and shorts, handed them to Kerry, and, fully naked, pranced onto the field.

My one fear was that no one would notice. That the game would just go on as if I wasn’t there. I needn’t have worried about that. Play stopped dead. The crowd went seriously, expectantly quiet. The ball was just sitting there, and I thought I’d just get it over with, score a goal and go, so I kicked it, and it bounded toward the goal, and I bounded after it.