"Damn!" my opponent gasped as my shot hit nothing but net, and with that our game ended with me winning by the score of 21-17.
The game was a lot closer than that, and I had to admit that the old guy had turned out to be a tough opponent despite me at 18 being around three times Steve's age.
Steve was a guy I had never met before today, but had joined a bunch of us who had started to gather on Saturdays at this deserted basketball court in the rear of a recently closed elementary school.
We had a regular 5 on 5 game earlier where Steve and I had been on opposite teams and we had guarded each other. Steve was a little shorter and lighter but was a very physical player with his hands constantly on me, nudging and pushing a bit more than most of the rest of the guys who were playing, but I didn't mind because as long as it stayed clean I love the contact.
"Great game," I said as I put my arm over Steve's shoulder, his t-shirt drenched to the bone.
"Best man won," Steve responded as he put his arm over my shoulder, which was bare because I had taken my shirt off long ago when we were playing full court as skins and shirts.
After everybody else had gone home Steve suggested that we play against each other, and after I accepted Steve suggested that I keep my shirt off for the one-on-one game, "so we could tell the sides apart."
I had chuckled about that but even before that I had gotten a feeling about Steve. Nothing I could really put my finger on, but there was something with the way his hands were always on me and the way he would look at me that made me think that maybe...
Well, maybe it made me think Steve and I had a lot more in common than liking basketball and physical contact, and while Steve was considerably older than I was he was in excellent shape.
So as we leaned against the chain link fence and caught our breaths I was aware of Steve looking at me as he drank some of the remaining water before handing me the bottle.
I probably smell by now, I figured as Steve came up to me and handed me the water, his eyes focused on my right armpit which was exposed with my hand grasping the chain links over my head.
I said that out loud with a chuckle when I took the bottle in my left hand, and Steve stayed in front of me as I drank.
"You make that sound like it's a bad thing," Steve said with a smile.
"Well..." I said, and then Steve was reaching over and putting his hand under my arm, his fingers digging into the fur that was plastered against my skin.
"Damn, you're hairy," Steve said, his eyes darting between my armpit and my eyes, searching for my reaction as he raked his fingernails gently through my soggy and musky armpit. "If I'm out of line a simple stop will suffice."
"Understood," I said as a tingle went down my spine.