This is the eighth installment in my "Kimmy's Adventures" series about a college track star and her sexual exploits.
It's not imperative to read the previous adventures, but it is recommended as it may help with some of the context.
This is realistic fiction in that it involves people and events that could happen, however all characters are made up. Any resemblance to actual people is coincidental. The colleges referenced in the story are made up.
All characters depicted are over the age of 18.
Kimmy's Adventures- The Locker Room 2
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The sun was setting in the west over the hill of amber and auburn tinted trees as I returned to the campus sports complex after my run. It was a late Friday afternoon in mid October of my senior year. I swiped my student ID, then opened the door to enter the building that was void of most students and faculty who were already off starting their weekend.
When I passed one of the auxiliary gyms on my way to the women's locker room, I was surprised to hear music playing and the pounding of a single basketball. Being a little nosey, I peeked through the small window in the door and saw Malik Pennington, the basketball team's point guard, practicing his dribbling skills. He was shirtless, wearing black basketball shorts and white high top Nike's. I couldn't help but stare as sweat dripped down his his muscular, ebony chest.
Malik and I had been in a few classes together during the course of our college careers, including the intro to social media class that Harrison and I had met in three summer's prior.(Kimmy's Adventures-The Gang Bang) As a result, Malik and I had gotten to know each other a little bit.
Like Harrison, Malik had suffered a knee injury that sidelined him for the better part of a year. However, unlike Harrison, the college honored Malik's scholarship and allowed him to medical red shirt so he had the time to rehab without losing any eligibility. The season after he came back from his injury he was among the country's assist leaders and was selected by the coaches as the conference "Come Back Player of the Year".
"Hey Malik!" I yelled, upon opening the gymnasium door.
Between the music and his deep concentration on his task, Malik didn't realize I was there until he looked up, saw me, then jumped in startled surprise.
"Damn Girrrl!" he yelled clutching his chest with one hand and the basketball with the other. "Ya nearly gave me a heart attack."
I couldn't help but laugh hysterically.
"I'm sorry Malik," I said as my laughing fit came to an end. "I just wanted to say hi real quick and see how you're doin'."
"Thanks Kimmy," he said. "Just gettin in some extra reps. What'r ya up to?"
I explained that I'd just finished up a light run to prep for my meet the next day. Coach didn't hold practice but told us to do a couple miles on our own. Due to my class schedule, none of my teammates were available to run with me.
I was just getting ready to say bye, when Malik said, "Hey Kimmy, I was gonna finish up doin' 100 three point shots and 100 free-throws before I go. Was wonderin' if you'd rebound the ball for me. It would make it a lot quicker if I don't got to go chasing the ball all over after each shot. Then maybe we could go and get something to eat? On me!"
I wasn't in a real hurry and didn't have any particular plans. I just wanted to make sure I was in bed by 10:00 p.m. so I'd get a good night sleep for the meet the following day. So, I agreed to help and to the free meal, with some good lookin' company.
"So is it true that I hear you're gonna forgo your last semester of eligibility and join the pro track circuit?" Malik asked as he began his three point routine from the left baseline.
"Word travels fast around here," I said, a little surprised. I wondered what else he'd heard about me.
"Nothing's definite yet. I've had a couple offers from sneaker and apparel companies. I'm meeting with a couple agents next week."
"Wow, I'm really happy for ya," he said after swishing his seventh shot in a row. "Ya must be hyped."
"Yeah, but kinda overwhelmed at the same time," I confessed as I grabbed the ball after it passed through the net.
"Don't sweat it!" Malik said. "No doubt it'll all work out."
"How about you?" I asked. "What are your chances for the pro's?"
"Well, as of right now, I'm not projected to get drafted," Malik began to explain, "but if the team and I have a good season, that could change. Otherwise I'll have to hope to be invited to a team's camp as a free agent. Maybe find a spot on a G-League (NBA-minor league) team.
"If that doesn't work out, Coach said he'd take me on as a grad-student coach. Maybe work my way to becoming a head coach someday," Malik continued. "I love this game so much I want to stay involved in it one way or another. And if I can help some kid the way my coaches' have helped me, that would be cool."
I couldn't help but admire Malik. The fact that he was in the gym late on a Friday afternoon when most of his peers were already starting their weekend showed his work ethic. What I knew about him, he didn't have an easy childhood. He grew up in a tough neighborhood with a single Mom who worked two jobs to provide for him and his younger sister. He'd admitted that if it wasn't for his high school coach, he didn't know what might have happened to him. The fact that he wanted to give back to others like himself showed what a good guy he was.
As I bounced another pass to him, I also couldn't help but admire how hot he was. My nipples stiffened under my sports bra and long sleeved shirt as I watched his lean, muscular, athletic body spring into the air and release the ball. At 6'2" tall and 190-lbs, he was considered a little small for the pro's. However, what he lacked in size he made up for in quickness and toughness; attributes that would serve him well.
He wasn't flashy or ostentatious on or off the court. He made good solid passes and took efficient shots to help his team. Appearance wise, his black wiry hair was natural and close cropped. His full beard and mustache enhanced his mature look. The only jewelry was a small stud in his left ear and a tattoo on his right forearm honoring his mom.
The horny pervert in me couldn't help but notice his junk shift in his gym trunks each time he landed after a shot. I became curious as to what was hidden under his shorts that I guess I was day dreaming a little too much. His next shot was a rare miss that bounded off the backboard and nearly hit me in the head. Luckily I dodged it just in time.
"You okay?" Malik asked trying not to laugh.
"Yeah, I guess the lights got in my eyes," I lied.