All characters in this story are over the age of 18 and are consenting young adults. I was considerably more consenting now than Friday night.
My part of the bargain was fulfilled, and despite it being the most embarrassing moment of my life, second most actually, it had been worth it. I figured I still had hurdles with the guys in the locker room, but whatever happened, it was already worth it.
If you missed the chapters leading up to this point, you should read them.
*****
On the drive to practice, I had time to think about events of the past 24 hours. Maybe I should have worried about the two assholes, but I never gave them a thought. Instead, my thoughts were on more interesting things; Sis and sex. Sis was great, and I found myself thinking about other girls.
The only thing that worried me was Sis's technique this morning. Some people may like it rough, but I'd rather not have all the fingernail action. It hurt.
Thanks to Sis, I was the last guy to arrive at practice. I'd have to thank her for that when I got home.
By the time I walked into the locker room, most everyone was dressed. I kept my eyes focused forward and headed straight for my locker. No one spoke, but I heard a lot of whispers. When I got to my spot, I noticed that the two guys who were normally next to me had moved, replaced with two younger players. The two assholes probably forced them to trade places. For me, it had to be an improvement.
I didn't say anything, but opened my locker, getting ready to take off my street clothes and change into my practice uniform.
We were still in early season practices designed to get us used to the heat, so it was helmets only; no pads or contact for now. It wouldn't take but a minute to put on jersey, practice shorts, and cleats.
As I pulled my t-shirt off, I felt it binding and pulling at my back and silently cursed Sis. I could feel it drag over my entire back. I grimaced and grunted from the pain as I worked the t-shirt carefully up my back.
To myself, 'What the fuck did you do to me, Sis?' I was hoping this morning was just another lesson and Sis would move on to something else, anything else. I had had all the rough sex I wanted.
With the t-shirt up around my head, I heard someone behind me, "Holy shit! Guys, you gotta see Tyler's back."
"I guess he wasn't lying about the girl and her panties." I wasn't sure anyone had heard that yesterday.
Guys crowded around now to get a look at my back, which up to this point, I hadn't seen either. I went to the restroom to find a mirror where I could examine it. The guys followed.
Even I was shocked at what I saw. My back was covered with long sets of parallel scratches running from the center of my back downward and outward toward my sides. These were the paths' Sis's fingernails had traced so many times this morning. I recalled that she hadn't restricted herself to my back and pulled my shorts down just far enough to reveal that Sis hadn't spared my ass.
"Man, she worked you over good. He's got hickeys too," as they discovered my neck, but it wasn't as impressive as my back.
With a smile taking form, "Yeah, she really did." It was then that I realized this had been Sis's way of correcting the situation that she had created. She couldn't have done anything better. Any ill will I harbored for Sis's rough sex vanished.
Those scratches gave me a measure of respect on the team. I had always been an outsider. This morning I became an insider; accepted at least. I wasn't certain I wanted to be all the way in with some of these guys.
The moment didn't last as the Coach Barker appeared in the door to the rest room. "What the hell are you guys doing here in the restroom? Times wasting."
One boy near me spoke up, "Coach, I think Tyler's... hurt."
"Hell. I warned you guys about fighting," as the guys parted to allow him to get to me. I turned to face him and started to explain.
The boy who had first spoken up volunteered, "He wasn't fighting, Coach. Look at his back!"
As I turned, "What's the matter? You got..." He never finished the sentence. "Cuhhh-rist Tyler. What got hold of you? Damn. Did you run into a mountain lion or something? Never seen anything like that."
From a boy in the background, "I'm pretty sure it was PUSSY cat." Everyone in the room snickered, except me and Coach.
"I'm good to go, Coach. They're just scratches. I'll be ok."
Looking at my back, "We're not doing contact drills now anyway. If you practice, you'll be a distraction. Another day of running might be in order. You'll just get a head start on your conditioning. Let's get you over to first aid and see if they have something for that back. Damn! She worked you over good."
Coach imparted some final advice, "Ms. Talmage is pretty protective of her girls, so, probably the less said the better; just 'yes sir' and 'no sir'. Understand?" The guys snickered at his use of sir. Coach frowned and there was silence.
I was apprehensive as I walked across the field. Ms. T had something against the football team, and I was part of it.
As I approached, the girls were looking me over. I had forgotten that I wasn't wearing a shirt. It appeared girls were as bad as boys when it came to leering. It's intimidating to have twenty plus eyes roaming over you like a piece of meat. Did the girls feel this way when the football team did it to them?
Apparently Ms. T knew about yesterday. She walked close enough that I was the only one who could hear. Dripping with sarcasm, "What do you need? A bra to go with your panties?"
"No . I need first aid." I'd had three years of practice letting things roll off my back. It had been easier that way. Still, not so hot that all the girls also seemed to know about yesterday. I couldn't help but wonder what they must all think about me.
Ms. T questioned me, "You look ok to me. You're not trying to get out of practice again are you?"
"It's my back... I have some... scratches."
"Let me see. Turn around." I turned which gave her a view of my back. The girls also got a good look.
There was a collective gasp from Ms. T and the girls while they took in my back. Understanding set in and chatter between them began.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"I thought he was gay."
"Who do you think did it?"
"Was it one of us?"
"He's got a hickey."
"Never saw him without his shirt before."