"How about seven thirty, and then we can takeour time." "Okay." That sounded reasonable. Pause. "So..." I started, then trailed off. ...Thanks for talking to me tonight," he said, and waggled hiseyebrows at me. I smiled at him. "Thanks for not beating the hell out of me. Andfor, um, I dunno, understanding. Or whatever." "Sure." He held out an arm for a hug, so I sort of slid over theconsole and gave him one. As I was pulling back, though, somehow, I turned to say. Leanne's tongue was spearing aggressively against my own and her hands seemed to be glued to my hard ass.I was dirty and a little sore after the game, my shorts and shirt degrees worse, but neither of us cared. One of my knees had a long scratch where I had fallen upon it - the blood long dried.I had little illusions why Leanne was here with me and not with her jock boyfriend - I was the school hero of the moment. I had won the winning goal for the soccer game, even our local papers will have a. More

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