Even for Alabama it was a hot day in May. I had no awareness of soccer really, football dominated the south, but my boyfriend had gone home for his grandfather’s funeral so I tagged along with a couple of girlfriends to an exhibition game with a visiting Italian team. I was a junior in college and had been having sex with my boyfriend most of the year. Things were pretty serious. Though Catholic I was on the pill. It was 1984 after all and I was a modern girl.

Empty seats outnumbered spectators in the stands. Soon my friends lost interest in the lopsided game and left to get ready for a night of partying. I stayed on, intrigued not so much by the game itself as by the incredible level of fitness of the players. This wasn’t the American football mixed bag of huge heavyweight linemen, stocky running backs and tall receivers. These guys all possessed similarly trim strong bodies with great legs and sexy abs. I was enjoying watching them play. Shortly after the girls left I saw one of the players get injured. Apparently his ankle sprained when an opposing player tripped him. He was yelling obscenities in Italian.

It was hard to tell if he was more upset about his ankle or about having to leave the game. He was good looking, medium build with shaggy sandy colored hair, unusual for an Italian I thought. After a trainer looked at his ankle on the sideline the injured player hobbled off toward the field house locker room.

I had been in that locker room more than once. My boyfriend and I found it open one night while we were walking around the abandoned athletic fields looking at constellations for our astronomy class. We had sex on one of the benches that ran between the aisles of lockers. I liked the excitement of it. We found the door unlocked two other evenings as well when our roommates somehow conspired to take away our privacy.

I pictured the cute Italian soccer player alone in the locker room, angry, slamming locker doors, cursing in Italian and throwing his shoes in a clang against the metal lockers before finally settling down and taking a long shower. I don’t know what came over me. I left the bleachers and before I knew it I was walking down the entrance hallway beyond the door of the field house to find myself peaking around the corner of the dividing wall into the locker room. No one was there but I could hear the unique hissing and splashing of water in the large shower room. I leaned against the end of a row of lockers just a few yards away from the hallway where I would be able to see him come from the showers and he would be sure to see me. I positioned my straight hair three times before draping it forward over one shoulder to extend down to the lower edge of my tube top.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands to appear nonchalant. I would like to have leaned back with my hands in my pockets, but there were none in my light athletic shorts or my blue tube top, so when I heard the water turn off I folded one arm beneath my breasts and gripped my other arm above my elbow as I slouched against the locker.

I saw the boy before he saw me, shaking water from his head, his soft penis jumping around innocently. He picked up a towel from the pile of them and pulled it down over his face to dry it. When his face reappeared from behind the towel he saw me. His look of surprise was in itself worth being there.

Without saying a word, I walked over to him, crossed my hand to his far shoulder and walked around behind him, my fingers dragging across the light wet hair of his upper chest to press against the front of his shoulder as I pulled myself against his back crushing my breasts against him. He was a compact boy, no taller than me. He stood still as I circled my other arm around to his stomach. I felt the water on him seep through the front of my tank top and shorts.

He brought his hands behind onto my rear and pulled me tighter against his ass, it was his first response to me. Both of my hands trailed down along his abdomen and met at his groin cupping his balls with one hand while my fingers curled around his penis. I stroked him gently enjoying the feeling of his shaft as it stiffened in my hand. When I felt him start to move I let go of him to pull my shorts off over my sneakers and lied down with my back on the long wooden bench, my legs straddling it with my feet on the floor. I let my knees fall further apart blatantly offering myself to him.

He leaned over me and looking straight into my eyes slid one hand up under my tube top to grip my breast in his palm. I felt the fingers of his other hand on my sex and he wiggled two of them into me and fingered me. I held his gaze for as long as I could before the sensations of his hand kneading my breast and his fingers rhythmically hooking up into me forced mine to close. Before I could come he removed them. I opened my eyes to see him bring his fingers to his lips and nose. He breathed in deeply closing his eyes for a moment and then licked them both before stepping across the bench.

He slid into me easily with a mixture of exquisite pain and pleasure, the base of him pressing tightly against my most sensitive area and holding there firmly as if he never wanted to leave. I opened me knees further and pulled on his buttocks with my hand. He felt so solid, so strong, so good, and when he began to fuck me it was gentle at first and grew more and more fierce. Not a word had yet been spoken. Soon he was driving into me like an animal. I was almost carried away by it when I heard the fearful sound of cleats echoing in the hallway entrance of the locker room.

My newfound Italian lover heard it too. I could tell. Even though he continued to fuck me the frenzy of his pace was gone. I tried to push him off but he kept me pinned to the bench whispering “soltanto uno” into my ear.

I somehow knew what he meant because I too had determined it was only one player coming and not the whole team.

I let my head roll off to the side to watch for him. When he appeared around the corner I saw the surprised look in his handsome olive face and then his radiant smile. Neither of our eyes diverted as my sandy haired lover continued to drive into me. The dark intruder stood watching from exactly where I had paused when I first entered the locker room. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. I managed a smile.

When he spoke to the other one his mixed Italian surprised me. “Rendalo al suo swallow.”

After a couple more strokes the one fucking me pulled out so suddenly it shocked me with the void it left. Straddling the bench, as well as me, he grabbed my hair with one hand as he stroked himself with the other. He pulled my face right up so close to the end of his tool. I could smell it, me, on him. “Suck it,” he said in a heavy Italian accent. I knew my choices were to obey him or receive his cum on my face. I had no problem with either. I loved giving head and I didn’t mind semen and had gotten used to the insidious stuff getting everywhere with my boyfriend. But I had never before sucked a man right after he was inside me, so I resisted, merely opening my mouth to catch his spunk, holding myself a few inches away against the grip he had on my hair. He muttered something else in Italian and jerked himself off feverishly. The other guy let out a quiet laugh and as I looked over at him my eyes locked onto his. I opened my mouth wider knowing the eruption was imminent, wanting to appear defiantly wonton. The first blast jetted mostly into my mouth with some going up the side of my cheek. I looked up at the one I was with and took his helmeted end into my mouth finally tasting myself along with his ejaculate still spurting onto the back of my tongue. When he finished and pulled out of my mouth I looked again to the other one. I smiled. I used my finger to push the cream from my cheek into my mouth.

The injured player removed himself from his straddle of me. I kept my finger in my mouth and as I sucked on it with my eyes remaining locked onto the other darker player I let my legs fall further apart, invitingly apart. I felt so naughty, so wonderfully trashy.

He unhurriedly removed his cleats and uniform, never taking his eyes from mine except for when his shirt came off over his head. He was ready, thick and long by the time he stepped over the bench between my legs and lowered onto me, gripping the bench on each side of my neck. I could smell his sweat from the game and it smelled good to me. He lowered his body to mine. His skin felt hot against me as he slid upward over my tummy and breasts. His cock was perfectly aligned with my opening. His heat kept sliding over me and into me. I gasped at the sensation of him entering me and he paused for a moment, not even a full second, before going all the way in. His size was startling, but after a few moments he felt good to me. I pushed my bottom up from the bench. That was the signal he was looking for and he began to stroke into me. Holding himself above me with his arms gripping the bench he smiled at me and rhythmically moved against me, in and out of me. He began talking quietly to me in Italian. I didn’t understand a word he was saying, but the tone of his voice, low and smooth, was lyrical and romantic. He was dark and tall with thick tousled black hair that glimmered with his sweat. His chest was matted with a course patch of black hair. It was his voice though, the rich murmuring of a Montague, my sudden Romeo, that carried me away.

Suddenly my body was fully and finally surrendering to a powerful orgasm, surrendering to the thought of this beautiful Italian soccer player fucking me on the hard locker room bench while his teammate looked on, surrendering to the sensations of his full thick cock reaming into me with so much authority. My body took over, silently screaming with desire for him to fuck me harder and harder and to never stop.

A moment later when his own orgasm began to happen he tried to pull out. I wrapped my legs around his and pulled him firmly back into me. My hands too were on his ass further limiting his escape. Every part of me was gripping him tightly when I came. Him too. His cock flexed inside me as he grunted and drove hard into me filling me with his soothing semen.

My own orgasm subsided making me aware of my heaving breasts exposed beneath my pushed up tube top. He lifted himself above me and when I used my legs to pull him tight to me again he smiled. My body relaxed into a profound feeling of weakness.

Suddenly there was a clatter of spikes and game winning revelry in the hallway of the field house. My Italian lover responded to the panic on my face. He got up and lifted me up by my hands. I fixed my tube top, worked my shorts over my sneakers, pulling them into place just before the first players turned the corner into the locker room.

I walked toward them and stood off to the side of the entrance looking down at the floor with my hair forming a veil over my front as they began filing past. The sight of me there silenced their revelry. When I lifted my head and stroked back my hair to watch the reaction of their surprise it helped calm me, my face regaining composure.

I smiled back at my two lovers and blew them a kiss before I walked into the hallway against the flow of the last few players as cream leaked into my shorts. By the time I went through the door into the warm Alabama day I had a smile on my face that must have matched the sun’s brightness as I beamed at the thought of the story already being told and retold in Italian.