Hot Rod Ford Ch 8

Hot Rod Ford Chapter 8

Battle Royal, Among Friends

For the first time in my stories, I'm going to change from third person to first and back. There are parts of this story better told and explained by the person, so I'm giving him the opportunity. That happens again in chapter 9, which I'm editing. I hope it's not disconcerting to you, the reader, but I wanted to warn you.

******

When they returned, practice schedules had changed. Large blocks of time were designated 'Precision,' and there were both individual and group drills devoted to man against man in every practice. There were also mini scrimmages at the end of each practice, and the time certified reporters could be present was greater, though they still weren't allowed to view the live scrimmages.

For the quarterbacks, 'precision' in the running game meant getting every step perfect, every turn exact, carrying out fakes, meshing with the running back, and making clean, sure pitches. An inch of variance in any of those got an ass chewing, demonstration, and individual practice time, and sometimes you got the ass chewing even if you

were

perfect.

The coaches were making a statement of their own, and it was even louder and more demanding in the passing game. If a receiver didn't drive his man off correctly and make a solid fake before making his break, at the exact point marked, whether the pattern was an out or in, the whistle blew, he got chewed on, and everyone involved in the drill did three pushups. Not really a big deal, but the point was made: your screw up costs everyone, not just you!

Quarterbacks were required to release the ball at the precise moment to get it to an open receiver in man coverage, or an open spot in zone. Coach Milwee had little patience for a millisecond early or late, for bad foot placement, or for off balance throws when not under pressure. Just as the receivers coach lacked patience for being a foot away from the desired point when the ball was delivered. They yelled, they cussed, and then they went into the office laughing and said "Oh my god! These dudes..."

The HFC kept a grim face and insisted, "Keep pushing them! They have no idea how good they can be if they learn to do everything right every time."

Five practices in, things changed again for the offense, and suddenly the running game included the quarterbacks, running backs, flankers, wide receivers, and even tight ends, via the shovel pass. The defense felt the pressure of having elite athletes running in all directions, with and without the ball, and got their butts chewed for getting blocked, losing sight of the ball, or not playing their responsibility or the options correctly, with discipline.

Across the line of scrimmage, lineman, backs, and receivers were getting their butts chewed when they didn't make and keep a block, the QBs and RBs got chewed when they didn't make the defense lose sight of the ball, and also when they didn't score on the option, like they should have on paper - ignoring the elite athletes defending it!

There were no double standards: if you were on the field, you were held to the standard, period! First teamer, third teamer, freshman, or senior; if you want to be on the field, you have to execute to the standard!

And after every practice, Coach Sark called them together and warned them that potential means you haven't accomplished anything! That many talented teams lost because they didn't do the little things correctly, that his expectation was that every member of the team would practice as if his job was on the line, and that, if they lost a game this year, it had to be because the other team was more talented, not because they were in better condition, executed better, were tougher, or tried harder!

As a team, they adopted the high standards as their own, and every day they came a little closer to that ever-receding mark.

Suddenly, the HFC announced that there

would be

a Spring Game on the final Saturday of spring practice. That announcement drew shouts of ire from fans who had made other plans, and shouts of joy from everyone else, including the many sites that cover the Longhorns. Amazingly enough, Bevo's Alley and the food/drink trucks would be ready, the carnival would be set up, and the headliners for Longhorn City Limits were famous musicians with ties to Austin.

The media was not amused. "Coach Sarkesian, why did you suddenly change your mind about the scrimmage?"

"The staff and I originally thought it would be better to keep what we're doing secret, but one of our most successful and experienced coaches argued that it would be better to give everyone a looksee and make them start spending time planning against all the things we can do, and might or might not do against them. In other words, make them do extra preparation. So, before you ask, yes, we're going to throw the playbook at each other.

"The other reason, which is more important, it that these kids love to compete, and this gives them one more opportunity to do what they love to do before the drudgery of summer workouts begins."

That announcement resulted in over 80,000 fans showing up for the festivities and the scrimmage, and they were animated throughout. It was one of those afternoons where the 80,000 in the bleachers would grow to 180,000 over time.

The defense could wrap up but not bring down, and the QBs had to stop when in the possession of the defender. Bart and Rod protested strongly, but the coaches remained firm. They didn't want either to get hurt, and they didn't want enemy scouts to know how hard they are to bring down.

The defense returned more starters and had at least eight that were expected to be high NFL draft picks, as compared to the young offense, which was still sorting itself out. So the expectation was a low scoring scrimmage. Which it was, if you agree ten touchdowns to nine is low scoring!

Reporters who had followed the team for decades, including the team radio announcer, were overwhelmed. Orangebloods led their written coverage with OMG!, and 24/7, Texas Insider, and others were equally effusive. Ketch swore he'd never seen that much firepower wearing Burnt Orange, even in the halcyon days of Vince Young, and Bobby Burton made a guest podcast appearance to analyze the play and players. He agreed with Ketch's evaluation, and cast his CFP crystal ball for the Longhorns. He declared they would be finalists in the CFP this season, and, when pushed, made them his pick for the championship.

Most coaches would have been crapping milkweed by then, but Sark just took it back to the team at their meal that night, at his house. After playing a couple of clips, he said, "This is their expectation. This is the expectation of your fans. This is also my expectation. The real question is, is this

your

expectation? Because only you can make it happen."

And across the nation, coaches began scheming ways to keep it from happening.

The players, however, had a month until finals; study halls were mandatory, and tutors were waiting. Rod's crew spent more time helping others than studying, but Rod had two papers to do before finals: one in British Literature, and one in Governments of Eastern Europe. He was excited about the topics and wanted to spend some time wallowing in the considerations raised, so he helped others during study hall, but declared the Lake House closed until after finals. Even America, who was now dating Wes, accepted his decision - they needed to study!

A week later the the papers had been submitted, and he was focused on preparing for the finals in his five courses. Some exams included a multiple choice section; others were a combination of essays and short answer essays. He was confident that he would do well, regardless of format, but he preferred the essay responses.

Dead week was a week away, so they had classes and study hall as usual, but workouts were 'optional'. Rod, Bart, Wes, Q, KP, Mo, Colt, Julian Gonzales, and Lagi Aiono, feeling secure about their finals, made every workout, which the S&C assistant coach, Patterson, reported to the position coaches.

From the last day of finals through Memorial Day and until June 3, they really were free. Free to go home, go on vacation with their families, or fly to Mallorca to film some commercial with Hailey for FLI, and then attend the Fontaine & Longoria wedding.

The photo shoot was supposed to be in early July, but the only breaks in Hailey's pre-Olympics competition schedule were the next four days, followed by an important mid-week three day competition as part of a Spanish festival, and then the three days around the social event of Monterey's summer, the Fontaine-Longoria wedding.

For Rod, the fire of his relationship with Hailey had turned to embers after the debacle in Belgium; embers he kept carefully banked. He was relatively sanguine about working with her, because he had no idea what she had been doing during their current five month separation, and he wasn't allowing any flames to surge because he was seeing her.

For all he knew, she could be engaged or married to one of the rich noblemen or sheiks with whom she had so frequently appeared on media, and to whom she was linked romantically and sexually by sources tied to her or the other party. Which was one reason he came to Spain a day early, and rented a car - he wanted to see who she actually was balling!

Sure, months she finally broke with her asshole coach and criminal lover, and came home to Millersville. As he had predicted, Angie easily found out why he was limping and got Smoke's problem corrected, and, thanks to Al, Jupiter was now at Smoke's level, and their teamwork was golden.

All good, but the way she dismissed him and dismissively rejected his advice still rankled. This was a time he might say "I told you!" to the cause of his chagrin, though he hated to stoop so low.

Rod was at the single-day competition for elite riders from early until late, sitting high in the bleachers, watching the competitors. Hailey and Jupiter were to perform third from the last, and there had been numerous excellent runs, but none yet by Canadians. The two who had already competed did well, but nothing special. At least today, the door was open for Hailey and Jupiter

Rod watched their run without emotion, judging it as if he knew neither. Certainly, the horse and rider were the most striking in the field. They were more polished than he expected and made a cleaner run than he'd ever seen them make. The judges agreed with his assessment and rewarded them with the highest score of the day.

And then the highly experienced, forty-two year-old, two-time member of the Canadian Olympic team made her run, and it was similarly flawless. She was rewarded with one point more than Hailey, though through his untrained eyes, Rod couldn't see where the point came from. Most likely, he presumed, from familiarity. The judges were highly experienced, well trained to score each jump, and expert in the other scoring criteria, but knowing someone, for better or worse, could still influence human decision-making.

The final rider was a Spaniard, and he was also excellent, but even home court advantage couldn't place him above Haily and Anna.

The top three brought their horses out for the awards ceremony, took them to their groomers, and went to the dressing facilities to change. Rod stood back and waited to see if the tall, elegantly dressed older man was waiting for Hailey. No, he was waiting for Anna, who greeted him with a kiss before they walked away. The Spaniard came out, looked around, and then exited the building.

With the hallway seemingly clear of suitors, Rod moved closer, turning his back to the door as if admiring the murals. Moments later he heard a door open and a familiar voice. "I know, Addy, but you can't imagine the pressure I'm under right now! I want to see him, and I want to make your commercials with him, but I can't allow myself to get distracted and off balance! Just seeing him in the commercials with America, Riley and the others in Costa Rica upsets me!

"So if I'm coming, you have to help me stay focused on the shoot and on jumping! Don't allow me to fall in love with him again, PLEASE!"

The voice began to fade as she walked down the hallway, so Rod turned and followed. He was smiling. Knowing her feelings for him released a lot of the tension he had felt since he agreed to the shoot. He was keeping his embers banked because he assumed she was back to playing the field; the media and social media certainly thought she was.

Or perhaps sleeping her way through the field; she claimed the international governing body for Equestrian sports, the FEI, and Equestrian Canada, both encouraged her to date, and to be seen with important sponsors, supporters, and persons of power that could enhance the situation for and standing of Equestrian events in Europe and the Middle East. At first he dismissed her claim, but after having been around some of them in ballrooms and barrooms, he wasn't as sure.

Moving quietly while she spoke loudly, he let her get two-thirds of the way to the exit before calling, "Excuse me, Miss."

Her steps faltered at the sound of his voice, and she cried, "Oh my god! He's here!" into her phone. Addy said something in reply, but Hailey just put the phone in her purse and turned. He had closed to one stride behind her, and when he saw her bewildered but beautiful face, his plan to merely surprise her changed. Before she could speak, he was upon her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hungrily, without even a word of greeting!

She was startled to see him right behind her, and shocked into inaction when he covered her mouth with his open mouth, and pulled her to him. Her mind flew to her plans and to her promises to herself, and she knew she had to break the kiss and gain control of the situation, or all were lost!

But by now she was tightly wrapped in his big arms, her body squeezed against his, his hands cupping her butt, and his mouth assaulting hers in ways frightening but familiar. She wanted to break free, to tell him that theirs was a platonic relationship now, and that there would be no sex or romance during their four days together! Just as she had practiced!

But something sinister was clouding her mind, and she suddenly realized that she wanted to strip their clothes off, and fuck him like she'd never fucked anyone before! Her cognition might be stunned, and her arms might refuse to try to push him away, but her senses were acute - she could smell, feel, and taste him, and she could also smell her own arousal.

Twenty seconds! Twenty seconds was all it took to evaporate her resolve, destroy her plans, and turn her into a wanton, writhing mass of need!

Rod had her and he knew it! She may have been planning to keep it a friendly, platonic shoot, as she proclaimed to Addy, but right now she wanted to fuck him and be fucked by him until she had no more screams to offer up!

The problem with his sudden plan, however, is that she wasn't the only one caught up in something unintended. Kissing her had been a spur of the moment thing; in part, a taunting thing after hearing her plans. And then she responded, and now they were practically having sex in the hallway.

He broke the kiss and demanded, "Where can we go?"

"My apartment," she replied breathlessly.

"No, that's later; I need you right now, and I'm going to pin you to the wall and do you right here if you don't show me somewhere within twenty steps of here!"

"Oh god!" she replied, and dragged him toward a doorway. It was a supply room for the janitors, but it also had a washer and dryer. He set her on one of them; she unbuckled her belt while he removed her boots, and then he pulled her pants and panties off, with her equally frantic assistance.

Rod unzipped and dropped his slacks, picked her legs up and draped them over his shoulders, aligned his cock, and entered her wet cunt in one smooth, long stroke, bottoming out to the sound of her cry of pain and pleasure, when the head of his cock hit something hard instead of soft.

He withdrew from the pain zone, rearranged her, and then began fucking her like demon! Her blouse and bra were still in place, but he squeezed her breasts through them, and she hurriedly unbuttoned her blouse.

Rod's right hand slipped between their copulating bodies; his thumb found her raised nubbin and began rubbing it. His left thumb pressed into the wetness below his cock until it was slick, and then discovered that her rosebud was already slick with the copious juices she was releasing. His thumb wormed its way into said rosebud, and he began thumb-fucking her butt in cadence far slower than the pace of his pile-driving ass!

He could tell when it began collecting, so he quickly removed his thumb from her clit and covered her mouth with his hand. She began quivering as if possessed, and then chanted incantations and screamed her passion into his hand. Had he not covered her mouth, she would likely have been heard by the crowds and media representatives lingering inside the show barn.

Rod was close, but was distracted by the sight of the partially clothed body beneath him. He pulled out, lifted and flipped her over, and set her feet on the ground. "Lean over, spread your legs, and hold yourself up with the washing machine," he growled.

The height disparity was a problem, but he bent until he could slip his cock back inside, and then held her by the hips and began pounding her mercilessly! The slope of her back, the curves from chest to waist to hip, her whimpers and whines, turned him into a sexual dynamo. Unexpectedly, visions of her with all the rich cocks she'd ridden with her wanton cunt flooded his mind, and he taunted her!

"Do your sheiks and dukes and princes turn you on like this? Can they fuck you the way I can? Can they make you scream in ecstasy within two minutes of entering you? They say you've been fucking your way through the royalty in Europe and the Middle East, but guess what, slut: your pussy belongs to me! Your ass belongs to me! Your mouth belongs to me! EVERY INCH OF THIS BODY BELONGS TO ME!

"You see, I know that, and so do you, don't you Princess Hailey? You might loan them to others, but they belong to me, and me alone! When I want you, I'll take you, and you will not only allow it, you will beg me take you!"

Her head was hanging, her tits were hanging, and she was barely cogent, but his cock, his hands, his words, and his commanding voice drove her over another cliff, and she chanted until she hit the bottom and exploded in yet another mind-bending orgasm!

Her total and complete submission was enough for him, for now, so he painted her walls with spurt after spurt of hot, white, semen while she chanted his name and incantations to the gods!

Hailey was limp, but she was supported by his big hands, which were holding her up by her hips. He picked her up, turned her over, and laid her on top of the washer and dryer. She lay in a puddle, and her panting breaths were the only proof that she was alive. He left her lying there with eyes closed and head lolling to the side, pulled his pants up, collected hers, and laid them on a small folding table. He then went over to the sink and returned with a roll of dry paper towels and a handful of wet.

He wiped himself with one, then her inner thighs up to her pussy, wiped her pussy with a few more, and then wiped her ass with the remaining wet towel. He tossed those in the refuse container, and dried her with towels from the roll. Pocketing her panties, he pulled her pants up her legs and over her ass, buttoned and zipped them, and then fastened her bra and buttoned her blouse.

He was growing impatient again and he didn't know where her apartment was, so his mind was considering just undressing and using her again and again, until someone came in and caught them, or he got tired of fucking her immaculate body! That would happen, for sure! Say on the 12

th

of Never!