I was recruited for soccer. It wasn't the college I wanted. It was a party school in the deep South, but it was decent academically, it had good sports, and importantly, I got in. So of course I went.
The college, which for good reason will remain nameless, always held a pre-season soccer camp to give the teams a chance to practice together and bond. It succeeded.
****
College life and Southern culture were both new to me. I was on my own and I knew no one, but Southerners were creepily friendly, even if you might be an axe murderer. The girls all dressed too nicely and wore makeup for lunch. Whenever a cute waitress called me 'darlin' I thought she was trying to pick me up, so it sent chills down my spine. It was weird, but not all bad when you got used to it.
Our team was temporarily assigned to a single dorm, and our evenings together were fun because training regimens were not always scrupulously observed. The upperclassmen seemed to know what we could get away with, and that's what we did. They also knew players on the girls' varsity squad and thought we should do some bonding with them. They somehow persuaded the coaches to give us time off to watch the girls' first full scrimmage.
Everyone was talking about the girls' left back, a Spanish girl named Isabella, and when we settled onto the sidelines it was easy to see why. She was gorgeous and extremely fit, but she had a big, muscular ass and really big boobs that bounced around enchantingly in her sports bra. The rowdier guys would cheer whenever she got a touch, and sometimes when she just ran by. It wasn't PC, but she was a secure senior who just flipped off her harassers or gave them a patronizing 'you should be so lucky' smile. I found it embarrassing, but very amusing.
My position was outside right midfielder. I wished I were still playing forward, but I was tall and fast rather than super-quick, and at the college level I was a better fit for an outside spot. I had been studying tactics for the position, so naturally the other player I wanted to see was the girls' right mid.
She was a freshman too. After the first few minutes, all I could say was that she was a tall, slender and graceful athlete with long brown hair and fabulous legs. When the ball came to her, she would one-touch it away. It's a safe option because coaches love it. It's unselfish and it develops plays fast. I thought she might be a walk-on trying to look good, but after a while she got bolder and started to assert herself. The interesting thing was that she never looked like she was really hurrying or trying hard. On the other hand, she would sometimes blow by defenders so fast that they looked bewildered, defending empty air. Her relaxed appearance was apparently a kind of trap. She looked like she was loafing, and then she was gone.
I asked around and learned she was a prize recruit who carried high expectations. Her name was Tanya. During the game she got two assists and slammed a long shot off the frame. It rebounded about 30 yards. She looked like she was just out for a stroll and a ball got in her way.
After the scrimmage we met the girls on the sidelines, as planned, at least by us. I tried to speak to Tanya but a thicket of excited teammates followed her right into the girls' locker. I didn't want to seem uncool, so I didn't push it. Actually, I was kind of in awe. I was just hoping for a spot high on the bench, and she could reasonably expect to start as a freshman, after a decent interval.
****
The meetup had apparently been a success for some of us, because the upperclassmen of each squad were already arranging the annual pre-season party. I didn't know what to expect. I'd been to jock parties before, of course, but only in high school and even then they usually weren't my style. You could say I'm not a loud and obnoxious drunk, but you could also say I'm a little too reserved for my own good. Still, I wanted to be in on the bonding process, and it seemed like a good time to meet Tanya.
As the day of the party approached, though, some of the arrangements seemed a little ominous by high school standards. I wasn't part of the planning process, of course. A committee of upperclassmen handled that, but a few details leaked. The location was going to be the basement of our dorm, a dimly lit dungeon famously filled with old couches and mattresses left by departing seniors. We were all going to wear our soccer uniforms, because someone thought the girls looked hot in their silky short-shorts. Cups being out of the question, some the guys were laughing about coming commando. There were rumors about hooking up with the other team in previous years.
It was beginning to seem like this would be a quick introduction to college culture rather than a good chance to discuss midfield tactics, but since many of us had never met, how rowdy could it get? I figured that at worst, if college came at me too fast, I could always bail out.
****
The day of the big event, the ad hoc committee handed out invitations with final details. There would be introductions to familiarize us with each other quickly, so everyone was told to bring a brief resume describing their soccer career. It said our soccer uniforms were mandatory to help with identification. Right.
So it began. Rock music was playing too loudly. Drinks were a punch mixed in a plastic trash barrel. We all wore our soccer uniforms, except that some of the girls could not resist heels and it appeared not all of them considered their sports bras to be part of the uniform.
After we had all had some time to get buzzed, the team captains banged on a bare pipe for attention and stood under one of the dim lightbulbs to make announcements. We were here to get to know each other, they proclaimed. Our captain, Steve, said we should mingle, have a good time and get a good feel for the other team. Muffled snickers abounded. The girls' captain, the lovely Lola, said that each player would now be formally introduced. Obviously the captains knew each other pretty well, since Steve had his arm slung over Lola's shoulders and was dangling his hand over her boob, maybe even brushing it lightly. She seemed OK with that. Anyway, they were going to introduce the players at each position together, by reading their resumes and then, to promote bonding, . . . having them kiss for as long as the crowd kept clapping.
That meant I would get to meet Tanya up close and personal. It also meant our first contact would not be a handshake.
To demonstrate, the captains grabbed each other and commenced a full-body kiss. Lola threw her elbows around Steve's neck and hung herself on him. The crowd started to applaud. When it didn't seem inclined to stop, Steve lowered his hands and grabbed her ass. After a minute someone yelled "Grab her boob!" and the clapping got louder and more rhythmic. She seemed willing enough because she was squirming subtly against him with no obvious reservations, and so after a bit he did indeed grab a boob and openly started to fondle it through her silky jersey. The crowd broke into cheers, the clapping died down, and the captains stepped aside, picked up their piles of résumés and started the other introductions. Steve looked a little flushed. Lola seemed totally cool.
The starting goalies were next. It was reasonably apparent the girl was gay. The kiss seemed clinical and the clapping lasted just long enough not to be insulting. No one got pregnant.
The starting left backs were up next. Isabella with the big boobs and uninhibited manner pretty clearly was not wearing a bra, because her swinging nipples were obvious in the clingy material of her jersey. By now everyone knew she was a senior with a dominant, intimidating personality. While she and our team's starting left back stood there in the cone of light, their resumes -- names, home towns, and soccer highlights and awards -- were read. She seemed impatient, as though the introductions were a waste of her time. Our guy, a well-built sophomore, was looking nervously at the older hottie out of the corner of his eye and gnawing his lower lip. He seemed a little outmatched in every way. She was openly staring at him like a bag of Cheetos. When the introductions were done he walked under the light and just stood there. She walked right up to him, locked him in a death grip and waited confidently for a kiss. He haltingly lowered his head. As soon as the kiss began, she started undulating slowly against him like she couldn't wait to get screwed. The crowd clapped enthusiastically and soon she was frankly humping him. Everyone knew she had to be grinding on his stiffy because there was no way he didn't have one. She was basically lap dancing him right there in front of us.
No one seemed to want to stop clapping, including me, until I realized I was getting aroused too and my turn would be coming soon enough. In a sudden panic I looked around for Tanya. I finally located her standing in a crowd of quieter players at the back of the room, in a dim corner. She wasn't clapping, so I stopped, too. She suddenly looked my way and our eyes met. I was still smiling from the little sex show, but she wasn't, so I stopped that, too. She quickly looked away.
Now I was even more worried. Maybe she was shy, or gay, or moralistic, or in a serious relationship, or just awkward. I knew only social pressure was keeping her here, but mob expectations can be a forceful motivator. I was feeling sensationally awkward myself. If we both acted that way it would be a nightmare. The clapping would last forever. As a freshman I couldn't afford to chicken, but I was anticipating being mortified as soon as my boner hit her pussy.
The amateur sex show ended and it remained the high point of the evening for quite a while. The crowd didn't let anyone off too fast, especially when one of the pair was a freshman, I noticed. But no one matched the left backs until our center mid appeared with his girlfriend. She was only a backup, but they were a popular, well-known couple of party animals in a long relationship, so special treatment was to be expected. Their résumés were read, and then he held out his arms to her. She seemed to be flowing comfortably into them, but at the last minute she ducked and his arms closed hilariously on empty air. Less hilariously, she was on her knees, ripping down his shorts and sucking his dick into her mouth.
The crowd went wild. The clapping was overwhelmed by hooting and screaming and stomping. He was obviously startled, but she was already bobbing at speed and fondling his balls without any evident inhibition. I wondered how many copies of this would end up on the internet. Then a girl's voice called out, "Grab her hair!"
The guy didn't know what to do, but the clapping intensified and a couple of guys repeated the call, so he lamely put a hand on her ponytail. There was obviously no real pressure, but it seemed to satisfy the crowd.
This was getting out of control, and my turn was only three away. I looked for Tanya again, but this time she wasn't looking at me at all. She was watching the show intensely, mouth slightly open. Maybe she was aroused. Or aghast.
Finally the girlfriend pulled off, kissed the tip of his dick, stood while yanking his pants up, did a little bow and walked off, smiling and beckoning for applause. The clapping petered out. He had to tuck his dick back in, but being a cool upper classman, he did a pretty good job of keeping his dignity. I wondered whether this happened a lot in college.
The show went on. My time was running out. I figured we were in for a slaughter. We were both freshmen, and she seemed pretty cute. I really didn't have a plan if the crowd didn't mercifully let us off with just a long kiss.
The starting right-inside mids were well known and got off with a comic impression of a sensuous embrace. The starting right mids (not us, obvs) were serious but respected, and they just played it down the middle with a classic, exaggeratedly romantic kiss that got boring fast. The clapping petered out quickly. I thought we could try that. I looked around for Tanya, unsuccessfully.
