I can’t stop thinking about her. Last night, I jerked myself off furiously to the thought of her mouth on my cock earlier that day.

But despite relieving myself, I wake up with the biggest and stiffest morning wood of my life. I simply don’t have a choice but to give myself some relief. I can’t be walking around all day with this kind of wood in my pants. So I close my eyes and the hottest thing I can possibly think of is still Chloe, with her mouth around my cock. I wonder what it’s going to be like to get inside her, to be on top of her, to fuck her, to be between her legs, to bury my hard cock in her sweet pussy?

I come in no time, my fist working furiously away at my cock.

You just have to wait until tonight, I tell myself. I check my cell phone’s clock, and remind myself that it’s just a little less than fifteen hours.

My cell phone beeps at me.

“Have to work late tonight,” reads a text message from Chloe. (We exchanged numbers yesterday.) “But I can meet you there at one, I think.”

“No problem,” I write back, adding a smiley face, although I’m not sure why. I’m not the type of guy who normally uses smiley faces. I add a kissy face and a heart for good measure. Shit, that looks lame, I think to myself.

In college, I don’t need to go to this much effort to sleep with someone. They simply come to me, sometimes knocking on my door in the middle of the night.

But Chloe isn’t like that. Chloe is special. There’s something about her that attracts me so much to her and I can’t explain what it is. She drives me absolutely crazy, and she drives my cock crazy, making it harder than it’s ever been before, making me simply ache for her and her body. My cock aches to be inside her.

I’d better head downstairs before I get another erection. My cock’s already getting a little stiff again.

My parents have gone away on errands, leaving a note on the table.

That’s just like them, I think to myself. Even though I’m just home for less than a week, they’ve still got their own stuff to do that’s more important than spending time with me.

Whatever, I think to myself. This means I’ve got the place to myself.

I make a mess of the kitchen, frying up some steaks, bacon, liver, and eggs for breakfast. I wash the whole thing down with a quart of milk and a couple of glasses of orange juice.

Coach says I need to work on my diet. He says I need more power if I want to go pro. But I know I’m going to go pro no matter what. I still have a couple more years in which I can grow even bigger, getting even stronger, so long as I keep working out.

I clean the dishes and I have an hour to kill before my work out. I try to open some of my school textbooks, but the words on the page seem to swim away from me. Normally, I don’t have any problems studying, but my mind keeps wandering back to Chloe. Chloe, Chloe, Chloe. She’s stuck in my head like an earworm, a catchy melody that you can’t get out of your head.

Time for the workout.

I head into the basement, where my old weights from high school are still there. My dad bought them for me, and once in a while he’ll use them himself, but not often.

I study the weight for a moment, then pull off my shirt. I glance at my reflection in the mirror that’s there to study my weight lifting form. Not bad, I think to myself, flexing a little.

Chloe’s going to like this, I think to myself, studying my body.

Come on, man, can’t you think about something else for a moment?

After all, you’ve got plenty of football games coming up. It’s important to keep up with the training even though you’re at home. I tell this all to myself like a little mental lecture.

After warm ups, I do bench presses, three sets of 10 each, with 80% of my max, with my shirt off. This doesn’t even get me sweating, though.

With my back lying on the weight lifting bench, the iron bar above me, I can feel my cock swelling. I glance down and see it poking up massively, creating a huge tent in my work out shorts.

Shit, I think to myself. I can’t continue my workout with a hard on like this.

There’s an old trick that all virile guys like myself use, and use often.

Before a date, when you’re particularly excited about a girl, it’s a good idea to jerk off a few times ahead of the date. Some just jerk off once, and there’s enough for them, to keep them from getting too excited.

For me, I happen to have a very high sex drive. Probably goes along with being muscular and fit and young.

I can’t think of anyone else but Chloe, of course.

I have a good visual memory, but it’s not as good as pictures, so I head online to her social media profile and pull up some pictures of her from the last couple months.

There are just a couple, and honestly it doesn’t look like she’s been doing much more than working, but there’s a picture of her wearing her movie theater uniform, which is a tight shirt that shows off her breasts and her hips.

I slide my hand into my shorts, and then, frustrated already, I slide my shorts down while still lying shirtless on the workout bench.

Propping my phone up on the floor, I stare at it, and start working away at my cock.

With Chloe’s picture in front of me, it’s not long before I explode into an old rag that I promptly throw out.

I should be ready for tonight, I think to myself.

I do two sets of heavy weight squats, all the way down to the ground each time, my ass almost hitting the floor.

When I’m done with my workout, I hit the shower and let the steam pile up around me, relaxing my tired muscles.

Then it’s time for another meal. I have to laugh at myself. Sometimes it feels like all I do is eat, play football, and lift weights. Well, that and party, of course.

But someone like Chloe could open up new possibilities for me, new things to do.

I’m surprised at myself, really surprised, because in my head I’m imagining all sorts of possibilities with Chloe, like going on dates together, going to dinner at fancy restaurants, and when the weather is better, hanging out in the park.

But she’s going to be here at home, a townie, and I’m going to be at college, playing football constantly. I’m even supposed to be there for the summer months, for training.

It’s even unusual that I actually have Thanksgiving break off. It’s just the way the football schedule worked out this year. In general, I have to spend all my time at school practicing and playing games, training, weightlifting, meeting with Coach—I don’t have the luxury like other students of heading home often for the holidays.

But maybe she can come visit me at school, I think to myself, my naked cock growing hard in the shower, just from thinking about her.

Damnit, I think to myself, looking down at my cock. My body really can’t wait until tonight.

I towel myself off out of the shower, turning off the water. My naked cock is still hard.

Before I can get dressed again, my phone rings.

It’s Coach.

Shit.

It’s not good when Coach calls you on Thanksgiving break.

“What’s up, Coach?” I say, using my dry hand to answer the phone.

“Johnson says you two have been having words,” says Coach.

“Nice to talk to you too, Coach,” I say. “How was Thanksgiving?”

Coach grunts disapprovingly. “I don’t want to hear any more that you and Johnson are arguing. I don’t want to hear anything about fighting. You’re on the same team, and you’ve got to work together.”

Coach hangs up the phone. I can almost picture him in his cramped little office, slamming the phone down, surrounded only by his old trophies and the dust of the last few decades.

This makes me angry, really angry.

Fucking Johnson! Why did he have to go squealing to Coach?

Just because he can’t throw a ball properly, and he has to go ahead and blame me when the plays go to shit? I’m going to show him what’s what when I get back to campus.

That little piece of…

Damnit, come on, man, I say to myself. Get ahold of yourself.

I take a couple deep breaths, and then I get dressed. I’m calmer and still hanging around the house, reading the playbook, for something to do. I’ve already got the whole thing memorized. No one takes football more seriously than I do.

I know I’m going to make pro because I’ve got talent, natural talent, and I’ve got luck. But I’m also working my ass off. No one works harder than I do during training. When the other guys are going 50%, I’m going 100%, pretending as if I’m actually in a game.

That’s probably why Johnson has such a problem with me. He likes to just laze around during practice and not really put everything into it, and I can’t stand that attitude.

I can’t stop thinking about Chloe. She rushes back into my mind, despite all his bullshit football drama.

Her soft breasts… I can almost feel them against me.

I need her, I need her lips on me. I need her mouth wrapped around my cock again.

I’m going to go see her, I decide, making a split second decision. I wouldn’t mind getting a look at her in that movie theater uniform, in person, that is.

I have an old American-built convertible that I restored myself when I was in high school. Hard to believe I haven’t even taken it out for a spin yet, but that’s what happens when you’re obsessed with someone like Chloe. I had just gotten home that Thanksgiving dinner, and she was already in my house. I couldn’t think about something like a car after seeing the woman that she’d become.

The engine roaring, I cruise through the dead tree streets of fall, in our tiny suburban town. The movie theater is on Main Street, which runs right down the middle of the town. That’s where we used to hang out a lot in middle school, but I haven’t been there in a long time.

It’s one of those old style classic movie theaters, right from the 1930s, with a golden placard on the front that announces the movies. Amazing that they haven’t yet torn this place down to make way for the huge mega theaters. Amazing that business is still going strong.

I park my car and get out.

I can see her through the window, standing behind the ticket booth’s glass window. Sure enough, her uniform is pulled tight around her. I wonder if it’s even the right size for her? Either way, I love the way it looks on her.

Her hair is up in a bun, showcasing the beauty of her face.

I’ve never seen anyone this beautiful, I think to myself.