I never thought anything could come close to the feeling of throwing a game winning touchdown, but this just might top it. Teresa’s body begins to tremble as I continue the short, deliberate strokes hitting what can only be described as her magic spot. It almost feels like her insides are gripping me, creating the most amazing sensation I’ve ever experienced. Not that I have a lot of experience to use in comparison.

“Jesus, Rex…” she gasps, her entire body becoming rigid as her fingernails dig into my sides. “Oh, fuck…” I delve deeper within her in pursuit of a mutual orgasm. Something that Cosmo claims is the ultimate. Yes, I occasionally look through Teresa’s magazines while I’m waiting for her to get ready. I tighten my grip on her wrists and hold them to the bed while continuing to thrust as deeply as possible. My god, the way this feels is completely amazing. Just as her body begins to quiver uncontrollably, I feel myself losing control as well. After a few seconds of extreme bliss, I collapse onto her and we kiss each other with a fervor that is only expressed during intense moments like this. “You’re amazing,” she moans between kisses.

“You’re amazing.” I brush the hair away from her face and smile. “I couldn’t hold off any longer. That was so damn intense.” I stare into her beautiful hazel eyes and for the moment, I’m convinced that I’m the luckiest man in the world. For the last three and a half years I’ve been on a full-ride scholarship to UW, I’m the starting quarterback for the football team and I’m fucking the head cheerleader who also happens to be the hottest chick on campus. For a twenty-one-year-old, life doesn’t get much better than this. At the moment I wouldn’t switch places with anyone.

“Wake me up when you’re ready to do it again,” she says with a lust-filled snicker, before snuggling into me and closing her eyes. I’m still hard, but honestly my mind is already turning to tomorrow’s game. This is the big one, for the conference championship. Since this is my final year of eligibility, NFL scouts have been showing up for games all season and they’ll all be back for tomorrow’s game. I need to put on one hell of a show if I want to be a top draft pick. I close my eyes and try to relax, but my mind is going a million miles an hour. Just relax and breathe. It’s only your entire future on the line.

Three quarters and fourteen minutes in, the game is on the line. We need three points to tie, as it’s been a defensive battle with neither team having any success in the red zone. Once again, we’re faced with third and long needing eight yards for a first down and nine for a touchdown. There are times when eight yards seems like a mile and against this defense, now is one of those moments. We need to shake things up. I signal the offensive coordinator that I want a shot at taking it in. He lowers his head, staring at me over his sunglasses for what seems like ten seconds. He calls a time out.

The strain on his face becomes evident as we huddle around him on the sideline. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, knowing full well it’s a risky play. “These guys will take you out if we give them a chance.”

“I know, but that’s why they won’t be expecting it,” I reply, glancing up at two of the NFL scouts who are seated just behind us. I haven’t been able to show them what I’m capable of so far. It’s now or never. “I’m willing to take the chance.”

“Alright, if you’re sure,” he concedes reluctantly. “Bennett and Taylor, you guys will have to hit hard to create a gap that we’ll send Richardson through. Then Rex will fake the handoff before slipping around the end and going for the corner.” He pauses looking directly at me. “You’re right. They won’t be expecting it.”

A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins as we break the huddle and head back to the line of scrimmage. I take a deep breath before beginning the cadence that has the potential to land me a first round draft pick. I keep my head cocked to the right, wanting to give the impression that I’m looking for weakness on that side. “Hut, hut…” The ball is snapped firmly into my hands. I turn hitting Richardson in the gut, before he blasts into the designated hole. I spin to my left and have a clear shot at the corner marker. It’s going to work! I cut around Taylor and stretch out my left arm with the ball in hand, easing it past the marker. I’m in!

All I see is a yellow flash before everything goes black. Wow, this isn’t good, I think to myself as sounds slowly begin to flood back into my consciousness. I must’ve gotten knocked out. “Holy shit, you okay man?” I hear Charles Bennett’s voice above me. I try to push myself up, so he grabs me under the shoulder pad to help me up. I immediately flop back to the ground. I’ve never felt so weak in my life. It’s almost like I can’t move.

“Back off! Don’t touch him!” The head athletic trainer yells, racing toward me from the sideline. “We’re going to need a stretcher!” he yells before crouching down beside me. “Don’t’ try to move,” he reiterates, placing his hand beneath my head to steady it. “I think you’ve injured your neck.”

That would explain all the stars I’m seeing. I want to shake the cobwebs out, but something is definitely not right with my neck. I’ve taken some hits that knocked out of place a couple times, but this is different. The darkness turns to light as the trainers slowly turn me onto my back. I crack my eyelids, looking into the bright lights above me. The head trainer slips a neck brace on and is frantically taping my helmet to the stretcher. The crowd of seventy thousand begins to clap as they lift me from the field. The fact that a crowd that size has remained nearly silent for the last several minutes tells me that things aren’t good. I feel a sharp pain in my neck as they load me into an ambulance that has backed out onto the field. I know exactly what the whole scene looks like and a sharp pain spreads to my gut. This isn’t good at all. I strain to glance over at several of my teammates who have gathered to watch my departure. They all look incredibly sullen, reinforcing the gravity of my predicament. The only exception is our middle linebacker, Kip Taylor; who’s cocky smirk is the last thing I see as they load me inside. The look on his face will remain lodged in my memory forever.