I took Tina to betray me about six months ago and I was about to leave the wedding. Tina cried a lot and confessed to several affairs and somehow one was lit by what she was saying and we had the most intense sex ever. I always knew Tina was a bitch.

Since we play this game where Tina comes out every weekend and pretends she was fucked by a guy at the bar. When he comes home, he tells me about a guy who took her and how they were fucking crazy. It was fun and she felt more verbal. Tina is 5-3" 145 (a little round but firm) black hair and a very nice set of tits. Tina is Italian and has those sexy Italian characteristics.

It was all too obvious, too timely.

But I stopped. I haven’t taken a killer since I was in college. I always thought that a pretty girl standing on the side of the street with her thumb in the breeze had to have a boyfriend of 250 pounds in the bushes, ready to command my car to knife point.

I can see from a distance you’re cute, your long brown hair whistling on your face in the wind. As I drive closer, I can see your skinoffs faded, cut so little that your ass cheeks are pissing invitingly.

Barb told the team she’d be her last year. They were an inspiration, given his self-confidence. Some of them would continue to play, hoped, but what he really knew was that they would do all good things. Some might move and some might find new options to check. “Hey, girls. I went to basketball after middle coaches screaming for years to keep my hands out the ball.” They laughed. Carl was always amazed how he would say hello to them when he meant “fuck.”

Driving home, Carl was torn between shock and confusion. Kathy? Sex? There was no way to pretend that Barb had otherwise referred. Barb would have kept back on thoughts not nailed enough. She wouldn’t have run away projecting adolescent fantasies. He talked to Andrea and Kathy wouldn’t lie to his best friend. Barb had spoken with the awareness that such things happen. Why shoot the messenger?

Fathers can’t think about these things about their baby, can they? It’s not natural. Well, maybe it’s biologically natural, but it shouldn’t happen. That’s not fair! Everyone knows. It’s really wrong to have sex together. Sex is something…

Like Barb’s work, the girls called her “Coach.” Carl was his assistant and the girls called him “Carl.” Barb knew football, knew how to make children work and love it. Barb knew how to drop a five-foot corner from the net. Carl was not particularly athletic, but he was happy to wander around, encouragement. “Good pass, Heather. Be careful, though. "

On the field, Barb was “Coach” to Carl. “Betting, Coach,” would confirm how he drilled his crossover group. “Not until you see the ball in the air!” he said for sure. She was hoping the girls thought she knew it on her own. Barb, the horsetail pushed the back of his cap, gave him a thumb up.