His Quarterback (College Life #3)

Mr. Topolski, you've caught my attention

Partying.

It's a great past time here at college. The drinking, loud music and array of color lights fanning over everyone's faces, making everything seem chaotic and uncontrollable, like life. A point in time when you can say fuck him, fuck her, and fuck that teacher that gave you 30 pages of homework to read.

I, Ollie Lopez, wanted to forget about everything, and just be in the moment. My body was transfixed to the music; eyes blared through the crowd as the music rattled my body to life.

My best friend, Jasmine, was across the room, talking to Berkeley's girl toy, Bea Rothschild. No, she isn't related to the rich Ashkenazi Jewish family, if she was, I would be talking to her.

Jasmine has had a crush on Bea since she saw her at a college mixer. Her long, brown hair was in a bun, no jacket on, which I never understood why since it was so cold out, and a bewitching smile on her face, showing perfect grade-A teeth.

I remember that day, I was super tan, and was participating in no nut November. I know that holiday is for boys, but I wanted to see how long I could go without. Let's just say, it didn't go into fruition.

I can see why she's attracted to her, also, she plays basketball, nothing like a sports girl to get you going.

In the midst of thinking about Jasmine and her lusting desire for Bea Rothschild, not the rich family, I got a glimpse of a tall glass of wine, with red hair across the room. He was standing with a couple guys from the football team. It was weird, I knew everyone on the team, but not him.

How could I miss him?

How could he miss me?

You could say I'm a big deal around the rows of Berkeley. I don't know why, but all the guys, mostly football, are obsessed with me. They spell thoughts about me around campus, wondering if my tits are perky, or is my ass real and not pumped with silicon. That is why I'm particular on whom I sleep with, it can't be someone I know is going to spill the beans.

The last guy I slept with was Andreas Chen. He has since graduated, going on to teach snot nose kids how to make chemical bombs, or something like that. I know he teaches science. He was, and still is, the best lay I ever had in my life. He knew how to work a woman, and it's sad that he graduated, and is dating Elizabeth Pratt, a wonderful girl.

Back to this red-headed guy across the room. Who is he? I want to get him in bed, make him my personal sex pet. I could tell he was packing from the way he stood, not like a macho man, but someone who knows they're packing and don't have to act like they are. God, that was a handful, like he is, or will be. Besides the reddish hair, he had light green eyes, freckles all over his face, to which I want to lick off, and light stubble on his chin.

To grab his attention, I saunter through the tough crowd of people, damn, this crowd is tighter than a virgin. All I can smell is cheap perfume, beer and the tang of sweat. His eyes connect with mine, widening, he must know who I am, and when I want something, I get it.

"Hi, who may you be?" I reach my hand out to him, holding it like the Queen of England. I wanted him to kiss my hand, dote on me like I deserved it, instead, he stared at me like I had two heads. I put it down by my side.

"Uh- I- I'm Topolski!" He yells over the music, leaning into me. God, he smelled so good. Like a mixture of sex god and big dick.

I walk closer to him, if I reached out a hand, it would be planted on his broad chest. I wonder if he has red whiskers of hair on it, man his guy is making me horny and he hasn't even touched me. "Topolski! Man, your parents must have hated you." I yell over some Drake song.

He smiles, showing his perfect teeth and sharp canines, which I want sunken into my neck.

"My first name is Gerald, but the team calls me Topolski!"

I squint my eyes since the flashing lights are tasering into them.

"The only Gerald I know is Gerald Ford, the 38th president of the United States." Once he hears what I said, he looks impressed and smiles, yet again.

"That's who my father named me after, he's his favorite president, I don't know why since he's not rememberable." It's my turn to laugh.

"We've only been talking for about 20 seconds, and I'm already sexually attracted to you."

He chokes on his spit, trying to regain his posture, Oh, ok!" His voice came out high-pitched.

"Want to go on a ride, Mr. Topolski?" I bat my eye lashes like a damsel.

"S-sure. Anything to get me away from this party."

I grab him by the hand, taking him across the dancefloor, down the hall until we reached an empty bedroom. Which is really hard to find since every one of them is occupied by college students getting it on.

"Where are you taking me?" He asked, his voice shaking. I can feel his hand sweating in mine, feet thudding against the ground.

"Somewhere quiet, so we can talk. I want to hear you talk Gerald, learn your secrets, see what you can really do." I shove the door open with my black platform shoe. Darkness greets us. "See if you can find a light or something." While he does that, I pat around for the bed, and a condom. Since my skirt doesn't have pockets, I couldn't bring one, and this shirt doesn't allow me to wear a bra.

The lamp clicks on, my eyes adjust to the light. He's even sexier under the clear eggshell light. I point towards the bed, to which he runs over and sits down, like an obedient child. "Do you know who I am, Gerald?" My finger treads over the oak dresser against the wall, that needs to be dusted by the way, a coat of it is on my fingers.

"You can call me Topolski, if you want, that's what everyone calls me." His green eyes look to me, they fall on my breast, stomach, then work their way back to my face. I smirk, he's totally attracted to me.

"I don't know if you know this, but I'm not everyone." I spread his legs apart, air hitches in that long throat of his. "Can I touch you, Gerald? I respect consent above everything." I never touch a guy without his permission.

"Yes." I press in between his legs with my thumb, to which he jumps. I edge them up closer to his cock.

"You're Ollie Lopez, y-you knew my friend Andreas. What are you doing?" He questions.

"I told you, I want to get to know you. If you want me to stop, just say it."

"O-ok." I can see that he's tense, I move my hands away from his thighs and sit on the bed next to him. I notice that it has sunken, not from my weight, but his. He's so fucking big. I LOVE big men.

"How much do you weigh?" I question.

His brow quips, "260. It's all muscle, not fat. As you can see." He directs my eyes to his body, oh honey, I can tell. His arm muscles are so big, he could crush me if he wanted to. Legs are built like huge thigh meat you get from the county fair, and his hands, oh fuck his hands. I want them around me, on me, inside of me.

I bet his hands would make a great necklace.

I can already imagine him slamming me on the bed, those big gargantuan hands spread my thick thighs apart as he rams inside of me over and over and-

"Tell me, Gerald, do you find me attractive."

"Oh, oh f-for sure! You're very beautiful." I blush, tucking my black locks behind my ear. "Is that what you wanted me to say? Some girls want to be called sexy, or-or hot."

"No, it's fine." I pat his leg, feeling his muscles convulse under my hand. "If you're wondering, I think you're hot."

A red tinge glows on his pale cheeks, making his red hair seem like nothing, I wonder if it's the first time someone had called him hot. I run my fingers through it, feeling his locks flow through them. It smells like strawberries; I wonder if it tastes like it? "Do you like that? My fingers running through your hair?"

He moans a bit, to which my legs tighten together. "Ye-yes. I've never had a g-g-girl run their fingers through my hair."

I chuckle, "Gerald Topolski, are you nervous?"

"A bit."