I was the younger of two sisters in a small southern coastal town. When I was a senior in high school I managed the astounding feat of getting married... getting pregnant and getting divorced all within that single school year. Okay, the events didn’t occur exactly in the order I listed them.Stu and I were doomed from the start. We were in lust, not in love. We were two frightened teenagers taking responsibility for a night of fumbling passion in the back seat of his dad’s 71 Camaro. Neither of. . falls flat; if I can't get on with the Saints or with one of the other clubs in their league, I'm going to be coming right back here. There's nothing for me back home. If I'm going to flunk out as a ballplayer, I'd like to find something else to do... here." Don't fail," she said. "But call me if you hear something negative from Bell while you're on the road... And call when you get there and see the manager -- whatever happens. And when you call, have a Saints' schedule in your hand. I want. It was getting a little rough, he was becoming verbal and telling me how he liked his cock sucked and what to do and pushing my head down and then up while he thrust his hips up and down, fucking my mouth. All I could do was let him, the dark and the booze and six months without sex took their toll and this guy was so commanding, I was almost afraid to resist but had little resistence left, he could have done whatever he wanted.Now I had one knee on the floor as we shifted positions and sucking. I knew his name alright, although I didn't know him that well, he was a mutual friend. But you know this was the eighties. Time of bad fashion and worse hairdos. This was a student party and it was pretty dark. I'd spent most of the night with this guy dancing, and then I went to get a drink, and when I came back, he'd sat down in this really dark corner. I could hardly see him but I knew it was him because he had this terrible flat top eighties haircut and one of those stupid broad shouldered.