Out of Position Read Free Page A

much I try to stay to the other side of the field, he catches up to me finally.
    “Hey, how was that vixen?” he says, as we take a breather in between plays. “Hope you got better than what I got. She was all okay to jerk me off, but I couldn’t get her to open up. Frigid bitch.”
    I jerk, my body coursing with a brief memory of last night’s pleasure again. Aftershock: third one since leaving the fox’s place this morning. New sensation for me. “Nah, she was just a tease. How did you know?”
    “Eck.” He jerks his muzzle to the coyote, who’s watching us with the combination of hunger and envy that characterizes a good backup. He’s only a frosh; he’ll be starting when I graduate for sure. Jason seems to like being on the bench. Probably he’ll stay there.
    “Yeah, she was just… I walked her to her place… got a kiss…” I trail off. And another kiss, and another… “Uh, that was it.”
    Randy laughs. “Denied!” he says, and thank god coach grabs us to run a play because I wouldn’t be able to laugh with him.
    As it is, I get pancaked twice in practice. Once when I get hit with another aftershock, and once when I look up at the sky and see the bright blue of a passionate stare. The second time, coach tells me to hit the pine and taps Eck, not Jason, to take my place.
    I’m paranoid in the shower that I’ll get a hard-on looking at the other guys, but I don’t. Same as it ever was. None of them turn me on one bit. I flutter back to anger at the fox. Somehow he tricked me into getting aroused by him, when I’m clearly not gay.
    To prove it, I call up the memory of a sweet cheerleader I screwed last week and jerk off in the shower that night in the dorm, panting and leaning against the wall. I clean up my spunk, kicking it down the drain, and feel satisfied that I didn’t think about the fox once. That’s about the last moment of satisfaction I get for a while.
     
     
The following week is an absolute nightmare. I wake up in bed hard Monday morning and I think I smell him in the room, but it’s only the residue of a dream I don’t remember. That I was dreaming about him and waking up hard worries me a bit, but I can’t stop thinking about him. I try to get angry again, but I can’t see the smugness any more. I just see that sweet smile, feel that tightness around my cock, that soft muzzle of his, the way he pressed into me while we
    (made love)
    fucked. I sit in class and try to express my memories in abstract doodles, covering a page with them and only realizing when the students around me get up that I have no idea what was covered.
    Tuesday I fail a test.
    Wednesday Randy asks me if I’m in love. I punch him in the stomach. We get into it and I feel better for about an hour. Afterwards, we go out for beers and I’m lost again.
    Thursday I give up on classes and track down that cheerleader. I figure maybe some good old-fashioned normal sex will get the damn fox out of my mind. She’s a perky raccoon, with a great rack and a great attitude, and she’s a fucking lousy lay. I set a land speed record getting out the door after it’s over.
    Friday I give up and go back to the bar with the guys.
    We’re sitting in our group and the girls are in theirs and the squirrel’s at the bar, alone. I can’t follow the conversation, and eventually the guys stop trying to include me. I wander over to the squirrel and stand beside her, one paw on the stool the vixen—the fox was sitting on a week ago.
    She looks around to see if there’s anyone else there, then gives me the wide eyes again. “Buy a gal a drink?”
    “Yeah.” I signal the bartender. “Shot of Wild Turkey and one of whatever she’s having.” I lay down the money.
    Interested now, the squirrel straightens up. I try not to gag on her perfume. “You went off with that fox, right? Back for something with less bite?” Her prominent incisors show as she laughs.
    I wince. Even the conversation the boys were having about which