Read A Dirty Player: A Football BWWM BBW Romance. Online
Authors: Emma Jones
A Dirty Player: A Football BWWM BBW Romance.
A Bad Boy Football Player
BWWM BBW Sports Romance
Emma Jones
Copyright © 2016 by Emma Jones.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18. All characters in the book are 18+ years of age, non-blood related, and all sexual acts are consensual.
I was never the lucky girl, and when I was, it was something I didn’t care for.
That’s how life always went, didn’t it?
There was a knock on my door, and when I opened it, one of the room assistants stood at the entrance. This better not be a room inspection, because my dorm looked like an elephant trampled through it.
The RA, a smiley white man, said, “Are you Alisha?”
I gave him a nod.
“Okay, great. I have some good news, Alisha. You’ve been chosen for free tickets to the game this weekend. You get two, so bring a friend.”
The game. No description of what it was. Just ‘the game.’ Of course, I already knew what it was, because everyone wouldn’t shut up about it. Allen Ames University cared more about its football team than the actual students. I mean, they could pamper their players like they were pharaohs, but couldn’t fix the leak in the women’s shower.
Today was a big game for their football team, the Bobcats. All my friends in the dorm were planning on going, including my roommate. At first, I rejoiced, because that meant more peace and quiet for me. But now, it seemed that God Himself wanted me to go to this game.
Without even asking if I wanted it, the RA handed me the tickets and went away. I looked at the tickets, sighing a bit. They didn’t even ask me for my name to be put in the lottery.
Yes, tickets weren’t free, not even for students. Students had to pay $20 for tickets to the game. While twenty bucks may not seem like much, if you’re from the hood, it’s a luxury.
I laid the tickets down on the table and continued my homework, wondering what I should do next.
On one hand, I was sick of football. My roommate would always come in and blast the current football game on our TV, shoving it down my throat like a Jehova’s Witness. On the other, maybe I should get out of my comfort zone.
Since coming to college, I had holed myself in my room, studying my little heart out. While that’s what college was built for, I didn’t leave room for any enjoyment. I wasn’t in any clubs, I never went out with any friends, and I didn’t even explore the town this college was in too much. I kept in my dorm like a boy in a bubble.
A game would be noisy and crowded, but maybe I could make some friends. If I didn’t like it, I could leave, and it wasn’t like I wasted any money on it.
Suddenly, the door walked in, and Julie, my roommate, waltzed into the door. Julie was the opposite of me. I was black, she was white. I was big, she was small. I was quiet, she was expressive, calling it her “personality.” I thought she was more annoying than anything, but I digress.
“What’s up, Lee Lee?” she asked me. I told her not to call me by that dumb nickname quite a few times, but she never takes no for an answer, does she?
“Not much,” I answered. “Just trying to get this homework done.” My pencil danced around the paper, not knowing where its next stop would be. Damn Julie, always breaking my train of thought.
Julie hopped on her bed, spreading her long legs like a prong, and then turning on the TV. The blast from the television took my train of thought and threw it off the tracks like a superhero.
“Sorry!” she said, and started lowering the volume by a few decimal points.
I put my pencil down, sighing. “It’s fine. I was almost done, anyway.”
I sat on my bed, watching the football game. Did people really find this entertaining? Maybe if you’re in the audience, it’s a bit more fun to watch, but here, it seemed so dull. Just a few people the size of ants running around to and fro.
While Julie watched TV, she alternated her glances to her phone, texting on occasion. Was she talking to one of her dozens of fake friends? Her boyfriend of the week? The world may never know.
“By the way,” I said. “I won something.”
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes far away from mine.
I pulled out my tickets. “Could you come look?”
She actually managed to look my way, and her eyes widened so hard it made her makeup crack. “No way! You won tickets to the game? I was going to buy my own, but I don’t have much money.”
Instead of pointing out how she buys makeup more expensive than my meal plan, I just nodded. “I’m not usually the type of girl who goes to a game, but I thought it would be interested to go. The RA gave me two, and since you’re the only girl I talk to, maybe you can take one.”
“Really? That’s so sweet!” she declared. It was so much of a gratitude that she turned down the volume even more. Now, we’re finally making progress in Julie’s world. Soon, maybe she can actually hit that nifty thing called a mute button when someone’s trying to talk to her.
Julie bounced on the bed like a child. “It’s gonna be so fun. I was going to invite Josh,” Josh, I’m assuming, was Boyfriend #4543, “But he’s being a dick, so why not make it a girl’s night out? Maybe I can help you get a man!”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as she gave me a smile a used car salesman would give me. Yes, a skinny white woman will totally get a friend for the fat black lady. That makes sense.
“Thanks for the offer,” I said.
And that was the extent of our interactions. She went back to watching her football game, while I tried to finish my homework. But instead, I heard about all the touchdowns people were making, and soon I was walking to the study room, which was looking even more tempting by the minute.
I went to the study room, and was greeted with the non-enforced ramblings of students on their phones, the obnoxious click-clacking of keyboards, and other obstacles that made me want to pull my hair out. However, it was better than a football game! I managed to get the homework finished, for now, and I checked my phone. I didn’t simply use my phone as a way to be distracted, unlike how some people do.
I went to my dating profile, seeing a few messages. My eyes lit up. I clicked on the first message.
Hi! Do you want to make 10k a week by sitting at home? I do that, and my life is great! Simply click the link below to learn how to get started!
And then there was a short link that would take my credit card info if I clicked on it. Delete. Let’s look at message number two, shall we? Maybe, just maybe, the second message will be better than the first.
Hey gurl. I’m into bigger women, and you look just like my type. Okay, a message that seems all right so far. And the guy in the picture wasn’t that bad looking. I read on. I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming over, sitting on my face, and letting out the biggest…
I stopped reading from there and deleted the message faster than throwing away a pound of rotting meat. Why do some men think this is okay?
Anyway, let’s move onto message number three. Maybe there will be some gold at the end of this shit rainbow. Oh hey, it was that one guy I was exchanging messages with. We traded messages for a few days, and then he disappeared off the face of the earth.
Sorry, but I found someone. Wish you the best.
I looked at this message and wanted to scream, but the study hall was already giving me funny looks as it was. That was the excuse everyone gave me! Why couldn’t they just admit that I wasn’t girlfriend material?
I exited out of the dating app, and for a split second, I almost considered deleting it. But then, I retracted that decision. My mamma told me you gotta wait if you want a good man. Of course, in the next breath, she’d talk about how awful my father was, so who can I trust?
I looked at my phone. “99+ notifications,” it read. As usual, I was so hot that my phone lost track a long time ago. My thumb scrolled through all the messages I got while I was passed out. Honeys trying to message me for round two, check. Bros inviting me for another awesome party? You betcha. My coach telling me his plan for the game? You better believe it. I set aside all the messages for now and looked around my dorm.
Wild party last night, as the room told me. Empty bottles everywhere, plates filled with disgusting food, and a used condom wrapper between my legs. My pounding head screamed as it wanted to know what all happened last night.
Eh, I’ve had so many frat parties I know the gist of it. Everyone gets drunk and gets fucked. Easy to remember. And that’s what probably happened to me. I even remember an RA coming in to take a hit of the bong.
My latest message was from Sally. I remember her. She was the goody-goody girl who said my parties were sinful. I managed to convince her to come over, and the sword between her legs converted her to a party girl. She was messaging me, asking when the next good time was. I responded, “Any time, bby.” She was probably creaming her white panties thinking of me.
Even though the room was a mess, no one knocked over any of my trophies. They probably knew better not to do that. Even though I may be a partier, I take pride in being the star fullback, and no one will ever soil that pride.
But ugh, what a night. I started cleaning up everything in the room. I love my friends, but they never helped a guy out when it came to cleaning up. I guess that’s the payback I get for stealing most of their girls. I looked at the myself in the mirror. This chiseled face had some messy hair, and was looking quite gruff. Just in time for the game, it seemed.
Speaking of the game, maybe that’s why I was having so many parties. That stupid game. My coach, and even my mom, were telling me not to fuck this one up. When you’re the star, everyone acts like you have full control over the team, and no matter how good you do, if you mess up, you get the blame. Sometimes, sports make no sense.
After a while, all functions returned to me. I could walk without having to stumble over. I managed to shave without bleeding half to death. I even managed to take a shower without burning. Finally, I cleaned the room the best to my ability.
Once everything was all cleaned up, I lied back on my bed, checking my phone. I should be doing my one-hour workout, but instead, I was lying like a bug on a log, wondering how the game would go. On one hand, I was excited to throw some touchdowns. On the other, my teammates barely pulled through the last few games, and we were about to face off against the Hawks.
Hawks described these guys. They were known for being rough and playing dirty, which was something even a scumbag like me hated. A game should be honorable, dammit!
I get another text message. “im free,” it said. Most phones capitalize and correct your grammar, so I don’t know why she typed like a child. By the way, it was totally Sally messaging me.
“Come over,” I replied. The nympho was probably expecting more sex, but she’d be disappointed. Netflix and chill? I actually did want to chill.
As I waited for her, I began the workout. I did some situps and pushups, my body screaming at all this. Normally, this would make me feel great, but now, I just felt like crap.
After my body succumbed to the pain, there was a knock on my door. I stood up, put my shirt back on, and went to the door. As I opened it, Sally was behind there, smiling. When I first saw her, she wore a long skirt, used little to no makeup, and had her hair in this awkward braid.
Now, she had her hair down, had a noticeable amount of makeup on, and wore a low-cut shirt that made her look like a skank ready for the club.
“Hello, Evan,” she greeted, her breasts bouncing as she waved her arms.
“Hello yourself,” I said to her.
Sally blushed and took a tour around my room. “Never got to check your place out, since there were so many people here. So this is what a football star’s pad looks like.”
She walked around in almost a catwalk as I filled my glass with water. Cleanse this hangover with the healing waters, I beg of you!
I watched as she stared at my knickknacks and trophies with her ditzy gaze, before falling on my bed. “You know, my dad once rented a 5-star hotel while he was going on tour, and the bed in that hotel feels just as good as this one! My dorm has a glorified air mattress.”
I forgot that Sally’s dad was a somewhat popular evangelist who ran a megachurch. While most people who run a megachurch seem to do it to make money from the gullible, Sally’s dad seemed to be a true believer, and converted Sally into that stereotypical church girl who breaks down once she’s thrown into her college life.