The Three-Man Weave

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I took the outlet pass from Darrel just before midcourt on the right side. Johnson slid over to try to make me give the ball up, but I crossed him over and cut back towards the center of the court. I spotted Malcolm running the wing on the other side of the court, then drew the defense away from him by turning my gaze back to the right side of the court at D.J who was getting ready to spot up at the three-point line. Just a step outside of the three-point line, I made the pass on the run, putting the ball just to the left of the rim as Malcolm flew in and slammed the ball home to seal the game. 50-37, or something like that. Not bad for a team with a girl running the point.

Of course it helps when you’ve got a guy like Malcolm on your team, an All-American power forward and a guy who’ll likely be picked very early in the NBA Draft at the end of the season. You see, we all go to school at a big state university in a fun and sunny climate, and we’ve all got full rides to play basketball here. Malcolm is a sophomore who surprised everybody with a huge freshman season last year; Darrel’s a senior center with an NBA future of his own; and D.J is a little guy who can shoot the lights out and jump out of the gym in surprising bursts. And me? I’m a little 5’7″ freshman point guard who is taking over for a girl who led our team to two straight Final Fours in her time on campus. That puts a lot of pressure on me. And so far, just five games into the season – all wins, albeit against lesser competition – I’ve sort of struggled to get comfortable on the court. Not hitting shots, making dumb mistakes and just feeling a little out of place.

And so, tonight, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I happened to be getting up some shots in the gym with one of my teammates when six of the guys from the men’s team (also nationally ranked) showed up to get in a little run before dinner, and they invited me and my teammate to join in – on opposite teams – so we could run full-court four-on-four. And, just out there playing ball and having fun with no pressure on me, I had fun playing basketball for the first time in a long time. As Malcolm threw in the game-sealing dunk and turned right around to point at me in appreciation and then run to me to give me a high-five, I knew I had, at the very least, impressed these guys with my ability to ball.

“Damn, Jordan. You just a freshman, yeah?” said Malcolm as we walked off the court to get some water.

“Yup.”

“Well, you got a hell of a future, girl. Damn, you basically played Johnson straight up,” he yelled out, loud enough to make sure that Johnson – the men’s backup point guard – heard.

“Thanks. Yeah, you’re not too bad yourself,” I joked, in severe understatement. He had probably scored half of our team’s total points.

We sat down in the front row of the bleachers and gulped from our water bottles as D.J. and Darrel came over to join us.

“So, you stuck on campus for the holiday too?” Malcolm asked.

“Yeah, we got a game on Friday afternoon and my parents live in Washington and can’t come down, so I’m just chilling here. It sorta sucks, but Coach is having us over to his house for dinner tomorrow though.”

“Yeah, I remember being real homesick last year at Thanksgiving.”

“What fool?” laughed D.J. “Man, we were in Maui last Thanksgiving,” he said, referring to the team’s trip to the island for a tournament. “How the hell you be homesick in Maui?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Damn, can you imagine feeling sorry for yourself while you in Maui?” he laughed.

“Yo, that was a dope ass trip though,” said Darrel.

“Heellll yeah,” chimed in D.J.

“So, what you up to tonight?” Malcolm asked me.

“Oh. I don’t know,” I replied, honestly. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I got no plans.”

“You wanna hang out with us? We got a hook up at Pizza Pirate and then we gonna chill back at the pad. If you got nothing to do, you should come along.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I sputtered out. Damn, this was turning into a fun day. Everybody knew these guys, true big men on campus, and not only was Mr. All-American praising my basketball game, he was asking me to hang out with them tonight. Hell yeah I was in. “But, like, I need to shower and stuff and I don’t really have anything to wear with me.”

“Aw, no worries. If I can shower at your pad, I’ll wait for you and give you a ride. We can meet D.J. and Darrel over there, right?”

With agreements all around, Malcolm and I headed out the side door of the gym and into the parking lot where he ushered me into a no-frills standard-issue Japanese sedan of some sort – definitely not the high-end luxury vehicle you hear rumors of star college athletes driving. Malcolm somehow folded his giant 6’10” frame into the driver’s side behind the steering wheel and I guided him across a dark and mostly empty campus to my thoroughly dark and empty dorm room. All my roommates were gone for the weekend, and I’d guess there were only a handful of students at all in my three-story dorm. Once inside, I offered him ankara escort the opportunity to use the shower first, and he jumped at it, clearly doing a nice, quick, military-style just-the-basics shower and he was out in five minutes, with only a towel barely fitting around his waist hiding himself from me. And, damn, let me tell you, the chest on that man? Rock hard, cut like a Greek statue, just perfect; I could have jumped his bones right there.

Instead, I meekly got out “Okay, I’ll try to hurry,” then jumped in the shower and did my business too. When I got out, I wrapped my considerably smaller body in a towel and headed to my room to change, noticing Malcolm sitting patiently on the couch, playing with his cell phone.

“So, hey Malcolm, like, what kind of clothes should I wear?” I asked, off-hand. I didn’t know if we would be going to a club or if we were just going to be hanging out at his pad or what.

“Aw, you know, whatever,” he answered, unhelpfully.

“No really, should I wear like a dress or just jeans or…?”

“Well, you know what, I’ll help you pick something out,” he said, getting up and walking over to me, then walking right past me and into my room. I just sort of stood there staring at him. “Well, you coming in or what?”

He sat down on the bottom bed of the bunk beds in my room – my bed was the top bunk – and stared at me as I walked in. I wasn’t quite sure what he wanted me to do, so I walked to my closet and pulled out my version of my “little black dress” and held it up to my body. He looked at me and smiled, “Yeah, that’s nice, but we ain’t going to a wedding or nothing. What else you got?”

So, something a little more casual, I figured. I found a red flowered sun dress and pulled it out, but then decided that was more of a summer dress, and was about to put it back when Malcolm stopped me. “Yo, that looks good. Let’s see it.” I turned around and held it up in front of me and smiled. “Yeah, that might work. Let’s see it on you.”

“Um, okay. I’ll be right back,” and started to head to the bathroom to change.

“Nah, you ain’t gotta leave to put that on. Just put it on right quick.”

I looked at him with amazement and felt a rush of blood to my face. But he just stared back and then tilted his head in such a manner as to say, “Well, I’m waiting.” So, with as much confidence as I could muster, I dropped my towel, starting right into his eyes as I did it. His eyes looked up and down my body with approval. “Yo, girl. You fine,” he said, getting right to the point. I blushed even harder.

Getting on with things, I lifted the dress up over my head, exposing my body even more, and as I did I thought to myself “Yeah, you know, he’s right. I do have a good body. I work damn hard on keeping in killer shape and it feels good to have somebody with an equally good body compliment me.” So, by the time I finished wiggling into my dress, I looked back at him with total confidence. “Well, what do you think?”

“Yeah, you look damn good and all, but I’m thinking now that maybe I should have had you put on some jeans first.” I saw through the ploy. He just wanted me out of my clothes again. And, I didn’t argue. Up and back over my head the dress went until I was naked again, then I turned my back to him and carefully hung the dress back on its hanger and put it back in its place.

Now, I don’t wear jeans all that often, but I knew I had the perfect pair, a nice, tight designer pair that I had bought over the summer. And, of course, those were in the very bottom drawer of my dresser, so I bent over, giving Malcolm what had to be a terrific view of my rock-hard ass to fish those out of the bottom drawer. Finding them, I stood back up and, without even turning around, began to step into one leg, then the other, before wiggling them up my body: a grueling task, I might add. Eventually, those skin-tight jeans were on (even though the lack of panties was not going to endear me to this wardrobe choice) and I know I looked good in them, so I turned around to face Malcolm again.

“Mmmmm, mmmmmm, mmmmmmm,” was his response, giving my tits another long stare before looking up at my face again. “Yeah, honey, believe me you look great in those jeans. But, you know, you’ll probably want something a little bit more comfortable, right?” There was a little bit of a twinkle in his eye. “You got anything else in the dress department you want to try?”

I turned back around and shuffled through my admittedly meager wardrobe selection and found another sort of loose, lacy black dress and showed it to him. “Oh yeah, let’s see that one.” So, once again, I undressed. Staring him in the face as his eyes wandered up and down my body, I unbuttoned my jeans and began pushing them down, then stepped out of them one by one and, again bending over in front of him, conscientiously folded them back up and put them in the drawer, then stood up again and again pulled this little dress over my head. The short sleeves were all lacy, the fabric felt silky and the very bottom of the dress was ankara escort bayan lace as well, about midway up my thigh. Once it was on, I did a little faux-curtsy and presented myself to him.

“You know Jordan, I could just sit here and watch you change all night. But damn, you look great in that and I’m hungry, so let’s go.”

I considered the fact that in this dress, I could probably get away without wearing a bra, but there was no way in hell I was going anywhere without panties on, so I opened my top drawer, found a pretty little pair of delicate pink panties, and stepped into them and pulled them up quickly. “Okay, honey, you ready?” he asked.

“Yeah, just let me brush my hair and put on some makeup and I’ll be good.”

“Aw girl, you ain’t need no makeup. You got that natural beauty. Just run a brush through your hair and you good.”

I stepped into the bathroom, looked in the mirror and decided that Malcolm’s compliment was on the money; I didn’t need makeup. I fixed my hair up right quick and out the door we went.

Ten minutes later we were walking in the door of Pizza Pirate together. Pizza Pirate was an establishment in this college town. People went there before games, after games, when games were on, on weekend nights, on weekends days, hell, even on weekdays for lunch. It was a rare occasion when Pizza Pirate was not filled to the brim with college students, employees and just the local populace, and 8pm on the night before Thanksgiving appeared to be no exception, to my surprise. And, as Malcolm and I walked in the door, it seemed to me like every eye in the place was on us as we walked over to the booth in the window where Darrel and D.J. already were. Sure, 95% of those eyes were focused on Malcolm, but I couldn’t help but think that there were a few people wondering who the hell I was.

As we got to the booth, Darrel greeted me with a “Damn, girl! You sure clean up something nice!” that flattered me and put me immediately at ease around them. Malcolm let me slide into the booth first and he took the seat on the edge. Over the course of the hour or so we spent there, at least a dozen times somebody came up to our table and wanted to say hi to the guys from the team and maybe ask them for an autograph. And those dudes were so freaking polite and generous with their time. For every single person, they smiled and shook their hands and just were so professional, even if you could tell they were a little embarrassed.

And, what’s more, every single time somebody came up, one of the guys went out of their way to introduce me. “Oh, this here is Jordan Armstrong. She’s the little baller that’s gonna lead our women’s team back to the Final Four again.” Or something like that. And not once did I get the sense that it was done with any hint of mocking. I felt like I had truly won the respect of these guys as a capable basketball player. I’ll admit, my first couple of months on campus had been a little rocky – I sometimes have trouble making friends – but in these three hours or so since I met these guys and played basketball with them, I suddenly felt completely at home. And, it didn’t hurt that every now and then, Malcolm would reach over and gently touch my bare thigh with his enormous hand, whether to comfort me or to feel me up, I wasn’t quite sure yet.

Finally, after completely pigging out on pizza – I swear I had five pieces – we decided we were done and we all just got up and left. We weren’t given a check and there was no expectation from anybody that we would pay; we just bounced. I’m sure the owners of the place were plenty happy just to have some local celebrities stop in and continue to give the place street cred.

From there, we headed back to Malcolm and Darrel’s apartment just a couple of minutes away; D.J. lived somewhere else, but apparently was a regular visitor. As we got out of the car and were heading into the apartment complex, Malcolm ran into a couple of girls who he was apparently familiar with.

“Hey, what up, Malcolm?” called out one, a buxom bleach blonde who was obviously intoxicated. Her friend, an equally voluptuous brunette just sort of rolled her eyes at us from behind her friend.

Malcolm chatted easily with the girls as we walked in from the parking lot, before turning aside to me and sort of whispering: “These are my neighbors.”

The neighbors walked with us to the door of the apartment which was already unlocked, as apparently Darrel and D.J has beaten us here. And, as we walked in, they followed us in, seemingly quite comfortable. To be honest, the fact that the girls were there and so comfortable made me a bit more comfortable. Well, for a bit at least.

Because the blonde – Karen – was in rare form, taking on the role of the “Woo!” girl; you know, the drunk girl that wants to party and yells out “Woo!” at random intervals. She was immediately annoying as hell. And, maybe I didn’t hide it all that well because, after sitting quietly on the couch for awhile while everyone else chatted, she pointed towards me and escort ankara asked, to nobody in particular: “So, who’s this slut?”

Malcolm immediately responded. “Awwww, hell no. You best not be talking shit to my girl.”

Karen didn’t know when to stop. “What? All I’m saying is she looks like a little whore.”

That hurt my feelings something bad, but all three of the guys were on my side immediately. “Morgan,” Darrel said pointedly to the brunette, “you best get Karen on out of here and maybe shut her down for the night because she is out of line.” Morgan looked at me, mouthed the word “Sorry” and gave me the sweetest look before clinging on to Karen’s arm and trying to pull her away. I felt bad for Morgan.

But, Karen did not go quietly, saying to Malcolm “Oh, come on, I’m just joking. Hey, to make it up to you, I’ll blow you real quick.” There didn’t seem to be even a hint of a joke in her expression.

But Malcolm just said, “Good night, girl” and Morgan and Darrel were able to quickly get Karen out the front door and into the girl’s apartment next door. I’m guessing she would wake up on Thanksgiving morning not all that thankful for her action on Thanksgiving eve.

“Wow, quite a display!” was my witty comment as the door shut and Karen was gone.

“Aw, don’t worry about her, honey. She’s dumb,” Malcolm calmed me.

“Do you always got girls offering to ‘blow you real quick’?” I joked, to lighten the mood.

“Well, you’d be surprised,” he responded.

Darrel ducked back in the front door and immediately found me and said: “I’m sorry. And Morgan said she’s sorry. And I bet that dumb bitch will be sorry if she remembers that shit tomorrow.”

“Aw, no worries. Thanks.”

“So, enough of that bullshit. Let’s chill,” said D.J. “Hey Morgan, you smoke?” he asked, pulling out a two-foot bong from behind the side of the couch, opening a drawer in the table next to the couch and coming back with the biggest bag of green buds you’d ever want to see.

“Wow. Hell, yeah,” I said. Little-known fact: marijuana is usually the drug of choice for most basketball players. We’re fit, so our lungs can handle the smoke. It is a great pain killer for the wear and tear on ankle and knees and the like. And, unlike alcohol, it is zero-calorie, so we don’t fuck up our training too much by puffing. Plus, it allows you to keep some semblance of your senses, unlike the poor girl who just got dragged off to bed kicking and screaming.

So, we smoked. And then we threw on some music, starting with Kanye and weaving through a great playlist on one of the guy’s iPhones. And we smoked some more. And we turned down the lights real low. And we smoked some more. And we settled back on the couch.

And, the next thing you know, Darrel and D.J. have disappeared to god knows where and Malcolm and I are alone on the couch and he’s got his giant hand on my bare thigh and it feels so good and I lean into him and he leans into me and our mouths meet and our lips squish against each other and our lips part and our tongues meet and our eyes close and his hand moves further up my thigh, under my skirt, and his hand reaches my panties and pets me slowly and softly. I gasp in ecstasy as his hand pulls aside my panties and his hand is on my pussy and his middle finger is wiggling my lips apart, trying to earn passage deeper into me until suddenly it does, sliding deep and firm into my suddenly moist pussy.

I’m enjoying the moment in silence, eyes closed, taking in every move when Malcolm’s left hand reaches up to my face and gently pushes my face to the right. I open my eyes to see what he’s doing and I’m greeted by the sight of a huge semi-erect cock staring me right in my face. My immediate response – probably not the one that anybody was looking for – was to burst out laughing.

“What?” asked Darrel, the owner of that huge cock.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh, I just wasn’t expecting that, you know,” I said.

“What, you don’t like it?” he asked.

“No, it’s just…” I stumbled. I wasn’t like scared or anything, but I was just struggling to find the right words to express myself. “It’s just… You know…” I looked to my left and saw D.J. standing there now as well. “Well, you know, I can’t fuck all of you,” I blurted out.

“Why not?” asked D.J. with a grin.

Darrel chimed in. “Aw, sweetie, it’s okay. You don’t have to fuck all of us. I’d be more than happy with just a blowjob.”

I laughed again. “Oh, ‘just’ a blowjob.”

Darrel smiled and Malcolm chimed in: “You know you don’t have to do nothing you don’t wanna do.”

And, under normal circumstances, that would have been the end of it, one way or another. But, I was feeling so good about myself. And these guys had been so nice to me all day and made me feel at home for the first time in a long time. And, frankly, they were all fucking hot. And, throw in the fact that I was really high and I began to do some mental gymnastics in my head.

After what seemed like a long time, but probably was only 20 seconds or so I spoke up. “Okay, listen. First, you guys have to promise that you never, ever, tell anybody – anybody – about this. You know, I want to stay at this college and, well… ” I trailed off, beginning to ponder my next sentence. Talking was suddenly very hard.

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