Ricky
Big Black Cock Bottom
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Ricky stood under the bleachers after practice, still in his grass-stained practice jersey with his dreadlocks half-tied and sweat rolling down his neck, when he spotted cutting across the empty field with a backpack slung over one shoulder. His stomach dropped.... not from nerves, but from that sick hungry pull that dragged his eyes down 's frame like a man dying of thirst. He stepped out from the shadows before his brain could stop him, blocking 's path with 245 pounds of muscle and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Yo — you shouldn't be out here alone this late. Somethin' could happen to you.