Blowing Rusty
The first time I saw Rusty, I knew I had to have him. He was perfect. Blond, 6 ft. tall, muscular but lean, the most beautiful blue eyes, and this quirky smile that could melt the polar ice caps. He was 17 and on the local high school football team. Every afternoon, at 3:30, the team would head from the high school to the football field for practice. The store I manage is right on the way, so most of the boys would stop in to pick up some Gatorade or energy drink on their way to practice. I make sure I was always at work so I could eye their hard young bodies and add fuel to my fantasies. Each day, I would make sure I was the one who rang up Rusty’s purchase, …