Indian Village Girl Squirt

At least I was on the team. There were five hundred in my high school and we were allowed forty plus on the team, so pretty much any guy who wanted to play could be on the team. We didn’t take sports seriously like they do now. There were no professional teams playing on television. No multimillion-dollar three-year contracts being handed out to athletes. College sports were big but you went to see the games, not watch them on TV. I couldn’t remember even having a TV when I was a kid but I did remember Peyton watching Captain Kangaroo in the morning when she was four or five so we must have gotten one about then.In V3’s life, there was no Captain Kangaroo or Mr. Rogers still on TV. I think Pey’s television influences in this timeline were mostly anime cartoons.Oh. Playing football. I guess I get as distracted and derailed as any old man.Being on the team didn’t mean that you played in every game. Or even in some of them. Our coach was Mr ... I don’t remember his name. He taught. Their eyes met, to Jim there seemed little behind those grey eyes, apart from a smug, ‘I’m untouchable’ superiority. ‘Superior eh?’ he thought to himself, ‘I’ll cut you, I’ll carve you, I’ll kill you but I’ll take my time!’ but this was not to be the one. ———————————————————- ————————————————————– The evening drew on, the skies darkened and the street lights screamed fake daylight. At night things changed, things which seemed benevolent in daylight took on a sinister aspect, night was when the dark and the dangerous walked the streets, owned the streets, the drunks and the thugs and the junkies and the thieves and the rapists and the killers and Jim. ——————————————————— ———————————————————- Settling into an expensive wine bar he looked around him at the people, the wealthy, the trendy, the beautiful, the degenerate, the victims. ‘You are the one!’ His eyes fell upon a man, tall, slim, well dressed. He looked to be in his late 30’s, handsome in a metro-sexual sort of way, he.
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