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How much longer you gonna pull this stupid shit, Baylor?
He felt the mental breakdown coming, as he struggled to accept that, though this was who he was, it wasn’t who he wanted to be anymore. He kept thinking about what Hayes said, how even more girls were gonna be throwing themselves at him soon. That would excite any normal 23-year-old, but not Ryan. He’d been whoring himself out like it was his full-time job since he ditched his V-card at age 18.
It happened in a hotel room with the 38-year-old mom of some kid he’d just played against at a juniors tournament, who’d slipped him her hotel name and room number in the lobby after the game.
“Confession time: I probably should’ve been watching my son, but fuck. I couldn’t take my eyes off you for a second. Here. Come by around seven if you wanna, you know…play.” Against his better judgment, he’d skipped out on the team dinner and made the trip to meet up with her, naïvely assuming they’d maybe just make out a little and he’d have a fun little story to tell the boys.
When he got there, after pacing outside for about 10 minutes while working up the balls to knock, she immediately pulled him inside, pushed him onto the bed, and ripped his pants off. “Baby, I’m gonna fuck you so good.”
“So, um, I’ve, uh, I’ve never done this before,” he told her breathlessly, as she put a condom on him.
“Holy shit, you’re a big boy, huh? Listen, I’m gonna ride your virgin cock until you cum nice and hard for me, OK?”
He nodded aggressively, mouth agape. She moaned loudly as she mounted him and did exactly what she told him she was going to, an experience he still spanked to at least once a week. He was a bit of a late bloomer, but he’d gotten a hell of a start and had more than made up for it since.
Sometimes when he was bored, he’d try to calculate his body count, though he knew it was impossible. There were far too many for which he’d been so plastered he could hardly remember. He knew it was an absurd number. If you threw in all the hookups that weren’t full-on penetration, including several of his college teammates and rivals with whom he’d messed around in various states of drunkenness, then it was well into the hundreds. Ryan was fairly certain he wasn’t gay, but he’d done his fair share of experimenting, mostly on the receiving end of blowjobs, minus a few terrible hand jobs he’d given in an attempt to be a team player.
For such a slut, he’d been really lucky. He’d gotten away with just a couple STD scares, which turned out to be nothing, and only knocked up one girl when he was 19. He’d helped her “take care of it” financially, but the anxiety, shame, and guilt that came with that experience almost killed him. He promised himself that from then on, if he didn’t have protection, it wasn’t happening, a promise he’d kept. He remembered that following week well; he’d spent most of it throwing up and sobbing in his brother’s arms, begging him to please not tell their mom, mostly because he found out after the fact that the girl was only 16.
“I’ll take this to my fucking grave, Ry. I promise you.”
He rolled his eyes, disgusted with himself, as he continued his trek home. He’d lied to himself for a long time, pretended this was all fine, that this was just what hockey boys did. The truth was that he knew he didn’t want this anymore; he wanted so badly for someone to love him, wanted nothing more than to feel what it was like to be in love. So many of his old friends and teammates had girlfriends, fiancés, and some were even married and had kids on the way. And he was jealous; he craved that life for himself.
But for Ryan Baylor, it was easier to hide from it because he knew deep down, in what was left of his shattered soul, he was such a scumbag that he probably didn’t deserve it anyway.
A text from Luke snapped him back to the present.
L: Yo, I need details on the old broad.
R: Give me a second. We actually just finished fucking.
L: Smart ass. Seriously, how is she?
Ryan paused, as he hadn’t really had time to ask or answer that question to himself yet, so he just went off instinct.
R: She's amazing, actually.
A few seconds later, his phone rang. “OK. Amazing how?”
Ryan laughed. “You really have nothing better to do right now?”
“Bro, I’ve eaten the same lunch for eight years. You know I live vicariously through your cock. So, amazing how?”
He hesitated; he wasn’t even sure what he meant. “I don’t know. She’s like, kinda nerdy, but in a hot way, you know? And she’s so easy to talk to. I can’t explain it, but I feel like we’ve known each other for years.”
“You said ‘in a hot way.’ So, she’s hot?”
“I mean, not what I’d normally go for, but she’s pretty. Very pretty. Long dark hair, a body, eyes. She definitely takes care of herself, doesn’t look her age. Mid-thirties, tops.”
“Wait: I’m sorry. Did my bottle-blonde addict brother just say a girl with dark hair was very pretty? Isn’t that like, a cardinal sin for you stick douches?”
“Yes, but we will make exceptions in certain cases. It doesn’t matter though. It’s not even like that with her.”
“Ryan, cut the shit. We both know what’s gonna happen. And honestly, I’m here for it.”
He grew agitated. “Yo: I said it’s not like that with her.”
“Ok, man. I’m sorry.” Luke immediately backed off, knowing how pissy Ryan could get. They chatted about some random bullshit until he got back to the lobby of his apartment building.
