The Footballer’s Wife

Summer of 1999. Driven by the urge to skip Physical Education class, I tried out for the school’s football team. I was this small, lanky, mahinhin girl who got my coach’s attention when I started running, not because I was athletic and all that, but because I looked funny. Instantly, I got in.

Every day for the rest of the summer, I trained. I was really becoming part of the team and Patrice, the team captain, was always helping me out. She kept on teaching me trick shots, dribbling, and the right ways to play ball. She was like a big sister to me. Man, she was good.

After the last training day of summer, the team decided to unwind and head to a teammate’s beach property in Batangas. Patrice was always beside me, from the moment we left Manila, to every pit stop and bathroom breaks we had. She made sure that we were partners to share a room, and so we did.

We arrived at the place at around 10 in the evening. With no energy left for some drinks and socials, the team decided to call it a night. We headed to our rooms and prepared to rest. Our room (Patrice’s and I) had only one bed, so we had to sleep beside each other. Being both girls, it seemed okay for me to wear nothing but an oversized shirt and panties to sleep. I was 15, innocent, virginal.

I felt Patrice’s embrace getting tighter in the middle of the night. Her hand wandering off to my tummy, then finding its way to my bare chest. I pretended to sleep, carefully studying her every move. She caressed my breasts, one after the other, making my nipples hard as rock. I was asking myself if this is real, if this is right, if this is normal, and why am I liking it.

Everything changed when she paused, and started pulling my panties down. I instinctively moved, shocked at what is happening. She whispered “Kanina ko pa alam na gising ka (I know you’re up) and you’re enjoying this”. My mind is telling me no, but my body is definitely saying yes.

As soon as I turned around and faced her, she called me “wifey”. I smiled.

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