My Life-Long Dream Revised

Ever since I can remember, ever since I saw my first game on a grainy black and white television, all I have ever wanted was to play football for Notre Dame. Play football for Notre Dame and have a threesome, although I think that if I was playing football at Notre Dame having threesomes probably just comes with the territory—not that I’m saying the only reason I want to play football for Notre Dame is to nail some nice FFM action, or perhaps some FNM if one of them happens to be a nun—which is totally believable if I played football at a Catholic university. I don’t know why I never considered throwing a nun into the mix before, and I mean a hot teenage nun (but legal, of course) and not an old hag nun with a hairy wart on her upper lip. Do they have nun cheerleaders? Talk about killing two deep-rooted sexual fantasies with one stone.

Now that I think about it, you can scratch the whole ‘playing football’ shit—just sign me up for the threesomes' part of my dream. Going to practice would definitely screw up my sex life if I was nailing a cheerleader nun and one of her bi-curious teenage (18-19 only please) playmate-worthy friends.

Going to Notre Dame University was only contingent upon my place on the varsity football squad so if I get cut for missing practice I definitely have better things to do than go to class. Things like exploring each and every lurid fantasy of a voluptuous teenager who, although she looks quite young, is nevertheless a consenting adult. And who am I to judge if she and her friends have a rather surprisingly large collection of adult toys that require complicated instructions, not to mention dozens of D cell batteries? Now that I’m off the team I can show what a good sport I am by consenting to make videos with the nun and her friends even though I feel that I’m really not that photogenic.

As a young boy, playing football in the vacant lot with Billy Bob, Jimbo, and Billy Ray I, like all young boys, would inhabit my world of fantasy. I would think to myself, “If I make this touchdown pass it means that I’m destined to go to Notre Dame.” I would take the snap and fall back into the pocket. I could almost hear the crowd cheering wildly as I looked for a receiver downfield. And then I’d picture the teenage nun with oral skills honed in the Catholic school system which actually encourages fellatio, and I would spot the intended receiver. In this case it was a kid we used to call “Stone Hands” McIntyre. It is almost impossible to throw a football while trying to disguise the fact that you have a raging hard-on. Stone Hands would have dropped it anyway. I threw a perfect spiral right through the back window of the auto body shop run by some surly-looking Puerto Ricans which meant that our football days were over until someone got a new ball for their birthday or Christmas.

I think the moral of this story is that you should never give up on your dreams. Unless constantly thinking about your dreams is seriously impeding the blood flow to some of your vital organs not connected with the reproductive system. If this is the case then perhaps you should just go to a costume store and buy a goddamn nun outfit and a cheerleader uniform and try to get these twisted notions out of your head for a few hours a day so you can function like a normal person.