The stadium was still alive with noise long after the final whistle. Fans roared, horns blared, the chant of victory rolling through the air like thunder. My throat was raw from screaming, my palms sore from clapping, but I didn’t care. My team had won. My team. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might break my ribs, and I couldn’t stop grinning.
Then came the announcement. Over the speakers, cheerful and casual—a few lucky fans would be escorted down to meet the players in person.
And then I heard it. My name.
I almost dropped the crumpled program I’d been clutching the whole match. My legs felt like they didn’t belong to me, trembling as I stumbled down the steps, weaving past jealous stares. My chest pounded, breath shallow, and my c**k gave a humiliating twitch in my jeans,
