Every Jump from Here On In
A little snip-it of Eddie being alone the morning before the qualifying competition in Garmisch. He's taking Peary's coaching and Rossi's inspiration to heart. The poor Brit needs some release, and takes matters into his own hands. Eddie Edwards/Eddie The Eagle/Rated Mature!
Eddie Edwards puttered around the small back room of the Hausberg early that Sunday morning of the ski-jumping competition being held at the GroBe Olympiaschanze in Garmisch. It would be the qualifying jump for him to become a competitor in the Calgary Olympics that next year. The pressure of him performing woke him out of a dreamless sleep, so he decided to rise early. He grabbed his shower kit and pushed his feet into his trainers before walking out the door into the cool morning air. His breath clouded up around him as he made his way down snowy the path.
He had walked alone in the morning darkness to the Garmisch Training Center and showered, skipping a shave, like most days, and had returned to the Hausberg. His auburn hair was still wet, and his short bangs had curled up on his forehead. He had chosen his prized Van Halen t-shirt to wear for luck, and paired it with his usual grey Adidas track pants. He had slung his bath towel over his shoulders, and idly used it to clear some stray water that had been trapped in his left ear. He gave his head a shake to rid the trapped water while walking to the kitchen of the Hausberg.
After making a quick cup of tea, he returned to the back room and sat down on his cot. He sipped at the mug knowing it would be the only thing he would have for breakfast that day. Peary had told him he was a good 20 pounds over the average weight of a ski-jumper of his build. Eddie needed the advantage of being as light as possible to not hold him back from landing his much needed jump from the 70-meter to guarantee him a spot on the British Olympic Ski Team.
He idly thumbed through Warren Sharp's book, "My Life in Ski Jumping" for a few minutes. He paused and leaned back, resting against the cool brick wall as he sat on the narrow bed. He closed his eyes and imagined himself sitting on the start gate of the 70-meter.
"Every jump from here on in, I want you to approach it as if you are making love to the beautiful Bo Derek, okay?" he recalled Coach Peary instructing him on one of their first lessons weeks ago. His mind wandered to Rossi. She had looked so lovely the other day, he thought to himself while rubbing a hand up and down his thigh, massaging the muscle. Bo Derek has nothing on her…
He felt the book slide off his lap and refocused his thoughts. "The starting gate is your foreplay…" Bronson's deep voice echoed in his head, and Eddie imagined himself standing on Rossi's doorstep, kissing her passionately like he wanted so much to do that previous Friday night. The taste of her lips, infused with sweet wine, played over in his thoughts.
"The in-run is where you build your rhythm…" Eddie pushed the book off of his lap completely and pulled his glasses off his face, folding them and resting them on the worn cover of the book. He pulled a hand over his growing erection then slid it down the front of his track pants.
"Rhythm…" he whispered to himself, fantasizing about being in bed with Rossi, kissing her, touching her body, feeling skin on skin. He chewed at his lip as his hand was now wrapped tightly around himself, stroking slowly up and down. "Mmm…" he quietly moaned while pleasuring himself. His breathing had become more unsteady as he continued.
He furrowed his brow as Peary's voice rang out in his brain, "The take-off – that's your special moment, alright?" Eddie felt himself grow harder as his mind raced. Images of Rossi flashed through his mind. He saw her eyes, her lips, her lovely breasts, and curved bottom. His hand jerked, his shoulders tensing, as he pushed himself to orgasm.
"Same facial expression; it's the same straining of the muscles but that same peaceful feeling of release, "his coaches voice instructed. Eddie's jaw tightened as his legs stretched out taught and his toes pointed sky-ward. His back arched, feeling that moment of release pouring over him. He moaned as his hips bucked up while he climaxed.
"Rossi…" he breathed out in wanting. He so wished she had been there, sitting in his lap, riding him out. He thought of her full breasts bouncing up and down, her blue eyes looking at him as she finally came, and her pert lips all red and wet from his kisses. He smiled to himself.
"if… you do it right." He said to himself then ran a hand down over his face and taking a deep breath. He was ready for the 70-meter.