Page 13 of Sportsball is for Lovers

To my surprise, he laughs. “Don’t worry, babe, I will. Give me a fucking chance.”

My hands go to my hips. “A chance to what? Fall for me? I’m not interested in that⁠—”

J’s mouth crashes down on mine. He lets out a rumbly sound that vibrates through me and I sway against my will, my body wanting to meld with his.

My hands fist in his shirt, the starched material refusing to crumple. His pecs are wide and hard with a little give to them. He’s not some ultra-obsessive gym rat who doesn’t have any brain space for anything other than working out. He’s… normal.

And as his tongue slips into my mouth, I feel the desire of his kiss from my head to my curling toes and everywhere else in between. He forces me to be in the moment instead of lost in my thoughts.

My thoughts are comfortable. I like being there, consumed and distracted all at the same time. In the present? I’m forced to feel things.

I don’t like feeling things. In fact, I almost think I’m allergic to it.

J deftly unhooks my bra and flings it to the side. His hands cover my breasts, the swells flowing over his big palms. I’m not a spritely little thing, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He walks me back toward the bed. The back of my knees hit the mattress and without hesitation, I sink down onto it. This puts me in direct line of sight with his dick.

The crotch of his jeans is tented by the large bulge. My mouth waters and I move to undo his belt.

“Ah, ah,” he teases, plucking my hands away. “Did I say you can touch?”

The head rush I get… My eyes close as I try to regain any sense of equilibrium. This is what I want. This is what I asked for.

“Please, sir,” I beg, and the words come out breathy. “Please may I touch you?”

J studies me, his head cocked.

Anticipation boils in my bloodstream, lighting me up from the inside.

“Take my cock out and suck it like a good girl,” he orders.

My fingers shake as they work at his belt and then his zipper, drawing out his thick length.

My mouth waters as I wrap my fingers around him. The vein on the underside of his cock pulses when I press my thumb against it.

His sharp inhalation sends a burst of happiness to my core. I want to please him. I want to make him happy. Here, where it’s just the two of us in our little sex bubble, I can be whoever and whatever I want.

And right now, I don’t want to think. I don’t want to decide. I just want to be.

His hips flex forward and I bring my mouth to the tip of his dick, lapping at the pre-cum accumulated in his slit. It’s salty and rich. My eyes roll back in my head, the familiar tang lighting up my pleasure center.

He likes this.

And when I suck the head of his cock into my mouth, tongue swirling around the swollen tip, he lets out a soft sigh that tells me I’m doing good.

My hand strokes the parts of him I can’t fit into my mouth. I slip a hand under to cup his balls, rolling them in my hand.

His hand falls to the back of my head, fisting the waves there. J doesn’t exert pressure; he just lets me know he’s there, he’s got me, or maybe I’ve got him.

As I fall into a rhythm, so does he, his hips pushing forward into my mouth, and I relax my jaw to let him fuck my face.

J snaps his hips forward, his cock nudging the back of my throat, and he holds there until my eyes water and saliva drips down my face and I start to gag.

That’s when he pulls out. He pushes me back onto the bed.

He’s still wearing his jeans. Quickly removing them, he pulls a strip of condoms and a small bottle of lube from his pocket, tossing them onto the bed.

I pick up the strip of three latex squares. “Ambitious, much?”