Lovers naughty night of hot intense desire
Author: May More Categories: Romantic Sex, Written by Ladies, Couples Fucking, Free Erotic StoriesComment
I could hardly believe my luck when a month before the season started the big clubs started coming for me. In a crazy last-minute deal, I signed to a premier league side, and I found my new teammates were eager to welcome me aboard. They took me into town to celebrate, knowing that once the season began such outings wouldn’t be impossible.
As soon as we arrived at ZorroZone the buzz went around—footballers in town. The babes began to hover and I took my cue from the others, chatting to the nearest hottie who seemed like she was up for a good time.
Her name was Giselle and she looked ten-out-of-ten dirty in a short tight skirt, high heels and stockings. We had a couple of bottles of bubbly then cabbed it back to the new pad I’d rented on the edge of town. As soon as we walked through the door she dropped to her knees, unzipped my trousers and pulled my cock into the warmth of her mouth. She had a beautiful wide pout and knew how to use it. Things heated up pretty damn fast and very soon I was holding her head in place and pumping that doll like my life depended on it. Fucking, we were a couple fucking, no romantic sex just a mutual need.
Afterwards, she swallowed hard, smiled, and disappeared to the bathroom. In about sixty seconds she reappeared in my best dressing gown, looking kind of cute, all swaddled up in towelling. Leading her to bed, I quickly unwrapped her and was a little surprised at her slender frame. She must have been wearing a padded bra at the club. Don’t get me wrong, Giselle was gorgeous in any case. Looked every inch a bikini model, but I do prefer a little more to get hold of. Thats my sexual fantasy, I like plenty of warm, soft flesh up against me—gets me hard just thinking about it.
Next morning I got a different sort of handling—a ninety-minute MOT from a pair of snarky club physios who clearly didn’t trust the five-star review from my pre-contract medical. But they came up smiling after I tested 100% inside and out.
The first full training session came three days later and I was ready to impress the boss. He’d asked me to arrive early so we could have a one-to-one chat and a stroll around. He made it clear a lot was expected of me and there would be no soft introduction for the new lad on the block. And he reminded me how much I had cost about four or five times. He was friendly enough though. We took an amble around the stadium while he chatted. Certainly seemed to like the sound of his own voice. The women’s team were just finishing a practice match and I couldn’t help but check out the side. According to the physios these girls were way above average.
One player—number seven on her back—really seemed to be putting her all into the session and my eyes kept getting drawn to her. She looked a treat in the team colours. I began to drift as the boss droned on about the system of fines he’d brought to the club. Something about five grand for every “breach of training” with particular emphasis on birds and booze. I nodded along with a straight face, remembering the previous night’s adventure. I watched as number seven thumped down her opponent and came away with the ball, braided hair flying behind her as she raced upfield. Picturing myself letting down her long, dark auburn hair, pulling it forward over her shoulders, framing her pretty face. She would grab the bottom of her shirt and pull it over her head, smiling as her tits spilled out in front of my eyes. Except of course that wouldn’t happen as she would inevitably be wearing one of those passion-killer sports bras.
“Okay, young man, let’s go back in and join the rest of the team.” A shift in the gaffer’s tone caught my attention and we began to circle the pitch towards the changing room. The women’s referee had blown for full-time and as luck would have it, we had to stop for the squad as they crossed to the other side of the stadium. I still couldn’t keep my eyes off that tidy little wing-back. I watched as she walked past and gave me a once-over. Raising her head she deliberately locked eyes with mine and said in a husky whisper,
“Beautiful ink.” Running a hand along her upper arm. I realised she was referring to the lady tattooed on my bicep.
A little tongue-tied I smiled and followed the boss to the tunnel, with a gut feeling I’d be meeting her again sooner or later.
After a month or so I had stopped feeling like the new boy. The critical banter changed its tune after I scored twice in our first three games. Training, matches, dressing-room chat, it all felt good. I was on a roll, feeling like the next Harry Kane. I was a ‘face’ now. There were usually a few autograph hunters waiting when my Porsche pulled into the club car-park. The boys trained hard and I felt on top form. The only problem was, I really missed having a girlfriend. I’d ditched my steady when I left Birmingham. I was catching my share of chick-bait but they couldn’t seem to match me in the bedroom. They weren’t fit, physically, and I was always left wanting more.
One afternoon I popped into the city to treat myself to another tattoo when I suddenly remembered number seven. I hadn’t seen her since my first day.
I decided to take matters into my own hands and sneaked into one of the women’s team home games. With the idea of hanging around after to see if she recognised me. The match was a lot better than I’d anticipated. Seven was an extremely skilled player. She had all the basics, plus the kind of technique you can’t learn. She patrolled the right-wing like a speed cop and, given the ball, wasted no time switching the play, taking the game back to the opposition. A natural. We won three-nil and if there had been a ‘woman of the match’ seven would have nailed it.
I hung around the players’ exit certain she’d see me and want to talk. She must know my face by now; I was becoming a bit of a celebrity. No dice. Instead, she came running out and jumped into a waiting cab before I’d even stepped out of the shadows. Damn. I was feeling hot. Seven was not.
In frustration, I rang Sinaid, a local bird I’d met a few weeks before and invited her round. She didn’t need asking twice. Within moments of getting her through the door, we were fucking over the side of the sofa. Poor old Sinaid, she didn’t know what had hit her. However, her only whimpers were from pleasure, not a complaint.
As the days turned into weeks it was apparent I could pick up pretty much anyone I wanted. But by now I didn’t want just anyone and it became a habit of mine to watch the women’s game and lurk out back when the match was over. But Seven was as quick across the car-park as she was on the pitch. So I came up with a better idea.
I popped into the cab company she used and dropped fifty quid to get the driver’s name and number. Then put my plan into action. The following week I didn’t watch her play. Instead, I slipped Davy the cab driver the monkey we’d agreed on and waited for Seven to skedaddle out of the stadium. As usual, she hopped straight into the waiting car—with me upfront in the driver’s seat feeling like a lemon in a chauffeur hat, which was too big and hung over my eyes.
Once she’d installed herself in the back and belted up she was straight onto her phone. Didn’t even notice I wasn’t the normal driver. I checked her over in the mirror. Chatting, giggling. Nice smile, nice lips, and I wondered what they would feel like around my cock. I began to get hard and shifted in my seat, a little uncomfortable playing at being a cab-driver and impatient to reveal myself.
Davy had told me all the local shortcuts so I took Seven on the best route possible; she never twigged for a moment. Her club account with the taxi company meant there was no reason to engage with the driver at all, but I’d already worked out an idea to make sure she did.
I braked to a blinding halt in her driveway and jumped out super-fast, yanked open the back door for her to alight.
Looking up she starred, grinned and said,
“Oh. The new boy. ‘Beautiful ink’.”
“At your service number seven,” I replied saluting her.
“You better come in then.” Her voice was naturally deep and gravely. Sexy as fuck.
Once inside she told me to make myself at home while she showered down.
I made my way into the kitchen and checked out the well-stocked fridge. She had loads of the same stuff they were always telling us, first-team lads to buy. Without asking I assembled a few of the easiest ingredients and put some pasta on the boil. In two minutes I’d made a fresh sauce to go with the tagliatelle—she had everything I needed. She reappeared bathed and scented, in jeans and a T-shirt that hugged her braless tits perfectly, just as I was ready to serve salmon pasta a la moi.
“Wow. Impressive,” she said, popping a bottle of Bolly with suspicious ease.
We ate and chatted like old pals. We had more than a little in common. Seven explained how football had always been part of her life. An ambitious kid, her family had been right behind her footballing dreams, and were proud as punch when she’d turned professional. Luckily Seven was not just passionate about the sport—she also possessed a natural flair. Women’s football is fiercely competitive but Seven understood the crucial importance of training hard and turning in a real performance every single match.
She was not one to mess around on or off the grass, and after dinner, suggested I stay the night.
“We can share a cab to work in the morning,” she joked.
Seven showed me to her queen-size bed and popped off into the adjoining room. Determined to savour every moment of the experience, I undressed and stretched out in my boxers waiting for her. Suddenly she appeared in just a skimpy pair of panties, white socks and a sexy smile. Looking cute and amazing. Her breasts perfection, swinging slightly as she walked.
“What’s with the socks number seven?”
“Got to protect my ankles from any chills,” she giggled and snuggled next to me on the bed.
“Well, as a fellow employee I’d say it’s my responsibility to keep all of you warm,” I cooed in her ear and glued my body to hers, chest pushing against her back. This gave me plenty of room for manoeuver and I started by caressing the dark skin around her nipples as she wriggled her taut arse against my cock.
Moving down to her mound I passed a minute fingering the fancy material along her slit, trying to prolong every second. I heard her breath quicken as her lips grazed mine suggestively. Finally, I slid three fingertips under the lacy wall and felt the raw heat of her sex for the first time.
Her face was glowing with passion. Grabbing her wrists, I momentarily pinned them against the bed and we kissed. She was grinning now, ready for anything. Her breasts felt full, deliciously supple as I took handfuls for myself. Biting sucking, licking that lush, olive skin. I knew Seven could be my plaything to use as I wanted. But what I wanted more than anything was to break down this defender’s defenses and leave her screaming for more.
Her nipples, small and hard, responded well to the promise of what was to come as I teased them with my tongue.
She laid back and scissored her legs wide, every bit as fit as I’d expected. I pulled the gusset aside and stooped to lick her smooth, shaved cunt. Just a small strip of hair outlined the way to her centre. Seizing the back of her panties, I removed them in one pull and went face-first into her, my tongue writhing on its way to the hot core.
By now my cock was straining for release but that could wait for a while. This was the kind of woman I’d been looking for and I was taking my own sweet time. I pushed one finger deep inside her and she moaned aloud. I stepped up the pace until I could see she could hardly bear it.
Caressing the tattoo of a girl on my arm as she whispered, “beautiful ink…” and my imagination began to soar. In my joyous, dirty mind the etching became real and together we worked at pleasuring number seven. A threesome of writhing bodies, skin on skin, touching and exploring…
I came happily back to the reality when Seven decided it was her turn to give me a little attention with her toes, still wrapped in those cute bobby-socks. Pushing on my length and balls through the tight boxers, then reaching down to cup my tackle with her hands and releasing my dick into the open air. Eyes wide with anticipation, she paused just long enough for me to stiffen up another notch. Then she went to work, giving my cock the loving it deserved. Drooling with lust, licking the tips of her fingers before wiping them over my knob.
She pumped my shaft until I was full-on throbbing. Crouching over her I wanted nothing more than to spray her luscious tits with my juice but that would be too soon. We were both still fired up enough to keep the ball in play. As I’d hoped, seven was ready to match me every step of the way.
Slowly, carefully, I pushed my cock into her pussy. Filling her. She lay back, chest heaving, and groaned as I hit my stride, thrusting faster, harder, spurred on by the sound of my balls slapping her arse cheeks. Together we pinned back her legs, damn near split her in two. I was fucking for fuck’s sake, and for Seven’s. Wanting to give this woman as much as I took I shifted position, ground myself against her clit as we moved, her tits jiggling in time with each thrust.
Her plump cunt lips were swollen now, and I slowed to let her draw breath. Then again we sped up, as I fondled her breasts and she began to whimper. I was in the zone now, total control, clear-headed and pulling out before it was too late.
Immediately, to my delight moving she took all my of my length deep inside her mouth, and yes, she knew what she was doing. I lay back and let it all happen.
As she began to spread little kisses all over my abdomen and tug at my cock, I thought I was poised to explode. Just as I was thinking it couldn’t get much better Seven straddled me and I slipped straight inside her snatch. She leaned forward, tits hanging heavy over my face, before sitting bolt upright, a cowgirl at the rodeo, and I bucked underneath like the animal she’d made of me.
She wasn’t finished yet. Laying down Seven offered me another of her gorgeous, inviting smiles and immediately I was hungry to please her again. Burying my head between her legs I licked her tender, crimson hole and then pressed firmly in. Slowly at first, inching her towards whatever she needed, then faster as I felt the thump of her pulse. Nails dug into my back, she cried out, urging me on, harder, yelling that I never stop pounding her cunt. Gripping my face in her hands she trembled and screamed her climax in to the air.
In the morning, breakfast was a quiet, shy affair. Seven chatted, small-talk and shop-gossip, as she scrambled eggs for us both. She called the cab firm to take us to the stadium. Davy did his best to stay professional, stealing the odd eyeful in the rear-view mirror.
In the stadium car-park we got out right by the player’s entrance. We were a little earlier and no-one was there to clock us. Unsure how to manage the parting of the ways I shrugged and drew Seven in for a leisurely kiss. At which moment the door banged open and there was the boss, copy of The Guardian in one hand and a sandwich in the other.
How awkward. His expression was blank, unreadable, and just for once it seemed he had nothing to say. Seven giggled and nudged me in the ribs.
“I take it you and my Uncle James know each other?”
Read all about the wonderful author: May More