15 comments/ 270082 views/ 22 favorites Football Bet By: Storytruth My husband is not one of those sports nuts, but he does love football. He is very good about it, watching only the two games that are televised on Sunday afternoon. Generally, on Sunday he gets together with three of his friends at our house to watch the games. Being boys they generally bet on the games. Not for money, but to embarrass the loser. His friend Jim lost one week and was required to wear a dress the following week. Jim wore a red cocktail dress with thin straps. I must say he did not look bad even in the sneakers he was wearing. Bob lost on a Packers game, and at an upcoming dinner was required to dress like a nerd and drink only milk that evening at the restaurant. The waiter gave him the strangest look when he asked for milk while taking our drink orders. One week I was getting smacks for the boys and was unaware of the bet between Bill and my husband. I was a little surprised to see Bill sitting naked after the first game. He told me the wager was that the loser had to be completely naked during the next game. I planned to spend more time in the kitchen during that game. Yet, Bill walked in during the first quarter and surprised me. He explained it was his turn to get a round of beers, and invited me back to watch the game saying it was OK. A week later we were getting ready to watch the games. My husband assured me his team could not lose. The boys really wanted to get Henry. It was halfway thru the season and Henry did not have to do anything embarrassing. They had purchased pink tights and a tutu that if he lost, Henry would have to ware. They assumed he would wear the outfit the following week, but they really wanted him to wear it to the party in two weeks. Henry agreed to wear the outfit both next week and to the party provided they had a compatible prize if he won. Different suggestions were made, but it had to be something good. After all as Bob explained there would be almost 25 people at the party. My husband offered to get naked, but Henry's response was who wanted to see him naked. Without thinking I said if my husband lost, being a good wife I would get naked. Henry liked the idea, but said I had to remain naked for the entire next game, and again all of next week. He added that if he had to wear the pink tights and tutu twice, I should be naked twice. The score was already 10 -- 0 and my husband said the team could not lose, so I agreed. In overtime my team missed two field goals, and then lost when the other team scored. The room was quiet; no one knew what to say so they said nothing. I got up and went into the kitchen. It was Bill who followed me. He told me that Henry expected to lose and would be a good sport. He simply said no one expected me to do it, and left the room. I stood along in the kitchen for a few moments. No one ever reneged on a bet and I was not going to be the first. I took my clothes off walked into the room and stood by the TV. Bill suggested that I be allowed to get dressed, but Henry simple said a bet was a bet. That afternoon, I still got the boys snacks and made them dinner. Most of the time I sat quietly on a chair. No one commented or said anything, I was just a naked woman in the room. They would turn in my direction so I knew they were eying me. When the game ended I dressed. The following week I moved a bar stool close to the TV. The height of the stool would provide each of the men an unobstructed view of my naked body. If I had to do this being close to the TV allowed then to watch the game and casually glance at me. It was actually more comfortable; since no one had to turn to look at me I was less self-conscience. It was a personal thing with me not to appear like a slut, so I was dressed when they arrived. I decided that just before the teams lined up for the opening kickoff I would slip away, remove my clothes, and return to sit naked on the stool. When the second game ended I would leave the room and returned fully dressed. I soon learned this had some advantages. The men arrived with pre-made platters of food for snacks, and announced that they would be ordering dinner from the local restaurants. I was no longer required to spend time in the kitchen fixing snacks or dinner. My friend Karen arrived shortly before kick-off and wanted me to go shopping with her. She was surprised to learn of my bet, and the fact that I would be sitting naked for the men. Since she was curious I told her she could stay if she wished. The boys were seated five minutes before the game started. Karen watched as I disrobed and I invited her to join us. She followed me into the room and I took my place on the bar stool as the boys made room for Karen on the couch. During the first game there were no issues. Just like last week I was the naked girl in the room. When the game ended I got up to get some wine from the kitchen. Karen came in later and told me the boys were plotting to have some friends arrive after the second game started. She apologized but said she had to leave. I was still in the kitchen fixing a salad when my husband John came for a beer. Parading around naked in front of four men can get you horny. A hug and a kiss and soon I'm sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, John's pants are on the floor and he is pumping away inside me. I hear a voice informing John that he is going to miss the second game. John replies that he will be quick. I look into my husband's eyes and say not too quickly I need to score also. He replies "but honey the game". He starts to pull out as I attempt to pull him closer, but he is out and pulling up his pants. You need to stop and understand what is transpiring. I have been naked in front of four men for the past three hours. My darling husband seduces me into a quickie in the kitchen. While we are going at it Bill and Jim walk in and catch the show. I should feel some form of embarrassment, but instead I am mad he is not willing to stay and allow me to cum. Before he leaves the kitchen I confront him about Karen's comment that he invited some more men to come over. He tries to make some feeble excuse, but finally admits that two men will soon be joining us. They were talking about my bet the other night and the men did not believe them so my husband invited them over to see for themselves. I convey my unhappiness, and let my husband know he owes me big time. We return to the game just in time to hear the doorbell. Yes, the two men arrive. While my other guests may have been polite, these men are enjoying gawking at my body. While sitting on the bar stool one even makes a gesture that I uncross my legs and sit with then spread open. Soon game related sexual comments begin to flow from all six men in the room. Looking directly at me Bill comments that someone better 'score' soon. I hear someone wishing to plant something between the goal posts. A holding call and the sign becomes two hands extended forward squeezing something, you can guess what? I'm still annoyed at my husband for his quickly and the new guests. The first quarter ends and the score is zero -- zero. Someone in frustration ask what is it going to take to score in this game, I respond it depended on what you're offering. I continue by simply saying if your team scores you score, my team scores what's on the table. After some negotiation it is agreed that the men will be naked for a future game, Clothed Female Naked Male. If my team scores a field goal that counts as a half, and each touchdown will mean the men have to be naked for the full game. Suddenly, the announcer yells that the men's team has scored a field goal. It's agreed a field goal is worth a feel. Within moments a number of hands are sliding their way across my body. Furniture is moved and I find myself lying on a rug. Hands are squeezing my breasts, and fingers are probing my wet pussy. There are men massaging my legs, neck, breasts and clit. My team scores a touchdown, then another and I tell them they all have to be naked next week. At the end of the first half their team is driving down the field. A long pass and it's first and goal. On third and goal they score a touchdown. By the point after, Bill has already entered me. My team never scopes again, but the men's team scores three more touchdowns in the second half. The final score of the game is 31 to 14. I F__ed or sucked all six men. At times I had one inside me as I gave another a blowjob. I know one was my husband, but two other men went up my ass. It was the first time I ever-serviced three men at once. The game was over by the time the last of the men was finishing up with me. I was looking up at my husband who was sitting naked in a chair as Henry was doing me doggy style. I had no energy left to fake it; I just waited for Henry to shoot his load and finish. The following week the men all arrived and as negotiated took off their clothes and sat naked by the opening kick-off. By the end of the quarter I had invited Karen and three other girlfriends to join us. I was going to invite two of the men's wives, but I would have to explain the bet and that their husband had sex with me last week. Football Bet FTW! ------------- A costume reveals a whole new woman. And leads to a risky bet. This story is an entry in the 2010 Literotica Halloween contest. ------------- Being a Washington Redskins fan in Dallas is not the easiest thing. And when you find a kindred soul, you're quick to strike up a conversation, finding out where they're originally from, how long they've been a transplant, and reminiscing over the good old days of Super Bowls and NFC East domination. I found a local bar/eatery that had about 20 TVs and carried most of the games. There were several Redskin fans that showed up regularly, in spite of having a less than stellar season. We started sitting generally together. There was a table of mixed high-school kids, that had a couple of Redskins fans, a Steelers Fan, and a Green Bay fan, that were there 90% of the time. There was another table with a 'Skins fans couple, who always showed up with their neighbors who were die-hard Dallas fans, and they just busted each other's chops regularly. Then there was my table. I was a fixture as long as I was in town. The place was only a mile from my house, and they had pretty good hot wings and Guinness on tap, which was all I needed to know. Derek was a lawyer, young, married, no kids yet, who lived in the same neighborhood as me. Bob was older, in his late 40's, and had lived in the North Dallas area for over 20 years. He didn't talk much about his personal life, but I knew he worked for Frito-lay, and lived just a few miles away. Lori had shown up with her boyfriend one week, and without him the next. She was a tall, skinny, loud, ardent 'Skins fan, the loudest at our table. She was the oldest of 6, with four brothers, and a single sister, who was their youngest and about 12 years younger than her, still living at home and in middle school. We all wore our Redskins jerseys, and the four of us, along with a couple of out-of-state friends, started up our own fantasy football league. The first year that we all started going there we usually had no problem getting our table, and we took the ribbing from all the Dallas players in stride. Then one week we showed up and the game wasn't being shown. Asking the manager, he told us that the plan they had only carried a certain number of games, and that week there were more games played at noon than he could carry. As you can imagine we were a little irritated, since we were pretty good customers, showing up regularly, and eating and drinking our fair share (or maybe just a tad more). We had to drive halfway across town to catch the second half of the game, and we weren't happy about it. My second season in town I decided to get the NFL ticket, so I'd never miss another game, but I still went to the same place, mostly for the camaraderie. During the third week it happened again, no Redskins. I suggested we head over to my place since it was so close, and my entire table of four transplanted ourselves. "Damn, Jack, this is a nice setup!" Derek said, looking over my media room. The room was large, covering most of the area over my 3 car garage, and serving as my office, and a home theater. I had a 54" big screen TV that was razor sharp, with a Bose surround-sound setup. I hadn't splurged for the theater seating yet, so I had a single couch, and a lazy boy recliner. I wanted to build terraced seating, with a row of three theater seats in front, and four more in back, but that wasn't in the budget yet. A small refrigerator built into the wall unit that surrounded the TV meant fewer trips downstairs for refills. "What the hell are you doing coming into our dive for the games, with this kind of setup?" Lori asked me, stretching out in the recliner she'd commandeered. "I like watching the game with you guys. It's more fun than sitting here alone," I confessed. "Well you don't have to worry about that anymore," Lori laughed. "My ass is going to be parked in this chair for every game, and it's going to take a forklift to get me out of here." "Ditto," said Bob. "But you're going to have to stock something other than that black oil you drink. "There a beer fridge in the garage. I'm pretty sure whatever you want you'll find down there. Unless you want the hard stuff - that's in the bar in the dining room." I told him, grabbing a Guinness from my stock, and parking myself at the end of the couch. The game was a good one, with lots of scoring by the good guys which required jumping up, giving high-fives all around, and pulling out our cellphones to either share or gloat. Before they all left, we'd planned the next week's get together. It was Monday Night Football, and even though anyone could have watched it at home, we all agreed to watch it at my place. After the fourth week, I think we all started noticing that something was missing. The obnoxiousness, the give and take, the shouting at other tables. It was kind of hard to admit it, but we missed the dive. The fifth week we were back, but at least now we had an option. We could afford to be a little pickier. We'd walk into the place, and if our game wasn't on one of the 4 super-sized screens, we'd just turn around and head around the corner to my place. And save a few bucks as well. Ok, maybe I didn't save anything, but I still probably broke even, and they ate and drank free. It was about midway through my third year of occasionally hosting the game that things took a decidedly different turn. Derek was now a father of a bouncing baby boy, and starting to do better in business. He worked in the legal department at one of the big companies down off Legacy, and had survived a cut of outsourcing which had him nervous for a while. He joked that it was the first time he was really happy to be black, a subject which had never even come up - sports are remarkably color-blind. Bob, we had found out over time, was a confirmed bachelor and private pilot, and who had decided that women in his life just weren't very understanding when it came to how much time and money he pumped into his hobby. He actually lived in a hangar at a local airport, with a nice little two-bedroom apartment upstairs, and his RV6, his hunting jeep, and a nice sized boat parked in his hangar. All the best boy toys. And nobody to give him grief when he spent $2000 on new headphones for his plane, or dropped four grand on new tires. I'd had a pretty serious girlfriend for a while. She'd moved in and back out again by the time the third season had started. I was not an easy person to live with, working long hours, traveling a lot during the week, and pretty set in my ways. I'd also dated several more women over the years, but none had stuck yet. I was currently between skirts, and caught a good bit of ribbing over it. I owned my own consulting business with two other guys, and we'd grown from three employees when I'd first met this crowd, to more than 30. Things were going well for me, business wise. I'd even upgraded the TV to a 60" HDTV which was appreciated by all. I was surprised that Lori was still single. She was attractive, but made no effort to emphasize it. Her game apparel was consistent, one of her three authentic NFL Redskins jerseys, and jeans. The jeans were not form fitting, though they fit Ok; the huge jerseys, on the other hand, fit like a burlap sack. She dated a lot, but never for more than a month or so it seemed. Her hair was shoulder length, and often unkempt, and as far as I could tell she had never worn makeup. She'd played competitive college volleyball, and was a real sports nut. At around 6 feet tall, she towered over Bob and Derek, and I only had her by an inch or two. If she had ever worn heels she'd have looked down on all of us. She worked in sales for a publishing company, and spent most of her time on the phone. The honest truth is we didn't think of her as a woman very often. She was one of the guys, a true fan of the game, and a mouth that could make a drill Sargent blush. When it came to teasing and rough-housing she could give as good as she got. I liked her. It was the day before Halloween and our favorite hangout was holding a costume contest with prizes for most original, most authentic, best costume, etc. We decided to dress for the game, and each of the guys decided to go as a Redskin Hall-of-Famer. With 20+ guys in Canton, we had plenty to choose from. Derek claimed Charley Taylor, Bob chose Sonny Jurgenson, and I had to go with Riggins, one of my all time favorites. Lori was being wishy-washy, torn between Slingin' Sammy Baugh, or going as Joe Gibbs. We gave her so much grief about making up her mind that she finally told us all just to shut-up and she'd surprise us. It looked to be a great day for football, and we were planning to stick around for the whole double-header, with the Redskins playing the 49ers first, and then the Giants vs Denver. We still felt pretty good about our season, after starting 3-0, even though we'd lost the last two games. Dallas was sitting at 4-2, ahead by one in the win column, so we needed this one to keep pace. The Giants and Philadelphia were both tied with us at 3-2 keeping the whole conference knotted up at the top. It was a big week, with Dallas, Philadelphia, and our beloved skins all playing early games. Lori had already called, saying she was running late. I was in full regalia, wearing authentic NFL gear head to toe, including a John Riggins signed, game worn Jersey from 1982. Part of my collection. Not his best year, but a nice shirt none-the-less. I met the guys out front, and was furious to find out that once again, the Redskins weren't going to be shown on any of the TVs, never mind the big four. It put a damper on our costume plans, and we finally said fuck-it, and headed to my place, telling Lori the problem, and encouraging her to meet us there. Of course she blew up, saying it was no surprise, just one more thing going horribly wrong that day. She could be a little neurotic, all highs and lows, and nothing in between, so we figured it was just one of those days. I'd been the only one to go in full pads, and that was the first thing I shed in the media room, putting my jersey back on, grabbing a Guinness, and getting ready for the big game. Within a few minutes we were enjoying a dominating performance by the Skins over the bottom-dwelling 49ers. By the time Lori showed we were 10 minutes into the first quarter, leading 14 to nothing, and San Francisco had yet to get the ball past their own 40. I had a second TV set up next to the first, monitoring the Dallas-Seattle and Philly-San Diego games. Both were still sitting on goose eggs. She came tearing up the stairs, cursing a blue streak. She'd had to listen to the Dallas game on the radio, looking for score updates, and hadn't heard a single one. "What's the score?" she shouted up the stairs. "14-zip," Derek informed her. "We're killing them." "Shit, shit, SHIT! I can't believe I've missed this much," she announced as she entered the room. Coming through the door she tripped on my pads, skidding across the floor, another scorching burst of profanity pouring forth from her. I hit a complete double-take, as I watched her tumble and pick herself back-up. She looked great! She had passed on her original plans, and shown up as a Redskins cheerleader! I would never have guessed she had the figure to pull it off, but there was no denying what my eyes were seeing. She had makeup on, and looked so different from the way we'd seen her the last 3 years, I could barely believe it. She dashed over to the fridge, pulled out a Sam Adams, and plopped down in the middle of the couch, between Bob and I. "When I find out which one of you freakin' dickwads left that booby-trap at the top of the stairs I'm going to tear him a new asshole." Yep, she was in exceptional form. Seating was always an issue. After every break, three of us fought for the seats. Bob always sat at the far end of the couch, and the rest of us pretty much let him have his way. The other seats had a clear pecking order. The recliner was everyone's first choice, with the end of the couch directly in front of the TV second choice, and the sofa middle seat the loser's throne. Sometimes we even had side bets, with the stakes being the seating preference. As the late comer, Lori was stuck in the middle. Anyone who got up was taking their chances. If you stayed in the room, you were pretty safe, but if you hit the head, or went outside, you stood a good chance of losing your place. Lori was clearly upset, more than seemed reasonable for being a little late for the game, and even after her less than lady-like tumble. She should have been ecstatic over the score, but hardly seemed to register it. I was stealthily checking her out every chance I got. Knee high boots, low cut skin-tight shorts, and a white, burgundy and gold halter top that showed something we might never have guessed at. The girl had bodacious ta-tas. Cleavage, even! Of course I could never let her know I even saw her as a woman. She'd tear my nuts off. "The Dallas game is still knotted at zero, as is Philadelphia," Bob told her, "but Dallas is driving." He waved at the smaller TV, where we could see Dallas was inside the Seattle 20. Lori just drank heavily from her bottle, not commenting on the game, not even complaining about her seat. Finally she turned to me. "Do I look like some kind of dyke to you?" "Not today you don't," I told her frankly looking her over. "What's that mean? Not today?" she asked, peevishly. Whoops. Probably not the best choice of words. "I mean you never do. Not really. I mean you dress pretty casually most of the time, but today you look all woman." "That asshole, Frank, asked me to pick up that bitch from New York, and take her to breakfast before taking her to DFW for her 12:30 flight. It was bad enough I had to go to dinner with all of them last night, but shit - a seven day work week is not part of the deal. Then I'm stuck with chauffeur duty. Shit." I didn't know if the "shit" was about having to dress up, or from seeing Dallas push the ball into the end-zone. Dallas 7, Seattle 0. "C'mon Ref! He pushed off!" She yelled at the TV as San Francisco completed a long pass to get into field goal range. "God, this morning sucks. As soon as I show up the games go to pot." She'd already finished her beer, and got up and grabbed another one. She stood almost directly in front of me, scowling and bitching at the TV as we were flagged for a penalty. "Great! You call that ticky-tack shit, but let the other one go. Fucker!" From behind she looked amazing, her round ass barely contained by those hip-hugging shorts she was squeezed into. Her long legs seemed to go on forever. Wow. She turned and faced me, "That slut hit on me. I mean bad, and wouldn't take no for an answer. Do I look like a carpet-licker?" "Lori, you look 100% heterosexual. You're too skinny for my taste, and no ass to speak of, but other then that, it's a pretty fair impression of woman. Definitely doable." I didn't dare say what I really thought. She was gorgeous, and could turn on anything with a pulse. "Asshole," she murmured, kicking out at me, but blushing a little all the same. "Don't tease me." "He ain't teasing," Derek piped in. "Hell, if I wasn't married, and if I didn't know you, I'd be all over that shit." "What do you mean, 'If you didn't know me'?" Ha! Now he'd stepped in it. "You know, I mean, you're one of the guys. You're not some piece of tail to us." "Damn straight I'm not," she growled, plopping down next to me again. "Damn it!" This last comment appeared to be directed back at the game, as the 49ers scored, making the game 14-7. Her attitude improved a bit through the second quarter as we piled on the points. Three consecutive touchdowns had us up by 28. Seattle even scored a field goal to narrow the gap between Dallas. The only bad spot was when Philly went up by seven. We had plenty to cheer about, lots of high-fives, and quite a bit of beer was getting put away. Lori was definitely drinking more than usual, as were we all. There had been a different feel to things when Lori had first showed up, but as our team rolled along, we were soon back to normal. At half-time I heated up some queso for chips, and brought out a big batch of chili I'd started the day before, just in case. No beans in my chili - and definitely three alarm. The way we all liked it. "Jack, you got a Jersey I could wear? I don't want to chance spilling something on this." Lori asked me, after I set the food out. "Sure, I've got a closet full." Which was no exaggeration. I bought a few every year, for whoever our QB/RB/WR du-jour was. I headed downstairs to my bedroom and she followed me. "Wow," she said, looking at my closet. I had a typical Dallas walk-in, huge by almost any standards. One entire section was Redskins and Mavericks. "Pick out something nice for me. Something for good luck." I had just the item in mind. I don't know what I was thinking; I hadn't had it out of plastic in 10 years. I pulled the end shirt off the rack, lifted off the plastic and held it out to her. "Number 44 - John Riggins. I can go for that." She smiled. "Game worn, January 22nd, 1982 against Dallas, in the NFC championship. Signed certificate by John himself. PSA certified. I won it at a charity auction. He got 140 yards and 2 touchdowns. A week later we got our first Super Bowl and he was MVP." I proudly told her its history. "Shit! I can't wear this." She looked at it like it was made of solid gold. "Go ahead. Please, I'd like you to. If you don't mind the tear." There was a rip in the side, where he'd dragged some poor Cowboy for half-a-dozen yards, as the loser hung on for dear life. That wonderful tear probably upped the value of the thing by 50%. People who collected game-worn liked the emphasis on worn. "What's something like this cost?" she asked, looking it over. "It was a bargain back then, a little over $900. Now? I don't think I could touch it for five grand, maybe even double that, there's no telling." "Amazing," she murmured. "Here, hold it." She passed the shirt back to me, and within seconds had peeled her cheerleader halter off, standing before me in a simple sheer bra, looking like a piece of heaven fallen to earth. She reached in and pulled out some padding from the sides, explaining the cleavage. I was staring, but I don't think she noticed. "Damn thing's too tight. I could barely raise my arms. Should have bought a size larger," she explained. She took the shirt from me and carefully slid it over her head. She looked good in it. She'd looked better just a few moments earlier. "Let's go. There's no way we're losing now." She had a huge smile that I was happy to see. We were in the living room when she stopped. "I can't wear this." "Why not?" "I was taking off my shirt so I wouldn't spill on it. So I'm going to spill chili and queso on a museum piece instead?" "Just a sec," I told her and disappeared back into the bedroom. I appeared a few seconds later with a plain t-shirt in hand. "Wear this over it while you're eating." I gave her the over-sized tee. That seemed to settle that, and she put it on before heading upstairs. Chili and beer made up our lunch, while we watched the half-time highlights. As we all eased back from our chow bowls, Lori stood and removed the t-shirt she'd been wearing. During her effort, the jersey underneath pulled up almost to her armpits, exposing her bra to all of us for a few moments, before it settled back down onto her body. And again I was reminded what a nice body it was. Too bad she'd kept it hidden so successfully throughout the years. After the kickoff, the Redskins looked like they were going to get back to their patented smash-mouth football running game which Joe Gibbs has always liked so much. Portis had a couple of nice runs, one of which was nullified by holding, but then they tried a couple passes that ended incomplete. Football Bet FTW! "Run the BALL!" Lori was shouting at the TV. "When it's working keep it up until they show they can stop it!" Of course, being up by 28, you could do pretty much anything you wanted to, but I kept that to myself. We held the 49ers to 3 and out, and as soon as we got the ball back, it was run, run, run. Thirty quick yards by Portis on three straight carries. That had Lori back on her feet, dancing and shouting, "That's what I'm talking about!" She was always animated, jumping up and down, dancing in place when things went well, and despondent when things didn't. Today was a good day. And the dancing looked different to me than it ever had before. Cuter. Sexier. Hotter. Four more runs had the ball down to the SF 14 yard line, and Lori was talking about the spirit of Riggo, in the shirt. Then a holding penalty and two passes stalled the drive, and she was almost livid that we settled for a field goal. "We can run all day on these guys. Why did they stop? Why?" She turned back to the TV. "RUN THE BALL!" she nearly shouted. "And why aren't they running Portis?" "He's already got over a 100 yards," Derek told her. "With the game in the bag, I think they're just resting him." Not too long after that, they drove the ball all the way down the field, rushing the whole way. Lori was ecstatic, still crediting the spirit of John Riggins. She was maybe 5 years old when Riggo first wore that shirt. I wondered how much she could really know about him. But she was into it. Half blotto from hitting the beers pretty hard, she now insisted we all touch the shirt for good luck. She didn't even comment when I touched the tear, my hand sliding inside it, stroking her soft side. She just pulled away, giving me a half-hearted smack. With the score 52 to 7, and just a few minutes left, we started paying more attention to the other games. Philly was down 10 to 17, and Tomlinson was rolling for San Diego. But Dallas was ahead. With Seattle driving late in the fourth, we switched over to it on the big screen with under two minutes to go. Seattle marched down field and scored a TD with 40 seconds left to tie it up. We were all cheering and yelling on that one. The wind went out of our sails a bit when Dallas got a great kick-off return and had the ball almost at midfield. But with 14 seconds left in the game, Seattle intercepted the ball and returned it to the the 32. With 5 seconds to go, Seattle kicked a 50 yard field goal for the win, and we almost went crazy. It was turning out to be an incredible day after all. We flipped over for the final Philly score, and were disappointed to find out they'd rallied for 10 points at the end of the fourth quarter, to eke out a win. But we could accept that. Any day when our favorite two teams won, namely the Redskins and whoever was playing Dallas, was a great day. Without so much as a how-d'you-do, Lori parked herself at my desk and got on the computer. I walked over and saw her checking out all the early game box scores. She was a numbers fanatic. I heard her chuckling, and left her to her fun. Before zoning in on the late games, we did some fridge restocking, and cleaned up a bit. Lori got excited when she found some Red Bull in the garage beer refrigerator, left over from one of the girls I'd dated a while back, and she switched to Red Bull and Vodka. She was also giving me a hard time about my fantasy team, which hadn't done that well. We were going head-to-head this week, and I was down 20 points. I had Brady as my QB but he had a bye week, and I'd picked up Eli from the Giants just to have a shot at a few points. For my kicker I had Elam from Denver, so this was a huge game for me. I needed some big plays. "Why don't you just give it up, Jack," she teased. "You don't stand a chance. The Giants will be lucky to score. Your team is so lame." My team is tied for first place, I wanted to remind her. "Just wait. I'm going to kick your ass tonight." "HA! Fat chance. If I wasn't tapped out, I'd put some serious cash on that one." Lori was a gambler, but she never bet beyond her means. It wasn't uncommon for her to dump her wallet out, and bet every last penny in it on some stupid game decision, but she won as much as she lost, and always paid up. "You'd just lose it. Like you always lose to me. I'm expecting a big night from Elam and Eli." "Even if you got huge games from them, I've still got Jamal Lewis, and he's a fantasy point machine." The girl was as drunk as I'd ever seen her, but she could still remember every player on both our fantasy teams, every game being played that evening, and all the over-unders and point spreads. Just amazing. "Jamal? What a has-been. Pretty mediocre last year. What, 7 or 8 TDs?" "Injuries. He's back this year. I expect another 2000 yards and 14 TDs. Hell, he may go off for 200 yards again tonight. Seven more points, guaranteed." "Eli might have a big night. You never know," I reminded her. "Eli? Shit. Are you kidding me? Collapses under pressure. His brother got all the balls in that family. And the Giants suck, 6-10 last year? Denver touchdowns will give Elam maybe 3 or 4 points. Throw in a field goal for 6 or 7 total. You're toast." The game was about to start, and she looked down at the shirt she was wearing. "Think it's time for Riggo to be put to bed, before I let all the good luck run out." We'd been arguing at the top of the stairs, and I watched her discretely as she headed back to my bedroom, enjoying the view while following her. Legs up to her chin, and damn, those were some nice shorts. "I've got to get out of this shirt. It was cool of you to let me wear it, but I've been sweating bullets I'd mess it up somehow." I followed her back to my closet, where she again took off the shirt, standing there in her bra and shorts, and passed it to me to put away. I folded it carefully and put it on a shelf. Turning around she was still standing there waiting. "Got something else I can wear, or do I have to go up there like this?" she asked, with a teasing look in her eye. "I'd suggest going up like that, but you might give old Bob a heart attack," I teased. "Besides, Derek wouldn't be able to pay attention to the game at all." "Oh, like you weren't checking me out upstairs?" First choice, when caught, deny everything. "Checking you out? Please. I could find better curves at the middle school." "My sister said she I saw you passing out candy there. Pervert." Then she smiled at me. "You're such a liar. You were scoping me out. Just admit it." "Ok, I admit it. I was stunned. I didn't think they made shorts in size 8 children's." She punched me for that one. "Ok," I relented. "I have something nice here, significant but not historic." I pulled another shirt off the rack, and passed it over. "Number 28, Darrell Green, gotta love it." She was old enough to have seen Darrell play; hell he'd only retired a few years earlier. "Yep - 1998 game worn, signed. Nothing too fancy, but a nice piece of work. AND, small enough that you won't be swimming in it." "Jesus! Signed and worn by Darrell Green! Are you some secret millionaire?" she asked, wiggling into it. I wasn't about to let her know the truth. "Hardly, but you know I buy shirts every year and I'm always looking for bargains. That was part of a charity auction as well. I find some great bargains there, believe it or not." Lori was checking herself out in the mirror. "Damn, this is the nicest shirt I've ever seen. And it damn near fits me. I'd give my left tit for something sweet as this." The left tit comment was in response to our constant comments about giving our 'right-ball' for a QB, and such. "Shit, that wouldn't be right, the shirt wouldn't fit near as well. Let's face it - your tits are the only think differentiating you from a 2 by 4." It did fit very well, almost skin tight, accentuating her previously hidden pectoral charms. She laughed. "Ah, the truth comes out. You like my tits? Good thing my jersies hide them. Wouldn't want you drooling all the time." "Alright. I'll give you that one. They're passable." She just smirked. "And what would something like this run?" she asked, checking out my wall of shirts more carefully now. "Today's prices, 12, maybe 15 hundred. I don't know, I don't follow the collectible prices that much. A paltry $375 to get it originally." I explained. "Paltry for you maybe," she laughed, "that's a car payment for me." "Well if you didn't alway bet on your sorry excuse for a fantasy team, you might have a little more cash for the sweet things in life," I teased. "Please, you know I win way more than I lose. I'll be kicking your ass today." Lori growled. "Kissing is more like it. I'm going to own you." "I'd bet my ass you couldn't pull that kind of comeback." She laughed and turned to check out her shirt in the mirror. "It is a sweet shirt." "What? Against THAT shirt? Hardly a fair bet." "What the hell are you talking about?" "You said you'd bet your skinny ass against that shirt, which is ridiculous. The shirt's worth at least a thousand. A roll with you is worth maybe $20?" I was hitting her had. "$20! I'll have you know I've been offered over a grand for one evening. I told the stupid fuck I wouldn't take 10 times that." "Fucking Yankees raising the price. Alright, I could see paying maybe $50. Maybe." "You are so full of shit. $50? Even that bitch today was offering to get a hotel, dinner and a new flight if I'd play along. Hell, that's worth $500 easy." "Right. I believe the easy part. But that's a thousand dollar shirt." "Thousand dollar? You said you paid $375." "Jesus. I never thought you were such a little hustler. Alright, your ass against the shirt, but you're cheating me." "Are you out of your mind? I'm not going to bet my ass. Especially not to you." "More of the usual. All talk. 20 points up and she's still afraid to lose. Put up or shut up." I was hitting her where it hurt. She loved betting, and would die before she'd welsh. "Are you fucking crazy? I never said I'd make that bet." "What was all the dickering over? You said you'd bet your ass, but when push come to shove, you're as bad as Bob." A nice roundhouse to the chin there. I had her on the ropes. She was so easy to tease. "Jack, I'm up 20 points, and still have Jamal. You've got a second-rate QB and a kicker. It's like you're just giving me the shirt." Wow. That was a surprise. I never expected her to take the bet teasing seriously. Not really. I was just screwing with her. But with the possibility on the table, I definitely couldn't let it show how much I was interested in her. Not in a month of Sundays. "Aw, never mind. It is one of my favorite shirts. And it looks better on the hangar then on your skinny frame." "Ha! Looks who's backing out now. I can't blame you, you don't stand a chance. 20 points, and all you got is Elam. Eli isn't worth spit." "Fine, I'll take the bet. I still think you're cheating me." I stuck out my hand. She stared at it for a second, as if she didn't really understand what I was doing. After a few seconds she put her hand in mine and shook. Then she held on for just a sec. "Uh, if you did win, even though it's never going to happen, like for how long are we talking?" "I don't know. Let's say you're worth $100, how about we make it for a week?" I asked. She laughed out loud. "You've got to be kidding! I was thinking more like an hour." "Alright, I'll meet you part way. I can see somebody desperate thinking you're worth $200, at least make it two days." I countered again. "And no limits." "Fuck that. Rear entry is WAY off limits. You couldn't get that for the Riggo. Anything else, until midnight," she offered. "Until 9:00am tomorrow. That's not so bad for something that's never going to happen." She looked at me for a while before finally giving in. "Deal," she smiled warily, shaking on it. "It's not like you stand a chance of winning anyway." "And if I get bored too quickly, I can always have you wash my car." "Bored? I would fucking blow your mind. You'd be ruined for any other woman. Ever." "Really. I guess there are a lot of ruined guys out there," I said, referring to her long string of short lived relationships. She glared at me, the humor gone. "You're an asshole you know? No wonder you're still single." Damn it. I had stepped over the line. She turned and walked out of the room and I followed her up the stairs. I caught her arm at the top. "You're right. I am an asshole. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I just let the teasing get carried away." She paused, took a deep breath, then smiled. "It's Ok. And the single thing was a low blow. We're cool." "Bet's on?" "You know it. No way am I leaving your house without this shirt." We had taken too long getting to our seats, and the guys had already laid claim to the recliner and the end couch seat. Lori got the middle seat, choosing to be closer to the TV, while I got the other end of the couch. We were several minutes into the game, and I found out that Elam had a FG, and the Giants were driving. In deference to both Bob and Derek we had the Bills vs Raiders on the second TV, since they both had players in that game. Why? God only knows. "Three points," I told my couch neighbor softly. "17 to go." "Eighteen for the win, wiseguy," she snapped. "I need another drink; you have any more of that Red Bull?" Normally, I'd just laugh and tell her to fend for herself, but I was feeling generous, and still a little guilty for letting the teasing get out of hand. "I'll check. Be right back." I headed out to the garage and found we still had three more. I grabbed all three, and stopped by the dining room to grab a fifth of Stoli. "What did I miss?" I asked, passing Lori her drink mixings. She was settled deep in to the couch, legs stretched out, and standing in front of her I was stunned to have a clear view up between those luscious legs. Those shorts were so tight her camel toe was screaming out to me. Just 18 more points. "Eli touchdown to Plaxico. 7-3." 12 for the win. There is a God. Lori took a long swig of her Red Bull, then poured a healthy dose of vodka in the can. "Let's see the Raven's game; I'm probably up another 6 by now." It took a few minutes to find her game, and we parked on that channel for a while. Things were not going Lori's way. Chicago had the Ravens running game shutdown, and by the end of the quarter, Chicago was up 7-0 and Jamal was a non-factor. Lori was up on her feet, yelling at the TV, coaching from a thousand miles away. "Assholes! RUN THE BALL." Every down she saw another uncalled penalty, and was as exasperated as I'd ever seen her. When we turned back to my game, we saw the 7-6 score, and new that her massive lead was slipping away. I was only 9 points down, and we weren't even in the second quarter. She dropped heavily onto the couch, groaning. She took a deep drink, finishing off her Red Bull-Vodka. She looked over at me and glared. "Not a fucking word." I just mimed zipping my lips. And pondered what hers might feel like. During the second quarter she started on her third Vod-Bomb, and her TV directed profanities continued, though not quite as bad. I managed one more point off an extra kick, and Baltimore was able to move the ball a bit, mostly passes, and scored two field goals to make their game tighter. Jamal was useless, with a handful of stuffed rushes for about 4 yards total. When he caught a pass, he could do no better. It was looking more and more like Lori was going to have to depend on the lead she'd carried into these games. At half-time we lost Derek. He had the baby at home, and had promised to make it an early night. I walked him out, picking up a couple more beers. "What's the deal with Lori? She's even crazier than usual." "Fantasy teams. We're head-to-head this week, and we made a bet before the game, when she was up 20 points with Jamal still to play. I've got Eli and Elam." "So what's the score now?" "She's still up by 7. I need eight for the win." "She should dump Jamal. He's done." "Yeah, I told her. And now she's finding out." "Good luck dude. It's about time she lost. Cost me $25 last time we played." I didn't let on the nature of our bet. I grabbed the beers from the garage fridge, and headed in. I ran into Lori rummaging through my pantry. When she saw me she walked over and poked me in the chest. "You didn't tell him, did you?" "Of course not. I told him we had a bet, but nothing about what it was." She closed her eyes, and brushed her hair back with both hands, sighing. "Fuck." She reached out to the kitchen counter to steady herself. "Listen, Lori. If you want to call off the bet, I understand." She opened her eyes and glared at me. Then she sidled up close, almost nose-to-nose. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Make me back down, or better yet welsh on a bet. Not going to happen." "You're wrong. I wouldn't want that. I want you to cheer your guys down to the last losing moment. And then I want you to pay up." "Fuck you, Jack. I'm going to walk out of here tonight with my new shirt, and you can just slink off to your bed and jack-off over and over, thinking about the best sex you almost had." "So we're still on?" I asked. "Eight little points." Reminding her of her dwindling margin seemed to get to her. She stepped back and looked me in the eye. "The bet stands." Back upstairs, we watched the third quarter almost quietly, switching back and forth constantly, until Bob complained he couldn't follow the game. When Lori wasn't watching her team on the big screen, she was trying to get Bob to switch to it on the side TV. She was acting crazy. I had picked up another point right off the bat, but nothing much was going on for either of us. The Giants were down 20-10 and were looking pretty weak. Half-time adjustments looked to be working. Chicago managed another field goal, and kept the Raven's running game shut down. Definitely a defensive struggle between those two. Just before the end of the third quarter, Bob decided both games sucked and he was tired of the incessant channel swapping. He took off, leaving just the two of us. With Bob and Derek gone, it was a bit awkward at first, both of us seated on the couch, at opposite ends. Lori was working on yet another spiked Red-Bull, and I had a nice pile of dead soldiers next to me. Just a little into the 4th quarter, a Denver drive stalled again, and Elam made the score 23-10. "Four points for the win," I reminded her. "Don't get your hopes up," she reminded me. "I told you the Giants suck. Denver has their number." On the other TV, it was a battle of punts, with neither team able to do anything, and Jamal hardly touched the ball. We focused back on the Giants game where they were finally driving. I think Lori had finally decided that her 20 point lead was all she was going to get. A dropped pass in the end-zone had us both standing. "Fuck!" I screamed at the TV. She laughed out loud. "Shit that was close." A couple of anxious plays later, Barber ran the ball in for a touchdown. No points for me. Lori jumped up and danced. "That was it. You're toast. You can kiss your sweet shirt goodbye. I hope you have a big bottle of lotion handy. Wouldn't want you getting blisters tonight, all alone in your bed, dreaming about what might have been." I was afraid she was right. Time was ticking away, and even though nothing was happening in the other game, with a little over two minutes to go, I was afraid I'd lost. The Ravens had a goose egg for the fourth, and Jamal ended with under 40 yards. Unfortunately, I needed four more points and the bad guys had the ball. Even if they scored a field goal I'd be short. A couple of Denver first downs would probably seal it. Football Bet FTW! Lori was feeling pretty confident. "God, I love my new shirt, Jack. Thank you SO much." "It's not over until the fat lady sings," I reminded her. I didn't give two shits about the shirt. I wanted what was in it. "Fat lady? Hardly." She was still dancing in place, and peeled her shirt off, swaying in front of me in her bra and those minuscule shorts, waving the shirt like a matador. "Do you see any fat here?" "Not a bit," I admitted. "Nice abs." "Fuckin' A. And you were this close," she teased, holding her hands just a few inches apart in front of me. She turned in place tossed the shirt on the couch and wiggled her hips, those incredible shorts framing that sweet, tight ass, driving me crazy. All that bare flesh. So fucking close. She turned and faced me. "So how long've you had a thing for me, Jack? No bullshit." She'd crossed her arms, propping up those very nice tits, distracting me. Shit. I wasn't sure I knew how to be straight with her. Nor was I sure I wanted to. But I did. "A few years. A few hours. I mean, you've always been pretty, and fun, and I'd be lying if I said the thought didn't cross my mind, but tonight, when you walked in, shit! You've been hiding from us in those big shirts and baggy jeans. You did that costume good! I had no idea." "Poor baby. So close and yet so far." "Not that far," I told her. "They're punting." She spun around so fast, she almost fell. "Damn it!" She stumbled over to the couch and sat down in the middle, close enough for me to smell her. Damn, I wanted her bad. "Doesn't matter. Eli's weak. Denver's got their number." We both cheered and jeered every play, screaming out for penalties which were never called, while Manning suddenly looked like Elway, driving down the field in a 2 minute drill. With just a few seconds left we were both on the edges of our seats, with the ball getting ever closer to the end-zone. The tension was palpable. It was like Redskins-Dallas, but more so. Incredibly, with 5 seconds to go, the ball was on the 2 yard line. Time for one last play. We were both nearly hysterical. I was screaming "PASS", while she was yelling "RUN!" Eli dropped back and scrambled, under a tough rush, then hit an open Amani Toomer in the end-zone to tie the game. The entire Meadowlands went nuts. I collapsed back into the couch exhausted. Six points for yours truly. Forty-seven to Forty-four. I needed four, I'd gotten six. I'd won. "GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL! FUCK!" Lori was standing, screaming, cursing my TV. We didn't even see the extra point that gave the Giants the win. Lori turned and looked at me stunned. "Double or nothing?" Before I could say anything, she shook her head. "Forget I said that. You won. Fair and square." She stood in front of me suddenly nervous, her arms across her chest, hiding her bra. "You won't say anything to the guys, right?" Her voice was the softest I'd ever heard it. Seeing wild and crazy Lori standing in front of me, in her bra and shorts, shy and trembling, was just making my blood boil more. I stood and approached her. I pulled her arms down then wrapped her in my own. "Never a word. I promise." I leaned in and kissed her. I could taste the vodka on her breath. Her mouth slowly opened and I probed it with my tongue. Afterward I held her close, gasping. "I'll give you this much. That was a nice kiss." She leaned her head against my shoulder. "Told you so." She gave me another peck, then pulled away. "You conned me. $20? Hell, you wanted me as bad as Christine did." "Hey. That was just a starting point. I did bring it up to two hundred." "Bullshit. I could have gotten the shirt for 20 minutes, couldn't I?" I grinned. "Think pretty highly of yourself don't you? You're still skinny." "Yeah, but I'm thinking you were willing to overlook that. An hour would have been more than enough, wouldn't it? Come on. You can admit it. You've already won." "An hour? For an hour you probably could have gotten the Riggins shirt." "Shit! I knew it! So you think an hour with me is worth 5, maybe 10 thousand? Man, you've got it bad." "I only paid $975. The first hour with you, I could see that being a fair trade." She smiled. "Hell, I liked Darrel's shirt better. It fits, and I'd be scared to death to ever wear the other one." She looked pensive. "I don't get it. How come you never showed any interest until today? It wasn't just about seeing me in that ridiculous getup." "We have a good thing going here. I didn't want to ruin things." I moved closer, and pulled her back into my arms, cheek-to-cheek. I was kissing her near her ears, around her neck, smelling her, tasting her. It was so different to kiss a woman my height. So different, but so right. She was hugging me back now, leaning away from me and looking up. "Do you think this will ruin things?" "It doesn't have to." "Good. I love your setup here. I'd hate to have to find a new group to watch the game with." "And I love watching the games with you and the guys. You especially." "For the eye candy?" she teased. "It's not like you showed us anything. Who knows what you were hiding under those outfits. No, it's because you're so damn fun to watch the game with. You are the life of our group. I hate it every time you miss a game. You're the best part of every week." She pulled me down and kissed me. This time she was more demanding, pressing her lips hard against mine, her tongue pushing into my mouth, exploring. I let my hands ease down her body, cupping her fantastic ass in my hands. She relented after a bit. "You know Jack, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Sometimes you can be a pain in the ass." "Not tonight. Off limits as I recall." She pushed me away, smacking me on the shoulder. "That's right. And don't you forget it." She smiled coquettishly. "You going to feed me, before you make me pay up? Or are you the kind of guy that would take advantage of a starving girl?" Truth was, I was thinking more along the ideas of taking advantage of her, then feeding her, then taking advantage of her again. Ad infinitum. "Anything you want. What'll it be?" "Sushi work for you?" "I know just the place. Let's get you a shirt." "If you don't mind, I'll wear Darrel just a little longer. Damn, that was so close." She sighed. "TIVO the late game?" "No late game tonight, remember?" "Fuck. Did you TIVO the 'Skins game?" "Of course." "Good enough." We had been friends long enough that dinner wasn't uncomfortable, even though we both knew where it was headed. We talked about the games, including Monday's stink-fest between the Jets and Falcons. We opened up a little about our recent past, including past boyfriends and girlfriends. It was careful treading there, after sticking my foot in it earlier. "How is it a pretty girl like you hasn't settled down yet? All kidding aside." "Too fucking many Dallas fans." "You do live in Dallas you know." "Don't remind me. Plus I guess I'm a little to forceful for most of these guys." "No kidding." "Too many short fuckers. First time I wear heels, they get all weenie on me." "So lay off the heels." "I think I'm probably a little too foul-mouthed for some of them. What's fun in the bedroom is an embarrassment at Mom's." "You? Foul-mouthed? I'd never noticed." "Screw you, asshole." "Soon, pretty girl. Very soon." It was the first time since leaving the house I'd brought up our deal. She blushed nicely, gulping down another eel sushi with too much wasabi. She almost choked on it. "So how about you? Single, decent looking, good money. How is it you're still available?" I shrugged. "Too much travel, too much work. Guess I just haven't met the right girl yet. It's not for lack of trying." She looked at me hard. "What's the deal anyway? I'm nothing like the girls you've been with last couple of years. Tiny little big breasted bottled-blondes seem more your type." I didn't think I really had a 'type', but her description accurately covered the last few women I'd been with. "Tall, skinny, brunettes just doesn't seem to be your usual style," she added. "I don't know. I don't think I seek them out, they just seem to be the kind of women drawn to me." "Right. You're an electromagnetic for store bought boobs?" "God, I hope not. I prefer natural." I cast a knowing look down her front. "What makes you think these are natural?" she teased, glancing down at her chest. "Fake just doesn't seem your style. I guess I'll find out soon enough." She grinned. "You're right. All natural. Who has $5K lying around anyway?" "Ok. Just to make it a clear. I don't think I really have a type. You're working from a very small sample set, trying to figure out what I like. And if I DID have a type, I'd say you're pretty close." "Close? Ok, I can take it, what's missing?" "You know, all the usual stuff: flat head to rest my beer on, removable teeth, and an accommodating twin for whenever you're in down mode." "You are such a jerk. And who says I don't have an accommodating twin?" "You did. One sister, twelve years younger than you." "For your information, Mister Know-it-all, I have an identical double-cousin. We look so much alike we could confuse our own parents. And to this day, she worships me and would do anything I say. Anything." She grinned at me, knowing full well she'd scored a point. I sat there, brain stunned. Like getting my bell rung in a game. Finally I grasped at a straw. "There's still the flat head." "I'll wear a hat." "Fine, damn it. You are my type. There. I said it. Don't let it go to your head." She grinned at me, so happy to have won the round in our constant tease-war. She was good. No question. With the sushi gone, and the check on the table, things got quiet. "Anything else?" She seemed to contemplate it. "You got any ice cream at home?" "Yeah, just vanilla." "Cool. I might want some dessert later. I'm good for now." In the car on the way home, she had another question. "Nothing freaky, right?" With dinner over, and the house only minutes away, she seemed to be getting nervous again. "I have vanilla ice cream. I live in the suburbs. I drive a Honda. How freaky can I be?" She chuckled. "Fuck. I've known you three years, and yet I still know so little about you. For all I know, you're a closet spanking weirdo." "Nope. Doesn't do it for me. Don't worry, Lori. I won't force you to do anything, I promise." "Nothing?" "Nope. But I think I know you well enough that you'll follow through on your end." She smiled at me, and there was a new look in her eyes. Something I definitely liked. "Don't worry. By nine o'clock tomorrow morning, I think you'll be VERY satisfied with your payoff." "I'd bet you're right." "No takers on that bet." In the house I led her straight to my bedroom, which after our multiple shirt forays, she was no stranger to. "Mind if I take a shower first?" "Of course not. Take your time. As a matter of fact, I'll clean up in the guest bath." I took a quick shower, didn't even wash my hair, and brushed my teeth. By the time Lori was done, I was sitting on the bed in my boxers, already hard in anticipation. It took a lot of willpower to avoid stroking myself while I waited. She came out wearing the Riggins shirt. "Old Riggo seemed to bring us both a lot of luck tonight," she explained. "But you lost," I reminded her. "Maybe not." She came over and stood in front of me. I got up and took her in my arms, kissing her softly, our kisses growing more fervent as we stood there learning each other. I reached under her shirt, finding her naked underneath. My hands gravitated to her bare ass cheeks, squeezing them gently. "Still think I have the ass of a middle schooler?" "I think I said some stupid things earlier. But then again, I haven't really seen it yet." "Then I'd suggest you unwrap your prize." I didn't need to be asked twice. I reached down for the bottom of the shirt and slowly drew it upward, uncovering her long slender body. She raised her arms, lifting those perfect breasts, clearly all natural, and I pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it to the side. She gasped, retrieving the shirt, and folding it reverently. God she looked good naked. She turned back to me and took a step my way. "Wait." I told her. I sat back on the bed. "Give me a second to see what I've won." She grinned, and did a slow turn, letting me take in her fabulous form. "Still think I'm your type? Or do I have to go get a hat and pull my teeth." "Ok, I guess." "Ok? By the look of that tent in your boxers, I'd guess you think I'm more than Ok." I stood and she stepped into me, back into my arms. "Damn it girl. Leave me a little of my pride. I can't just go and tell you how good you look to me." She giggled. "It's Ok, Jack. I like that I turn you on. I know I'm not everybody's type. It's kind of cool that I'm yours." She closed the gap, kissing me again. My hands flowed over her body, acquainting themselves with her wonderfulness. She dropped to one knee and reached up to pull my boxers down. Once I'd stepped out of them, she reached for my cock, stroking it softly. "And I don't need you to tell me what you think; I have a pretty good barometer here." She leaned forward and pressed her lips against my staff, then rubbed it against her face. "The mystery deepens." "How's that?" I asked. "Good looking, good job, and this too," she said, stroking my fully engorged cock. "Good looking? That's a step up from decent looking." "Busted. You caught me. Maybe you're my type too." "And what's your type?" "Tall dark and handsome. You're taller than me, tanner than me, and have dark curly hair. I guess this guy here can make up for the rest." "You like?" "Oh, I think I'm going to like this big boy a lot." She gave me a long slow lick, then pressed the head against her lips. Slow as a glacier they parted, and I watched the end disappear between her lips. I felt her tongue actively massage the head, before she pulled away and stood up. "Your game. Clock's ticking." I took her in my arms, lifting her up and placing her on my bed. She was slender but solid. Muscular. I was glad for the time I spent in the gym. It would have been embarrassing to struggle lifting her. "First quarter. It's my turn to learn a little about this body you've been hiding from me." "I'll let you know if you go out-of-bounds," she chuckled. I took my time, hovering over her, using my hands to touch her everywhere. I felt the muscles underlying her skin, her tight abs, her soft breasts, where I spent a fair amount of time playing. I was avoiding reaching between her legs, letting the tension mount. My hands explored her inner thighs, and my fingers drew circles around their final target, but kept just out of range. She turned over easily, when I asked her to, and my exploration continued. I loved the feel of her, the look of her long body, the strength hidden under her soft smooth skin. I straddled her and massaged her back, working the kinks out of her shoulders. She was tight as a drum. "Damn Jack, that's nice. Shit, you just went up another notch in my book. I'd have let you do this anytime." She sighed and I felt her relax under my ministrations, sinking into the bed. I worked my way down her body, covering every inch of her tender flesh. She moaned nicely when I massaged her ass deeply, using the heels of my hands to press hard, loosening her. "Hey!" she griped when I hopped off the bed. When I returned with a bottle of lotion, she grinned. "I knew you had to have something like that." "You've got a dirty mind," I told her, squeezing the lotion into my hands to warm it up, before I started at her shoulders again, giving it my best. I worked from head to toe, using plenty of lotion, until she was totally relaxed. I didn't want her falling asleep on me, after all the booze and food, so I talked to her, teasing her a bit. Old habits die hard. "Jesus, Lori. How long are your legs? I might have to go get another bottle of lotion." "For my legs? Or for you?" "Maybe both. I've got to do something when you're washing my car." "Already getting bored with me? Want me to go now?" "Ok, so I'm not quite bored yet." "I didn't think so." I worked my way up the inside of her legs, back to her cute tight ass. I teased her by squirting a little cool lotion on her butt, working it into her cheeks. I poured out a little more lotion in a puddle at the top of her crack. I rubbed her right down that sexy split, pressing against her forbidden rear entrance, just to get a rise out of her. "Behave," she warned, when I applied a little pressure on the back door, before sliding down to my real goal. I opened her legs wider, working the whole sweet area, caressing her cute butt, her tender inner thighs, finally targeting the hot gap where they met. I caressed her moist opening, cupping it with my hand, rubbing her, pressing the heel of my hand against her puffy lips, massaging her most intimate place. Her moans grew more pronounced and when my fingers opened her up, pressing just a bit inside of her, I felt her shiver. I opened her up, pressing a little deeper, still teasing her back door, all my motions slow and gentle, caressing, teasing. For now. I eased up and gave her rear end a pat. "First quarter's over. Roll over." She gave a reluctant sigh, and rolled onto her back. "First quarter goes to the home team," she said with a soft smile. "That was nice. So what's the game plan now?" "Second quarter we test our opponent, see where the weaknesses are, and exploit them." "Think you can find a weakness here?" She teased, running her hands down that delectable body. "I'm willing to try." "Then I'm willing to let you. You sure you won this bet? I feel like I'm winning so far." I leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. "There's a lot of game to go." I stretched out over her, and started with a kiss, then moved down to her tits, and made myself intimately familiar with them. They were the ideal size. Big enough to be full, maybe a full B, the kind you knew wouldn't change much 20 years from now. Very feminine, very pretty. Fit my hands perfectly. Silver dollar sized pink caps which puckered up to little erasers that got hard and stayed that way. My licking and sucking seemed to really excite her, and her encouragement made me aggressive. I was afraid I'd leave marks, I sucked and nibbled so hard. I couldn't get enough of this girl. She reached down and pulled my head up a second. I looked up to see what she wanted. "Bored?" "Jesus, you're mean. No. Not bored. And I think it's likely you won't be doing any car-washing any time soon." "Good." She pushed my head back down to her tit, guiding me to her nipple. She sighed nicely when I took it in my mouth. It was obvious her breasts were very sensitive. I had her squirming, rubbing her legs together, just sucking and nibbling on those perky little pink peaks. It was fun, and I was sure I'd spend a lot more time playing with those fun babies, but it was time to move on. I worked down her abs, to the little soft belly just under her cute little 'inny' of a belly-button. My hands were glued to her breasts, while I kissed and licked her, offsetting the ticklish actions with tweaks of her nipples. Poking my tongue into her belly button made her squirm and giggle, until I gave her nipples a sharp tug, making her gasp. My lips traveled down her soft skin, exploring from side to side, massaging the hollows of her hips. I spent a few moments playing with her short curly browns, a small triangle of teasing possibility, just above her small slit. I let my tongue brush over her clit for just a moment, unable to resist, before continuing my journey. Football Bet FTW! I worked my way down her legs, a long, long journey, all the way to her feet. Kissing her instep she giggled. "Careful buster, I'm ticklish, in case you haven't noticed." She wasn't that ticklish, and didn't flinch when I took her long slender toes between my lips, not wanting to miss an inch of her. My last girlfriend had tiny feet that could fit in one hand. Lori had long narrow feet, deep arches, and cute painted toes that decried her normal attempts to look tomboyish. Until today I'd never found her sexy. Pretty, yes, and fun. But this was an eye-opener. A game-changer. There was a very sexy, very hot woman hidden behind her "one of the guys" facade. After finishing with her feet, I worked up her legs, concentrating on the inside of her thighs. Making my way slowly. "Talk about tease. You're driving me crazy, Jack." As I neared the top I could smell her need. Her hair was carefully cropped, light brown, a neat triangle that fit inside the last remnants of her tan. Her faint tan-lines were so damn sexy, screaming out to me about hidden treasures, now available to me. Before I went in for the kill, I heard her giggle again. "What?" "I was just thinking. If I'd gone with the Sammy Baugh outfit I'd probably be home alone eating a gallon of ice cream. And NOT vanilla. Chocolate. Definitely chocolate." "Having second thoughts?" "Hell no! The massage alone was worth the price of that outfit. I think this is the first bet in my life I'm kind of glad I lost." "In the spirit of honesty, I'm glad you chose the cheerleader outfit. Too bad they weren't showing the game at the bar. You probably would have won." "But I probably wouldn't be here right now." "You're right. Fuck the bar. I'm glad you're here." "Mmmm. Me too. Who'd have thunk it?" I could restrain myself no longer, and pressed my tongue against her slit, carefully parting her lips, taking each between my lips, running my teeth over them, opening her. She spread her legs widely, inviting me, and I accepted. I licked her from bottom to top, twirling my tongue over her hidden clit, teasing it forth, making it swell, taking it between my lips, brushing my teeth against it. She was wonderfully responsive, pressing up against me, talking to me, telling me what she liked, moaning sweetly. I slid a finger into her, pushing against the spongy sides, exploring her. I inserted a second, working them in and out, while my tongue continued its play. When my fingers found her pleasure point, she let me know, guiding me in how much pressure to use, where to rub, how fast to go. Under her directions I had her groaning for release within minutes. I loved the way she reacted, her tangy taste, the swelling of her lips and the sound of her moistness, screaming out her excitement. While I followed her guidance, I had to put my own spin on it, eliciting even more moans from her, surprising her now and then, it seemed in a good way. When she came, a wave of pleasure seemed to roll down her body, and she bucked underneath me, her legs clasping tightly. I stuck with her, licking, sucking, finger fucking, until she was in a constant state of complete surrender, coming hard only minutes apart. She was soaking wet, and tasted wonderful. I couldn't help but think that I wanted this for more than one night. I had been with a lot of women, but there was no doubt in my mind, I had never loved going down on a woman like I did with this deceptive beauty. Her body was a wonderful playground. And I wanted to play. I had her at my mercy, and teased her unmercifully, building her up for another big one. She screamed out, grabbing fist-fulls of my hair and driving my face between her legs, clamping her muscular athlete's legs around my head, driving her hips up against me. I could feel her muscles pulsing, contracting, spasmodically. I couldn't breathe, and probably couldn't have pried my way loose if my life depended on it. Instead I devoured her, driving my fingers into her fiercely, determined to continue beyond my desperate need to breathe. I was rough on her, pressuring her swollen clit, shoving three fingers up her steaming pussy, twisting and pushing, my head spinning from lack of air. Lori gasped, pushing me away, none too soon, curling up almost in a ball, her entire body trembling. "Too much, please, enough." I breathed deeply, welcoming the oxygen, and wiped my face clean, where I was soaked in her juices. I wrapped myself around her, holding her, while she regained her composure. I couldn't keep my lips off of her, nibbling on her neck. My hands caressed her gently, softly, stroking open flesh, staying away from erogenous zones. "Half-time," I whispered. "Slaughter rule? You win. I can't match that. Fuck, my head almost exploded." I laughed. "No way. We're playing this game right to its glorious end." "Wow. That drained me. I'm really thirsty. I could use some Gatorade." "Really? I have some, or water if you'd prefer." "How about both?" "Your wish is my command." She slowly uncurled, turning into me, hugging me close. "I hate to say it Jack, but I got to hand it to you. You've got game. That was pretty incredible." "Yes you are. I was a jerk saying I could ever get bored of you. You're fantastic." "Don't get all serious on me now. I don't want to find myself in bed with a stranger." We kissed again, before I got up and got us our drinks. When I returned she was under the sheets, sitting up, her tits exposed. I couldn't help but stare at her as we drank our drinks. "Stop that." "What?" "The way you're looking at me. Like you'd never seen tits before." "I can't get enough of yours. You are absolutely gorgeous." "Right. I'm way too skinny. I've seen your type. It's Ok. We're having fun, right?" "Lori, you are nuts. All kidding aside, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever been with. On top of that you're the most fun woman I've ever been with." "Cut the shit. You've won. You get me. All of me. However you want. You don't need to butter me up with false compliments." She placed her drink on the bed-stand, and sat back, arms crossed. That hurt. "That's wrong and you know it. I've never lied to you about anything. Ever. I wouldn't give you a false compliment. I might tease you and joke with you, but by now I'd expect you to know when I'm sincere. I'm as honest with you as you are with me. And any compliment I give you, you can take to the bank." I think she sensed she'd pushed things too far. "You're right. I'm sorry. You're better than that. It just seems to make no sense! Three years. Three fucking years. I've never seen this side of you." I set my drink aside and moved to her. I kissed her lips hard. "Lori, you're beautiful, your passionate, and you're so damn easy to be with. I'm having more fun with you then I would ever have imagined. You're my dream girl." She looked at me oddly, then smiled. "We'll see. If I'm your dream girl, it's time for your dreams to come true. Third Quarter?" "Third quarter. You've got the ball. Impress me." Her smile grew, "Game on." She pushed me back down onto the bed and said, "Wait there." She climbed off the bed, and I watched her delightful athletic figure as she rifled through my drawers, coming up with a simple t-shirt. She folded it and laid it over my eyes, tucking it behind my head, leaving me blind. So unfair. The third quarter was pretty incredible. Lori approached me from the side and explored my body much as I did hers, mostly using her sensual lips. Hard to believe that same saucy mouth, usually so caustic, could be such an instrument of pleasure. Kisses and licks appeared from nowhere, falling on random areas of my body while she carried out her exploration. The feel of her hair trailing along while she teased me was spectacular. Much as I did, she avoided overt contact with my straining rod, occasionally letting her hair brush against him - I suspected on purpose. She did apply some of her attention to the base of my rod, and my hanging balls, so sensitive to the feel of her tongue bathing them. She worked from my extremities inward after a bit, from the finger tips, sucking each finger teasingly, to my shoulders and from my toes to my hips. The teasing was getting to me and I wanted so much more. I groaned in frustration when she had me turn over. I heard her laugh. "Payback's a bitch. You're not the only one who can tease." After a few seconds she straddled me and I felt the cool moisture of the lotion when she started massaging my shoulders. She gave a nice massage, relaxing, but her hands were strong and determined, loosening me up. She took care of my shoulders and back, my rear and down my legs, really working my calves. When she had me roll over again, I'd lost my erection, and was feeling very relaxed. She adjusted my makeshift blindfold and announced, "That won't do at all." I felt her shift on the bed, and the cool moistness of her lips and tongue on my cock, teasing it, kissing it, and eventually taking me in her mouth and sucking me. It didn't take long to return the steel to my shaft, but that didn't stop her. She massaged my balls and sucked the head of my cock into her mouth, teasing me with her tongue. I felt her lips moving further and further down my cock, as she took me deeper into her mouth, until I could feel myself pressing against the back of her throat. Her mouth felt so damned good. Someone had trained her well. She knew what she was doing, and mixed it up enough to drive me crazy. After a couple of minutes she was sucking me hard, her head pistoning down on my swollen cock. I never wanted it to end. I reached down for her head, stroking her hair while she made this dream come true. She pulled away abruptly, drawing a moan out of me. "Illegal use of hands, bub." "God, that was nice, Lori," I told her. "So you're not bored yet?" "You're not going to let that one go, are you?" "Nope. That was mean." "I'm definitely not bored. And for the record, you are the least boring person I've ever known. And you're talented mouth may be the least boring part of you." "We'll see. I think we've reached the end of the third quarter. What did you have in mind next?" She reached up and pulled the shirt off of my eyes, blinding me for a moment. I squinted at her. "I think it's time to go for the score." "I was hoping you'd say that. My ball or yours?" "Yours. Make your play." She giggled. I watched her straddle me, her long legs poising her high above me. God, it was about to happen. I was going to feel my cock fill this beauty. Holding my cock in her hand, she lowered herself, sliding my head into her warm entrance, rubbing it against herself, then easing down, taking a few inches inside of her. She wiggled her hips and grinned. "The home team returns the kick to midfield." I reached for her thighs, just wanting to touch her. "More like the thirty, I'd say." "QB drops back," she whispered, rising up off of me, then settled back down, "It's a reception, good for another first down." "Half the field to go," I teased her. She rose up a bit then stopped. "Oh, the running back is thrown for a loss!" "Damn that run blitz," I growled, enjoying her playfulness. "Does the coach have a play for first and fifteen? A quick screen makes up the lost yardage and then some." She was teasing me, bouncing just a bit, taking me back to the halfway point. She leaned over, her hands outstretched. "Perfectly executed pass down the middle for another first down," she announced, pressing down a little more, as I watched another inch disappear. "They're in the red zone." "Yes, but can they score?" "They've overloaded the left side, three wide-outs streaking for the end zone, it looks like one is wide open, the pass is in the air..." She rose up, drawing almost all the way off, then slid back down, stopping just short of taking me all the way. "NO! He's overthrown. Such a shame." She leaned down and kissed me softly. "The game is on the line. What will they do? Tight end is in motion," she wiggled her hips, "QB drops back," she rose up again, "Defense is blitzing, wait! It's a shovel pass, right up the middle, the fullback has broken through and there's one man between him and the goal. He breaks a tackle!" Lori rose up quickly and slammed her hips down, taking my entire length. "It's a score, the fans are going crazy, the whole stadium is roaring." She lifted her arms in victory. "TOUCHDOWN!" I had to laugh at her. She gave me an evil little smile and started rocking back and forth on my cock, her hips grinding away. "There's going to be a lot of celebration in Mudville tonight. They'll be reliving that series over and over again." She rose up and drove down against my cock again. "SCORE!" She leaned down, her tits hanging freely, and brought her lips to mine. "All's right in the world. The home team has won. What could be better than this?" I reached down for her ass, lifting her up a bit, so I could thrust up into her. "Not a damned thing. The perfect end." I gave her ass cheeks a squeeze. "Perfect." "So you don't think a long bomb was the way to go?" she teased. "Hell no! Up the middle, all the way." "Geez, Jack. You are so 'old school'." "Don't mess with what works." She kissed me again. "I like this." "Me inside of you?" "That too. I mean playing with you. It's nice." "It's great." "Can I play a little more?" "You've got the ball." She tucked her feet under her, putting her palms down on my chest. She raised her hips up slowly, until she was diddling herself with just the head. Then her hips went in motion, riding up and down my cock, clutching at me. I could feel her tightness as she worked on my cock, her muscles massaging me. I watched her pretty tits shaking, her eyes closed, concentrating. Her movements sped up, and she was fucking herself wonderfully with my cock. On and on she rode me, her hips working miracles. I had a perfect view, watching my staff engulfed time and time again. She slowed, rose up, and slammed down onto my cock, taking it to the hilt. She was breathing hard, and I saw a smile appear on her face. She dropped back to her knees, grinding against me. Lori leaned over, her arms on my shoulders. She started rocking back and forth on my cock, playing with me. I reached for her hips, slid my hands back around her ass, squeezing those tight cheeks while she screwed me. She felt so perfect in my hands. "What do you want now? I've had my fun. Now it's time for you to collect your winnings. Take me, Jack." I pulled her close, hugging her tightly, while I kissed her again. She squealed as I rolled with her, straightening her legs, until I was on top, pushing deep inside of her. I sat up, lifting her long legs into a wide V, and used my hips to slowly screw her. I was enjoying the view, my cock disappearing inside of her. I pulled out, playing at her entrance, poking my head inside of her repeatedly, enjoying that feeling of initial penetration. I pushed hard, settling deep inside of her and long-stroked her. "Damn, woman, you have the longest legs in the free world." "The better to match your incredible cock, my dear." I pushed her legs back, her knees almost to her shoulders, opening her up wide, but she winced. "Easy there, I'm not made of rubber." She stretched her legs, forcing me out of her, then adjusted how she was laying. "Sorry, I got carried away." "No sweat. It's your first penalty, just a 5 yarder. I'll let you know if you do anything wrong. " I leaned down and gave her a kiss. "I'm sure you will." "Would you want it any other way? A nice quiet submissive fuck, maybe?" "Hell no. I love the way you are. I love screwing my fiery little hellion." "Little? Where is she? I'll stab the bitch. You're mine until morning." "Alright. I love screwing my fiery Amazon hellion." "That's more like it. Now prove it." That was a challenge I couldn't ignore. I didn't have to worry about pushing her legs too far back, she pulled them back on her own, locking her arms around them. She was wide open to me, her pussy deliciously exposed. I couldn't resist going back for a taste, licking her until she moaned, letting my cock recover some. I sat up and pushed back inside of her, slowly at first, then faster and deeper. I grabbed her by the hips and started to fuck her harder. "God, Lori, I love being inside you." "I wish you could feel it from this side," she gasped. "Fucking incredible. You fit me perfectly. Sooo nice." I leaned over her getting a little more leverage, and pounded into her, every stroke bottoming out. She could take my length with no problems, no indication of pain or discomfort. It was glorious. I leaned my weight onto her legs, rose up and pistoned into her as fast as I could. "Fuck, that's it, don't stop, don't stop," she moaned, her hands moving to the top of her pussy, rubbing herself. I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to. My hips were a blur as I took her, claiming her in the most primal way, her tightness clutching at me. She was whimpering, her hands rubbing away fervently, her mouth open, gasping for air. I pulled back and expressed my need for her with long hard strokes, the entire length of my cock pistoning in and out, my full weight directed to my hips slamming her into the bed time after time. I was fighting to last, not wanting it to end, praying I could get her off. It was a race, and we were neck and neck. I watched her tilt her head back, moaning, and felt the trembling leading up to her release. "Come for me, Jack," she gasped. Her legs were shaking; I could see she was right on the edge. "Come for me." I moaned, unable to hold back any longer, and drove down hard, grinding, and erupting inside of her. "FUCK!" she screamed, thrashing underneath me. I released her legs and felt them wrap around me tightly pulling me hard against her. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, her mouth open in a rictus of pleasure. I ground deeper into her, shooting over and over, until I had nothing left. I leaned down and rested my head on her tits, gasping for air. Her leg death-grip eased, and her hands were stroking my hair, while her chest fell and rose with each deep breath. With a groan I rolled off of her, not wanting to crush her. She turned on her side and cuddled up to me, throwing her arm across my chest. I gazed down at her, ridiculously pleased with myself. "I might as well die now. It's never going to get any better than that." "No shit. Dallas lost. Redskins won. Sushi for dinner. Jack fucked me silly. It's gotta be all down hill from here." She pressed her lips against my chest. "Then again, who knows? We might go to the Super Bowl." I broke into a fit of giggles, unable to stop, and she was there right along with me. When we were almost able to control ourselves, she straddled me, her hands on my shoulders. I reached up and cupped her tits, pinching her nipples softly. "So shall we live a little longer? Maybe practice a bit, in preparation for an even more perfect day?" "You know, I've never been a quitter. And they say practice makes perfect." "Perfect practice makes perfect." "Perfect practice, with perfection." "I'm not perfect," she said softly. "I was talking about me, silly." That was a mistake, and blows rained down on me from my spiteful angel. I covered up, until she reached down and pulled my arms apart, pressing her lips to mine, melting into the warmest, sexiest kiss of my life. I held her in my arms, hardly daring to believe how the day had turned out. I was relaxed, but I could feel she was restless. "Jack?" "Yes, my perfect prize?" "I want some ice cream." I groaned. "In bed?" "No. C'mon, lazy, our time is ticking away. You're not bored with me yet are you." Football Bet FTW! "What do you think?" "I don't think I've overstayed my welcome." "Not by a long-shot. Sure. Ice cream. I could use an energy boost." She bounced out of the bed and into the bathroom, I expected her to be in there for just a minute or two, but I'd cleaned up and finished my Gatorade before she reappeared after about 15 minutes, dressed in her cheerleader outfit, boots and all. She had her hair back in a pony tail, looking even younger. I was stunned, staring at her. "Wow." "Ready to play?" She tossed me a shirt. I could see she'd rummaged through my collection again, coming up with a Heath Schuler shirt. She laughed. "Got yourself a winner there." We had a couple of scoops of ice-cream each, and the sight of her in that outfit was renewing my interest. In a big way. "You know, I really like that outfit." "I thought we could watch some of the game, and I'd be your little cheerleader slut, who you could fuck under the bleachers." "The stadium doesn't have bleachers." "Work with me, Jack." She towed me upstairs and turned on the game, starting with the pre-game show. She turned and looked up at me with big puppy dog eyes. In a little girl voice she said, "Please hurry, I have to be in front of 90 thousand screaming fans in just a moment." "You are a little slut, aren't you," I teased. "Just your slut. I love to feel your cum dripping out of me, when I'm performing in front of the crowd. Can they see how wet my shorts are? The white material becoming transparent, as your juices soak through. Hurry now, before I have to go." She dropped to her knees, taking my cock in her mouth. Her little act had already started to work wonders on me, and watching her pretty face, and nasty little mouth going to work, she had me hard as a rock in no time. No surprise this girl was able to get me going again so quickly after our first performance. She was sexiness personified. Lori pulled away abruptly, leaned over the arm of the couch, and pulled her shorts down part way. "Fuck me now, before anybody sees. Please." She batted her eyes at me, gazing back at me longingly. Damn, that was a sweet ass she was showing me. She reached back with her hands, spreading herself open for me. I pressed my cock against her, rubbing the head up and down her crack, then between her legs, sliding against her moist pussy. I pulled up and with just a little effort eased into her. A few good pushes and I was in. She was very vocal, crying out "Yes!" when I first entered her. "God, we're so bad. Can you hear all those people above us? I'd just die if anybody walked down here now and caught me doing this." "You are such a nasty little girl, aren't you? Shaking your ass for all those strangers. I bet that gets you hot, doesn't it? Knowing how bad they want you. How they'd go home and jerk off to pictures of you. Jesus, you're a hot little fuck." She was pushing back against me, as I penetrated her, sighing "Oh...Oh," every time I filled her. With her legs together, bound by the shorts, she was tight, and I loved the feeling. I was finding a nice little rhythm, hanging onto her hips and thrusting away. Jesus, this was so much better than the way we usually watched the games. Although I think Derek and Bob might be a little shocked. On the TV they had completed the coin toss, and the kickoff was only moments away. "I have to go," she moaned. "I have to go, the games starting." I was pushing into her hard, enjoying her. "And you're going to leave me like this?" "We get a couple of minutes after every score. I can come back to you then." She pulled away from me, tugging her shorts up, then was on her knees giving me a quick suck. "Wait for me?" "There are a lot of other girls out here you know." "I promise, I'll make it worth your while." She looked up at me and winked, giving me a couple more sucks. Then she hopped up and took a seat on the couch. In her normal voice she said, "C'mon, stud, it's starting." "You, girl, are a horrible tease." "Bored?" "Never." "Good. Here's my idea. Every field goal, I'll suck you until the kickoff. Every touchdown, you get to have me until the kickoff. If it's a pass, it's my choice. If it's a run, it's yours." "You know, that's like 8 or 9 touchdowns." "I know. Hope you ate your Wheaties." She reached over and casually stroked my cock. "Can't let him get too distracted. As I recall, we scored pretty early." Suddenly she squeezed me tight, screaming at the TV. "That was INTERFERENCE. THROW THE FUCKING FLAG!" Definitely my dream girl. ======= Thanks for reading this story. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now if you'd take just a moment to vote, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks!