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“He was,” I smile, suddenly feeling light headed. My eyes follow him as he sets up another play. “Look at him, Chris. He looks so… So… So fuckable!” I cry out, that warmness between my thighs turning into an uncomfortable wet feeling.
“Totally,” Christine agrees as Danny runs close to the sidelines, just a few feet away from us. “How big do you think he is?”
“I don’t know… But I wouldn’t mind finding out.” He runs past us again, and I turn my neck, following after him and devouring him with my eyes. By now, I completely forgot about the game. I don’t even know who’s winning—and who cares, really?
“You know, Chris,” I say, turning to her and looking away from Danny for the first time in a long while. “I’d totally fuck him if I had the chan--” The words get lost in my throat as I hear a few of the photographers close to us crying out. I turn to see what all the commotion is about, and I do it just in time to see a tall Nailers player crashing through the line of photographers and stumbling toward us, the ball clutched tight to his chest.
It’s Danny Manning, and I’m right in his way.
22
Danny
Three passing touchdowns in fewer than thirty minutes. I’m on fire, baby.
“Alright, guys,” I tell the team as they form a circle around me. “We’re gonna go with a flag play. Get me the ball and I’ll throw it far and wide. Just make sure you catch it,” I tell Anderson, the wide receiver, rapping my knuckles against his helmet. He grunts in response and then we’re back in formation.
By the time the balls gets to my hands, I’m ready to go. I take two steps back and, watching one of the Miami MILFs’ linebackers rush toward me, I sidestep him. I scan the field quickly and, the moment I see Anderson closing in on the end zone, I draw my arm back and just shoot the ball in an arch. I can feel everyone's eyes in this stadium following the ball’s trajectory, but a fraction of a second before it left my hands I already knew where it was going to land: right where Anderson is now. I smile as he grabs the ball and makes a run for it. There’s nothing the MILFs' defense can do now; by the time Anderson is a few feet away from the end zone, he jumps forward and crashes after the line.
Touchdown! And now that makes it four passing touchdowns in fewer than thirty minutes. Yeah, this year I’m going to smash every single team on my road to victory, and I won’t stop until I’m carrying this year’s Super Bowl trophy in my arms. What? I’m not being cocky; I just live to win, babe, whether you like it or not.
I start to run toward the end zone, ready to join in as my whole team celebrates another six points, when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. There are two girls sitting by the 50-yard line, close to the reporters, and the blonde one is looking straight at me. Has she even seen the touchdown? She’s probably the only person in the whole stadium paying zero attention to the game.
Her eyes find mine and, in a fraction of a second, her whole face turns comically red. She looks cute, actually—bright eyes and an easy smile, not a trace of those faux high-maintenance qualities I’m so tired of. She looks like the perfect girl next door.
Okay, fuck. Enough of this. I have a game to win, I can’t be thinking of women right now. I turn my attention away from her and head down the field, mentally gearing up for the next play as our kicker snags one more point by kicking the ball between the uprights. But when I walk past the girls I can’t help but overhear a few snippets of their conversation, and they’re sure as hell not talking about football. Did I hear the word fuckable?
I try to keep my head in the game for the next plays, but that girl has made a home out of my mind and I can’t focus right now. I’ve already made a fumble, and that’s my first one in the entire season. Fuck. And these two girls keep on talking about everything except the game. Now that my brain has been tuned to their voices, it seems that I
can’t stop myself from hearing what they’re saying.
“How big do you think he is?” I hear the blonde girl’s friend ask, and I’m pretty sure they’re talking about me. Momentarily forgetting where I am, I turn my eyes toward the girls and that’s when someone screams my name; I turn just in time to see the ball flying toward me, and I somehow manage to catch it. Except it’s too late now; two of the MILFs' linebackers are already coming toward me, one coming from the right and the other from the left, and they’re more than ready to steamroll me. Lucky for me, my body acts on muscle memory alone, and I take a fast step back; then I make a quick turn to the right, and the linebackers crash against each other.
There’s a loud ooh and then a relieved aah coming from the crowd, and I jump back into action. It’s time to finish off these pussies for good. I start running down the field as fast as I can, trying to see a clear line of pass while trying to survive a whole team that wants to stomp me down. I’m running past the 50-yard-line, just a few feet away from the sidelines, when I notice that Anderson's open on the far end of the field. I cock my arm, ready to make another glorious winning pass, when a bright voice shoots a hole in my concentration.
“I’d totally fuck him if I had the chance,” I hear her say, and I instinctively know it’s that blonde girl from before. Fuck, I lost the moment and Anderson is down on the ground now. And to top it all, there’s a lineman headed straight for me, and another two blocking my path to the right. When I hear one of the MILFs' players coming from the right, completely blindsiding me, I try and pivot to the left to avoid a sack.
“Oh, crap!” I hear one of the photographers cry out, but by then it’s already too late. I step off of the field, crashing through the line and the photographers, and stumbling my way off of the field like a raging tornado. I’m heading straight to that blonde girl and her friend, but I can’t stop my trajectory now. Step out of the way, ladies—incoming.
They jump out of their seats just in time; I crash on my back, right against where they were sitting, the ball still pressed tight against my chest. The seat under me seems like it’s broken now but, on the bright side, it seems like I got out of this in one piece.
I take a deep breath, ready to go back to the field, when my eyes find that blonde girl. She’s staring at me, her mouth hanging open as if she still hasn’t processed that I almost crashed into her.
Well, fuck it, I might have ruined the play, but I’m not going to ruin this: still lying down on the ruins of the broken seats, I flash her my game-winning smile.
“Danny Manning, nice to meet you.”
23
Fiona
Holy crap, what the hell just happened?
One moment, I’m fantasizing about having Danny Manning between the sheets, and the next he literally crashes down on the place I’m sitting. I know I’m wet right now, but I never realized my pussy could summon hot guys like that. Now that’s a super power I don’t mind having.
“Danny Manning, nice to meet you,” he says with a grin, still sprawled over the seats with the ball in his hand, and I almost pass out. Someone pinch me; is this really happening?
“Fiona… Fiona Barnett,” I manage to say, looking at him in disbelief. Still with that smile on his face, he slowly goes up to his feet and starts ambling back to the field. When he walks past me he winks, and my knees start buckling. Around us, the photographers are going crazy, taking pictures of Danny as he keeps on smiling, acting as if he didn’t almost kill me just a few seconds ago.
