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Oh my god. The high school football captain is gonna finger me in a supply closet. Is this real?
“Oh…okay,” I breathe.
He laughs softly, amused at me being at a loss for words. I feel like I should be doing more with my hands, or rubbing up against him, egging him on somehow but also giving him some signal that I like what he’s doing. I thread my fingertips into the hair on his nape, and the growl that escapes him is new, like someone flipped a switch.
With a groan, Beau rests his forehead against my chest, then backs away enough to study my face. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes wild. Cinching one arm around my waist, he crooks a finger inside the neckline of my dress and the opposite cup of my bra at the same time and tugs. My other breast falls free, the sight of it provoking another deep growl from Beau’s chest.
“God, your tits, Mary. So fucking perfect.”
He lavishes the same attention on this breast while murmuring affectionate praise. Before today, I would have smacked any man referring to my breasts astits. When Beau says it, I want to rip off his ill-fitting chinos and bite his juicy ass hard enough to leave a mark.
The growls trigger a flood of moisture between my thighs.
Beau rests his face against my breastbone, caressing and kissing my breasts like a man starved for it, and it’s making me insane with need.
Starving for it…as if I’m not. How long has it been since I’ve been kissed and adored? There have been occasional dry kisses at the end of mediocre dates.
I didn’t know it could be this fun. I thought explicit movies and books were just trying to sell something that didn’t exist.
But Beau does exist, and he’s here. All 259 pounds and six feet six inches of him. Yeah, I followed his career and know his stats though I don’t think much of football as a sport. Who wouldn’t?
With Beau’s big, calloused hands all over me, snaking their way down to my stomach, his beard softly scrubbing my tits, I realize that from here on out, quickie solo orgasms aren’t going to cut it after this.
I need more out of life. I need more Beau. My big, scruffy, wonderful football hero.
Beau’s big hand hikes my skirt up and palms the front of my pussy, over my panties.
My pelvis presses against his palm, making me seem like a wanton woman, but I don’t care. It feels so good I gasp, but the sounds disappear into his mouth.
He smiles at the contact with my white cotton briefs.
“Sexy. And before you start in on me, no. I’m not joking.”
This makes me laugh. “That’s the thing about me; I don’t give a fuck about panty lines. I’m about comfort.”
Beau gives me a heated look, then reaches around, grabbing both my ass cheeks and pulling me flat against him. “Comfortable is sexy as fuck.” As he says this, he slips his fingers down under the elastic at the back, filling his hands with my bare rump.
He resumes our kissing, slower this time, giving me licking teases. Between his toying tongue and the caressing of his hands on my ass, I’m going mad with arousal, and I don’t know what to do next.
Beau senses the yearning in my kiss somehow. Maybe it’s my frantic fingers in his hair and my whiny moans.
Between light, raining kisses, he tries to coax me out. “What is it, baby? What do you need? Let me make it happen.”
I swallow back my pride and say words I’ve never said before. “I want to grind on you until I come.”
He smiles. “No problem, Sweetness.”
My boobs are still exposed, while this underwire is getting really annoying. So when Beau lets me go for the five seconds it takes him to turn around and grab a paint-splattered step stool tucked in the corner of the closet, I peel off the stretchy top, unhook my bra and toss them to the side.
The legs of the step stool scrape against the floor as Beau unfolds the thing and sits down on the top platform, his size overwhelming the entire thing.
His eyes widen when he sees me topless. “Well, shoot. C’mere and hop on the activity bus, sweet thing,” he says, drawing me close and pulling me onto his lap so I’m straddling him.
My heart flutters at the nicknames. No one has ever called me anything but Mary. And then my heart aches because I know this is not forever. You don’t start a forever thing inside a school supply closet with a two-time Super Bowl-winning linebacker.
With my skirt still semi-bunched up at my hips, Beau’s hands quickly find their way back to my rump, helping me position myself on his lap. The stiffness in his trousers presses against my pussy.
Still sensing I feel shy about it, Beau urges me along by gripping my hips and hauling me closer, tighter, sealing our mouths together with a scorching kiss.
