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“Imaketherules,”she says, walking backwards across the field to distance herself from me. “And if you play by them, you'll be rewarded.”
My cock loves the sound of that.
“Alright, Chief,” I holler at her. “What's this gonna cost me?”
“Simply your honesty,” she smiles sweetly.
But I know that smile. And it's not sweet. She's got a motive.
“The rules are as follows,” she continues. “You, Lake Decker, must answer any question I throw at you, just so long as you can catch.” She winks, placing the ball against my abdomen, handing it to me.
“Unfair.” I scoff, even knowing I'm set up to win this entirely, then follow up with, “For you.”
I casually toss the ball back at her, and she fumbles to catch it.
“What kind of questions?” I ask.
“Whichever question the person prefers. It can be about life, work, sex…” She lingers there for a moment, eyeing me from head to toe. “Anything.”
My ears perk up.Oh yeah, I'm ready for this game.
“Shoot your shot, baby.” I grin smugly as she fingers the laces, finding her footing.
I'm already a little impressed by her ball-handling skills, to be honest, but seeing her out here on this field with that large pigskin in her tiny little hands has me practically biting my fist, my eyes rolling to the back of my head at the sight of my girl on the field.
Holding the ball up near her right ear, ready to throw, she sends it at me hard. A perfect spiral that shoots across these twenty yards separating us, landing right in the pit of my gut. I pretend to scramble to catch it with my left hand purely for dramatic effect, but succeed. Of course.
I toss a throw back at her with some heat to it, and surprisingly, she secures it against her chest.
Damn, D. Baby got hands.
But the idea of what's to come, her probing into my personal life, has me feeling a little anxious. New plan.
“Okay, I've got a better idea,” I say, walking to the side of the field. “We need to up the ante.”
I pull a machine out onto the 30-yard line, prepping it for use.
“What's that?” she asks.
“JUGS Machine.”
I explain that the machine can toss balls at a faster rate to any spot down the field. We agree to the terms that this will make the game more challenging for me. It's entirely unfair that I get to dive into everything that is Dylan, because there isn't a chance in hell she's about to get through my skin on this field. This is my home. My game. This is where I make the catch or lose the job.
I bet she'll catch one or two, if that. But to be honest, the idea of watching her bounce around this field has got me excited already. She's determined, with her tight ass in those leggings, that toned abdomen beneath her sweater, and those engorged breasts bouncing within the confines of that sports bra, and it's all got my cock swelling in excitement. I'm already imagining the turf burn.
We set up the machine, and she even allows me to go first.
I jog downfield, turning back as she feeds the machine. It shoots out a decent spiral around thirty yards out. My legs, while still not even close to one hundred percent, take me across the turf. With my arms outstretched, I finger the edge of the ball, effectively grasping the tip, completing the pass.
Chuckling to myself in satisfaction, I slowly jog back to her with a proud smile.
She stands with a hand on her hip, twisting her lips, clearly hoping I'll drop it.
“How often do you masturbate to book porn?” I ask with a slight pant.
Her eyes round in horror as I push out the question before I even reach her, and I see the tightening of her jaw as she realizes she has to answer it. It's the rules.
“That doesn't—”
