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He’d lost interest the moment my brain had sent him the message we were looking for Tallulah.
He didn’t want the clingy blonde.
Like me, he wanted the silver-haired beauty with a sharp tongue, incredible legs and what looked like very perky tits.
I’d wanted to grab her by her ponytail, using it to force her to her knees so I could fuck her mouth.
I imagined how hot and tight her small mouth would be.
How I’d silence her mid-sentence by shoving my dick down her throat until she gagged on it.
She’d look up at me with tears in her eyes, but I’d keep going, pumping in and out of her mouth, viciously punishing her for the weeks of pent up sexual frustration she'd put me through.
Instead, I’d left her downstairs holding the phone she called her boyfriend with in her hand. I’d gone upstairs to my room and used the memory of her sitting on my counter, legs splayed wide open to wank off to.
My cock felt like it was about to fall off. I’d wanked to the thought, sight, and smell of her every day – sometimes multiple times a day – since I’d met her.
Instead of providing the necessary release I needed, it was a pale imitation of the real thing I was craving. I came, but never felt satisfied.
I couldn’t fuck her and my dick wouldn’t let me fuck anyone else.
It felt like I was approaching breaking point.
“You warmed up?” I ask her once she’s standing in front of me.
“Yeah, I ran here from The Pen.”
The Pen is the residential area on campus featuring a few apartment buildings, including the one where Thayer lives.
Trust her to show up to practice ready and with her professionalism mask securely in place.
“Alright, here’s the plan for today.” I tell her, before walking her through today’s session.
She nods along, focused and asking questions as I walk her through everything. It’s a mix of endurance and skill-based training, weightlifting and some pilates.
We dig in and start going through the exercises. We’re pretty quiet, our usual bicker-y, banter-y relationship on hold while we work.
Once again I’m impressed by her work ethic and her focus. Outside of a few understandable moans and groans, she gets to it and gives it her all.
She’s the ideal kind of player for a coach – talented, teachable, and a fast learner.
“Nice. Yes, exactly like that!” I tell her during our one-on-one drill, “Eyes on the defendant’s feet just as much as the ball. You want to be able to understand which direction they're headed in.”
She jabs her foot out and kicks the ball from between my legs, winning the tackle.
“Well done.”
“Thanks.” She says, a pleased smile on her face.
“Again.”
We do this over and over again, until I think she’s ready to fall over from exhaustion.
I’m exhausted myself, so I’m surprised she’s even been able to keep up this long.
I’d bet my fortune that her body gave out a while ago and it’s her mind, and more specifically her stubborn refusal to give in to me, that have kept her going this far.
When I officially call it, she falls to the ground and rolls onto her back with a pained groan.
