Unspoken Pleasure by Erotica

Her Most Naughty Date Ever 1

My name is Jenna and I couldn't believe it when I learned I could make a date with a professional football player or coach -- and we're talking about a SERIOUS date. I found out from a friend who was positively glowing -- and it was 24 hours later. You know, that happy glow that an experienced guy can give a girl.

So I asked her what had set her aglow and she said that a friend of hers would need to help me explore, but bottom line, you get to spend some quality time with a hunk. So I asked her, "Quality time as in 'the whole nine yards'. And she just smiled and said, "Oh yeah."

Here's the thing. Since I was a young girl, I've thought that guy-butts in football uniforms are awesome. As a sexually curious student, college and high, I discovered that buff athletes are way more interesting to me that the guys on the debate team or most of the professors. So I have an ongoing fantasy about football players.

And here it was, out of the blue, a possible fantasy come true. As arranged by my friend, a woman named Patricia called me, verified that I was me, and said, "This is a very select, very hush program, informally approved by the team. Players who have a high need for, shall we say, 'regular release' can participate. We find that it keeps them closer to home in terms of focus on their football. Are you following me?"

"Yes," I said seriously, "I'm following," and my inner college slut was shouting, 'WHOO-E-BABY, THIS IS COOL.'

"At 10:55 tonight, I will message you a link. You can access the site starting at 11:00. It will vanish at 11:30. We do view your participation as something of a community service, so you'll find opportunities to state preferences. At this time, I simply need two affirmatives from you. Do you intend to participate and do you swear secrecy about any details of this program."

"Yes and yes," I said solemnly.

Needless to say, at 10:55 my fully charged phone and I were waiting impatiently at my desktop computer. The dinger dinged and I opened my message, then waited for a very long five minutes to be able to access the website.

The home page was cool looking and thanked me for participating in their Fan Appreciation Program, The next page included 15 guy-photos, all without shirts. 12 were players, including some names I had heard. They wore those wonderful uniform pants. Three were coaches, wearing brief athletic shorts. Nine black players, one black coach. It was like looking at a menu in the world's greatest restaurant.

I decided I had time, so messaged my friend quickly, "I'm here, onsite, now. Is there a chance I can get invited back?" She replied right away, a laughing emoji and 'I can't reveal details, but YES!!!.' I loved that answer. I had thought about the best looking of the white coaches, but decided a chance to fulfill a fantasy just couldn't be passed up. My guy was 6'4", 225 pounds -- a tight end with a killer smile. Name was Quinten, called Quint. After clicking on his photo -- actually, I clicked on the photo's crotch -- a note popped up. "Quint's favorite outfit will be waiting for you on arrival. A football jersey with his name and number on it. NOTHING else will be needed. He enjoys playful wrestling and resistance against his seduction efforts.'

Damn, that was definitely enough to get this girl moist. I'm 5'3", slender but nicely rounded, I'm told. So I assessed low odds that I would resist Quinten for long. I picked from a selection of three dates, the first available, ten days from now. I was given a favorite drink and appetizer menu, which didn't exactly surprise me, as our team is known as a classy outfit. Well, it actually, did surprise me. Until the moment of their interest in my favorite drink, this seemed sexy and mysterious but a bit slutty. I was already talking myself into believing I could be a valuable part of the team -- helping the players focus!

As you can imagine, the days passed slowly for me, and it was hard not to talk about it, but I kept my vows. In the bathtub, on game-day, I made sure that everything was fresh and clean and smooth, but I also laid my head back against the tub rim, and fantasized. The idea that I would soon be naked for Quint, #86, was delicious.

I arrived ten minutes early at the training facility, a huge complex in a west suburb, and drove along an access road at the very back edge of the complex. I entered a pass-code into a gate device, it opened, and there was a small parking lot ahead with the sign "Fan Appreciation." I parked, entered the only available door, and found myself in a large room with hallways leading in every direction. A young man looked up and smiled a cute but knowing smile, "And who will you be appreciating tonight." I couldn't help smiling back. "I'll be appreciating number 86." He looked at a computer screen. "Yes, Jenna. That will be in Bravo 4, and he gestured to my left.

I remembered an important detail: "Where do I find my outfit?" He told me it was in the closet, just inside the Bravo 4 door. I walked down a long hallway with doors that began Bravo 1. I knocked on Bravo 4. The door opened and I was looking up into Quinten's face. He smiled a dazzling smile and said, "No need to knock Sweet Jenna, you are welcome here." I was deeply in love already.

I managed a reasonably cool, "It's nice to meet you, Number 86," which earned a deep manly chuckle and a smile and made me feel good. He opened the door to a huge walk-in closet. "You can suit-up here." I was wearing a jogging suit, braless, but I had decided to wear my normal bikini panties as I was still not 100% sure that the website's NOTHING meant commando. I slipped into the bright blue jersey and decided immediately that Quinten had never worn it. It fit me perfectly, and was SHORT, barely below my butt cheeks. I figured that he would know, soon enough, that I was still wearing panties, so could correct `me If I was wrong.

Bravo 4 looked something like a small apartment, except that kitchen, sitting area, and bedroom were all visible to me from the entrance. The big difference was a full gymnastic mat adjacent to the bedroom. I wondered if all this could possibly be for the fan appreciation program and decided probably not. Maybe lodging for visiting referees or league officials?

We sat on opposite ends of the sitting-area couch, turned toward each other, sipping our drinks. and munching on Mozzerella sticks. He told me he had read my portfolio and he asked about my cheerleading career at my small Midwestern college. I admitted I knew more about basketball cheering than about football, but I did understand that 'Hold that line' meant they had the ball, and 'First and ten, do it again,' meant we had the ball. I also told him that I had studied up on the role of tight ends.

He smiled, "So what is the role of the tight end?"

"You can block like a lineman on running plays and block to protect the quarterback on some passing plays and' catch passes like a receiver on other passing plays." I looked at him hopefully.

He chuckled, but it seemed like a friendly chuckle. "And how many touchdown passes did I catch last year."

'Busted,' I thought. I just smiled, brightly I hoped, "Lots and lots."

That caused me to blush when he laughed out loud, but it seemed like we were getting along well. I definitely liked him, a laid back, easy charm that was really likable.

are a

laugh. I felt

legs but I

embarrassing for some strange reason.

I'll handle it." That casual comment sent a visual into my brain that caused my heart to beat faster. I decided

was truly manly. "I'll be impressed if you're that

toward the mat, aware again of how short my #86 jersey

moment: chest and shoulders lean but chiseled, arms and legs with sharply defined muscles, not bulging, just powerful

watching a couple MF erotic wrestling videos, so I knew enough to circle the mat a couple times, trying to look like a lady tiger ready to attack. I also knew that any chance I had depended on

we quit circling and closed in on each other, I tried to find a way to get to his shorts, but he collected both my wrists in one giant hand and used his lower leg to take my legs out from under me. I landed on my butt on the mat, and he smoothly laid me flat on my back, my arms stretched over my head. I could feel the hem of my jersey at my waist. "Oh, man," I groaned, "I wasn't ready

slid under the jersey and up to my breasts. He cupped me with the giant hand, then teased me with his palm, and finger-teased my nipple. Then he shifted to my other breast, teasing

hips way off the mat, actuallly searching for more contact with his fingers. He went deeper, I spread myself for him wider, he thrust powerfully, over and over, until my orgasm overpowered

panted between gasps," but I didn't try

noticed that, from about breast-touch

pulled my jersey down, from wrapped around my shoulders to panty coverage, as well as I

warmly I thought, "Okay,

feel the jersey at mid-back. SMACK, his giant hand came down on my butt, causing me to

leaving them at my knees, so the next SMACK was on bare skin, then another. I yelped both times, my body jerked and squirmed. My ass was tingling from the smacks, but my pussy was tingling in its own way, aware that his huge hand was still on my ass, caressing while exploring curves and crevises. Then fingers were between my legs, spreading me. My hips were moving on their own, seeking him. "This

my back arched, I was gasping, I knew my orgasm was only seconds away, but he suddenly pushed me away from him, rolling my onto the mat. I thought it might be a chance to get up and try again, but his hand clamped around my ankle, freezing me on my back. Then with moves that were smooth, athletic, he was beside me, slowly collecting my panties while our eyes met, his smile the victor's smile. Then my legs were spread, and he was on his knees, between my legs, and I was looking up at him, practically

now sitting beside me, legs pointed toward my head, one hand on my upper thigh, feeling me still quivering as I tried to get breathing back to normal. Our eyes met. I

the complete version of this book for free. Don't miss

"I know. Big time."

think you may

would you

"Just a hunch."

mat and get her hand onto his shorts. Then to pull down the shorts enough to release his cock. It was an OMG moment that I'll never forget. I began stroking, realizing that my whole hand, from thumb to palm to pinkie, was involved. I heard a manly, 'UUUHH,' took a moment to cup and caress his balls,

his eyes. "You seem

eyes closed, he grimaced, body jerking. "Apparently I

head of his cock. "I think I

had gone soft, just above a whisper. "I think you might. But

hand with my mouth. He moaned, louder now. I struggled to get him deeper in my mouth, but could squeeze and stroke his length with both hands. His cock was getting even bigger. I

giant body was squirming, teeth clenched, chiseled shoulders, chest and arms glistening with sweat, now under my control. He reached toward me, both hands holding onto my hair, but gently. I could see him beginning to flinch and go tense. I worked hands and mouth faster, harder. Then his

were a worthy competitor, Sweet Jenna." I felt warm all over, my hand encircled him, stroking again. His cock was growing in my hand. But he sat up

of him, knowing my jersey was SHORT. Honestly I didn't mind at all. I had nothing left to hide

cold beers felt right, because of all the physical effort we were putting into the keep-players-focused

it seemed. He gestured toward the mat. "You were really

accidental double meaning at about the same time. I laughed out loud, he chuckled but almost sheepishly. I smiled slyly. "Which of my

to clarify. You and your body

you? It was a very special time for

"Why so?"

looked thoughtful then curious. "Why do you do this?" I knew