Daisy Chain on the Thirty Yard Line

I mean his ass is right there. And your job, your glory, your whole career is staring up his asshole and then pushing in as close as you can get. That’s what quarterbacking is all about when you think of it. Nothing happens until that snap between the Center’s legs. Don’t tell me you don’t think that’s sexy as hell. A guy develops a fetish. There’s nothing like it. The night lights are dim on the field. The hazy remnants of chalk marks from a championship win. Your strong hands on the hips of the Quarterback, his agile fingers clenching the hips of the Center. That’s beauty.

A reality is that there aren’t that many Quarterbacks. A man has to cruise a lot of towns to get any varied action. Fucking and sucking off a Notre Dame star player or a Florida pro is a great All-American sexual experience. Add the Center. A reality is that jealousy can rear up between the three of you. Making a daisy chain some night on the thirty yard line. That’s the reality Stewart is living.

It’s a heartbreaker for his longtime lover. He peels back Stewart’s soft suede jacket over the bulging shoulders. He runs his long fingers down Stewart’s chest, slipping buttons open casually and pressing hot skin kisses around Stewart’s nipples.

“Baby,” he whispers.

Stewart’s cock is hard beneath his blue jeans. He jerks his hips back and forth and swivels at the waist. “I fucked them in the moonlight. Thirty yard line. We were naked as jay birds. Do that again.”

Stewart’s lover lowered his head and again swirled his tongue across the swollen head of Stewart’s thick cock. “Fuck my mouth then. Now. Right now,” he whimpered.

Stewart slapped him. Then slapped again. “I want to ass-fuck you, you slut.”

“You won’t mind if I play referee, will you?” Stewart and his lover both looked across the room where Maeve stood.

“Get off early, darling?” Stewart encircled Maeve’s waist and kissed her, his tongue painting intricate patterns inside her open mouth., Stewart’s lover knelt in front of her, lifting her short skirt and kissing her already moist pussy lips.

“Get off?” Stewart’s lover asked, his voice muffled in Maeve’s lap.

“I want to watch you fuck his ass,” she murmured into Stewart’s ear.

“Just watch?” Stewart asked with a slow smile.

“I want to fuck your ass,” Maeve growled.

If you cater to a fetish long enough, it becomes a confidential companion, an illustrator of your erotic desires, a pimp to your nerves. Maeve and Stewart’s lover, Ricky, caressed him together. Their four hands pinched at his body. Maeve took off her own nipple rings and tightened them around Stewart’s pink ones. Ricky slowly removed his thick black leather cockring and adorned Stewart’s cock and balls with it.

“The black one, baby,” Stewart groaned.

Maeve kissed his mouth and stood. She pulled off her thin black skirt. Her glossy latex boots were topped by tanned bare thighs. The apex between then was bare, too. Maeve’s clitoris was already swollen, pushing its way out above the crumpled petals of skin that formed her open cunt lips. Holding them wider with two wet fingers, she slid inside her one end of long, slick black double dildo.

Stewart grunted loudly and rubbed his hand, coated with a thick viscous lube that smelled of patchouli, down the veined shaft of his cock. His other hand did the same along the remaining end of Maeve’s dildo.

Ricky said “Oh. I always forget how big your cock feels when it’s fucking me,” Ricky sighed, leaning backward over Stewart and kissing Maeve’s gasping mouth.

Maeve suddenly bit at the lobe of Stewart’s ear and pulled his hips sharply against her. The stiff dildo hovered for an instant and then plunged deep between Stewart’s ass cheeks.

The three of them spasmed forward at the hips at the same moment, then rocked into a steadying rhythm.

“Go for a long bomb,” Stewart muttered grinding his ass along the dildo and forcing the other end deeper and harder into Maeve’s pussy.

As he fucked Ricky, Stewart slid a tightening grasp around the base of Ricky’s cock and pumped it, the slick palm burning at the tip of the cock in circles then slipping wetly down to cup his balls lightly.

“I’m going to cum so fucking hard,” Ricky panted. “I’m going to feel your cum shoot right through me and out my cock, baby.”

Maeve’s fingers joined Stewart’s, her fingertips so lightly swirling in the pre-cum on the tip of Ricky’s cock.

“Last down. Goal to go,” Stewart shouted, driving his cock with passionate abandon again and again, his hips bucking as Maeve fucked his ass with the dildo. Her hips shuddered as she felt her own climax about to overpower her.

As if their nerves had immediately and simultaneously been struck by a lightning bolt, the three of them rippled together in a massive climax and stood frozen. Thick pearl-like dribbles of cum wreathed Ricky’s hole as Stewart pulled out of his ass and shot one final stream along Ricky’s spine. Ricky trembled slightly, his knees sagging, and then he turned and rubbed his cum-slick cock head against Stewart’s belly.

“Damn,” Maeve said softly, sinking to the black velvet sofa. “That made me horny.” She reached out and took handfuls of the men’s hair, dragging them between her widely spread legs. Her eyes watching them closely, she pulled out the double dildo and began licking her own wetness from it. She grabbed Ricky’s hair and pulled his head back. “Lick me, slut,” she moaned. Next, she grabbed Stewart’s hair and murmured “Baby.”

It wasn’t easy for Stewart to leave after that. The yearning for midnight fucks on football fields in faraway towns seemed to lessen, night following night. But sometimes, he would stare at the blank television screen on Sunday afternoons and without even thinking much about it, his cock would stiffen beneath his jeans and he would tug at the head of it or run a thumb along the hardening shaft. Sometimes his precum would ooze into a darker wet stain and once he almost came as a flash of moonlight memory on the thirty yard line ran through his mind with goal to go.

© 2002 by William S. Dean. All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced without permission of the author.

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