“What, really?” he said from the other end of the couch, raising his eyebrow in response to my joke. “You’ll suck it if we win?”
“Sure,” I laughed, putting my feet up on the coffee table. I was just joking, of course. We’d always been like that; making jokes and being silly. That’s just what friends did. Anyway, the team might have been winning, but we were ranked one of the lowest in the entire World Cup, and I’d seen enough games to realise how quickly things could change. “Why the hell not?”
“You promise?”
I stared at him, a little surprised at how serious he looked, but once again I realised he was joking. I mean…we were friends. “Sure,” I said. “I promise. If we win I’ll get down on my knees and–”
“Wooo!” he shouted, standing up and punching the air as the opposing keeper let the ball into the net. “What a goal!”
I don’t know much about football, but in the multiple replays that followed, I had to admit that the way the ball curved through the air and seemed to weave its way through a wall of players was very satisfying to watch.
It was the 58th minute now, and his team were 2-0 up.
When he had stopped jumping up and down, he flopped back onto the couch and looked at me.
“You might as well start now,” he laughed.
“Start what?”
“You know…” he said, opening his legs slightly and nodding toward his crotch.
“Yeah right,” I laughed, rolling my eyes and turning back to the game. “You wish.”
But from the corner of my eyes, I noticed something.
He was hard.
I don’t know if it was the excitement of the game, or maybe it was because of what we had just been talking about, but either way it was kind of obvious; a thick rod of muscle pressed against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.
I’d never thought of him like that before. He was my friend, and I had never even considered how it might make me feel to see him…like that.
But whatever. I wasn’t actually going to do anything.
I turned back to the game. The players were running down the pitch. A defender tackled and took possession of the ball, and the momentum shifted, the ball moving the other way. Someone kicked it out and it went to a throw in. From the side of my eye, my friend’s hard cock twitched.
Fuck.
Was that really because of me?
I needed to test the theory.
I sat forward and straightened my back, pushing my breasts out while I stretched, my nipples hard and visible due to the thoughts I was having. I slipped my hair-tie off my wrist and used it to put my hair back in a pony-tail. I told myself the latter action was for comfort only, but I knew what I was looking for, and sure enough I got my confirmation…
He was pretending not to watch me, but during my little performance his cock twitched three separate times, and it wasn’t until I noticed I’d been licking my lips that I realised I wanted it.
“So…” I said. “You really think you’re gonna win, huh?”
“It’s…it’s looking really good, yeah…”
“Well…in that case…we might as well get started, right?”
I slipped off the coach and knelt on the rug, the fibers pressing into my knees. His sweatpants were still tented, that thick ridge of muscle straining against the soft gray fabric.
He recoiled slightly. “You’re joking, right?”
“Yup,” I said, shuffling toward him and licking my lips. “I’m just joking.”
I reached forward and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants. He jumped again but offered no resistance, his skin warm as I slowly pulled his sweatpants down, inch by inch. The television blared with commentary, but the sound faded into the background as we both watched his hard cock appear before us.
Fuck.
“Sarah…” he whispered. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing!” I said, acting offended as I lifted my T-shirt up over my head, my breasts bouncing from the movements, my white lace bra barely containing them. “Just watch the game!”
But I didn’t need to look up at him to know he was watching me now; the way my boobs barely fit between his legs, the way I was licking my lips inches from his cock.
“You’re just lucky your team’s winning,” I teased, leaning closer and breathing on it. “It could change at any minute…”
He didn’t respond, just watched as I slowly lowered my head.
I placed a gentle kiss on the shaft of it and felt my pussy twitch.
“Are you…are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“Do what?” I asked, extending my wet tongue and licking him from base to tip. His body reacted instantly and so did mine, my nipples hardening and my panties getting wetter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway. How long does the game have left?” I asked, looking up at him from between his legs, my voice a little breathless, my lips wet.
He swallowed. “Around 30 minutes…”
“Then I guess we have some time…”
“For what?”
I looked up at him again, smiling. I held his gaze for a moment longer before planting another kiss on his cock, quickly this time. I moved away from it and shuffled backward, leaning back on my elbows and opening my legs, showing him my white lace panties beneath my light summer skirt.
“Nothing,” I shrugged, pushing my breasts together and feeling the thrill in my body as his eyes went wide at the sight of me. I wondered if my panties looked as soaked as they felt.
Either way, his eyes were glued to my body, and I could feel the fabric clinging to my smooth, swollen lips. The commentators droned on, but the game was forgotten, just background noise as I slowly reached down and hooked my fingers into the lace, pulling it aside. I saw him swallow again as my bare pussy was exposed to him. It was completely smooth, and I knew he could see how wet and ready I was, my lips already puffy and parted.
“What’s the score now?” I whispered. He opened his mouth to answer but I allowed my middle finger to drift down, tracing the line of my pussy before dipping inside just enough to coat it. I brought the glistening finger up to my mouth and slowly sucked it clean, never breaking eye contact with him. His cock twitched again.
“We’re still winning,” he said.
I nodded, moaning slightly and closing my eyes in pleasure, my hand returning between my legs, my fingers spreading me slightly more, my legs opening wider. My other hand came up to my chest, roughly squeezing my huge tits through the lace of my bra. I pinched my nipple, moaning as I began to rub my clit in earnest. I was putting on a show just for him, my hips grinding against my own hand as I built up the rhythm. My breasts jiggled with every movement of my arm, the soft flesh spilling out of the cups of my bra.
I was completely exposed, masturbating right in front of him while his hard cock throbbed, neglected and desperate for attention.
Fuck it.
I unclasped my bra with one hand, my huge tits spilling out, the nipples so hard they ached. I pinched one, then the other. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, my pussy was dripping as I imagined him grabbing me, throwing me down, and fucking me right here on the rug. I realised I was kind of a mess, writhing on the floor, my legs spread wide, my massive breasts heaving with every desperate gasp for air.
Just as I was about to cum, a deafening roar erupted from the television. The crowd went wild, the commentator screaming about a “stunning strike from thirty yards!” His team had scored again. They were winning 3-0.
Fuck. Suddenly, my own pleasure didn’t matter anymore. I pulled my fingers from my twitching pussy and, without a second thought, shuffled forward on my knees, enjoying the look of fear and excitement on his face, both of us knowing what was about to happen.
It was time.
Yes please, we need more of this story!
Damn, no matter how often I read this one, I'm instantly hard as adamantite🫣 and clearly not because of excitement about some unnecessary football (I don't even get the excitement about it 🤷🏻♂️).
I'm looking forward to the next chapter (as I did from the first time reading this chapter on TMS - it's the only one from this story there)