Full Contact: A College Reverse Harem Romance

by Cassie Cole

  We were too desperate for one another for words. I helped him remove his gym shorts and then he dropped to his knees, planting his lips on my pussy. I groaned and widened my stance for him so he could taste more of me. Feña’s long tongue rolled like a wave against my pussy, and then he sucked my clit into his mouth and gently nuzzled it, and the intensity was almost too much for me to bear.

  But it wasn’t his mouth I wanted.

  I pulled him up by his dark hair and kissed him, tasting myself on his lips, before bending over. Feña needed no other invitation; he guided his cock in between my lips, then thrust it forward to fill me with every inch that he had.

  “Quiero tu culo,” he moaned while fucking me from behind. “Dios mío, Roberta, you have a beautiful ass.”

  I’d never heard him speak Spanish before. Right then, it turned me on more than anything else in the world.

  He fucked me hard from behind in the shower stall of the women’s locker room while the steaming hot water ran over our bodies. When his grip tightened on my ass, and his thrusts grew more frenzied with lust, I pulled away from him and dropped to my knees.

  “Come on my tits,” I begged, pressing them together for him.

  His handsome Chilean face twisted with ecstasy as he stroked himself to completion. The sight of Feña, a lean man with rippling cords of muscle all over his body, clutching his cock in a meaty fist was a beautiful sight. I sighed as his warm, sticky come splashed on my cleavage and was carried away by the water running down my chest.

  I giggled when he was done, and he laughed with me. We kissed, softer this time, enjoying the moment rather than the previous rush to fuck as quickly as possible.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “It is indeed a good morning!” he said in a deep, lusty voice.

  We spent a few minutes showering together. Feña rubbed soap on my body—over my breasts, down my belly, in between my legs and ass. While he did that I dumped shampoo in my palm and washed his hair. He had such thick, vibrant hair. I didn’t want to take my hands out of it.

  Afterwards, we grabbed two towels and dried off in the locker room.

  “I am sorry for blaming you for my failed exam,” Feña said while toweling off his dark hair. “I am normally very good at history, so it is difficult for me to ask for help.”

  “Oh yeah? What kind of history do you like?”

  “Roman history,” he said with an excited gleam in his eye. “Specifically their spread outward into Gaul and Spain, and the failed campaigns against the German barbarians. But more closely to home, I enjoy the South American wars for independence against Spain. Chile’s revolutionary war lasted more than a decade.”

  I cocked my head. “I didn’t know that.”

  “But there is no class on South American history taught at Appleton,” he said. “So I must learn the Great War, where I have no context or interest. It is difficult beginning from a place of bare knowledge.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing his back. His skin was clean and smooth, and still warm from the shower. “We all need some help sometimes, though.”

  “I know,” he said. “I just—”

  We both cut off as a noise echoed out in the gym.

  38

  Roberta

  We froze on either side of the bench in the locker room, listening for the sound. Had we just imagined it? Sometimes these old buildings had water pipes which—

  There. Muffled noise deeper in the gym. Back in the main room. Several voices.

  “Shit,” I said at the same time Feña growled, “Mierda.”

  We rushed into our clothes and then went to the door. Feña peeked out.

  “Coach Mueller and Brett,” he said. “With another student. Oh no.”

  “I can stay here,” I said. “You go ahead.”

  “They will see me leaving the women’s locker room.”

  “Oh. Right.” I peered around him myself, opening the door just wide enough to look without making the hinges creak. Coach Mueller was grumbling about the weights left on the floor. He was facing this direction. The student he was with—one of the linemen—began picking weights up and putting them on the bar.

  “I think I can find an excuse to be in here early,” Feña whispered. “But you are not an athlete…”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can slip away later when it gets crowded.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Just wait until they’re not looking and then get out of here. You can slip down the side hall to get around to the exit without them seeing you.”

  Coach Mueller and Brett started talking to each other, walking sideways relative to our position. They were turning, mostly facing away from us now…

  “Go,” I hissed. “Go!”

  Feña opened the door a crack and slipped out. He moved along the wall, toward the hall which would conceal him…

  Coach suddenly called out, “Martinez?”

  Feña froze in the hall in front of the door to the men’s locker room. I winced as I watched from my tiny sliver of opening. Was there any way I could get him out of trouble? Run out and distract Coach, tell them I had broken into the gym? The only ideas that popped up were ones that would get Feña in more trouble.

  “Good morning, Coach,” Feña said smoothly. He walked out toward the gym floor. “I could not sleep, so I came early to run laps around the track upstairs.”

  “Laps?” Brett asked incredulously. “Indoors? I mean, that’s fine for a warm-up to your resistance bands, but why not just run outside?”

  Shit. That was a good point.

  “The mosquitoes bite me too much,” Feña said.

  “They must like your Chilean spice,” Coach said. He then laughed at his joke as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “Alright, but seriously, these weights out here aren’t yours, right?”

  Feña grunted. “The barbell? I only use resistance bands.”

  “I’ve got him on easy workouts,” Brett explained confidently. “To avoid re-injuring his lower back.”

  “Don’t let me second-guess you, ‘cause whatever you’re doing is working. It must’ve been the softball girls who left all this shit out again. They really ought to stick with cardio.”

  I bristled at the comment even though I was used to it. Maybe it was a good thing I was never accepted for the trainer position if Coach Mueller made the same shitty joke every time someone left weights out.

  But then Feña said, “Actually, Coach, the softball team always cleans up their weights. I think it was the lacrosse team that did this.”

  “Huh. Guess I’ll talk to Coach Shippe about his boys.”

  I did a quiet fist-pump. Score one point against casual sexism.

  *

  I ended up being stuck in the women’s locker room for two hours. I didn’t even have a cell phone to help me kill time—it was just me and my damn physical notebook while watching the gym fill with football players who would see me leave. Finally when the women’s soccer team showed up and started exercising, and two of them came into the locker room to change, I was able to slip out relatively unnoticed.

  Except by Feña, who gave me a wink from across the gym.

  Throughout the day, I kept thinking about the shower with Feña. It was one of those things that was so hot it stayed with me throughout the day, distracting me from my other classes.

  I forced myself to acknowledge the strangeness of it all. I was now sleeping with all three of them. Would throwing Feña into the mix screw things up with Danny and Lance? We hadn’t talked about exclusivity, aside from general comments that none of us were doing anything serious.

  This was unknown territory for me. I’d never even dated guys with any sort of overlap, let alone overtly sleeping with two, sometimes at the same time. And now I’d slept with Feña.

  And I was going to do it again. That much I was certain of.

  Three guys. I never expected to find myself in this situation. Sometimes it still felt like a dream. A sexy,
scintillating dream.

  But it was more than just sex. I had feelings for each of the guys. Danny’s steel confidence, Lance’s goofball cockiness, Feña’s dark smile that held a world of emotion…

  Fortunately I still had the rest of the football season to figure things out. Months of being with them where my feelings could settle and become more clear.

  But there was a voice in my head whispering, then what?

  I joined the guys at the athlete’s study lounge that night. Lance grinned and waved, and Feña gave me a shy little smile. I plopped my book down across from the latter and opened it to a bookmarked page.

  “Alright,” I said. “Ready to discuss 1917, when the Russian Empire collapsed?”

  Feña gave a start. “You do not need to do this, Roberta.”

  “I want to,” I insisted. “And it’s a good refresher for me too. Now, tell me what you know about Rasputin.”

  “Rasp-who?”

  “He’s the guy on the beer,” Danny offered. “With the creepy stare.”

  “It’s a little more involved than that,” I said dryly.

  Lance leaned across the table with a goofy smile. “You know, I’ve given you some sweet man-love plenty of times, and you’ve never repaid me by helping me study.”

  “The locker room, huh?” Danny added with his own knowing grin. “I guess that’s one way to get clean.”

  My jaw dropped. “What!”

  “I am sorry!” Feña quickly whispered, reaching across the table to take my hand. “I could not keep it from them. They are my friends.”

  “Plus we knew he liked you already,” Danny said.

  “You did?” I asked.

  Lance barked a laugh, which drew some glares in the otherwise quiet room. He lowered his voice and said, “Of course we knew. Who do you think told him to go for it?”

  “We didn’t know if you’d be interested in him,” Danny said. “And we didn’t know how you would feel about being with three of us…”

  “You have to admit,” Feña said. “The situation is quite unorthodox as it is.”

  “But in a good way,” Danny said.

  “Yeah,” I grinned. “A very good way.”

  We smiled around the table, our own little four-person group.

  “Okay,” Feña finally said. “What does this Rasputin have to do with the eastern front?”

  I pointed at my book. “Everything. You see, in 1917 the Russian economy was crumbling…”

  39

  Roberta

  Life with three lovers wasn’t substantially different than life with two.

  Most things didn’t really change. We worked out throughout the week, and studied at night. Feña held my hand when we walked from class, and it felt nice to have that kind of emotional touch with someone.

  I didn’t know whether to call them my boyfriends, but that’s what it felt like.

  On Saturday, they bounced back against Northwestern Oklahoma State, trouncing them 59-14. The guys were so excited afterwards that we celebrated together at the restaurant across town with a pitcher of beer and greasy cheeseburgers—and nobody from San Antonio showed up to taunt us.

  Feña got totally trashed and passed out when we got home, so Danny and Lance had their way with me together. I took Lance in the mouth while Danny ate me out until I was moaning and squirming on the bed, and when I was spent and exhausted they spread my legs and took turns fucking me in long, hard strokes, slamming their bodies against me until the jolts of rough love pulled me into another ragged, screaming orgasm.

  “Do you think Feña would ever join us?” I asked while we snuggled together afterwards.

  “Good question,” Danny said. His face was practically touching mine as we shared a pillow, so his voice was a low whisper deep in his chest. “I haven’t asked him.”

  I brushed aside a lock of his yellow hair. “Are you saying you and Lance discussed a threesome before ever double-teaming me?”

  Lance rumbled with laughter behind me. His soft cock was wedged between my ass cheeks while we spooned, and it vibrated as he laughed. “Don’t think we ever discussed it, Babs. It just sort of happened.”

  “And I love that it did.” I kissed Danny on the nose, and he grinned widely.

  “I love y—” He flinched. “I love that it happened too.”

  Behind me, Lance tensed. “Uh.”

  I blinked. “Did you just…”

  “I love being with you,” Danny quickly repeated. The color was draining from his face. “Being with you is great.”

  He was about to say he loved me.

  The first reaction that hit me wasn’t shock, or uncomfortableness, or regret. It was warmth. A sunburst in my chest, filling me with warmth and a wonderful ache.

  And the words came falling out of my mouth. “I love you too, Danny.”

  His eyes flashed. “Just because I almost said it doesn’t mean you have to—”

  I took his head in my hands. “I’m saying it because I mean it. I’ve been falling in love with you since you took pity on me at the party months ago.”

  I kissed him, and when I was done he seemed calmer. “I think I love you too, Roberta.”

  “You think?” I snapped.

  Lance roared with laughter.

  “You can’t add a qualifier to your statement now!” I said.

  “Hey. I never actually said anything!” Danny protested. “You made an assumption!”

  Lance wrapped his arms around me from behind and squeezed me so tight my ribs ached. “I love you, Babs,” he said. “No qualifier here.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Yeah, about that…”

  “What!” he blurted out.

  “I love Danny.” I reached back and grabbed hold of Lance’s thick cock. “But I only like you for this.”

  Lance shrugged against my back. “I can live with that.”

  Later that week, Feña and I slept together in his bedroom. It was a lot more passionate than the first time in the locker room: he put on soft Latin music, turned the lights down low, and made love to me slowly and deliberately until I was begging him to go faster. When we’d both come, he spent another 20 minutes kissing me all over my body.

  “You setting up foreplay for another round?” I asked as he kissed along my hip.

  He grinned up at me in the darkness. “This is not foreplay. This is merely because I want to touch every inch of your skin with my lips.”

  I thought about brokering the subject of a threesome—or foursome—with Feña, but decided not to. Best to give him some time to ease into the situation first.

  Our next game was at home against Tulsa. That was supposed to be a challenging game against a very strong team, but we beat them handily, 49-28.

  After that, the guys felt unstoppable. They trounced Henderson State the next week 35-7. Coach even put in the backup quarterback for the fourth quarter to let him get some experience.

  At the beginning of November, we were sitting comfortably at the top of the conference standings:

  Appleton State: 8-1

  San Antonio State: 7-2

  Tulsa University: 7-2

  Henderson State: 6-3

  Lone Star Tech: 5-4

  Midwestern State: 5-4

  St. Edwards: 4-5

  Northwestern OK: 4-5

  West Texas A&M: 3-6

  Tarleton State: 3-6

  Middle Texas State: 2-8

  Lincoln Memorial: 1-9

  As the season went on, the last game of the year against San Antonio was looking more and more like it would determine everything. As long as Appleton could stay focused and defeat Lone Star Tech next week, and Lincoln Memorial after that.

  It will be good to see the smile wiped off Nicky Tarkenton’s stupid face. It was enough to make me wish I was down on the field during the game when it eventually happened.

  Meanwhile, Feña and I studied hard for the next Great War exam. He was a good student and had a smart mind for history—he just wasn’t used to m
odern European history. He took plenty of notes when I went through the chapters, writing so quickly and filling so many pages that I was certain he was writing down more than what I said.

  When the day of the exam came and we turned in our scan-tron sheets, I wrote a note in my notebook and slid it over to him:

  How’d you do?

  I think good. But I am not sure.

  I’m certain you did amazing! You know this material!

  When the grades were posted online the next day, we gathered around his laptop in his room. He refreshed the page…

  “A 95,” he whispered. “I got a 95!”

  I screamed and jumped up and down and hugged him. “I told you! You just needed extra help!”

  He swirled me in the room and then pulled me into a long kiss which ended with a loud smacking noise. “I should have made love to you in the locker room at the beginning of the semester.”

  We did the math on the exams: that A brought his overall class average up to a C. That was plenty good enough, especially if he aced the final exam too. Which of course he would, with my help.

  Everything was going so well.

  “The Spring Offensive was Germany’s last gasp,” I was explaining to Feña one night in study hall. “It was called the Kaiserschlacht—Kaiser’s Battle, since they knew it would determine the fate of the Kaiser.”

  “Kaiserschlacht,” Lance said, twisting his face up like he’d swallowed a lemon. “German’s a silly language.”

  “It is no sillier than English,” Feña said.

  “Pfft. No way.”

  “I am fluent in both German and English,” Feña insisted. “And I can think of dozens of English words more stupid than anything in German.”

  “Name one.”

  “Where do you burn firewood in your house?” Feña asked calmly.

  Lance blinked. “You mean a fireplace?”

  Danny sniggered. “Okay, that is a pretty stupid word. Whoever thought of it wasn’t having a very creative day.”