First & Long

by Jesse Jordan

  “What can I say? He deserved it for a lot more reasons than just what he said to you today,” I reply, leaning back. “Actually, he deserves a lot more.”

  “True... but I can take care of him myself,” Samantha protests good naturedly. “You might be a big, strong, stud of a man... but I'm not helpless.”

  “I never said you were,” I laugh. “Samantha, if I've learned anything in the two and a half months we've been seeing each other, it's that you're far from helpless. If anyone needs reminding of that, I'll just have them call Dick Qualls.”

  “Who, by the way, has lost all the endorsements he had lined up,” Samantha says with a touch of glee. “I think the people of this state can do a lot better than that guy in the State House.”

  “Totally agree,” I say, rolling my neck. “So... I miss you.”

  Samantha chuckles, humming her agreement. “Even if it's only been twenty four hours, and I saw you today... I miss you too. Sleeping together was something I totally got used to very quickly.”

  I growl, lowering my voice. “I quickly got used to having your beautiful body in my arms, waking up eager for another dose of my cock.”

  Samantha gasps, giggling slightly. “You sure know when to be dirty with me, you know that? I just got my skirt and blouse off, and I was thinking that I could certainly use your strong hands on my tired calves.”

  “I noticed you were wearing your heels today... showing off for your boyfriend?” I tease. “How about you show me now?”

  “You... you mean it?” Samantha asks, her voice hitching a little. “I've never done that before.”

  “Neither have I... but that doesn't mean you're not worth breaking new ground with,” I reply. “Tell you what, turn on a video call, and you can watch me too.”

  “Hmmmm... one minute, I'll get my phone stand,” Samantha says, and I hear her high heels clicking as she walks through her kitchen. There's a little rustling, then she comes back on. “Okay.”

  My phone dings, and I see that she's requested a video call. I don't have a phone stand but I can go one better, plugging my phone into my computer monitor. In an instant, the screen flashes to life and I get to see Samantha in all her beauty stretched across twenty three high definition inches.

  She's... my cock surges in my pants as she sits down, her silky panties and bra the only things keeping me from seeing her totally naked. “What do you think, lover?”

  “I think you're fucking stunning,” I admit, pulling my t-shirt off. I flex just a little, before showing her my left bicep, which has a pretty good red mark on it. “What about you? Mind the bruise?”

  Samantha purses her lips and shakes her head, leaning back. “I'd want to just kiss it, make you feel all better. Now... I think I see something else wanting to be shown.”

  “Oh, you mean this?” I ask, easing my post-practice track pants down and taking my cock out. “You're right... he's missed you too. He's found a new home where he wants to be all the time.”

  “Mmmm, well I've found just the right place for it,” Samantha says, sliding her panties to the side. “Does that big cock of yours want to stretch out my tight little pussy until I come all over you?”

  Her sexy, dirty words make my cock surge, and I reach down, pumping my shaft slowly for her. “Show me, baby. Show me how I make you feel good.”

  Samantha moans as my hand slips up and down my cock, her eyes going wide. Reaching down, she unhooks her bra and cups a breast, teasing her right nipple until it's stiff and hard before rolling it between her fingers, pulling on it and gasping. “Fuck Lincoln... I keep wanting you more and more. It's like I can't get enough.”

  “I can't get enough of you,” I reply, my cock oozing a droplet of precum that I smear all around my head. “I keep dreaming... oh fuck Samantha... I keep dreaming of....”

  “Of coming inside me?” Samantha asks as her fingers start rubbing at her clit. I nod, unable to speak as she slips two fingers inside her pussy, pumping them in and out until they're glistening. “Fuck baby... I've thought of that too. Today I even thought about you... oh fuck it's so dirty and sexy at the same time... but I thought about you breeding me.”

  I groan, my cock jumping at the thought of filling Samantha with my seed and making her more than just my girlfriend. We don't need to say any more as our hands work, gasps and moans replacing any real language as my hand moves up and down my shaft, twisting it with each stroke while Samantha pumps her fingers in and out of her pussy, her thumb stroking her clit while her free hand tugs on her nipples. She adds a third finger, a deep rumble of desire coming from her chest as she looks at my hand working my cock. “That's it baby... god you've made me so fucking horny for you....”

  “I need you,” I groan as my hand speeds up, pumping my cock until the head's nearly bright red I'm so hard for her. Samantha's fingers go faster, and she adds a fourth, throwing her head back as she feels herself filled up the same way my cock would. I can see her juices dripping down the inside of her thighs she's so aroused, and I can't hold out much longer. “Samantha baby... I need....”

  “YES!” Samantha screams, her chest flushing as her legs start to tremble. I can't see her feet, but I can hear them drumming on the coffee table of her apartment as she climaxes, her pussy gushing all over her hand. “Oh fuck Lincoln, fill me with your come!”

  Her cry is the last thing I need and my climax plows through me like a runaway semi, my cock spurting thick, ropy lines of white cream into the air to splatter on my hand, on the table, and one powerful blast landing on my computer screen itself, oozing down over the image of Samantha's slit, still twitching in the last aftershocks of her own orgasm. I groan, my eyes rolling back as I arch my back, my balls aching in their release. It's hot as hell but still unfulfilling, I want the real thing, not some video image.

  Samantha sags back on her couch, sweat dripping down her face as she picks up her phone. “Holy shit babe... I so needed that. Not as good as the real thing... but I don't think I could fist myself anyway.”

  I laugh softly, reaching for my t-shirt and starting to clean myself up. “You have my cum dripping off your nose,” I tease as I wipe my computer monitor. I'll get the Windex later. “It was good... but yeah, I need the real thing too.”

  “Saturday night, babe,” Samantha reassures me. “Hey, you mind if I bring my Halloween costume over to your place to model for you? You know, to see if it's good for the event.”

  “Costume?” I ask, smirking. “Don't tell me... Harley Quinn?”

  “Ugh, no way!” Samantha laughs. “She's so last year, and besides, she's a blonde, I'm a brunette if you haven't noticed.”

  I laugh, nodding. “Yeah, I've noticed. You have no idea how great that hair looks spread out on my pillow while you look up at me.”

  “I happen to like that look too,” Samantha jokes. “No... I'll surprise you, see what you think. You just have to promise me one thing.”

  “What's that?” I ask, and Samantha licks her lips.

  “You can't get any cum on the fabric, it's dry clean only. If you need to... I'll just have to suck it all out to make sure I stay clean.”

  I moan, my softening cock twitching a little at the thought. Whatever she's got planned, I'm sure it'll be one hell of a night. “Only if you let me return the favor. My tongue loves exploring your body nearly as much as my cock does.”

  Samantha shivers, her eyes fluttering as she imagines what could happen, and nods. “I like that plan. Listen, Lincoln... about today....”

  “You didn't need protected, but I did it because I wanted to. I know you could kick his ass.”

  Samantha nods, her blue eyes sparkling with emotion. “Thank you. For sticking up for me, and... well... Lincoln, you mean a lot to me.”

  “You mean a lot to me,” I confirm for her. “You're... you're special to me. The most special person in the world.”

  Samantha nods, and I feel like we've taken another step forward. It's not quite saying the big L yet, but it's damn close...
and I'm not afraid of this next step at all. “Good. Okay, I should get some dinner, and maybe a warm bath after this. I'll see you tomorrow?”

  “I guarantee it,” I tell her. “Goodnight, Samantha.”

  Samantha chuckles. “You're the only person who exclusively calls me Samantha. I... I like it. Makes me feel special. Goodnight, Lincoln.”

  She hangs up, and I lean back, letting my heart slow to normal. My stomach grumbles, and I know I need to get some food for my body... but not right this moment. Instead, I think of Samantha, and how good she feels... and how I'm falling for her hard.

  Not a bad thing, in my opinion.

  Chapter 15

  Samantha

  “Ten minutes left in the fourth quarter, and the Knights need a stop here,” the voice in my ear says as I listen to the television broadcast of what I'm watching take place fifty feet away from me. It's hard to hear over the almost physical beat of the crowd noise, but I've got good earbuds. “Down by six in what many people expected to be a defensive battle, it's turned into a shootout which, so far at least, Carolina is winning.”

  To say it's been a shootout is an understatement. Both teams have thrown the ball all over the field. Carolina's quarterback has thrown for four touchdowns, and Joe Crenshaw's matched him, although his interception along with another field goal at the end of the first half means that we're losing... and time's running out.

  “Yeah Jim, both teams have struggled on defense, except of course for one player. Lincoln Watson's been a force to be reckoned with, already recording three sacks and, in my opinion, single handedly shutting down the Carolina run game. It's the reason why, I think, they're still throwing. With that tired Knights secondary, even dink and dunk passes are getting yardage and moving the sticks, keeping the clock rolling.”

  Dink and dunk... god I hate that kind of offense. I get it, our defensive backs get burned deep, and Carolina can't run... but shitty little three yard passes that they then scamper for an extra yard or two? It's the most boring kind of football to ever watch.

  “Come on, Knights!” I scream, earning a cheer from the cheerleaders that are nearby. I shouldn't be in the 'team area,' but I can be nearby... unfortunately that means right now I'm next to the cheerleaders. They're nice girls this year at least, although I don't envy them trying to wear what amounts to a sports bra and skirt during Halloween season. “Stick 'em!”

  I don't know if my voice really carries onto the field past the roaring home crowd, but suddenly Lincoln glances over. He's wearing a plastic eye shield because of the glare from the stadium lights so I can't see his eyes, but I swear he looks at me and nods before settling down in his stance. I feel an almost psychic wave sweep over me as the Carolina quarterback settles into the shotgun, barking his cadence, probably futilely as the crowd noise rises to the point I can barely even hear with my earbuds.

  “They better get the play off-” the announcer in my ear says just as the ball's snapped. My eyes never leave Lincoln as he explodes out of his stance, darting inside the Carolina tackle even before he has his feet set.

  “And oh my, he's off again! Lincoln Watson... the ball's in his hands! Lincoln Watson with a dramatic hit on the quarterback and he's somehow torn the ball right out of the hands of Ortweiller! He taking off down field, at midfield, now the thirty... my god look at him go, he's outrunning everyone! Twenty, ten... touchdown, Lincoln Watson! A seventy three yard forced fumble and return for a touchdown, and suddenly it's a tie game!”

  I'm going ballistic, jumping up and down and cheering like the total fangirl I am, not just for the Knights but for Lincoln too. He looks like a god as he holds up the football like Thor holding Mjolnir aloft, and I swear he's about to strike the very ground and cause lightning to split the heavens, but instead he tucks the ball into his grasp and jogs off the field. I remember what he told me, treat everything like another day at the office. Still, for a defensive end to run for a touchdown is deserving of a little more, even by Lincoln's insane standards. As he passes the trainers he flips them the ball, where I know they're going to put it away for a keepsake like they do for all 'big event' balls.

  The extra point's good, and for the first time all night the Knights have the lead. In my ear, the announcers can't stop gushing over what they just saw. “Jim, I've been involved in this sport for longer than any of the players down there today have even been alive, and I've never seen a man that large run like that, ever. Lincoln Watson ran like he was trying out for the Olympics... I mean, did you see him gain ground even on the receivers? Amazing.”

  Amazing is just the first word I can think of to describe Lincoln as he goes back onto the field after the kickoff. Starting right where he left off, on his very first play he gets his fourth sack of the game, and on third down deflects a pass that's intercepted by Nick Sedgwick and returned to the twenty yard line.

  “That's it!” I yell, but gasp a moment later when I see Lincoln lying down on the turf, holding his leg at midfield. “Lincoln!”

  “Oh no, looks like Watson's down!” the announcer says in my ear. “Let's look at the review, see what might have happened.”

  My eyes immediately go to the big Jumbotron on either end of the stadium, watching as the interception's replayed. The first replay doesn't show anything, the cameraman followed the ball, but then they play it together, and a moan of worry comes from my throat as I see what happened. Lincoln, not content with just deflecting the ball, tried to run downfield to block for Nick... and was blindsided by the Carolina running back. Lincoln's knee buckled sickly, and I can only hope it's not as bad as it looks.

  The entire crowd holds their breath for a long minute while the trainers look over Lincoln. Ignoring Red Hallifax's rules, I enter the player area, biting my lip as everyone looks on worriedly.

  “Man, that could have been bad,” one of the backup running backs who's had experience with knee injuries, says. “When I got hit like that, it was eight months before I could run again.”

  “Shut up man!” someone else yells. “Monster goes down, there goes our entire fucking defense!”

  “Hey!” Coach Petersen interrupts, even though he sounds shaken too. “Cut that shit right now! You know the policy, someone goes down, someone else steps up. Gilchrist, you better start warming up... just in case.”

  There's applause from the field and I see Lincoln up, leaning on one of the trainers but walking under his own power off the field. Relief floods through me and I feel tears prickle my eyes as they lead him to the sidelines and over to the training table, where he lays down, a towel over his eyes. I can't help it, I approach them, concerned. “Hey, Doc?”

  “Miss Porter, can't give you an update right now,” the head trainer says. “But-”

  “I can move it,” Lincoln grunts, pillowing his head on his helmet and giving me a forced smile. “It's okay, we kick this field goal, and we're up by four. With the time left, that's a good lead.”

  I stay by Lincoln's side as the trainers slowly move his leg, asking him a thousand questions. He's right, we bleed almost three minutes off the clock before kicking a field goal, and the Knights are up by four. Just after the ball goes through, Coach Petersen comes over. “How's it feeling, Linc?”

  “You need me, I'll be out there,” Lincoln says softly, even though his face is nearly white as a sheet from all the manipulations the trainers have done. “I've had shiatsu massages more painful than this.”

  “Yeah well... let's hope it doesn't get to that,” Petersen says. “Four point lead, just over two minutes left? Don't worry, let everyone else get some glory for today.”

  “He's right, Lincoln,” I add as Petersen leaves. “Four sacks, a return for touchdown and a deflected pass that led to an interception? You can't play every down.”

  “Yeah well... stay here and watch the rest of the game with me,” Lincoln says, turning his head. I stay by his side as the kick is sent all the way into the end zone. The ball's taken out to the twenty five, and I can see Lincoln tryin
g to sit up before the pain makes him lay back again. “Come on defense!”

  For three plays, the defense holds, but on fourth down, the Carolina quarterback scrambles for twenty yards, ducking out of bounds with a minute and ten left. Lincoln forces himself up, yelling to the trainer. “Doc! Get me taped up!”

  “Lincoln, I don't think-” the trainer says, but Lincoln ignores him, sliding off the table and pulling his helmet on. I can hear him gasping in pain with each breath, but he doesn't stop as he buckles his chinstrap and walks over to Coach Petersen, tapping him on the shoulder. Carolina's too quick though, and before the Knights can call timeout the ball's snapped. I watch with my stomach sinking into the pit of my stomach as the Carolina quarterback evades two linemen, one of them Lincoln's replacement before stepping up and hitting his fastest receiver in stride. With two steps on the defensive back and nobody between him and the end zone, it's a clear, easy touchdown... and we're down by two.

  A moment later, one extra point and two failed throws by Joe Crenshaw, and the team's dropped their second loss of the season. Afterwards, I thank the coaches before making my way off the field. In the tunnel I see the same reporter from the charity event at the museum, who gives me a wave. “Miss Porter, tough loss. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “I guess, but the coaches and players are the people you should be talking too, Miss....”

  “Judy Doyle,” she reminds me, offering her hand. “Actually, I'll talk with the coaches later, right now the national feeds have them busy. But I wanted to ask you, first off, how's it feel to drop such a last minute heartbreak?”

  “Well, any loss is a tough loss,” I reply, sticking to the standard canned answers as she holds a voice recorder beneath my chin, “but the Knights fought hard tonight. I'm proud of the effort every player put forth.”