Offense & Defense: A MMF Sports Romance

by Alexis Angel

  Or does it have my girl, Alexis Angel’s name?

  I’m thinking it’s the latter. Which means in this version of reality, our society has gotten to the point where it’s not just okay to do a demonstration of a gadget that is intended for explicit sexual use, but it’s celebrated enough that one of the largest broadcast networks is holding a product competition that they’ll air over public fucking airwaves.

  Over the top? You fucking bet, babe.

  “I can’t believe they’re going to actually do this demo,” Brittney says quietly. “It’s so insane to watch porn in a group.”

  Jesus, it’s like I can’t get a fucking break here.

  “You’re pretty insane for doing this,” she says, turning her head to face me. She wriggles her body as she does so and all that means is that her ass is wiggling against my cock. I sigh. She knows what she’s doing. But if she enjoys teasing me now, that’s fine. I’m going to be making her scream later for every tease now.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today as we celebrate the launch of not one but two revolutionary products in the personal entertainment arena,” the announcer says into his microphone. “Throughout history, this country has been the source of innovation and ingenuity. That drive and spirit are on full display here as we pit two of the most anticipated products of the year—the Illicit Escape manufactured by Illicit Entertainment against the Wicked Wear manufactured by Conners Media.”

  The crowd cheers as the announcer continues. “Due to FCC limitations, we will only be able to show the first few minutes of the experience that each of our users will be seeing,” he says. Makes sense. I doubt they’ll be able to show full scale fucking in Times Square just yet. Maybe 10 to 15 years from now, but not today. “We’ll be using the projector screen behind us and splitting it. On the right hand side will be Conners Media. On the left hand side will be Illicit Entertainment. Are the participants all ready and wired in?”

  The announcer turns toward two nondescript men sitting on right and left sides of the stage. Both are already wearing glasses that are connected via A/V wires to a hard drive that's connected to the projector screen. They both give thumbs up.

  “Even the glasses look nearly identical,” Brittney whines to herself.

  She’s right. The Illicit Escape looks like a slimmed down and futuristic version of single rimmed glasses. The Wicked Wear is a bit bulkier but has enough similarities that it’s hard not to wonder what the fuck is going on.

  “If all sides are ready, let’s get this show on the road, and let’s focus our attention to the projectors, to see what they see!” I hear the announcer say and the lights on the stage go dim. The projector screen goes black too.

  Then both the right and left hand sides of the screen start flickering.

  I turn to Brittney and hold her closer with one hand as I grab my phone on the coffee table with another.

  This is the moment of fucking truth.

  I unlock my phone and press the call button and hold it to my ear.

  “Ready,” a male voice answers me.

  “Go,” I respond back to the voice.

  “Acknowledged,” the man says back and I hang up.

  Brittney turns to look at me.

  “What was that?” she asks me.

  I smile. “That was the number that Cheryl gave me to call when we want to activate the Trojan Horse built into the software,” I tell her.

  Brittney raises her eyes.

  “What does it do?” she asks me suspiciously.

  I shrug and don’t answer. Instead I gesture to the television.

  The opening credits have passed and both viewers are experiencing a virtual reality environment.

  The screen shows that both of them are in a bedroom. They’re free to look in any direction they want and the direction both people look is independent so on one hand of the screen you see the user looking all around the room while the other user is looking out the window.

  Eventually, both users look toward the woman on the bed.

  It’s Brittney. She gasps, seeing herself on such a huge projector screen. On the video, she’s wearing a lace white thong and a matching lace white bra.

  “Hey baby,” she says, getting on all fours on both split screens and crawling to the edge of the bed. “Is your father home?”

  Both users shake their head no and it translates itself on the screen. The computer understands this gesture and Brittney smiles.

  “Good,” she says on the screen with a wicked smile. “I don’t think he’d like the fact that his fiancée is dressed like this in front of his son, would he?”

  Again both users shake their head.

  “Why don’t you come over here?” Brittney asks.

  Both users use their eyes to signify they want to walk closer to the bed.

  “That’s a good boy,” Brittney says as her hands brush over where a real person’s cock would be if they were in the bedroom. “Looks like you’re already excited, aren't you, you naughty boy.”

  The crowd begins to cheer and chant, clearly enjoying the show.

  “Maybe we should do something about this,” Brittney says to the users. “I mean, in a few months it’ll be hard to do it when I marry your father. Now’s the time, right?”

  Both users enthusiastically nod.

  The sound of zippers being unzipped occurs on both sides of the screen.

  And it should be coming right about now.

  There’s a sudden flickering on the right side of the screen.

  There it is.

  So while the left side of the screen—the Illicit Escape side—continues to play and show Brittney slowly taking off her bra and squeezing her tits together, the right side of the screen starts to give the user a very different experience.

  “Are you getting ready to jerk off?” Brittney asks, her face turning into a scowl. The Wicked Wear user is visibly startled and the picture shakes on the screen.

  On the left hand side, Brittney leans forward and the user starts having his ocular nerves stimulated in such a way that his brain feels that Brittney has placed her hands on his cock. He starts to relax and squirm on his seat on stage.

  On the right hand side, Brittney pulls back, and puts on a sweater.

  On the left hand side, the user and screen show Brittney begin to bring her head toward the user's crotch. “I love how big your cock is,” she purrs on camera. “So much bigger than your father's,” she says as she begins to lick it. The user is clearly hard and the Today USA camera crew zooms in the massive erection tenting the man’s trousers as he sits on stage.

  On the right hand side, Brittney takes her phone and points it at the user and takes a picture. “I’m going to send this over to the National Database and register you as a fucking sex offender, you pervert!” she says on camera. “Don’t you know how bad pornography is for you?”

  And that’s where on the right hand side of the screen, Brittney’s on-camera avatar starts altering. Her face morphs into that of a rat, with whiskers. Her skin starts to become scaly and green. Her eyes become slits. Roaches start coming out of her mouth.

  In the audience people are visibly upset and shaking at what they’re seeing on one half of the giant 40-foot projection screen. People are visibly turning white.

  On the other half, Brittney proceeds to start sucking and the user’s body spasms as he finds himself not caring about the crowd and starts stroking his cock through his pants on national television.

  On the right hand side, Wicked Wear is starting to scare it's users as Brittney starts speaking with the voice of a demon, “Porn is bad,” she/he hisses. “I’m going to bite and eat your dick!”

  Apparently this is even too much for the user who rips off his glasses and throws them on stage and stomps on them!

  That picture—the user stomping on a Wicked Wear set of glasses is priceless. The split screen is frozen with a picture of a demon-rat-faced-snake-bodied Brittney looking out at the audience and the words �
��System Failure’ flashing on screen.

  “Well!” the announcer adds, clearly stunned at what happened. “I think we know who the real winner in this matchup is. And which company to never, ever buy adult entertainment from again!”

  A technician manages to unplug the 40-foot screen from both devices as they go dark. The Illicit Escape user is still rocking back and forth and spasming when they reach over to take the glasses off. At first, he’s upset but the announcer comes up to him.

  “How would you rate it?” he asks.

  The user is breathing heavily as the cameras zoom in. He’s at a loss for words. All I hear is him say, “So real…”

  That’s when the cheers erupt from the audience at the ringing endorsement.

  Brittney turns toward me.

  “What’s going on?” she asks me, her eyes narrowing. “How did…what just…what’s going on?”

  I love it.

  “That,” I say to the screen and pause. “Is what happens when people try to fucking play Ethan Kane.”

  156

  Brittney

  “That,” Ethan says, pointing to the screen and looking at me. “Is what happens when people try to fucking play Ethan Kane.”

  Oh my God.

  What is he talking about?

  But Ethan doesn’t say anything else. He reaches over to the tablet on the coffee table and pushes some buttons and turns it toward me.

  I get up, my knees on the couch supporting me.

  I squint. It’s closed circuit television and it takes me a minute to realize…

  Oh. My. God.

  It’s Ethan’s office.

  And that’s me. At his computer.

  “Walter, his terminal looks similar to what we went through, but I’m going to need you to walk me through it,” I hear myself saying on the video.

  I don’t know about you, hun, but I’m starting to get really worried every time I see myself on a screen. First it was whatever went on in Times Square. Taking a glance at the television, which is on mute right now; the crowds are chanting and celebrating and cheering and lining up to buy Illicit Escapes. Wicked Wear is most likely out of this market for a very, very long time.

  It’s almost as if this whole thing were…

  “Planned?” Ethan asks me, and I snap out of my reverie.

  “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” he asks me with a smirk.

  On his tablet, I look at myself furiously clicking at the keys and talking to Walter through my earpiece.

  He knew!

  He knew this whole time! And yet he kept me around. He knew I was betraying him as he made love to me. He knew my goal was to deceive him the entire time.

  “Yeah, babe,” Ethan says to me. “That day I left the prototype on the table…I thought you’d take it to Simon,” he tells me.

  “You played me?” I ask him, all my sorrow at deceiving him starting to melt away. “You’ve been fucking playing me the whole fucking time?!”

  Yeah, I’m pissed. He’s been lying to me the entire time. While I’ve been falling in love with him and feeling sorry for deceiving him!

  My hand raises up and I know where it’s going.

  I’m going to slap that fucking smirk off his face right now.

  And I would have too, if his hand hadn’t raised up and caught mine. With the strength of ten men, he pulls me closer.

  “No, I don’t fucking think so, babe,” he says as he pulls me to him and I smell his cologne mixed in with his man smell and I realize that he’s won. “And yes, I fucking knew. But I had to make a decision as to what was best for you. And for us.”

  He’s tamed me. The Man Chaser.

  He pushes me against the back of the couch and presses himself on me. His mouth finds mine.

  He’s rough, his hands running over my body, claiming what he’s won. What he owns.

  That bastard!

  I’m sorry. I can’t get over the fact that Ethan Kane knew this whole time.

  That he let me make such a fool out of myself so he could have a laugh. Why would he do that?

  This is all I can think about, but my body is already responding to his kisses, pressing up against him and kissing back as I find the nooks and crannies on his body and wiggle into them. My hand travels to his crotch and I can tell he’s already hard. A few good squeezes in, I let myself feel indignant again.

  No!

  I need to know one thing!

  Pushing him off me slightly, I look at him.

  “How long did you know?” I ask him. “And did you have to decide?”

  Ethan is almost about to jump me again, but I see him think better of it and sigh.

  “I knew you were somehow trying to steal the device from the moment you were in my office,” he tells me. “I didn’t know it was Simon till you told me. I knew it could potentially have been Simon, but I didn’t want to rule out maybe it was someone else. Maybe you were working for Arsen Hawke or someone else.”

  I’m silent as he continues. “When you didn’t take the device and you actually brought it back, I began to think that you weren’t actually trying to steal on your own, but someone was either paying you or forcing you to do it,” he says and I nod. “Which is basically what you confirmed ten days ago.”

  “And then?” I ask.

  “I knew that eventually if you were being forced to do this, there might come a day where you’d have to fucking choose between yourself and us,” he tells me, his eyes deep and soulful and even through my anger, I can see full of love. He shrugs as he continues. “I didn’t want you to have to make that choice. So I made it for you. I prepared the Trojan Horse script that would stay hidden and only run upon command if needed. As it turns out, it saved us from each other.”

  My head is spinning, babe.

  I need to sit down.

  To think of what’s going on.

  How Ethan has just saved me from Simon. But I know you by now, and I know you’re wondering about Simon. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person that takes kindly to being made a fool of. He’s definitely going to retaliate.

  All of a sudden the anger is replaced by fear.

  Am I going to have to run again?

  “Once you mentioned Simon, I knew exactly how he’d try to coerce you,” Ethan tells me as he picks up his tablet and turns on the video call option. He looks at me and smirks. “You might be interested to know that Cheryl is in California right now.”

  My heart leaps up into my throat and Ethan recognizes the look.

  “Yeah, don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not that hard to figure out where you used to live in California and that your agent was Robert McIntyre.”

  I don’t have a chance to explain or even question because that’s when Cheryl comes on the screen.

  “Hey there, Cheryl,” Ethan says with a cheery voice. “What’s the status?”

  “Robert McIntyre never got a chance to see Today USA,” Cheryl says into her phone, her expression blank. She glances at me and even across the country, I can tell she’s sizing me up. Seeing if I’m any threat to Ethan. “He’ll never catch the reruns of what happened either.”

  Ethan nods. “Do I want to know why not?” he asks.

  Cheryl doesn’t answer. She just shakes her head.

  There’s a moment of silence.

  I don’t even know what to say. Is Cheryl saying that he’s dead? Did she have something to do with this?

  “Thank you so much,” Ethan says and without any further ado, pushes the END button.

  He looks at me.

  “You’re free,” he says.

  “Ethan?” I ask, going closer to him. The prospect of being free of having to look over my shoulder is insane. “What happened to him?”

  “Sometimes porn is still a dirty fucking business, babe,” Ethan tells me, his voice and face serious. “If we don’t ask questions, we never have to lie.”

  It sends a small chill. The power that this man wields.

  But it makes me feel s
afe. Because with everything Ethan knows, and with everything it turns out he can do, what he wants most in the world right now…is me.

  “Free,” I say to him, smiling.

  “Free,” he repeats, pulling me closer. “It’s time to fucking celebrate.”

  I feel his mouth approaching mine and I’m about to give in to him. To surrender to this man who seems to have tamed me.

  But not so fast!

  Ethan Kane has played me very well. That’s for damn sure.

  “Ethan, wait,” I tell him, pushing against his chest with one hand. “One second.”

  He looks at me, puzzled.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks gruffly. I can tell he’s ready. He needs to be inside of me. And that makes holding him off even sweeter.

  I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m finally free. I want to celebrate by having filthy, dirty, sex.

  But I can’t let him win on every single front.

  “I have something to tell you as well that you don’t know,” I say, keeping a serious face.

  He looks at me, backing up on the sofa slightly. I relish the moment.

  Ethan Kane thinks he’s all that, does he? Thinks he’s so smart for pulling off this coup? Playing me?

  Watch me make him crumble.

  “I’m pregnant, Ethan,” I say to him softly. And then with a smile, “We’re pregnant.”

  It takes literally a minute for the words to go from his ears to reflect in his eyes and then his face.

  He smiles brightly. Then the smile transforms into a grin and there’s no stopping him – his arms are wrapped around me and he’s holding me close.

  He’s hugging me. He’s kissing me. He’s kissing my neck. My earlobes. My face. My ears.

  His cock is pushing into me.

  “That’s fucking fantastic!” he says, pulling back. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asks.

  I look at him as he asks again, “Why keep it a secret?”

  Really?

  I roll my eyes and shrug, using his own words. “I had to make a decision as to what was best for you. And for us,” I say.

  He looks at me for a moment, digesting those words. And then he breaks out into a smirk.