by Mona Cox
He keeps on gushing a veritable river of semen all over me, blanketing me in white. Strands of it are dripping down my face and onto my neck, and both my tits are already covered in a gooey layer of his seed. And still he keeps on cumming, his cock spasming against my fingers even more harshly with each passing second. Possessed by lust, I lean forward and wrap my lips around his cock, taking inside my mouth whatever cum there still is inside of him.
Only when my mouth is brimming with his semen does he stop, exhaling sharply and pulling his cock out.
“That was so fucking good,” he whispers, looking me in the eyes. Grinning, I open my mouth, showing him how much of his cum I’m holding there and prepare myself to swallow it. But a sudden thought crosses my mind and I just stop; my grin widening, I grab Danny’s hand and pull him down. He comes willingly, kneeling on the floor right in front of me.
Without even knowing what his reaction is going to be, I just lean into him and press my mouth against his, shoving my tongue inside his mouth. I push the cum inside my mouth into his, and he starts kissing me with a fury I didn’t know he still had in him. We swap cum, our tongues dancing around one another, for God knows how long. Right now, time has become meaningless.
“Come,” he whispers, pulling back from my kiss. I smile at him, noticing the way his lips glisten from the cum that coats them. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me up to my feet and then takes me to the showers. “Let’s get you cleaned off,” he says, going down on one knee and slowly taking off my heels. He turns the water on, and it doesn’t take long for the whole space around us to become blanketed in warm steam.
Stepping under the running water, he pulls me after him, running his hands down to my breasts and smearing his own cum over my skin. The hot water does the rest, pushing his fluids out of my body.
“I’ve never done anything like that,” I admit, looking at him and realizing I have no idea why I’m telling him all this. This is just fun, right? Yeah, yeah… Somehow, that doesn’t ring truth. Sure, whatever we have going on between the two of us is fun, but I’m starting to think it’s growing into something more…
“That makes two of us,” he says, kissing the corner of my mouth.
God, this must be a dream I’m living right now. If it is, do me a favor: let me sleep forever.
31
Fiona
G’morning, world, I think to myself as I sit up on the bed, two minutes before the alarm goes off. I stretch, lifting my arms up in the air, and then swing my legs off of the bed. I usually don’t wake in such a good mood, but I guess it’s not every day that someone fucks me in the Nailers’ locker room, is it?
Last night was so amazing. After the game ended, I could barely wait to go back to Danny’s place… And I wanted it so much that we ended up not even leaving the stadium. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but I feel a change taking place. I mean, I used to be such a nice girl, and now I’m impersonating press officers so that I can get fucked in a locker room? Carpe diem, I guess.
I grab my cellphone as I drag myself to the kitchen, and I smile as I notice that Danny already texted me a few minutes ago. Good morning, babe, his text reads, heading to the gym now. I fire back a quick text, feeling like a complete teenager, and then sit at the kitchen table.
“Jesus, someone’s cheery today,” Becca says, and I almost jump out of my seat. I didn’t even notice her when I walked in. She’s in her pajamas, her hair a disheveled mess, eating cereal so slowly she looks like she’s still asleep.
“I am cheery,” I reply, probably sounding happier than I should. Becca has been complaining these past few weeks about how she can’t find a real man, and I guess that the fact that I’m dating Danny Manning isn’t really helping. Still, she’s my friend, and she’s happy for me all the same.
“Well, spill it out, happy-face,” she says, sitting down at the table by my side and leaning into me with narrowed eyes, looking like a cop ready for a deposition. “Where did you do it?”
“The locker room,” I confess, biting on my lower lip as I wait for her predictable reaction.
“The Nailers’ locker room?” Her eyes widen at that and, when she processes what I’ve just told her, she lets out a bright clear laugh. “He nailed you in the Nailers’ locker room.”
“Yeah, yeah… That’s funny,” I protest her bad joke, but I join her laugh all the same. It’s been months since I’ve woken up in such a good mood.
“You want to know what’s funny?” she asks me, a mischievous grin on her face.
“What?” I ask as she gets up and walks to the counter, grabbing the folded newspaper she was reading when I got here.
“This is funny,” she laughs, throwing the New York Daily Journal right in front of me. In bold black letters there are only two words, FAIR CATCH, and down below there’s a blurred photograph of Danny and I leaving the Nailers’ stadium in his Aston Martin. “Oh my God.”
“That’s right, babe. You’re a star now.”
Still barely believing it that I’m the NY Daily Journal’s cover, I turn the pages until I find the article. I read it in one sitting, and then I reread it for good measure.
“They’re treating you like a princess,” Becca states with a chuckle, and it’s the truth. They refer to me as the woman behind Manning’s recent success and as the mysterious (and charmingly beautiful) woman that snagged the city’s most eligible bachelor.
“Oh, God. Is this really happening? Please tell me that this isn’t a dream.”
“It isn’t a dream,” she says flatly, placing a plate full of toast right in front of me. “Eat up, princess. Or else you’ll be the mysterious woman that lost her internship at Price Coopers.”
“Right,” I nod, stuffing a piece of toast inside my mouth as I reread the article for the third time in a row. I finish breakfast as fast as I can, and then I take a quick shower before putting on a black professional dress and discrete make-up.
“See you later, babe,” I wave at Becca, getting out of the door in a hurry. I’m not late—yet—but I always like getting to the office a few minutes early to set up everything for the day. I’m the newest intern at Price Cooper, but I think I’m dazzling the upper management; there have even been a few hints that they might hire me as soon as I have my Law diploma. Yup, life has never been this good.
As I make my way to the subway, I can’t help but stop in front of a newsstand. That headline, FAIR CATCH, jumps at me from everywhere, and it seems like every single person in New York is carrying a copy of that paper.
“Look, isn’t she…?” I hear someone say to my left, a woman pointing at me and whispering at her boyfriend. I show her an easy smile, and she seems taken back, her smile showing on her lips with a delay. It’s almost as if she’s star struck.
“Make sure he keeps playing like that!” Her boyfriend, a guy with an overturned Nailers’ cap on his head, tells me excitedly.
“Will do,” I tell them, still smiling, and then I keep on my way. I’ve never really been the kind of person that pays any attention to her surroundings, but now I feel like a sonar, pinging everything around me. Men turn their heads to watch me pass by, narrowing their eyes as if they recognize me from somewhere, and women whisper between themselves as I walk past them.
Everyone who recognizes me throws me a smile and a nod, and it doesn’t take long for me to feel like I’m living inside a musical. Soon enough birds will be perched on my shoulders, and people will stop working to bust some moves. And I’ll sing, I’ll sing like the happiest girl in the world because that’s exactly how I feel right now.
Ah, life’s good!
32
Danny
“Oh, God, this is so good,” Fiona cries out, cleaning out another dish. For a girl as small as she is, she sure likes food. Which is fine, since we’re eating at the Blue Hill, and our dinner consists of a procession of a dozen different dishes. I’m more of a beer and burger kind of guy, but I don’t mind all this fancy stuff, especially if it makes her happy
. I know she’d be just as happy sitting at home eating something home cooked by yours truly (I know my way around a kitchen, don’t judge a book by its cover), but I wanted to treat her.
Of course, it didn’t take long for me to regret getting out of the house. The moment word got out that we were dining at the Blue Hill, a host of paparazzi, journalists, and TV stations quickly amassed in front of the restaurant’s entrance. I’m paying for extra security out of my own pocket, mind you, just to stop them from storming the place and taking Fiona and I as their hostages.
“Don’t they ever get tired?” I sigh, looking at the entrance. The moment I turn my head there are a dozen bright flashes as the photographers try to take a picture of me. This is madness.
“Just ignore them,” Fiona says happily, taking another piece of venison into her mouth. I don’t know how she does it, but she took to her role as New York’s darling like a true natural. Forget about Audrey Hepburn, soon enough young girls will be sharing photos of Fiona in their Instagram accounts, motivational citations and all.
“How can I ignore them when they hound us like this?” I protest, but she just waves her hand casually.
“People want to read about us.”
“Yeah… But just remember that these people out there don’t care about you or me. They care about selling newspapers, nothing more.”
“If the worst happens, they’ll leave us alone,” she just shrugs.
“Oh, you have no idea what they’re capable of. They’ll squeeze every last penny out of you, even if that means dragging you through the mud wearing a rucksack.”
“They can try,” she smiles, and that worries me. She really has no idea about how the media treats people.
“Fiona --” I start, but she cuts me short by placing the tip of her heel right behind my legs. The tablecloth is long enough for what happens under the table to remain out of sight, though, thank God for that.
“Now, cheer up,” she grins, softly pressing the tip of her foot over my crotch. My heart picks up the pace in a hurry, making my cock harden before you can even spell my name.
“That helps,” I grin back at her, already imagining all the dirty things I’ll do to her once we get back to my place. Fuck, if she keeps teasing me like this we might not even get home; I’ll just get a room across the street and fuck her silly until we both collapse from exhaustion.
“What do you say we get out of here?” I whisper, throwing caution to the wind and wanting to turn my thoughts from just now into a reality.
“I’d say that’s a great idea,” she whispers right back at me, pressing harder against my aching cock before finally taking her foot off from between my legs. I leave some money on the table, large tip and all, and then start walking across the restaurant dining-room floor before remembering what’s waiting for us at the door—all these soulless journalists.
“Maybe we should ask about using a service door,” I tell Fiona.
“Nonsense,” she replies in a heartbeat, taking my arm in hers and strutting out of the restaurant with her chin held high. I narrow my eyes into slits as the bright flash of the cameras explodes around us, the cool air of New York cutting through my shirt.
“Danny--”
“Fiona--”
“How’s your night?”
“Enjoyed dinner?”
“Marriage?”
“Baby?”
Jesus fucking Christ, what’s wrong with these people? Take a fucking chill pill, everyone, I almost feel like saying.
“Thank you, everyone,” Fiona chirps merrily, beaming a smile at the journalists as they surround us like a pack of blood hungry wolves. Fuck, I just want to get out of here. “We’re enjoying our night, yes, and --”
“Fiona, how’s it like to be credited for Manning’s success as a quarterback?” A gangly guy with greasy hair and horn-rimmed glasses asks her, raising his voice above all others and shoving a recorder close to her face.
“Oh, I think it’s all been a bit exaggerated, you know? Danny is his own man, and his success belongs only to him. That said, I do my best to keep him in good spirits before a game.”
“What kind of things do you talk about before a game?” The guy continues, and the other journalists just fall in line, soaking in every word coming out of Fiona’s mouth. She’s the fucking star here, not me, that’s for sure. These guys would crown her Queen of the United States if they could.
“I remind him of how hard he works, of course, and I might give him a little incentive if he pulls a win, which he always does,” she chuckles, her voice as bright as blue skies. She then does a little wink, and you can tell that they’re loving it. Some are just jotting down everything she says in small yellow notepads, others are clicking away with their cameras, and one seems on the verge of asking for a selfie with her.
I’ve never seen the media fall in love so quickly with one person, and that has me worried: when that love starts dying down, Fiona’s going to be in for a rude awakening. I just hope whatever happens doesn’t come between us… because that’s usually how things go.
But, fuck, as far as I know that might not even happen. “Let’s get out of here, babe,” I whisper, leaning into her and flashing a wide smile at the cameras. Somehow, they all part to let us through and, by the time we get inside the Aston, there’s only one thing I’m thinking about: getting her naked.
33
Fiona
Two months.
That’s how much time has passed since I’ve met Danny. It’s been a wild ride too. It’s funny how much your life can change in such a short amount of time. I went from being a complete unknown to becoming the constant focus of the all-watching eye of the American media.
But forget about that; these two months have been the best of my life, and that has nothing to do with the way the media has been treating me. Do you know how amazing it is to have a man like Danny by my side? And no, I’m not talking about the fact that he’s a famous, rich athlete. As far as I’m concerned he could be a rugged farmer from a rural town in the middle of America and I would've fallen for him all the same. How could I not? He’s the perfect blend of bad boy and prince charming. And he has a gigantic cock, which helps too, of course.
Yeah, let’s not get started on the sex; words pale when describing how good he is. I thought that marathon sex sessions were a thing out of steamy books but, oh, was I wrong! It’s a miracle I’ve been managing to get any sleep and stay on top of everything going on in my life. It’s not easy clearing three hours on your schedule (and that’s daily!) for sex when you’re trying to prove your worth as an intern at such a competitive firm such as Price Coopers. Not that I’m complaining, far from that.
Eight.
That’s how many games Danny has won since we’ve started dating. And when I say ‘won’, what I really mean is that he blew everyone out of the water. Do you want to know how many touchdown passes he managed during the regular season? 49—which, for the non-football fans among you, means that he’s close to breaking the record for most touchdown passes during a season. There are just two games to go until the playoffs start, and the Nailers have already secured their place there. The hype around the team grew so much that I figured the league was already engraving the Nailers’ name on the trophy.
Seventeen.
That’s the amount of times I’ve been invited for an interview on live TV. You’ve probably seen me already on one of those talk shows. Why the media took such an interest in me, I have no idea, but I rode that wave as hard as I could. The Princess of the League, some newspapers started calling me. It was weird at first, seeing my face plastered on the cover of a bunch of magazines, but I grew accustomed to all that.
My Instagram account blew up from a measly 150 subscribers to more than a million in just a few weeks. Yeah, one million; how crazy is that? I never thought people would be that interested in seeing what I had for breakfast, especially taking into account that it’s usually just cereal and a piece of toast. I never thought I’d
have so many notifications on my cellphone that it would crash. I actually had to buy a new one so that I could use Facebook and Instagram without it going batshit crazy every time I posted a new photo.
I also got some proposals to do a few modeling gigs, but so far I’ve turned them all down. I don’t want to get distracted with all the fame and blow the opportunity I fought so hard for at Price Coopers. I might be turning into some kind of celebrity, but I will never let that get to my head, or has that already happened? Because, I admit, I might've been somewhat unprepared to deal with all this. Why? Well…
One.
Danny lost just one game and the dark side of the media reared its ugly head. That happened two days ago; we were spotted leaving a restaurant a bit late (not scandalously late, mind you), and when Danny had a terrible game the next day, everyone started piling up on me. I went from savior to being the devil’s spawn in a matter of hours.
Right now I’m holed up in his apartment, my eyes puffy and swollen from all the crying I’ve done. Danny left a few hours ago for his morning workout and, since it’s Saturday, I sat down on his couch and propped my laptop up; I was in for a surprise.
I’m still reading through all the articles and thousands of Facebook posts made about me. Do you want to know how many times I’ve been called a gold digger? Too many to count. Not to mention that people got in their heads that there's a problem in our relationship, which translated as Danny’s weak performance two days ago.
It’s not like he played that badly, anyway. It was just an average performance, nothing to write home about, and since every single team is thirsty for blood, they did their best to steamroll the Nailers—and steamroll them is exactly what they did.
