by Kara Hart
Jen ran out of the room with the new puppy and Lucas closed the door. He turned around and dropped his towel. “Finally,” he said. His cock was growing underneath that towel.
“Come here, Daddy…” I purred.
“I think I'm going to like being married to you,” he laughed.
I knew the future would hold all sorts of goodies. And I couldn't wait to receive them.
“I think I am too.” I fell back into my pillow and let him devour me. It never got old. Never.
Prologue: Liam
Fast cars, women, and the love of the game. Nothing else mattered. Well, not to me. I was at the peak of my abilities. When you’re labeled player of the year, baller of the century, you better believe you expect the best. “You play the best, you get the best.” My agent told me right when I got signed. Ever since then, I devoted my life to football.
You see, I was considered a champion in the league. High School was nothing to me. College? Even easier. I schooled those losers like it was nothing. Now I was enjoying the fruits of my reward. I was a fucking king to these people. And you better believe I was bringing my brothers to the championships. I always did.
I was 31. This wasn't my first rodeo. I knew how to play. And on that field, I was a killer. Some say that 30 is the end of a good player. Well, they haven't met me. I was older, but I still played better than the youngest players in the league.
“We’re going to the fucking Super Bowl!” I screamed, fist full of beer. We had all gathered in the guesthouse. It was the place to go after the game to wind down and drink some beers with some of the guys. Hot women, of course, were invited there too. Yes, touching of the players was always allowed.
Jenkins, the best wide receiver we’ve got, leaned in and said, “We have to prepare for the after party, man. We need like a million women. A billion nipples. The younger the better, bro.”
“Just press them against my face and I’ll be fine. I’ll just be over on some couch, half-wasted from all the alcohol I’ll be drinking. You just gotta place one tit in each eye ball and rotate. You got that, Jenks?” Jenkins clasped his hands in approval and burst out laughing.
“Yeah, if we win. You have a lot of training to do” Clive Manning walked by, eyeing us cautiously. He grabbed the rest of the unopened beers and threw them in the garbage. “Don’t get too cocky, boys. We’re not there yet.” He was one of the defensive linemen and he was always serious.
“Yeah, but we will be. If we have anything to do with it, we’ll fucking crush them.” I said, downing the rest of my beer. “Man, I gotta find me a girl, Jenkins.”
“You have a million of them, man. Just pick. They’re all for the taking.” He said with a childlike smile on his face. The cheerleaders had made their way into the room now. One girl in particular, some blonde babe with a g-string bikini on had made her way over to me.
“When you're right, you’re right.” I said, opening my arms to blonde babe #1. I had no idea what the chick’s name was and I didn't really care to either.
“Hell yes. I don’t need to get tied down and shit. Football is my wife. And boy is she sexy as hell!” Jenkins called out. The other guys hollered back at him in agreement.
“Well, well, well. Who do we have here? You look like you're having fun tonight.” I said, eyeing her up and down. She wasn't just hot. She was on fucking fire. And the fact that she had already placed her hand on my thigh made me want to tear away at her g-string with my teeth.
“You were incredible out there.” She whispered to me.
I placed my hand on her thin waist and squeezed lightly. “I know.” I said, slapping her ass.
“Want to go somewhere private? How about I show you the VIP room?” I suggested. Her small perky tits were laying against my chest now.
“Wow, that sounds exclusive.” She said, getting herself excited. I could feel her pussy get wet as she straddled my leg like a cowgirl.
“It is, baby. It's only for the best players in the league.” I lied. It was just some room away from the other guys. Anyone had access to it really.
“Take me there. I want to see it.” She smiled, giving me a weak look, as if she was already close to cumming.
I pulled her into the hall and we fell into a room where she instantly fell to her knees. She unzipped my pants as if her life depended on it and I sat back and enjoyed my blowjob. Yep, it was good to be the king.
* * *
Huge billboards overlook all of the big cities, action figures with a mock-up version of your face and body, a replica of the jersey you wear. There were girls to make your cock rock hard and there were drugs to make you brain fizzle. This was the life we led.
It wasn’t pretty. I probably had over a hundred concussions by now. It wasn’t perfect either, but it was my life. Only, I had a little secret. I came to conquer everything. And as soon as I did, I’d get out of the game. I’d get out, find a woman and make her mine. Eventually…
That was always the plan, anyway. Turns out, I’m not too good at leaving, even the things I hate. So if the suits above me need another win, I’ll win it for them. If they give me all the alcohol I need, coupled with all the finest women in the world, I don’t give a fuck. Jenkins was right. There ain’t a woman out there for me, him, or any of the other players. The game is my wife. And I’m going to lay her down and give her all I got.
Liam
I open my eyes and take a quick breath before I close them again. The roar around me is deafening. It's so loud that my brain automatically has to tune it out. That's it. Tune it out. Feel the leather in your palm, the thread between your fingers.
I open my eyes again and suddenly everything has sped up. A 250 pound barbarian has made his way through the front lines and he's set on smashing my skull in.
"Pass it to Jenkins!" The coach is yelling at me from the sidelines. The infamous Super Bowl Championship game. He's got a lot riding on this. I'm guessing I do too. Truth be told, I'm just waiting for the after party.
I wound my arm back. The tension between my muscles and bone is astronomical. Within one second my arm is pushing through the wind at full speed and force. With a flick of the wrist, the ball leaves my hand spiraling. All eyes are on that perfect spiral. I smile, knowing nothing can touch me. I'm that good.
I drop my head down and take a look in front of me. That maniac is diving in the air. "It's already over, champ." I say with pride. But his helmet smashes into my chest and his arms wrap around my body. He knows it's over but he's gotta at least act like he's got a shot. I get it, I really do. But I can't help laughing as I hit the turf.
As soon as I'm on the ground, I rip my helmet off and push him off me. The ball is still in the air and it's almost to Jenkins' outstretched hands. Even though I'm on the field, I can just hear the announcer's anxiety. Will he catch it? He's in the end zone. Seconds left. This is the deciding factor of the championship game.
My hands are on my head, my teeth are grinding. Come on, man. Catch it. You have to. His fingers brush against the swirling leather and I can see the determination in his eyes. He's got this. He has to!
The ball fumbles into his hand and almost immediately a defensive linebacker dives into his legs. Jenkins has his hands around the ball, but he's pummeling toward the ground.
"Come the fuck on!" I find myself yelling. I threw a perfect throw. If Jenkins drops this, it's over. They'll win the game.
Jenkins drops to the floor and I witness something incredible. His arm snaps almost immediately, but his determination is something astounding. I ran up the field to get a better look. The crowd was going wild. It was incredible to witness. Sure enough, his grip is fastened tightly.
"Touchdown!" The words echoed in my ears. I fell to the turf and threw my hands in the air. Glory. All the hard work I had put in was finally paying off. The coaches ran to the field as Jenkins was carried away on a stretcher. He'll be fine. It's part of the job. He'll be traded to a better team, awarded millions and thrown into the football hall of
fame. It truly was the catch of a lifetime.
All of the other players were on the field. I grabbed the trophy with Johnson, one mean tight end, and we proudly displayed it in the air as my 'brothers' pushed us onto their shoulders.
I'm not much on celebrations, but I enjoyed the rush of winning. It was why I played sports in the first place. And this was like winning the biggest thing you could win. This was like going to heaven. It was the Super Bowl for Christ sake!
I quickly jumped into the crowd, throw a kiss to the crowd, and headed into the locker room. I had done my duty. Now it was time to decompress. There was a huge party to go to.
“Liam! Liam! How are you feeling after your big win?" A reporter shoved her microphone in my face. I would have walked away if I didn't notice her legs peaking out from her dress.
"Peachy. I'm going to fucking Disneyland! " I spat into the camera and grabbed her ass. She looked horrified. I simply pushed the microphone down out of my face and laughed loudly to myself. Of course, the lady started crying, like I had ruined her day or something. Normally I would have ignored her. But today I felt a little different.
"I'm sorry if I came off like a total asshole just now." I found myself saying.
"Well you did." She said, pushing her thick brown hair away from her eyes. I reached out and helped her with her hair. I could tell this pissed her off, yet she remained completely still. She was young and drop dead gorgeous. I wanted her now. No, I needed her.
"Want to come to a party tonight?" I said, trying to get a read on her.
"With you? In your dreams." She scoffed.
"Well, if you change your mind, there's an interview that comes with it. Exclusive. With your name all over it. Plus, it'll be fun. Your choice. Here's the address." I handed her a card with the after party info on it. Exclusive information only the team and the girls knew about.
She crumpled the card in her hand and threw it on the ground. "Sorry, I don't take bribes." She was on fire. I smiled and walked away shaking my head. She seemed, well, special I guess. But there were at least a billion special girls out there and a dozen decent cheerleaders would be waiting for me at that party. There just wasn't any point in dwelling on these things. I won the fucking Super Bowl. What else could a guy ask for?
At this point, most of the other players had made their way into the locker room. When I got in myself, I undressed and headed for the shower. "Hey Conway.” A voice said behind me. Conway was my last name. "Nice throw, brother."
It was Jenkins. His arm was already in a cast. They got you in quick around here. "Shit man, nice catch! After that stunt, they'll have to put you in the hall of fame for sure. You okay? Feeling alright?" I slapped his hand and brought him in for a slight hug, pounding my fist lightly on his back.
"Yeah, I'm okay. The doc said I have to take it easy from now on." We couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that. "It's just a waiting game at this point."
"Right on, man. You're tonight's MVP. Don't you forget it. You're going to be at the party still, right?" I eyed him.
"Conway, you know I'll be there. I got dibs on the hottest chick in that room too." He said.
I laughed, shaking my head. I started to walk toward the showers. "You can have all of them. My sights are on one girl." I said.
"Oh yeah? And who's that?" He said.
"That news reporter chick." I said, whipping my towel at him. He jumped.
"Careful, now! You know how the media is."
"What can you blame me?" I laughed.
"Nah, she's fine as hell. Saw her earlier. Shouldn't be too hard a catch." He reasoned.
"Yeah well, I pulled a classic Liam Conway move on her." He rolled his eyes at me. The whole room erupted with the team hollering. I turned to them. "Ah, shut up and listen up everyone!"
The room got silent. I walked up to a bench and stood on it, holding my damp towel in my hands. "We did good out there. Shit, we did great. And, to be fair, the other guys did too. But ultimately, we played like a team. We gave them all we got. And in the end, we took it all the way home. Now, tonight is our reward. I want to see you all at that party. And you know what I want you to do?" Silence. "I want you to take it all the way home."
Laura
I came from nothing. And I mean nothing. Rural Iowa, a farming town to be exact. That's right, my father was a farmer and all my mother did was help out on the ranch while raising their 8 children. Even though I would be the first to defend it, it wasn't much of a life. So I got out as quick as I could.
I went to college. A good one. And before I knew it, I was out with my degree and a shitload of debt. The debt I didn't mind so much. You see, you can always pay off debt. But you can't pay off the unknown. If I hadn't left my home, I would have been like the rest of my family. I'm sorry to say this, but I'd be hopeless. No dream career, no nothing. I just wasn't going to live my life as a spinster milkmaid. Hell no.
There it was. My life, all laid out like a map on a table. It was all much easier than I expected. "When will you get yourself a strong man?" My mom would always ask me. But who needed a man when you had your own will and determination?
Cut to a year and a half later, and I had been working for a local news network on Channel 5. It was a big deal to some, but I was still hoping for my big break. Of course, that's when I received the call.
"Laura. How ya doing honey? Good, good. How would you like to do the Super Bowl coverage? I think you'd be great for the job." The network executive paused for me to answer.
My heart fluttered and my stomach turned inward. This was the chance of a lifetime. If I could just make this one good, it could skyrocket my career. I answered as calmly as I could, saying, "Oh my God, yes!" It was done, then and there. My career path was set in stone!
Months had passed and I worked out a series of questions I thought I might ask the winning team. Of course, deep down I was hoping Liam Conway would be the one I got to be face to face with, but any player would do.
Liam was dreamy, alpha, and completely one with himself. At least, he was when he was on the field. When he was off, it was a different story. He was in and out of relationships, getting too many DUI's, and he was constantly getting into fights with the media. So even though he was a perfect person to interview, I was slightly nervous about even getting close to him.
The day of the big game, I was a wreck. I had gone over my questions, over and over in my head. I felt ready enough. But this was my first real eye on the scene. It needed to be great. A shot of vodka or three later and I was on my couch, fairly drunk and wishing I had chosen a different career path. Maybe being a milkmaid wasn't such a bad idea after all?
I did the only thing I could do. I called my friend Katherine. She answered, "What's wrong? Why are you calling me? Aren't you supposed to be on the field in 20 minutes?"
"I'm not going." I sternly answered into the phone. It was a cry for help.
She sighed into the receiver. "Girl, you are most definitely going! I don't want to hear it. Now, what's up? You going to tell me what's wrong?"
"Listen to me!" I yelled, slurring my words. "Everything is wrong. I'm not meant for this kind of a job. I'm just some hick lady from a deadbeat farming town. I'm nothing compared to the other reporters."
"Oh, Laura. When will you realize everyone loves you? I envy you. Do you know that? No one compliments me like they do with you. They barely even look at me. But you, they love you. So here's what's going to happen. I'm going to pick you up right now, bring you coffee, and take you to the press area. You'll sober up soon enough, so you don't need to worry about that."
I interrupted her, "Katherine, I --"
But she wasn't having it. "I don't want to hear it, girl! You're going. And the whole time you're going to ask me questions to prepare for your day. In ten years you'll thank me and give me a million bucks, but for now, I need you to do this." She was honestly the best friend a girl could have asked for. I reluctantly agreed, pulling my hair back into a ponytail, and set the
phone down.
She got to my place within minutes. With a couple sips of coffee, and a short pep talk, I was ready to go. She blasted her Top 40 radio and sped toward the stadium. We got there within 10 minutes. Thanks to my lucky press badge, the traffic cops waved us ahead of all the other cops. We pulled into the parking lot and I quickly jumped out. "Kill them dead!" Katherine yelled. I whispered an earnest "Thank you!" And ran to the press area.
My boss looked at me, rolling his eyes. "God, I thought you had flaked on me. Come on, I gotta get you onto the field right now!"
I muttered a sad "Sorry, Jake. So much traffic out there today." I walked out to the field and began my first big live broadcast.
"I'm Laura Alvaroy with Channel 5 News. Welcome to Super Bowl..." You get the picture.
The whole day was thrilling! I interviewed coaches, celebrities, fans, and of course tons of famous NFL players. And I was killing it too! So when I witnessed the earth-shattering end play by Liam Conway, I ran toward the locker room entrance, in an awkward attempt to cut him off.
But within twenty minutes or so, I saw him. There he was, running my way. I yelled, “Liam! Liam! How does it feel to win!" Or something along those lines. The words just came out. And when he turned to look at me, I knew he wouldn't give me a real response.
"Peachy. I'm going to fucking Disneyland." He gave me a cocky smile and had the audacity to keep standing there. He knew how angry I was. But more than that, I was heartbroken. This was my chance to get some words from one of the most famous quarterbacks of all time. Instead, he gave me a half-assed response with a curse word we couldn't even air on television.
He gave me a card and told me to go to some after party. Of course I told him no. But when he told me there would be an interview involved if I went, I felt obligated to. However, I found myself saying "no" once again. It was a useless display of pride.
