BIG D: A SPORTS ROMANCE

by Stephanie Brother

  He pushes my thighs wide watching his cock spear me, his abs rippling and pecs flexing with exertion. His skin is shiny with sweat and I lean forward to lick his arm which is the only part of him I can reach.

  “Bite me,” he grunts, hooking my legs over his shoulder and pressing me backward, caging me in with his ridiculously toned arms. I turn my head and take a good chunk of his forearm flesh and bite hard. I feel his cock kick inside me and want to laugh. Who’d have thought Harrison was into pain? I stroke over the teeth marks I’ve left with my tongue and he groans. “Again,” he barks.

  “Yeah baby,” I say, pushing my hips upwards, biting him again, even harder this time.

  “Fuck,” he says, thrusting so hard the piece of furniture we’re on starts banging against the wall.

  Harrison picks me up again, dropping down onto his knees with me still wrapped around him like some kind of desperate monkey. He lays me on a soft rug and stretches out on top. He’s so big and heavy and it’s bliss to be this powerless in his arms. He grinds into me hard, bone to bone, and he’s so deep it aches but still my clit is pulsing for more. His face is pressed into my neck, breath hot and moist against my skin as he groans and pants. My mask must be scratching his face, but he doesn’t go to remove it. I wonder what it’s like for him to be fucking a chick dressed in goth-horror clothes and make-up. It doesn’t seem to be bothering him at all. Harrison’s hand gets busy pushing down the top of my dress and bra, exposing my erect nipple to the room’s cold air. When he palms my breast and feels how turned on I am it makes him thrust even harder.

  My pussy’s getting sore now but he isn’t letting up and I’m getting really close to feeling like I might come again. It would be a first for me but his cock just feels so damn good I almost can’t bear it.

  I start to moan in little bursts which make him rise up onto his arms above me. He rolls his hips slowly as he looks into my eyes, grazing my clit with each pass, leaning in to kiss me. My hips mirror his action and we move in perfect harmony, as if we have been doing this for years, and I catch a little smile on his lips when he sees me watching the action between our bodies.

  “You like to watch?” he asks and then full out grins as though it’s a hilarious discovery.

  “You put on a good show,” I reply and he laughs.

  “I want you to put on a good show. You getting close?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “Fuck yeah.”

  “What do you need?” I die a little inside at how considerate he is. I’ve had my fair share of lovers but most just rub away and hope for the best. It has taken time and schooling to get them to where I needed them to be. Trust Harrison to be mature about sex.

  “Lie down on top of me,” I say. “Hold me around my waist and fuck me as hard as you can.”

  My request seems to amuse him, or maybe it’s my bluntness. He asked so he got told. Simple as that.

  He does as I say, resting his full weight on me, with one arm slipped under my back and the other holding the top of my head. I flinch, thinking about the wig and how, even though I pinned it securely in place, there is a chance it could come away in his grip. Harrison is gentle, though, cupping rather than holding on.

  Then he starts to fuck.

  God, everything that came before was just an entrée. He gives me the full ten-course meal and more. I grasp him hard with my thighs as he pistons in and out of me like a machine. It feels so good I can’t make any sound and he’s grunting with every thrust, sweat slicking between us wherever our skin is in contact.

  “Oh god,” I say, feeling myself climbing higher and higher. Harrison changes rhythm, backing out nearly all the way and slamming back in. Out, in, out…

  …and then I’m coming so hard I almost pass out. I think I must stop breathing because I see stars and my lips stick to my teeth as my mouth opens into a perfect O. He slows down and rides me through it, and I wonder how it feels to have my pussy clamp down so hard on his dick.

  “That’s it,” he croons, “that’s it, baby.”

  I look up into his beautiful eyes and I watch as he starts coming too, seeing the rush of blood to this cheeks and that moment when all his muscles go tense and then relax.

  He rests down on me as he collapses, chest heaving like he’s done one of those extreme triathlon competitions. I stare at the ceiling, momentarily stunned that it really happened. I got what I set out for and now it’s over. I don’t want to think about what happens next but how can I not? His cock is softening and beginning to slip out. In a minute, he’s going to get up and want to go back to the party. I couldn’t bear an embarrassed goodbye.

  I turn to look at his face, wanting to get that final glance of him at peace; like a picture-postcard for the cold nights ahead. When I do, I find him watching me closely with a slightly bemused, slightly concerned expression on his face.

  “You okay?” he asks, stroking my cheek tenderly.

  “Fuck yeah.” I want to keep up the bravado, but it sounds weak.

  “Good,” he says, still stroking. I catch a hitch in his breath in the way his chest moves against mine and I wait for him to say something else but he doesn’t.

  Here it comes, I think. Here comes the awkward moment and I need to get out of here before it happens.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” I say, pushing on his arm slightly.

  “Sure.” He reaches between us to keep the condom in place while he pulls out. I feel awkward making myself decent but he isn’t watching, he’s lying on the rug staring at the ceiling, cupping his dick as if he’s suddenly shy. I push up and stumble onto my feet, legs feeling like jelly and my fuffie is about as sore as it’s ever been. Just putting my legs together is agony.

  “Okay,” I say, not wanting to promise I’ll be back when I’ve no intention of returning.

  Harrison is quiet and still.

  “I’m going to use the bathroom,” I say again, making my way towards the door that’s separating us from the party. I turn because my heart is beating so fast knowing this is it. I’m never going to be with Harrison this way again. The thought causes me physical pain; a clenching in my gut and chest. When I catch Harrison’s eye I see something that looks like regret and my throat burns. I didn’t want this to hurt him. I didn’t want to make him feel used. The whole situation is fucked up. I’m about to turn and run because I have no words when Harrison smiles at me sadly.

  “Bye, princess,” he says.

  4

  REVELATION

  I don’t know how I manage to find the brain power to get myself home, but I do, managing it partly on bare feet when I finally conceded that my shoes are agonizing and I’m sore enough already without losing toes making my escape.

  I get into my room and close the door and lock it and then stand there like one of those Ancient Greek warriors faced with a gorgon. I’ve turned to stone. I want to scream FUCK FUCK FUCK in the loudest voice but Dad and Lacey are home, and so my terrible expression of utter mortification is instead uttered quietly against the fist I seem to have half-shoved into my mouth.

  Oh my God. He knew. HE KNEW.

  My whole body is a big bundle of adrenaline spiked flesh and boneless panic.

  He said princess. It’s the nickname he always uses for me because he knows how much it pisses me off. But did he mean it directly at me because he knew, or does he just throw around that patronizing term of endearment to any girl that crosses his path. I feel sick to my stomach…in fact…

  …I dash to my bathroom and only just reach the toilet before I start to heave. I hate being sick at the best of times, but now I’m shaking and crying because I don’t know what to do. If he knows it was me, if he guessed, then how can we pretend it never happened? I can’t go back to being his stepsister and sitting next to him at dinner making innocuous family style conversation. I can’t hear him call me princess again without seeing him lying on that rug, jeans around his thighs and his hand covering up the evidence of what we’d done.

  I retch again at
the thought of having to go downstairs tomorrow and see him pour out his stupid sugary chocolate cereal like an overgrown five-year-old, and pretend nothing happened.

  This is a disaster of epic proportions.

  At the sink, I wash out my mouth with a handful of water and then catch sight of myself in the mirror. My black lace bat mask it still in place but my white face make-up is smudged and my lipstick is nonexistent. I look at myself objectively, trying to work out if he could have guessed. With my purple eyes and a lot of my face covered by the mask and my wig, I can’t see how he would have suspected. I kept my voice level different the whole time. I didn’t slip once. When I left the house before the party I was totally convinced he would never guess. My heart rate starts to normalize as I begin to doubt my panic-induced freak out. Harrison can be a real charmer. I know this. He has a silver tongue. That must be what the ‘princess’ comment was all about. Just him rolling out the smooth moves.

  Maybe I’m worrying about nothing. I take some steadying deep breaths, holding onto the edge of the sink. Then, when I feel more normal, I start the process of removing my costume. Each layer that I peel away makes me feel better. I stuff the whole thing into a bag and hide it at the back of my closet in a large white cardboard box that houses my memorabilia. I take out the contacts and use make-up remover pads to scrape away the remnants of the white face-paint and smoky black eyeliner. When my skin is clean I peel down my holdups and panties and remove my bra. It’s late to have a shower and I know the damn pipes will groan loudly when I turn it on, but I feel like I need to wash, if nothing else to soothe my poor lady bits. I find water really cathartic when I’m stressed and it’s nice to wash my hair that has been squashed under the hot wig.

  I towel myself dry and get into some cute pajama’s that are made of silk and so soft against my skin. I’m thirsty so I pop downstairs to get some water. The house is quiet and I look around at my home that has changed so much over the past year. Lacey has been redecorating which is great. The place had been getting pretty shabby. She has a bit of a thing about photographs and always insists we have ‘family’ pictures taken at any special occasion. There are five framed shots of me, dad, Lacey and Harrison in the hall alone. We look kind of awkward in all of them, but I guess maybe that’s why Lacey has been trying so hard to unite our family. I stare at the most recent one and notice for the first time that Harrison seems to be looking at me. If I remember correctly, dad had been goofing around, telling one of his ridiculously unfunny jokes. I’m laughing and so is Lacey and I always thought that Harrison was looking amused in the picture, but now that I’m studying it more closely, his expression seems warm and kind of affectionate.

  I shake my head, feeling ridiculous for overlaying my sentimental feelings onto something that’s probably as innocent as I had previously thought it was. I’m reading too much into everything, and I know it’s my sex brain that’s to blame. It’s a girl thing, I think. We sleep with someone and somehow all these feelings are pumped into our bodies and we become weak. I don’t want to be weak for Harrison. I need to be strong now so that I have the courage to move on and pretend everything is normal.

  Back in my room I close my door, turn off the light and slip under my comforter. With my whirring brain, it’s hard for me to sleep but I must fall into dream world at some point because it’s light in the room when I come around. I feel hotter than usual and push my arms out of the covers and stretch. I always go to sleep on my side facing the wall and have woken up in the same position. It’s a few seconds before my mind catches up with my body and I realize what I did last night. I moan softly, remembering in flashes the amazing sex and that terrible moment when Harrison called me princess.

  “That’s the noise I like to hear,” Harrison’s voice whispers from behind me.

  I turn, scrabbling with the covers to find him lying on the other side of my king bed, hands behind his head as though he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

  “What the fuck, Harrison,” I stutter, pulling the comforter around my neck to protect my modesty. It’s a stupid reaction bearing in mind what we did less than twelve hours ago, but what can I say? I’m running on gut reactions here.

  “You’re a strange girl,” he says, still looking up at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face. It’s his panty melting one. I can tell from the little dimple he has on the cheek closest to me and the crinkles around his eyes that I love so much. Strange girl is what he called me last night when I was dressed as vampire-goth.

  He knows.

  He fucking knows.

  I bury my head under the covers and groan. The terrible sinking feeling I have in my gut is the same one I get when I have the college dream where I’m wearing only my granny pants and an old sports bra and everyone is pointing and laughing. Except this time the only person laughing is Harrison and suddenly I’m angry.

  Who the fuck does he think he is coming into my room dressed in his sexiest tight black boxers and laying himself down on my comfortable sheets looking like a total sex god? Stupid question. He thinks he’s Harrison Stone and he knows…he really, absolutely knows it was me he fucked at the party.

  Before I have a chance to whip out from under the covers and confront him with my angry self in full red-rage flow, I feel the bed shift as if he’s rolled towards me. Then I feel his heavy hand take hold of the covers and peel them slowly back. I peek through my fingers and find him looking down at me with his gorgeous eyes all soft and gooey, as though he’s looking at something or someone he really, really likes.

  He’s looking at me and it’s not with anger or disgust. Harrison has come into my room wearing nothing but his underwear and is looking at me as though I’m the sweetest, pinkest cupcake he’s ever seen and he wants to lick off all my frosting!

  “You know,” I whisper, hiding behind my fingers again while I wait for the ground to swallow me up and take me straight to hell.

  “Of course I know, princess,” he says gently easing my hands away from my face. I look up at him and feel ridiculous for feeling like I’m suddenly in the sunlight.

  “How?” I was sure my costume was the perfect cover.

  “You think you’re such a master of disguise,” he laughs. “The costume was good and your voice, that was pretty different, but your laugh…” he shakes his head. “I’d know that laugh anywhere.”

  “God,” I say, hiding again at how pathetic I am.

  “Stop burrowing like some kind of deranged mole,” he says tugging back the covers. “Why are you acting all coy now? You weren’t shy last night.”

  “I was in character,” I say weakly.

  He chuckles. “I noticed. That was a pretty amazing costume. You about blew my mind.”

  I look up, ready to shout at him for teasing, but he seems pretty earnest. And then it hits me. He knew it was me when I laughed and the only chuckling I did was before we played hide the sausage. That means he wanted to have sex, even when he knew it was me under the disguise.

  “You knew,” I say with a gasp. “You knew before and you still did it.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Jenna.” I must look confused because he reaches out to stroke my face, just like he did last night. “How could anyone turn you down? Have you seen you? Have you met you? You’re pretty damn amazing.”

  “Amazing for a one night stand?”

  “Yeah,” he says, and my heart sinks. “But amazing for more too.”

  I rub and my eyes, suddenly feeling like I must still be dreaming. Maybe it was the alcohol I drank last night that has made my dreams more vivid that usual. When I open my rubbed eyes, Harrison is still there.

  “You’re still here?” I say and he looks at me like I’m the idiot.

  “Where am I supposed to be going, you strange girl?”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “You prefer princess now?”

  I punch him on his very bare, very solid bicep and hurt my pathetic fist.

  “It’s too early in the morning
for me to deal with all of this,” I say, sounding whinier than I would usually deem acceptable.

  “You don’t have to deal with anything, princess,” he replies soothingly. “Just let me take the lead and you follow, okay?”

  Before I have a chance to ask Harrison what the hell he’s talking about, he presses his amazing full lips against mine, so gently it makes me shiver. He pulls back and looks me in the eyes as though he wants to check that what he’s doing is okay. “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  “What I should have done a long time ago,” he says kissing me again. “Taking what’s mine.”

  Harrison slips his hand into my hair and grips tightly so he can angle my head to align our mouths perfectly, then he rolls until he’s on top of me, thigh pressing between my legs with the comforter in between us. His kiss is so good; soft lips but persistent tongue, stroking into my mouth in a way that blows my mind. I’ve always loved kissing but never found a man that can set my body alight with just his lips on mine, but Harrison is perfect.

  I stroke over his arm and back, remembering how good he felt when I touched him the first time. Even in the cold room he is deliciously warm and smooth. I love that he isn’t rushing this time. This is about more than just getting to that end goal and for some crazy reason I feel totally relaxed, despite the fact that he’s my stepbrother and our parents are just down the hall.

  Harrison starts to press his thigh up in the rhythm of his kiss and I moan and squirm, feeling too hot under the covers and wanting the delicious pressure to be more direct, even though I’m feeling so sore.