The driver had picked me up at the team’s temporary housing for incoming players, with the cheerleaders already in situ on the back seat. They were gagging for it. They pulled me in and got right to work, unbuckling my belt before I had time to register what was going on. The limo was to drive into the stadium for the press conference and to greet the awaiting fans; it had all been set up for my arrival. It was pure bullshit and I hated the press, but I couldn’t complain about the little bonuses.
“Too bad, beggars can’t be choosers,” I replied and pulled her gym shorts to the side.
She frowned at the word. “I ain’t a beggar!”
“Really?” My mouth twisted into a sly grin as I pressed the tip of my finger against her wet seam. She was delightfully smooth, and I couldn’t wait to get a taste. My finger slipped between her lips, and she let out an impatient moan. I lifted my hips a fraction, letting her feel what could be inside her if only she’d say the magic words. Juggs tried to sink down upon my pressing finger while her hands did their best to seek out my zipper, but by keeping one hand on her side I rendered her immobile.
Juggs let out another moan and worried her lip. She was in exquisite torture, needing me, wanting me. And yet I had all the power in my hands. Moving my finger a fraction, stroking her, she tilted her head back and cried out again.
“Oh, God. Please, Jakey. Yes, fuck me.”
“Do it,” the spread-eagled girl across from me said, her tongue darting out to take a swipe at her lips. “Stick it in her. Let me see you fuck her pussy.”
Not wanting to disappoint either of them, my fingers quickly sought her out again, spread her wide and thrust into her from behind. I watched Juggs’ face—she delighted in being filled, but at the same time her forehead creased with slight disappointed when she realized the two fingers that moved inside her were not the cock she craved.
Spread-eagle squealed as she witnessed her friend getting finger-fucked, her own finger plunging deeper into her sweet cunt. She tugged upon her breast and clamped her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She gasped, which only encouraged my fingers to piston in and out of her friend’s tight hole even harder. The rise in my pants stiffened even more, becoming unbearable. I needed to let the big guy loose.
Visions of what was to come crossed my mind. I would have them both eventually, of course, but first I’d get Juggs on the floor, tits up. She’d lean her head against the bottom cushion of the seat where her friend was stationed, and with me on top she would enjoy my cock. I’d pull Spread-eagle wider and get as close as I could, her legs on either side of her friend, and she would have my tongue to contend with. I couldn’t wait and sought my zipper…
Two taps on the passenger window cut through the escalating moans from both cheerleaders, but it didn’t stop Juggs from writhing up and down upon my digits. “No,” she whispered, as we both realized the limo had come to a stop. A glance out the tinted window told me we were no longer alone. A small crowd was gathered around the entrance of the stadium… waiting for yours truly.
“Fuck.” This couldn’t be happening.
I scowled in the direction of the front of the car; the privacy window was still up. But what was the driver thinking? Had he taken the express route to the stadium? He could’ve at least done me a solid and driven around a few more laps.
“Fuck! Fuck!” I repeated and willed my pulsing erection away, but that was easier said than done when there were two beautiful women waiting to be reamed. Shit, I was about to give myself a severe case of blue-balls, but this was supposedly the time to turn over a new leaf, I reminded myself; duty called.
Knowing she was about to be let down, Juggs tried to clench her legs together to keep my fingers inside. “But I’m so close,” she whined as I pulled my hand free and slapped her rump.
“Sorry, Juggs. You two will have to finish yourselves off. I’ve gotta go to work.”
I eased her off my lap, and she landed on the leather seat with a soft whomp. “It’s Izzy!” she cried at me as I hurried to tidy myself up, fastening my belt and straightening my tie.
“Rain check?” I said with a wink, and she just huffed at me and looked away. In their state of undress they wouldn’t be making the walk with me, and I turned to the door. “You,” I said to Spread-eagle, “I hope I get the chance to play with you properly.” She bit her lip and nodded, her fingers never leaving her pussy. “Anytime, honey. Come here, Izzy, let me kiss it better.”
Torture.
Pure torture it was, leaving those two, I thought, as I watched Izzy move over to her friend, their hands now wandering over each other’s bodies. I swallowed the huge lump in my throat and was about to shout at the chauffeur to drive the fuck away, but a second impatient and louder knock came at the window, and I pushed the impulse aside.
The sound of actual pompoms being shaken, thousands of vinyl strands creating a rustling din, brought a coy smile to my face as I opened the car door to reveal more bouncy-smiley cheerleaders. Each was as lovely as the next, lining the walk from the car to the stadium. God I loved my job, I thought, as I took in all the wondrous flavors of women I knew I would get to sample soon. Like all the different varieties of ice cream in the world, I was determined to lick each one.
Reporters were also gathered to the side but farther back, their microphones ready to get a word from the newest quarterback to join the Jupiter Suns. I thought I had struck gold when I’d been traded to a Florida team of all things, sun and bikini babes immediately coming to mind. It almost helped overcome the fact that I was a fucking second string quarterback. That was only going to be temporary, though. I was going to outshine the current quarterback and get back a starting position, no matter what… Piece of cake.
Pasting on my killer smile, I stepped out of the car and straightened my suit jacket, coughed and quickly adjusted myself down below, hoping that my hard-on wouldn’t be all that noticeable in the commotion. But who was I kidding? It would take a huge moon to eclipse this almighty erection. A couple of the cheerleaders who were close to me in the line smiled a little wider, their eyes dipping to my crotch and then flashing with excitement. One by one, as I advanced through them, like falling dominos at my feet, their cheeks turned a pleasant dusky rose, betraying each and every one of their horny desires for me. I had to admit it—I was pleased I still had what it took to make those panties wet.
Blondes, brunettes, and redheads with eager smiles and bad-ass bodies pressed up against me, and I couldn’t resist putting my arms around two of them, as was originally intended, and beamed for the flashing cameras.
“This is the kind of welcome any player would love,” I joked with the crowd, earning a few jealous chuckles from the male reporters. I was the new guy in town, but I wasn’t immune to the fact that I was needed here. I was going to show everyone that I could play and do it well. And by the end of the season, my performance in Minnesota would be a distant memory. Everyone would’ve forgotten about the little blip on my score sheet.
“Jacob! How does it feel to be a backup?”
I fought the urge to frown as the camera was shoved in my face, keeping my smile pinned on like a struggling butterfly on a mounting board. “Well,” I started, my arms still around two beauties, “I plan to show you all what I can do for the team, and maybe I won’t be a backup for long.”
Hidden from view, long fingers tipped with acrylic nails grazed over my ass and gave it a slight squeeze, reinvigorating my erection. The cheerleader on my right arm leaned in closer than I thought was possible and whispered into my ear, “You can be my number one any day.”
“Have you improved your throwing arm in the off season?” another reporter asked, further stirring the pot. I coughed and tried to control myself, in more ways than one, but was glad for the distraction. It probably wouldn’t do me any good to fucking cum right there in my pants. And normally I would have gone off on the reporter, but this was a new team, a new chance, and I needed to make a good impression, even though the women a
nd reporters were both making it hard for me to stick to this new and improved Jacob Maddox. Not to mention, my bank balance couldn’t afford another setback.
“It’s better than ever,” I responded, turning away from the cameras, hoping to be done with them for now.
Up ahead the operations manager waited and nodded the ok to leave the reporters behind. He gave me a serious smile as I approached him. “Jacob, it’s good to have you here,” he said, outstretching his hand toward me. “Let’s get you all settled in, shall we?”
I looked at the women on either side of me, giving them another grin. “Sorry, ladies, but don’t go too far, you hear?”
They both giggled in response, and I reluctantly released them, turning back toward the manager. A tall woman—the shape of an hourglass that even Jessica Rabbit would envy—appeared next to him, her hands crossed over her large chest as she gave me a disapproving look. She took the time to look me up and down, scrutinizing every inch of me, and stopped momentarily as she slowed over my crotch. The outline of yours truly was still very present and noticeable. Eyes up here, lady. She let out a tiny gasp but quickly caught herself, her eyes darting away in apparent embarrassment. I chuckled. The corners of my lips naturally turned upwards, and though I had no idea who she was, I gave her a cheeky wink. Ladies loved it when I did that. But this one—fuck, it had no good effect on her. Her scowl deepened, her earlier embarrassment doubled, and a storm brewed in those wild eyes. That was all I needed to see to know she would be a fucking hellcat in bed.
She fidgeted, no longer looking at me… looking everywhere but me if I were being honest. Fuck, I loved it when they got flustered around me.
“John, don’t forget to bring him by my office. We have a standing appointment.”
“Of course, after we get him all settled in, you know,” the manager replied, giving her a harsh stare, then rolling his eyes as he turned back to me. She sniffed. I watched as she debated about saying more, but then she nodded. Whether it was to herself of the manager, I wasn’t sure; either way she’d decided not to press the issue. She turned away as John clapped me on the shoulder, pushing me forward through the gate. “Come on, Jacob, let’s get you in familiar territory.”
Together we walked through the gate—security shutting it with a clank not long after we were through—and down a newly-laid brick path that ran alongside the stadium’s outer walls. As we passed by the public entrances, huge arches that would inevitably lead to the thousands upon thousands of seats within, I was able to catch a sliver of a glimpse of the field.
“Wanna take a look?” John asked, and I nodded eagerly.
Under the Florida sun the field glistened, the grass was pristine, the lines were startling white and crisp. Leaning against a cold rail, I breathed it all in. The place was empty, but there was something akin to a soul lingering in the stadium, like it almost breathed with me. I loved the potential of a new field, especially the first game of the season, the way my cleats sank into the turf as I set my stance to make a big play. There was no other feeling like it, the scoreboard set at zero with everything to play for. But now I was going to be fighting to even get onto the field this season.
I hated the uncertainty—the damage it had done to my pride. The serenity that I’d felt earlier in my career was stripped away. But it left me even more determined not to fuck up or to let others fuck it up for me again.
I was not washed up. I was not done with this sport, no matter what they said on the TV and radio. I was going to show them exactly what I was made of, and by the end of the fucking season, so help me God, the whole world would know my name.
“C’mon, we better get going. The team is here today out on the practice fields,” John was saying. “I would like for you to meet them and then get you started if you’re up for sweating a little bit on your first day. We can get some reps in, get a true feel for your style, and let you meet Danny.”
“Sure,” I replied confidently, “no time like the present.” Danny Miller was my competition, the starting quarterback, and I wanted to know everything about him—his weaknesses, his strengths, anything that could potentially give me a leg up and help me make my dreams come true. It was ruthless to think that way about a teammate, but he was getting on; it was time he let a new guy take over.
We found our way back outside, and John commandeered a cart that would take us around the back of the main stadium. He drove us into a second gated area, practice fields on either side. There was a stout-looking three-story building up ahead, plain, but in the same style as its bigger brother that we’d just come from. Glass and concrete were married together in perfect harmony, with familiar archways that lined the facade. John eased the cart up in front, and we hopped off.
He first escorted me through the building’s office-like interior—practical but with modern flourishes here and there—and then as he led me down what I presumed to be the main tunnel, which would eventually lead back out to the practice fields, I started to get chills. Anticipation, nerves, and everything in between were building up like a coiled spring within me. And of course it hadn’t helped that I was ready to bust a nut, too. But this was it, this was to be my home for the foreseeable future, and a familiar sense of pressure weighed down upon me.
We took a turn off the tunnel and into a room that blasted out air conditioning, the sudden drop in temperature causing the chills to turn to shivers. We walked through a final set of glass doors and into a large locker room, the carpet plush under my feet. Rows of large, open lockers completed a semi-circle, each of them painted in the team’s colors and labeled with a name. Glancing at each one of them, I immediately started to look for my own name but found it nowhere.
“Your locker is this way,” John said, sensing my question. I cleared my throat and walked past the first row of lockers to the second row, clearly separated from the starters. Hell, I was second even in the locker room! It was to be expected, of course, I just didn’t realize how much of a gut-punch it would actually be.
A few of the guys noticed us, pausing in their preparation for practice as I passed by. I kept my smile, clenching my jaw tight, nodding to a few of them as John led me to my locker. On the second fucking row. I didn’t belong there, but I didn’t plan on being there for long.
“I’ll let you get settled in; the boys will soon introduce themselves,” he was saying, giving me a nervous smile. “If you need anything, just holler, Jacob. We are glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad to be here, too,” I forced out. He nodded, and I turned to the locker, removed my jacket, and hung it up.
Sitting at the bottom of the locker, all ready for me, was a set of all new practice gear, emblazoned with the team’s logo. No longer was I wearing the gold and green that I had worn in my first year. Now my colors were blue and yellow, a dazzling sun with sharp rays as my logo. It was going to take some getting used to. When I had signed my first NFL contract, I’d expected to be with the team for the entire five years… longer if possible. I’d imagined a long and loyal career. Instead, I’d carried the program to a two-and-fourteen loss, throwing more interceptions than anyone else in the entire league. Though every player had the fear of a trade in the back of his mind, I had no idea that it was going to come as quickly as it had.
“Hey, you’re Jacob Maddox.”
I turned to see a young guy next to me, an eager smile on his face. “Dude, I heard you were coming, but I didn’t believe them. Terrence, Terrence Gold. I’ll be your wide receiver.”
“Terrence, nice to meet ya,” I said, sticking out my hand. “Second string?”
“You know it,” he laughed, shaking my hand. “At least it’s not third. Hell, I’m just glad to be on the team, you know?”
“Yeah, well, second isn’t good enough for me,” I grumbled, releasing his tight grip. “I’ll be a starter before the end of this season, you watch.”
“Good luck with that. Danny’s on fire. In the zone,” Terrence answered absently as he reached into his
locker. I watched as he tidied away a shirt and inadvertently pushed forward a small black object against the side. The thing fell down with a flutter onto the floor. “Shit,” he said, looking down. “Dude, can you grab that for me?”
Not wanting to make an enemy right off the bat, I reached down and picked up the object for him like he asked, and I realized it was a little book, almost Bible-like. Small and thick. But this one didn’t have the delicate flimsy pages of a Bible; it was, on second glance, just a normal, everyday ledger. Come to think of it, it looked lot like a little black book. Terrence was still busy, and I chanced a peek. Opening it up, I thumbed through the pages. There was writing on practically every page, but there was an undecipherable code alongside it. “What’s this? What does this number mean?”
“Aw man it’s… shit, just give it back.” He was trying to a hide a smile but wasn’t doing a good job at it.
“What is it? Let me in on the secret,” I said and took a step out of his reach as he tried to snatch it from me. It was a feeble attempt, and I easily dodged him.
“Fine. It’s, you know, one of those books,” he replied, giving me a light punch on the shoulder. “Every woman that has ever been with one of the players is tagged in there.”
“Tagged?” I frowned trying to get his meaning and stopped to read one of the entries.
Number twelve, banging body. Ginger likes it rough. Pull her hair during doggie style and she will do the big o.
It was signed with a number—twenty-four, a jersey number?—and what looked to be a date from last year beside it. Looking up at Terrence, I pointed at the entry.
“You can’t be serious!” It was something that teenagers did in high school, not grown men worth millions of dollars, but I had to admit, it did have an element of fun to it.
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