Tackling the Team (The Vassi Collection)

by Marco Vassi

  The mouth at my cunt withdrew, leaving my twat sore and trembling, but what followed made that little more than foreplay.

  “Let me do it,”‘ I heard Joey say, and then felt a pressure against the outside of my cunt. For a second I didn’t know what it was, but then the sensations became unmistakeable: hard knuckles and fingers rolled into a fist were pushing slowly against my tiny opening.

  “Shove it up her snatch,”‘ Nick said, “shove that fist all the way up that pretty little pussy.”‘

  The pain began to be excruciating as the grapefruit-sized fist inched its way inside me. I didn’t think I would be able to stretch enough, but I had no choice. With all their weight and power holding me down, I was no more able to move than if a ten-ton truck had fallen on me. Nick pulled my legs more widely apart, almost cracking the tendons, and Sal squashed my face with his ass, while Joey stuffed my slit with his huge hand.

  Suddenly, there was a sense of tearing, and I thought, “Oh my God, he’s ripped my cunt.”‘ But at that moment I heard Joey exclaim, “Did it, I did it. Look at it. My fist is all the way up her snatch. Look at that pussy spread.”‘

  “Man,”‘ said Nick, “look at the way those lips grip your wrist.”‘

  “Fuck her with it,”‘ Sal said, “fist-fuck her good.”‘

  And with that Joey began punching my cunt with his fist, ramming it into the already ravished space inside, punishing my cervix and scraping the side walls. Then he started to rotate his wrist, twisting his fist around inside me. It was as though a wildcat had crawled into my cunt and was now freaking out.

  My legs were released and I immediately tried to close my thighs, but that only had the effect of trapping the fist more tightly inside me, and I could feel its powerful bulk more strongly. Free to move my body, I began to thrash about, at first trying to wriggle away from the pressure of that hand, but very soon I realized that I was also trying to stuff it more deeply inside me. The pain was still very keen, but now that I had no fear of being torn, I could let the underlying pleasure come to the surface, and that was more than incidental. Having a three-hundred pound man with hands like hams shove his fist into my cunt and fuck my pussy with harsh strokes and twists was no mean erotic experience.

  I began to grind my hips and thrust my pelvis up, fucking the hand that had been fucking me. I brought my own hands up to spread the cheeks that were pressed on my face, and sucked Sal’s asshole rapturously as I worked toward climax on Joey’s arm. Nick started in on my tits, pinching the nipples and sucking the globes into his mouth, using his teeth to punctuate the swirls of his tongue. And before I knew it, I had stopped thinking about what I was doing and what it meant and if it was some form of escape or degeneracy, and just let myself be worked over by three brutes, as I flung my mouth and ass and pussy and tits into full overdrive, retrieving my reputation as the dirtiest cheerleader on the team.

  Then, abruptly, Nick pulled his hand out, the fist escaping with a loud plop. I gasped, and Sal shit in my mouth. Moaning, gasping, spluttering, I turned onto my side, half spitting, half swallowing, appalled and thrilled all at once. More than anything, I had to have that thing between my legs again. His pulling out had left my hole more aware of its emptiness than it had ever been. My cunt felt as though it had been pulled inside out and was now lying like a punctured balloon against my thighs.

  “Oooh,”‘ I moaned.

  “She wants more,”‘ Nick said.

  “Let me do her,”‘ Joey hissed.

  “Unngh,”‘ I cried as I pushed my hips off the floor and thrust my cunt into the air.

  “Oh, yeah, baby,”‘ Joey whispered, “I’m going to give it to you, going to shove my fist right up that dripping pussy.”‘

  He put his balled fist against my cunt and pressed, and this time I thrust against it, engulfing it in a single motion.

  “Ahhh,”‘ I sighed as my cunt was once again stuffed far past its usual capacity.

  “Look at her,”‘ Sal said, “with an arm up her snatch and her mouth all smeared with shit. Ain’t she beautiful!”‘

  “Fuck it,”‘ Joey said, “fuck my fist you hot bitch. Come on, push that pretty pussy all over my hand.”‘

  Their words enflamed me and I started to squeeze my ass tight and pump my hips back and forth, doing a fucking motion against the force of his arm.

  Then Sal turned me over and bent me in two so that my cunt curved under and my ass turned up. And while Joey ground his fist in and out and around, massaging my cunt, and making me scratch the rug in an ecstasy of ravishment, Sal lowered his bulk down, brought his cock between my cheeks, and sank it slowly into my asshole. I was almost paralyzed with sensation, being stuffed beyond my wildest dreams. And Nick completed the picture by lifting my head by the hair and then letting it fall, having placed his cock below my mouth so that as my face came forward, the stiff flesh staff would slide between my murky lips.

  They fucked me like that for more than three hours, taking turns filling my holes, using their cocks and hands and feet, placing me in whatever positions they wanted, throwing me around whenever they needed, and in general using me as a rag to wipe themselves. And I variously loathed myself, or lost myself in orgasmic frenzy, or became indifferent to the process. But by the time they were finished, I could not stand up, and was barely able to raise an arm or keep my head erect. They had to dress me, and drive me back to Sandy’s and my apartment. But by the time we had gone cross town they were horny again, and I had to blow each of them as they sat in the car, only their zippers open, their cocks erupting in my mouth one after the other, until my throat was clogged with sperm. Knowing they might not have me again, they took every last opportunity to feel me up, fingering my asshole and twiddling my pussy and kneading my tits as I sucked their cocks.

  But finally, there was nothing left, and I dragged myself off to bed, grateful that the next day was a vacation, part of a three-day rest before the team was to play its first game on the road, in Denver.

  By this time, I had come to feel pretty much at home with the idea of being part of the team, and was even learning a lot about the game by hearing different plays and kinds of strategy discussed all the time. But it wasn’t until that first crisp autumn afternoon in the Denver stadium that the true excitement of the game struck me. Up to then, I had been involved in practice and preparation, not realizing that that was just a pale shadow of the real thing, both for the team and for the cheerleaders.

  The sky was achingly blue and the temperature a zippy fifty degrees. The other three women and myself strutted up and down the sidelines, and drew more than a fair share of whistles and applause. I could even see some men signalling to me frantically, and I knew that I could make more than a small addition to my salary by being available to affluent men who got overly horny during a game. Sandy told me she had put away more than ten thousand dollars the previous year by judicious appointments with admirers in the stands. But I was too thrilled to think in those terms that day, and was having a ball flaunting my tits and showing my ass and causing an untold number of erective thoughts in the stadium.

  Then the teams came charging out of their dugouts, and the crowd exploded, a deep surging roar that set my ears ringing. The sound swelled like thundering surf, and I rode down its foaming crest like a joyous surfer, letting it enter me until I could no longer distinguish the pounding of my heart or the throbbing of my pulse. I lept high in the air and out of the corner of my eye saw Sandy and Irene and Marian rising with me, their arms high and their legs bent at the knees, heels pressed into their buttocks. I grinned widely and let out a shout at the top of my lungs.

  The four of us jumped again and again until I was breathing hard, and then we ran in patterns around one another, going through the routines we had so diligently practiced for three months, throwing up banners and doing bumps and grinds to the music of the team band. It seemed the most happy moment of my life, a p
eriod in which I stood totally out of myself, experiencing the true meaning of the word ecstasy. And when the two teams lined up for the kickoff, I looked at the Seattle lineup and my cunt throbbed as I realized that seven of the eleven men now standing there resplendent in muscle and uniform and determination had been inside me, that I had circled their backs with my arms, bit their chests, and sucked their cocks into my mouth and pussy. The whistle blew, the line moved forward, and the ball sailed high into the air.

  From that instant on, all was pandemonium. I didn’t have a moment’s rest, but spent the time urging the crowd to cheer the team on, with Sandy, our captain, calling the routines which were appropriate to different situations. We appealed for touchdowns, we implored them to hold the line and block the kick. And in general exhausted ourselves, throwing our bodies into the struggle as heavily in our way as the men were doing in theirs. And always, behind us and in front of us and inside us was the sound, the perpetual roar, the song of animal excitement. The afternoon was like a long vigorous fuck, and when the final gun went off, with Seattle winning seventeen to six, I lept once more into the air and screamed in victory.

  I must have been overly carried away by the moment because when I came down, I landed on the edge of my right foot and felt my ankle turn under me. A sharp stab of pain shot up my leg, and I almost fainted, my face going chalk white and beads of perspiration breaking out on my forehead. I lay on the ground writhing in agony, and to my surprise, the first one to reach me was Tony.

  Something of a flurry of people developed around us, but he scooped me up in his arms and walked directly toward the dugout, went down the stairs and into the cheerleaders’ dressing room without hesitation. I was amazed at how strong he was and realized that although he was at least six feet tall, his slenderness made him seem puny in relation to the physical monsters on the team, especially when they had all their gear on.

  He put me down on the couch and went over to close and lock the door, telling the people who had followed us that I would be better off without a crowd of rubbernecks making me nervous. I was still a bit dazed and watched the whole scene as though through a fog. When the door was shut, he turned toward me and his eyes were blazing with anger.

  “That was the dumbest thing I have ever seen,”‘ he shouted.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. I had thought he had taken me in to give me sympathy and instead he was pouring hostility on my head. I tried to prop myself up on my elbows to answer him, but the sudden shift caused the excruciating pain to pierce my leg again and I had to lie back down.

  “How many times have I told you to be especially careful about how you land after a high leap? What were you doing all summer, dozing? Or have you had so many cocks down your throat that it’s affected your hearing?”‘

  My jaw dropped open in astonishment. Ignoring the pain, I sat up, and with tears brimming at the corners of my eyes I answered him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”‘ I began. “It’s none of your goddamned business what I do during my free time. And I might have a broken ankle, and you’re standing there giving me lectures!”‘

  “Your ankle isn’t broken,”‘ he shot back.

  “How do you know?”‘ I asked, now almost sobbing openly from pain and chagrin.

  “I’m in the business,”‘ he said. But as though relenting, he came over, took the ankle in his hands, pressed it, turned it back and forth, bringing me close to fainting again. “We’ll have it x-rayed,”‘ he went on, “but I’ll stake my reputation on the fact that it’s not broken.”‘

  “Well, why did you bring me here?”‘ I shrieked as he dropped my foot unceremoniously on the couch. “To give me more pain and deliver your opinions on my life?”‘

  “I brought you here because I’m responsible for you, for all the cheerleaders. And because I was pissed off at your stupid stunt, and wanted to tell you that before everybody began showering you with sympathy.”‘

  “And you can’t be bothered with any of that, can you? You . . . you . . . eunuch.”‘

  I hadn’t intended to say that but I suppose that his cavalier attitude and rough treatment, coupled with his indifference to my come-ons during the summer, had built up a reservoir of resentment.

  “What’s going on in there?”‘ said a voice from the other side of the door. “Open up.”‘

  “Fuck off!”‘ Tony shouted.

  He turned back to me. “Eunuch,”‘ he said. “Why? Because I haven’t fucked you? Because I haven’t volunteered to stand on line to take sloppy seconds and fifths and twentieths? I have no interest in the meaningless.”‘

  I wanted to scream, to protest, to fight, but the pain kept pulling me toward it, raping my attention. And his words were delivered with such cold precision that they cut down all my resistance. And on top of all that, he was right about my turning my ankle being a dumb stunt. He had warned us against that at least a few hundred times. I felt utterly defeated and simply turned my face to the back of the couch and began to cry, letting all my unhappiness rise to the surface and wash over me.

  I must have wept for several minutes, and when I finished I felt drained and purged. I looked back toward Tony, a little embarrassed at having had him see me that way, but to my astonishment he was smoking a cigarette and staring off toward the far wall. From behind the door I could hear voices, one man saying, “What the fuck are they doing in there?”‘ and another answering, “What else does that chick ever do man? It’s probably a new kick, fucking with a broken ankle.”‘

  I was aware that Tony was hearing the conversation also, and our minds met in that realization and as though on cue he turned to look at me. His eyes were sad, almost moist.

  “What a waste, Julie,”‘ he said in a low trembling voice. “You are so beautiful, so intelligent, so filled with life, and look at how you throw it away. And now you weep over spilled milk. What’s the point?”‘

  “I’m working my life out in my own way,”‘ I said, and was astonished to hear the tone of my voice. He was a man I had had no contact with outside of our practice sessions, and suddenly I was speaking to him seriously and intimately, without anger or bravado, but as one speaks to a friend or lover. “You don’t know me, how can you say the things you do?”‘

  “You don’t know what I know,”‘ he said. “Just because I don’t say anything or act out my impulses doesn’t mean I don’t observe and perceive and understand. I know you more deeply than you realize, and I feel things for you which would surprise you.”‘

  My head swam. It sounded as though he were on the verge of a declaration of love, this strange introverted man whom the other women presented to me as a challenge to our powers of seduction, and whom I tried from time to time to lure from his isolation. And I couldn’t figure out where his words were coming from.

  “Of course I noticed you when you arrived,”‘ he went on. “And when I first looked into your eyes, something happened to me, something that both excited and frightened me. I knew you were Jeff’s girl, but that didn’t matter, not until he began to show home movies in the locker room. And even then I wasn’t disturbed too much, because it was not my place to translate your actions into my terms. But then it was Roger, and then Steve, and then Al, and now so many I can’t keep count. And yesterday I was treated to the full detailed history of your debauch with Nick and his friends. And through all this, the feeling persisted, and grew, and at one point I knew that I wanted to take you into my arms and hold you and kiss you and tell you that I loved you, because I understood you.”‘

  “Oh, Tony,”‘ I breathed, overwhelmed by his torrent of feeling. And unconsciously I shifted my weight, let my legs fall open, and thrust my breasts forward in invitation.

  But he merely curled his lip. “What does that gesture mean anymore?”‘ he said. “You’d respond the same way with an orangutan. Your pussy is worthless. You’ve given it away too many times. And how can I kiss you, when I k
now you’ve pressed your lips against every cock and asshole that’s been offered?”‘

  My eyes must have shown bewilderment, because he went on, “Oh, I’m not a puritan. I don’t care about the specifics. It’s just that you’re so goddamned indiscriminate, so tasteless, so . . . vulgar.”‘ He took one step toward me and then stopped. The sudden movement had the effect of catapulting him out of the two-dimensional sheet in which I had been viewing the world and into a three-dimensional thereness which stunned me. He ceased being an image, and became a person, someone other, and that entity was thrust into my self-involved universe. I suddenly realized—I’m almost embarrassed to say the word—how handsome he was. Not in a movie star sense, but in his extraordinary maleness. And with that came the understanding that he had been training me for three months, and that I had totally underestimated how deep our relationship actually was. I was overcome with a deep sense of loss.

  “Don’t you see?”‘ he went on. “It’s not that I don’t desire you, or haven’t desired Sandy or any of the others. But that I hold desire to be so precious that I can’t abide its being made coarse and cheap.”‘

  My gaze faltered and fell down the length of his body. To my amazement I saw that his cock was bulging in his pants. “Oh, Tony,”‘ I said again.

  He put his hand on his cock and smiled bitterly. “This?”‘ he said. “There’s more to it than that, Julie.”‘

  Once more there was a pounding on the door, and this time Tony went over and opened it up. The team doctor was standing there, along with Sandy and the other cheerleaders and a few members of the team. They all rushed in at once, all speaking, all solicitous, and in a moment I was being comforted and examined and made a fuss over. But I didn’t want any of them, I wanted Tony. I tried to call to him but he was already gone, and I bit my lip as I fell back on the couch.