Football Baby: A Secret Baby Romance

by Roxeanne Rolling

  For some reason, I can’t bring myself to open them. The whole thing just reminds me too much of Lauren and that first day when I had the huge erection poking through the towel.

  “Oh, they told me it was soccer,” she says.

  “They must have made a mistake,” I say.

  I open my eyes, to see who I’m talking to. She’s got her back turned to me, and she’s rubbing the standard lotion onto her hands, getting ready.

  That’s weird. She sure looks a hell of a lot like Lauren.

  Only a little more beautiful, at least what I can see from the back. Her hair is longer than Lauren’s was, and a little bit thicker.

  The resemblance to Lauren is starting to stir something up. My cock is swelling and I look down and try to not groan in disappointment as I watch my cock rising underneath the towel. Not again. Not fucking again.

  The situation is already similar enough to that first day I met Lauren, and this women already looks a hell of a like Lauren. I don’t need my cock doing the same thing it did that day too. It’s just going to make everything worse, everything more painful.

  The massage therapist turns around.

  I don’t know what to say.

  Holy shit.

  Wow.

  What the fuck?

  It’s Lauren.

  In the flesh.

  Lauren right here in front of me.

  13

  Lauren

  I turn around and who it’s none other than Dylan. Dylan Knight

  My Dylan.

  Well, he was my Dylan until I ran out on him, taking our kid with me.

  Holy shit.

  We both stay frozen for a full minute.

  We’re just staring at each other. My heart is pounding.

  All the fears I ran away from—the fears that I couldn’t and still can’t quite identify—they’re all flooding back.

  And new ones.

  What if he finds out about Sam? Our kid. Our fucking kid.

  Not that he’s a bad kid.

  I mean “fucking,” to refer to “our,” not to “kid.”

  How fucking crazy is it that we have a kid together. And Dylan doesn’t even know.

  After all, how could he?

  “Long time no see,” says Dylan.

  I laugh, my head tilting back and my belly heaving—it’s a big huge laugh that comes roaring out of me.

  It’s all the tension breaking, but not quite breaking.

  I nod my head, apparently unable to speak. I have no idea what to do or what to say.

  So I do the only thing I know how to do, the thing I thought I was going to be doing when I walked into this room.

  I start giving him a massage.

  I place my hands on his muscular thigh. The memories come flooding back. The time sin my dorm room. The times standing staring at the stars back at Twilmore.

  He doesn’t say anything, and his expression is unreadable.

  He seems to have changed so much.

  He’s got tattoos now, some on his chest.

  There are some scars too, a big one running down his other leg, not the one I’m supposed to be working on.

  Ironically, the one I’m supposed to be massaging is the same leg he injured back in college.

  His face has only gotten more handsome, more rugged. His jawline is more defined, and he’s more muscular.

  That’s what happens I guess when you play professional football.

  My hands are digging into his flesh harder than with my normal clients.

  I can’t help myself, but I can feel myself adding a sensual touch to my movements. This is already becoming more than a regular massage.

  There’s a spark between us that I can palpably feel. It’s as if the air is electric with tension that’s about to snap.

  I still haven’t said anything, but we both act at the same time.

  He leans up, his towel falling down around his knees as he sits up. He bends his head towards me, his face angled slightly. His eyes shine with an intense look.

  I move my face towards him at the same time.

  Our mouths meet and we kiss, a deep and long kiss.

  I’m trying to say something that I can’t say with words. Maybe I can express it with my body.

  But more than that, I just want him. I want to be close to him, to his naked flesh, to his strong and powerful chest.

  I want to lie naked next to him. I’ve been needing his touch for so long. I’ve been missing it, like a junkie needs his drug.

  Before I realize I’m doing it, my fingers wrap around his erect cock. It feels even bigger than I remember it. Bigger and harder.

  “I want you,” I say. “Right here and right now.”

  It’s the first thing I’ve said to him in six years.

  We continue kissing, our tongues meeting and swirling around each other. The kiss is wet and hot.

  He’s completely naked now, as he turns on the table, so that his arms can reach my breasts. His hands are moving up my shirt, and massaging my breasts through my bra.

  “Fuck me,” I say in a moaning whisper.

  I can’t get away from him. His body is the drug I need. I need him inside me, and right now I can’t think about anything else.

  I’m not thinking of the past, or how I ran out on him. I’m not thinking of the other clients and therapists in the same building, in rooms on either side of us. I’m not thinking of Sandy, the secretary, who’s just down the hall.

  I just want his massive cock deep inside me. I don’t just want it. I fucking need it.

  He’s standing up now, twisting around to get behind me.

  He’s pulling my khaki pants down, in one quick motion. Soon they’re down around my ankles with my panties.

  His cock is moving towards me, about to enter me.

  “Wait,” I say.

  I want to totally possess him. I get down on my knees, and as I do so, he lifts my shirt completely off me. In one quick deft motion, my bra is undone, falling away from me.

  It’s like we’re doing a dance routine we’ve practiced a thousand times.

  That’s what it feels like.

  And I’m completely lost in the moment. I can tell Dylan is, too. His eyes are shining with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

  Is he really the same Dylan from college? Is he really my Dylan? Or has he changed? These are the only thoughts that briefly occupy my head, before I take his huge cock between my lips, sucking on it, relishing it.

  Now the only thing I can think of is Dylan, and his body, and of course his cock.

  I’m sucking on it like I’ve never done before. Not that I’ve had much experience since Dylan in college. I’ve been much too busy raising Sam.

  Shit, now I remember. It all comes flooding back to me.

  Not only did I run out on Dylan, but I never told him about Sam! This is crazy.

  What the hell am I doing? He can’t ever find out about Sam. He’ll hate me.

  But a moment later, all the thoughts and worries are gone again. Dylan is bucking his hips ever so slightly, lightly pumping his cock in and out of my mouth.

  I’m careful not to let my teeth graze it even for a moment, pursing my lips to apply extra pressure. That’s one of the tricks I learned form being with Dylan back in college.

  Dylan’s running his hands through my hair, massaging my scalp, without directing my head in any way.

  Dylan pulls me up and turns me around, pushing me lightly down so that I’m bent over the massage table, with my ass facing up, facing Dylan.

  “Dylan,” I say. “I need you. I need you inside me.”

  “I have to have you,” says Dylan.

  He rubs his cock against my outer lips, teasing me, just like he used to.

  Now the head is pushing its way inside me.

  It feels completely wonderful. I’m in ecstasy, but I need his whole cock. Just part of it won’t do.

 
; “I need your whole cock,” I say. “Put it deep inside me, Dylan. Don’t hold back.”

  “It’s been so long,” he says, as he finally thrusts his cock into me.

  I gasp as he does so, and Dylan lets out a low manly grunt.

  He’s more manly than I remember him, and he was plenty manly before.

  He’s hairier, his jaw is more defined, but he’s also more powerful.

  I can feel his new power with each slow thrust that he gives me as he drives into me from behind. He’s reaching around and massaging my breasts which are smushed up against the soft massage table.

  “I love the way your ass looks,” growls Dylan, picking up the pace slightly.

  He’s continuing to increase his pace at a completely even rate, until his cock is finally pounding into me, incredibly deeply, with incredible speed.

  “I can see why they call your team The Rabbits,” I say, trying to make a joke while gasping in pleasure. “You’re fast. Faster than you were.”

  Dylan doesn’t say anything. I wish I could see his face. I want to see him watching me, devouring me with his eyes. I want to see the look of intense concentration on his face, the look that is still burning in my memory from those few short weeks at the end of college.

  That was half a lifetime ago. Well, not quite.

  Dylan’s running his hands through my hair, holding my long hair outstretched. But he’s not puling on it.

  I’m impressed that he’s so powerful and aggressive, but not overly aggressive. I’ve been with one guy since college—one of the few—and he really took the aggressive thing over the top, thinking it meant that he had to be a complete asshole instead of just a sexy masculine guy.

  “Get on the table, flat on your back, and spread your legs,” says Dylan.

  “I like the way you’re telling me what to do,” I say.

  Dylan doesn’t say anything, but I can hear his breathing getting heavy and deep. If I’m reading him right, he’s just as overcome with lust for me, as I am with lust for him.

  He pulls out of me, and I instantly crave his cock like nothing else I’ve ever craved. I need it back inside me, and I don’t want to wait even another second. Shit!

  As fast as I can, I get flat on my back on the massage table.

  Right now, I’m not thinking about all the countless sweaty assholes I’ve massaged on this table. No, for now this is my bed, the bed that Dylan’s’ going to fuck me on.

  Dylan’s standing up, and his cock is right about at my level.

  “Come closer,” he says, but before waiting for me to do anything, he grabs me by the ankles and pulls me down closer to him.

  He holds my legs up around his sides, and inches his cock towards me.

  I can see it happening in slow motion, until his cock disappears between my legs, out of my field of vision.

  In another moment, he’s inside me.

  Oh shit.

  This is insane. It’s been too long. Too fucking long.

  For some reason, taking his cock out just made me crave it more. My whole body feels like its vibrating with the pleasure.

  He’s really got a good angle now, and he’s pounding me rapidly, not holding back at all with his speed or power.

  “I’m going to come,” I whisper, between some huge and very loud moans.

  For a second, I wonder if anyone can hear us.

  Can they hear me? This is a good way to lose my job. And I need my job to support Sam.

  But the pleasure is too much. I just want to come. I can’t worry about silly things like jobs right now.

  I watch Dylan’s abs contract as he thrusts into me, slamming against me with the speed and power that only a pro athlete like himself can deliver. His chest is massive and intense. His shoulders are small boulders of concentrated power.

  “Oh…oh…oh…” I’m moaning wildly and thrashing around.

  The pleasure is so intense…building up around my groin and shooting up through my solar plexus.

  I think I’m going to pass out. I’ve never felt anything like this.

  Suddenly, as I’m about to come, Dylan basically pushes me forward.

  What are you doing? I think to myself, but I’m too lost in the approaching orgasm to actually voice the question to him.

  But in a second, it all becomes clear.

  He launches his body up onto the massage table in one swift and rapid motion .He’s now on top of me, pressing his body against mine. His cock enters me again.

  Never has the missionary position been so fucking hot.

  I come.

  My vision goes completely white for a moment, and I think I’m screaming, but I’m not sure.

  I do know I’m making a hell of a lot of noise. And that I’m thrashing underneath Dylan’s body.

  “I’m coming, too,” says Dylan, releasing a series of very manly sounding grunts. Powerful grunts.

  His thrusts become slower, but more powerful. Deeper, much deeper.

  Finally, he thrusts one final time. This is the deepest yet. His hips and body remain frozen, as I feel his cock pumping into me, releasing his desire deep inside me.

  My vision is getting clearer. My orgasm is dying down, but I still feel the glow around me.

  Dylan’s still inside me, and we lie like this for a full two minutes, before Dylan finally pulls out.

  “Don’t pull out,” I say, protesting.

  “I think the session’s almost over,” says Dylan, looking down at his watch.

  “Fun session, right?” I say.

  “I loved it,” says Dylan. “I can tell you did too.”

  “Don’t think that doesn’t mean I’m not going to charge you for the massage.”

  “That’s not like any massage I’ve ever gotten. You don’t do this with all your clients, do you? I’d think the company might take issue with that eventually.”

  “I only mess around with the clients whose names are Dylan Knight,” I say.

  He’s getting dressed again, but I’m still lying on the massage table, my legs spread wide, my arms out to the sides, hanging over the edge of the table. I’m too spent to move.

  How am I going to even use my arms after this to massage my next client?

  “Did it at least help your leg?” I say, trying to make a joke.

  Inside, I’m not wondering what this all means. Is this going to lead to anything?

  This is going to be my chance to tell Dylan that I’ve been raising his son.

  Am I going to have the strength to tell him?

  After all, I think I owe it to him.

  But…

  There are a thousand reasons flooding my head right now—reasons not to tell him, reasons to never mention a word to him.

  “I think it’s a little better,” says Dylan, smiling, and flexing his leg to show me.

  “But I still think you’re going to need another session,” I say.

  I can see the twinkle in his eye returning. Yes, there’s some of the old Dylan still there.

  He isn’t just all sex and football, all totally macho. The Dylan I know is in there somewhere. I just have to draw him out, and I’m pretty sure I can do it.

  I just need to get closer to him.

  But I don’t just need it. I desire it more than anything else. I don’t just need his cock, or his hot body. I need absolutely every part of him.

  “What about a session at your house?” says Dylan, as he’s about to open the door, fully dressed, while I’m still splayed out completely naked. “That way you don’t have to worry about your coworkers overhearing the uh…unusual nature of our massage therapy sessions.”

  “Sounds good,” I say. “Can you leave me your number?”

  Dylan takes out his phone and I recite him my digits. He dials my number, and my cell phone rings.

  “There,” he says. “We’ve each got the others’ number, so there’s no reason we shouldn’t be in contact.”

 
I know he’s referring obliquely to me running away from him. Neither of us have directly reference it, and I’m not exactly eager to bring it up.

  “You think they heard me?” I say, suddenly a little worried about my job.

  “I think you’re fine,” says Dylan, giving me a wink. “I’ll just tell the secretary I was in a lot of pain and I sometimes scream in a feminine way. I’ll tell her I’m a celebrity athlete and not to let the word get out, since it could hurt my career. The sports writers will love hearing about that.”

  “You think she’d tell them?”

  “Of course she will. Well, I really got to get going.”

  “See you later,” I say, too tired to even wave at him, or blow him a kiss. Anyway, what I really want to do is run to him and beg him not to leave. I want to run to him and pull him down towards my naked body and make love to him again.

  I want to show him what life could be like with me. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed him. Seeing him has only make it all the more palpable, all the more painful, yet bittersweet, at the same time.

  I want to tell Dylan I’ve watched him in every game he’s ever been in, even the ones when he never played, or just got a few seconds of field time. I want to tell him I know all his statistics by heart.

  But how would he understand?

  It wouldn’t make any sense to him that I’m so devoted to him yet I ran out on him and never contacted him.

  He leaves, closing the door behind him.

  One thought that runs through my head is that I could tell him about Sam. After all, Sam should pull us together more, making us closer, right?

  On the other hand, Dylan is sure to be furious with me if I tell him I’ve been hiding the fact from him that I had his son. That’s going to tear us apart, right?

  I don’t know what to do. But I know what I want to do, and that’s get closer to him, as close as I absolutely can.

  14

  Dylan

  What the hell just happened?

  I’m driving back to the hotel and everything looks surreal.

  The city frankly looks slightly dismal with the clouds overhead. The city has an overwhelmingly industrial feel, and I can’t help but think that Lauren doesn’t belong in a place like this. I always pictured her more and the beach or something like that.