A Jacks - Passion_s Her Game

"I'm going to screw you right through this bed, baby."

I rammed it in and out furiously. I felt the head getting bigger and bigger and my balls hard as marbles flapping against her wet pussy and the come starting up through the shaft. Then again and again I rammed it in and out and damned if I didn't have her starting all over again, gliding easily with me, ready to come again, her whimpers of faint pain slowly changing to moans of deep pleasure. She reached up and dug her fingers into my armpits and drew herself up, her lips seeking my mouth. I rammed it to her good, sideways, up and down, around and around, exploring every membrane of that lovely pussy. And it was lovely. I had never felt so perfectly joined, but I didn't want to admit it then. All I wanted was some kind of revenge on her for being such a cool cucumber, pretending all the time she wasn't just another piece of tail, playing the gentle, refined lady. Bull shit. She was a hot cunt, and she wasn't going to kid me. I was going to wring it all out of her. She was a real fucking bitch and when I was finished with it, she would know it, and she would know I knew it. That's all that counted that time.

Then a wonderful spasm shot right through my cock like an electric shock and I felt the walls of her vagina squeezing and squeezing. It was sweet! Wow! I felt my spine was going to go out through the top of my skull and I kept going around and around, around, around… then I whirl pooled down into her and lost myself. I fought against it but I was lost, deep inside her, letting out all my sexual hunger. She was draining me. I had not won the battle. She had won. My belly felt as if it had fallen right out of me, and I lay flat on top of her, her big warm mouth against my mouth, warm and loving. I couldn't move. I was paralyzed. Knocked out. I felt her lips curve in a smile and I lifted my head.

"How's that for a fuck?" I said, and pulled out and rolled on my side. She leaned across me and kissed my cheek.

"That wasn't just a fuck, was it?"

"Have you got a new name for it?"

"Nope. A fuck is a fuck is a fuck."

"No," she said softly, and stroked my hair.

I stared up at the ceiling.

"What's the hang up between you and hubby?"

She took her hand away. She put both hands behind her head and lay back and looked up at the ceiling.

"He hasn't made love to me for eight weeks. He can't. Not since that new boy joined the team."

"Bascom?"

"He's after Johnny's position."

"Sure, but you want to remember, too, Johnny's had the hell knocked out of him in a couple of games."

She shook her head furiously.

"This isn't the first time. All he ever seems to care about during football season is his damn body. Taking vitamin pills day and night and always checking his body in the mirror."

Well, this wasn't new. I'd heard there was a lot of trouble with wives during season, and let's face it, you don't play football if you're not a body builder. But I never asked about those problems.

I didn't have those marital problems.

"You're a good lay," I said.

"I'm more than that," she said and turned and kissed my cheek gently. "You'll find out."

"No way," I said. "I'm not going to get hacked up between you and Johnny. If you need ass, you better check the rest of the team."

"I might just do that," she laughed.

I laughed at her because somewhere inside me I didn't believe her, but I wanted to believe her then because I guess even then I was afraid of falling in love.

I stood in the locker room in Des Moines waiting to get my ankles taped. Leighton was on the training table getting his shoulder taped. Vakos was still in the hospital and I was ready to go after working out a week with the squad. The locker room door was shut, but through it I, could hear the sound of the band, thudding. All the old locker room smells. I felt young again for a fraction of a second.

A big tackle named Geise came up to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

"We'll kick the hell out of them," he said.

"One guy you want to watch," Geise said. "Day. Bobby Day. A new kid. A Guard. He nailed Vakos."

"Let him come," I said.

"He's a rough bastard."

"Just give me time," I said. "I'll scramble a couple times. His guts'll start to drop out, chasing me."

"Like Fran?" Geise grinned.

"Like Fran," I said. "Let him through a couple times. Trap him, then let him run after me."

"We got a good line," Geise said.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed and taped, hearing the band loud now, we charged out, across the field, single long line of white helmets under the lights. The crowd roared and the announcer called our names, one after the other. I looked up at the lights of the press box.

We lost the toss and I sat on the bench and watched the kick-off. Peoria controlled the ball for seven minutes, then punted, and we fumbled the kick on our twenty yard line. Peoria fumbled on our fifteen and I went in.

I looked at Leighton's eyes in the huddle. His eyes were blank. I tried an end sweep. Lost five yards. Then a quick opener off tackle lost three yards. It was the big guard Bobby Day. He was busting into every play. I should have trapped him on second down. He looked about six feet seven.

The trouble was somebody was hitting me every time after I got the ball off. I couldn't tell who it was but I could feel it. Somebody was letting a lineman or a linebacker through after the handoff, and with my back turned to the line I couldn't see. I was socked hard both times, right across the kidneys.

I couldn't blame anybody because the linebackers were dancing and the interior linemen were stunting. I walked up to the center. Day looked at me from under the rim of his helmet. I saw the linebackers start to dance. I had called a sideline pass in the huddle. I went on calling, watching the outside linebacker dance in, then out to one side, and then to the other. Third down and eighteen. Too deep in our territory to throw the long bomb. They were sure to blitz again. Even now I could see it. I checked off an audible. Just a flip pass over the line of scrimmage to Leighton.

I saw him take it just as I got hit. I was hit too soon. I felt the shock tear through my guts. It was Day again. I looked up into his face. His eyes looked like they were all iris. "We're gonna get you, boy," he said, and pushed up off my chest.

The pass was good for seventeen yards to Leighton. I could see the kicking team starting across the field. Fourth down and one. I waved them back. I noticed there was blood on my hand, then I tasted it. I couldn't remember being hit in the mouth.

"Who's letting that guard through?" I asked in the huddle. Nobody spoke. Their eyes watched me. I called a trap play on Day. It was good for five yards. I saw Day lying on his back. his slit eyes watching me closely as he got up.

Now we're moving, I thought. Day'll hang back a little now. A couple more traps and he'll stop blitzing.

I started calling, giving the inside linebackers a sneering look. There they were, waiting impatiently to blitz.

I had the ball in both hands and took two steps backward. I saw Day coming with his eyes big as moons, those long arms and big hands raised, and then he was blocked sideways and I was looking downfield for Leighton. I couldn't see him, but I knew where he was supposed to be, then I heard him yell, "Ball!" I went back one more step and came forward and released.

Here he was again. Big as a mountain. I turned as Day came bearing down on me. I ducked as he leaped, with both arms outstretched. He passed over me as I dived into the line for a first down.

We were moving but nobody could keep Day completely out of the play. He kept coming and he was nailing me on three out of four plays after I got rid of the ball, or just as I was getting rid of it. Nor did it help to mention it in the huddle. I was just going to have to keep taking it. I spat out a mouthful of blood.