As he thrusts his long, hard meat deep along my sopping love tunnel and the crowd roars, I make a mental note to ask, as soon as I get my breath back, what he calls himself. The crowd roars renewed encouragement and I can’t wait much longer for one football team or another to score, because when they do I know that he is going to thrust with all the force of his bent knees. With my legs wide apart and my bare ass being ground into the hard concrete wall at my back I grip tightly onto his brightly coloured team shirt.
“Go, go, go baby, score a goal, make me cum!” I yell, encouraging him to splash my depths with his hot sperm.
He responds with guttural grunts as the veins in his face threaten to burst with the effort of shafting the pussy he has desired all season long.
Our first meeting had not been too auspicious; a can of a staining carbonated drink carelessly opened two rows behind my seat in the spectator stand at our local soccer stadium; bad enough that the stream of cold liquid hit me but to ruin a hair-do that only that morning cost me more than I really wanted to pay was just too much. The words that I screamed at him were totally unladylike, but then I am no lady.
I am twenty years old and by all accounts I am opinionated, loud-mouthed and feisty. My passion is soccer; watching and playing the game. I will go anywhere to watch or play the game. Having said that I am banned from playing for most teams in the area because, it is claimed, I am too aggressive. It’s more likely that I am too good for the blokes in the teams because I can run rings around most of their players. The wives and girlfriends don’t like me either; they claim that I am after their blokes. Men do find me attractive and teasing them is so easy; just a lift of my team shirt exposing my bare boobs gets them staring and rubbing their crotches. No matter how I have tried to join them in the communal bath after a match I am always thwarted by the team coach hauling me out. This bloke is nearly always embarrassed by me struggling enough to ensure that he gets a handful of tit or better still a hand slips between my thighs and up my bum or pussy.
Boy friends don’t last long with me; blokes are funny about girls trying to take control, it threatens their manhood or something. But I do have all the sex I want; a come hither look or a hand on the front of a bloke’s jeans is enough to get them begging for it. That’s one reason I am getting shagged at this moment, and it is great!
The bloke who sprayed me with drink sought me out after the game was over to apologise but as our team had lost against another local team I wasn’t too receptive and told him to get lost. My mood was so bad that I went straight home to my flat and pigged out on a “dust-bin-lid” sized pizza, and drunk my self senseless on the crap beer that was all I could find in the supermarket.
At the stadium for the next game I saw him outside the pay-gate looking for somebody, so I thought I would play a joke on him. He didn’t spot me until I was right by him so I took him by surprise. Pulling up my shirt I grabbed his hand stuck it up my top and onto my tit. He was surprised but seemed to like the feel of my flesh and held the globe firmly.
“Shit!” I yelled. “This perv is groping my tits, help!”
I pulled the shirt up to reveal his hand firmly gripping my young, innocent and bare flesh. The officials were called and he was asked to explain his actions. Naturally, I vehemently denied knowing him and asked how ludicrous was it that I would walk up to a complete stranger and put his hand on my bare tit. The officials said that I was very generous not to press charges for assault and asked if he should be ejected from the stadium. I studied his face; it pleaded to be allowed to stay, so I said…
“Yes please, I just wouldn’t feel safe with him behind me”. His face turned to thunder and he was still screaming abuse as they threw him out.
Throughout the season we traded shouted or mumbled abuse on every possible occasion. He called me a tart, which I quite liked, and I threatened to call the officials. Once or twice I got close enough to study his face and liked what I saw; rugged, outdoor features but handsome. Fascinating too was the permanent bulge in the crotch of his jeans; it was and nice-sized cock or he used an eraser for a lot of pencil work. Although I continued to abuse him I soon made up my mind that he was going to fuck me; not in bed though, in the stadium!
This bloke was quite surprised when I spoke to him in a friendly way; it brought a smile to his features and it confirmed that I just had to have him. Just to keep him on his toes and wanting I would change from week to week; sometimes friendly sometimes ignoring him. No matter what I did I could see in his eyes that he was desperate to know me better. Today, as the game progressed through the second half and the score was even, I got up from my seat, caught his eye and gave him the come-hither look, to my excited relief he made to follow me. Of course he was unsure of what I wanted and just how I would react to him and it served to heighten his desires.
In the passageway deep beneath the grandstand I attacked him. My mouth sucked at his and I laughed inside at his look of wide-eyed astonishment. It didn’t take him long to be sure that this was his lucky day; the day that he had hoped for but never belived would happen. He wrapped me in his strong arms and without my prompting was soon sampling the softness of my boobs, bare under the team shirt. The breath was taken out of me as he slammed my body against the concrete wall. This bloke was hot, hot for my body, hot to get his body between my thighs. He was almost eating me as we kissed which was something I love as a male tongue battles with mine.
I was wearing a jean skirt of moderate length and the shirt; a bra was never necessary and as I had planned to fuck him today I wore no thong. His excitement rose again as his hand slid up my thighs, pressed hard between them and dived onto my bare pussy.
He broke our mashing mouths long enough to say “Fuck, you are the hottest!” before eating me again.
Pulling the skirt up to a free my legs I parted them and allowed his impatient fingers to find my opening and plunge inside. I climaxed immediately; I had worked myself up to this minute and was going to enjoy it to the full.
“Come on mate” I begged “get that prick out and fuck me”.
As he released his hardness I looked down to savour the sight of what I wanted inside me; it was no less than I had expected. I grabbed it and pleasured in the steel hardness and its girth pulling it towards my begging pussy. The bloke bent his knees; I pressed the prick to my hole and between us we rammed the hard flesh between my soaking lips. My ass hit the wall behind me holding me captive as I felt the rod penetrate to my womb; I groaned loudly.
“Oh fuck yes, yes, ooooooh.” I screamed.
If his thrusts into me coincided with the roar of the crowd I gained even more benefit but soon I want his hot liquid inside me, flooding me and filling me. Yet another climax mounted in my depths and I urged him to do it, to splash inside me.
“Yes, yes,” he yelled “I’m cumming, oh god here it comes.” as he yelled out his climax the crowd roared.
“G O A L!”
And the goal the bloke scored inside me was infinitely more enjoyable that the one the crown saw.