Interludes

I’m in the trainer’s room, facing away from the door when it happens. Big hands on my waist from behind, and a strong, masculine body pressed to mine. I smell his cologne and know it’s him… but the way that he has grabbed me is as if we were strangers meeting in some sort of an anonymous sex club.

This is the first time that I’ve worn a skirt in to work: it’s a black number that comes to rest just above my knees. He places a kiss on the back of my neck and grinds his hardness into my backside before he lifts my skirt. His strong hands tear my panties in half, leaving me breathless, but I don’t fight or try to get away. I’ve wanted him for a long time and I’m not about to blow this opportunity.

I hear him unzip his jeans and feel his hard, hot cock brush against my backside.

“Please” he whispers huskily, his lips by my ear. “Please… May I?”

Sometimes his English isn’t very good, and I imagine that the passion flooding him doesn’t help, but I know exactly what he wants.

I bend myself over the trainer’s table and spread my legs apart, pushing my ass back towards him, trying to let him know that I acquiesce.

“May I?” he queries once more, trying desperately to be a gentleman.

“Yes” I answer.

He gives a low growl of happiness, and I feel his right hand on my backside as he steadies his cock with his left.

There’s a delicious moment of anticipation as he fills my pussy nice and slow, sinking home. Oh my god, he’s big, and he feels so fucking good inside of my wetness. Instinctively, I squeeze him with my inner muscles, which elicits another groan from him.

Without any pomp, without any sweet words, he begins to fuck me, his pace nice and slow at first. I dig my fingertips into the edge of the table and close my eyes with bliss. Mmm, but he’s good, his hands holding my ass as he moves in and out in smooth, thorough strokes. I can’t believe how wet I am for him… He starts moving faster, deeper, and like a good girl, I stand there and take it from him. His left hand sneaks up my body to my breast, cupping my flesh in his palm.

I want to cry his name… but no, let it be like this, nearly anonymous, just the two of us fucking in the training room: we both need this stolen moment. His muscular thighs are striking my own, reminding me of the strength and resilience of his body from years of play.

In and out, the only sounds being the creaking of the table under our weight and our heightened breathing. I let slip a moan every now and again, when I simply can’t hold it back, and he does the same. Our connection is so fucking hot and juicy as he pounds me: it’s nothing short of wanton lust between us. His dick feels so incredible inside of my pussy.

I come first, in such hot, heavy waves that I lose control of my body as I yelp, nearly collapsing… but no, he is quick to wrap his left arm around my waist to hold me up. Half way through my orgasm, I feel him tense up. He moans lowly and then grunts with each wave as his cock shoots his fluid into me…

In the aftermath, I’m collapsed face-down on the table, fighting for breath. His chest is pressed to my back and before long, our breathing matches one another.

He waits for a few minutes, overcome by the strength of our orgasms, before he kisses the back of my neck once more. I cry out in loss when he pulls out of me and puts himself back in his jeans: all I can do is stand there with my back to him.

“Thank you so much” he breathes, lowering my skirt for me. He pops me on the behind (a lot of the boys do when they’re trying to be smart) and then he’s gone, the door to the training room closing behind him.

Somehow I manage to straighten myself up: shit, that was intense. I’ve never had a man go at me like that, nor have I ever had such a large load inside of me. I wonder what the hell has been going on between him and his wife to drive him to such extremes. Sure, the guys flirt with me sometimes… they’re guys, after all… but none of them have ever gone this far before.

I pick up my torn panties from the floor and toss them in the garbage, thinking to myself… I wonder if this was just a one time thing, if he just needed some release…

Gotta get my head on a swivel, I need to close up and get on the team bus for the airport to go to the next opponent.

Well, one thing is for sure: I’m going to start wearing skirts to work more often.

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TBC

Notes