Shit, I'm near exploding in her tight little pussy. It's hard not to when she's making the expression she's making right now, the one where her eyeballs are practically rolling back in her head.
"Uh-huh," she moans. "Fuck me harder, Colton."
I fuck her harder, barely hanging on as she whispers in my ear. "He shoots, he scores," she breathes.
Her pussy squeezes tightly around my cock and she comes hard, calling my name loudly. I let go, thrusting inside her as I empty every last drop of my cum into her tight little pussy.
When she opens her eyes, my breath is still ragged, my heart still racing. "That was basketball," I tell her.
"What?"
"'He shoots, he scores'." That's basketball, not football."
"Touchdown didn't flow as well," she says. "Not when we're talking about you shooting your load into me."
"Shit, Cassie, your mouth is filthy as hell. What have I done to you?"
"I don't know," she says, bringing her lips to mine. "But whatever you did, you should keep doing it."
34
Cassie
"What would I do if I didn't play football? That's a weird fucking question, Cassie," he says. We're lying in the back of his truck looking up at the stars like we have nothing better to do even though its finals week and Colton has an exam tomorrow.
I'm a terrible tutor.
"It's not a weird question," I say. "You said you liked hanging out with me because your identity isn't entirely defined by football when you're with me."
Colton laughs. "I definitely didn't say it like that."
"What?"
"You make it sound… smarter."
"That's all you, Colton," I say. "I'm just rephrasing what you said. You're so much smarter than you think you are, you know."
Colton laughs. "Nah. I'm a dumb jock."
I roll over onto my stomach, my arms on his chest. "I hate that I said that," I groan. "It was before I knew you. You're not a dumb jock."
"I know my strengths," Colton says, his hand gripping my ass cheek. "School is not one of them."
"You have an A in English and a B in History."
"That's all your doing."
"No. You're doing the work, Colton. I'm hardly helping at all."
"Football is my whole life," he says. "I've always known I was going to be good at it. I'm not saying that just to be an arrogant asshole. It's the truth. You know how you do something sometimes and it just clicks? That's always how football has been for me."
"What did your dad think of it?"
"He was proud of me and Drew," he says. "Drew played it for a while, but baseball ended up being his thing. He's smart, though. He's on a scholarship but he doesn't really care about going pro or not. Money was always tight on the farm, but my dad always made sure we got everything we needed to play. Worked his ass off to make that happen."
"What would he think if he saw you now?"
Colton is silent for a while, his fingers tracing a line up and down my back, and I think I asked the wrong question. Or too many questions. Then he finally speaks. "He'd love where I am with football. He'd be really proud of that. He wanted me to get a college scholarship for it. I don't know if he thought I'd make it to the pros or not. The rest of it, not so much."
"What do you mean?"
"The partying, the drinking, the girls," Colton says. "My parents were high school sweethearts. My dad didn't exactly play the field. My mom always says he looked at her the same way after twenty years of marriage as he did when they first started dating. They used to dance in the kitchen after dinner, every night, without fail. Not to any music. When we were kids, Drew and I would make vomiting sounds and my dad would send us to our rooms. I think that was more so he could have time to make out with my mom than because he was mad."
I don't say anything, because I don't know what to say. It's the first time Colton has really talked about his dad.
"Drew is the same way," Colton goes on. "He's been with his girl since eighth grade. We all grew up together. It was never a question, who he was going to be with."
"That's a lot of pressure."
He pushes my hair back from my face when it falls over my forehead. "Yeah, exactly," he says. "My parents were blissfully happy. Drew has had his love life mapped out since we were kids and is totally content. There's no way to live up to that shit."
"So why even try, right?" I ask softly. I blurt it out without thinking, finishing what he leaves unspoken, and immediately regret it. I probably went too far.
"Yeah," he says, his eyes on mine. "Never had a reason to."