The sound emanating from the driveway next door was refreshing. I guess it has been six months since anyone had been in that place and it has been getting awfully lonely around here (in more ways than one).
As I sat on my deck chair and enjoyed the warm late spring evening air, the sound of THUD, THUD…SWISH was oddly hypnotizing. I guess it’s nice just to have one neighbor who isn’t afraid to do something outside even if it is practicing basketball at 9 at night.
Curiosity wasn’t really getting the best of me that night. I had a nice iced tea and just wanted to go inside and try to sleep even though it had been difficult as of late.
CLANG!!
A ball appeared in front of me on the back yard lawn below the deck. I got up from the chair and approached it having every intention of throwing it back over the fence to whatever kid was doing drills at this hour. It was a bit odd that nobody called out to chuck the ball back over, but maybe they thought this place was as lonely as I did.
Just as I bent over to pick up the ball, I heard some rustling in the brush and some rattling around the fence and witnessed someone trying to desperately get in my yard. Before I could say anything the figure crashed to the ground and started toward me.
“Clearly this is yours?” I said.
She looked at me in an embarrassed state and said “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was around or else I would have asked.”
She did not appear to be a kid. Dressed in a gray T-shirt with some vintage school logo I did not recognize, the fit, rather tall female was drenched in sweat.
“My name is Stacey,” she said. “Me and my mom just moved in.”
Now normally I would have noticed some action at the house next door, but my separation from my wife wasn’t going too hot and I had buried my head in work trying to keep the loneliness and uncertainty at bay.
Stacey told me she was a senior in high school and was a few weeks from graduation. She had been an accomplished basketball player at her high school and had offers to attend smaller colleges on an athletic scholarship. Wanting a challenge, she rebuffed those offers and decided to go to a larger institution nearby.
I asked her why she was playing driveway basketball instead of out on the Junior Olympic or AAU circuit and she said funds had run dry due to her family’s financial situation.
“Dad lost his job at the factory and within a few months he was drinking heavily and that led to divorce,” Stacey said bluntly. “Mom works nights at the hospital. I work a few hours after school at a diner to help out. When I get off work I like to come out here and try to at least keep my skills from eroding much further.”
I told her I was all alone at my home having seen my own marriage fall apart, but I was not going into any detail about it. She didn’t seem like she wanted to hear any more tales of woe.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” I said.
She smiled and turned around and walked away as I pointed her to the gate.
<<<<<>>>>>
Even though I could not see Stacey play from my house, I sat out on the deck and listened to her go through her workout a few times that week. The ball did clear the fence a few times and she was wise enough to call for it.
Our familiarity with each other grew in the coming days. We exchanged small talk here and there. I eventually let her know that I was All-City during my senior year of high school 20 years ago. I didn’t think I would get any reaction out of that little useless nugget of information.
“Oh yeah?” Stacey said. “Can you still play?”
Now, I wouldn’t say that I wasn’t in shape to do an athletic activity. I worked out at the gym three times a week and ran a few miles from time to time. It’s just that I had not played basketball in probably 10 years.
“Sure,” I said not wanting to let the 18-year-old down if she was expecting something.
“For tougher opponents at school we always trained against boys or men,” she said. “If you need a bit of a workout, why don’t you throw on some gym shorts and show what you’ve got? I promise I will go easy on you.”
I nodded and went back in the house and changed. I laced up my old basketball sneakers and came back outside within 10 minutes knowing full well that I probably would make a fool out of myself.
She had already worked up quite the lather and looked like an imposing presence. She handed the ball to me first and here I was in my most significant action since playing in a pricey 3 on 3 tournament with college buddies. I started off with a slow dribble and tested my ability to dart around her. No speed was there as she blocked my path. I opted to back her down instead and her sweaty body was surprisingly solid and up to the task of keeping my 6-2 frame in check. I shot a half-assed hook shot and she grabbed the rebound after it bounced off the rim.
I hustled up to her as she reset on offense, but she dribbled through her legs and knocked me off balance. I tumbled over in a heap and recovered but she popped back and hit a jumper in my eye. God, she was something else.
We spent about an hour out there slamming into each other’s bodies in an attempt to competitively expend the frustration built up in our lives. No words were said about it, but I felt it. This was a ritual and I was happy to be a part of it.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>
These basketball therapy sessions went on for a few weeks. I got better. She didn’t get worse. It was a welcome distraction regarding the toxic situations we were a part of. Although it started out innocent enough, I began to have these dreams about Stacey. I had not had a lot of physical intimacy in my life since “she” left, so this raw, exchange of grunts, groans, sweat and all sorts of griping and groping were stirring some shit up inside me.
I’d often wake up at night thinking about her hard body and how it danced with my mine in an aggressive struggle. I had visions of tracing her muscles with my finger tips. I had seen a great deal of her midsection when she she lifted her shirt to dry off her face. It was always present in those dreams. The dreams turned into fantasies. I ached for her touch. I knew every inch of that ass already, but I wanted to see it outside the context of basketball shorts. I wanted to lick the sweat off her. I wanted to pull her hair. I wanted to spank her. I needed to spill my seed. I needed to fuck. I craved it.
Of course as these thoughts consumed me, my playing style changed. I was more physical. I welcomed those moments when she backed up her firm ass into my groin. I often played with an erection and made no attempt to hide it. Perhaps that was careless on my part but that’s the effect she had on me.
And you know what?
Her playing style morphed too. On more than one occasion, her hand darted past the ball and toward my manhood. She’d playfully brush up against it. When she’d face off against me, she offered sly smiles and a knowing glance. I felt as if something was imminent.
“Getting a little grabby there?” I said.
“Look who’s talking,” Stacey said as she pulled up her shirt and dried her face. She kept it exposed longer than usual and I returned the favor by taking off my shirt. She looked at me and removed hers as well, leaving only her jet black sports bra to cover her.
“Hey, we can’t have skins versus skins, can we?” I jokingly said.
“I don’t think anybody else is around to care,” Stacey said. “I can put my shirt back on, if you must play by the rules.”
“I don’t think rules really work well for the games we play,” I said.
She nodded in agreement and looked eager to get a bucket past me. She made a hard cut on me, but I anticipated it. She still managed to get around me, but I crashed into her hard on the way to the hoop and sent her straight down to the pavement. Her knees, hands and elbows took all of the abuse the hard surface dished out. It looked bad.
“Fuckkkk,” she cried out.
The blood was dripping down her legs from her knees. I asked her if she had any first aid items in her house and she didn’t know or believed them to be still packed away in moving boxes.
“You’re coming to my house then,” I said. “I’ve got all kinds of bandages and stuff laying around from the hospital my uhhh wife works at. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time.”
I helped her up and put her arm around me as we walked over to my house. I went in through the garage and told her to sit down in the kitchen as I went to get some items to treat her wounds.
At that moment I can honestly say I was only concerned with getting her wounds patched up because I had an immense sense of guilt about what had happened. I located some ointment and some bandages. I grabbed a washcloth and moistened it with warm water in an attempt to clean the wounds. When I returned to the kitchen, Stacey was seated on the counter and was sobbing a bit. When she saw me she wiped her eyes and sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down.
“Please relax,” I said. “I don’t think any of this will hurt any more than it already does, but we have to take care of this.”
“I know what you mean,” she said.
I began treating her knees, first cleaning them and then applying the ointment. Her legs glistened in the dim light and she stayed remarkably still as I tried to get the job finished as quick as possible.
“You really know how to take care of me,” she said.
“You asked for it,” I blurted.
“I had it coming, didn’t I?” she said.
Our eyes met for a brief moment. I felt like there was something happening that neither of us was in control of. Her gaze became more direct and my breathing started to slow. The tension in the room was thick and it guided me toward her lips. I pulled her in close to me and tasted her, coating her moist lips with the saliva from mine. I sucked and pulled at her lips, mixing this long neglected feeling with awkward but desperate tongue play.
“Take care of me,” she let slip from her lips.
I went right for the bra and removed it in quick fashion as all of her athletic torso was now exposed to the delight of my dreams. She guided me right toward her tits and I tickled and teased them with my mouth before switching to a more aggressive mode. She gasped at every move I made and every sensation I tried to foist upon her young flesh. I nibbled. I gnawed. Whatever weeks long ritual we were taking part in was now over. Our sexual hunger was being addressed.
As I slathered my tongue down her midsection, at one point tracing the very tip of it over the hardness of the abs, she started squirming and clearly wanted to be rid of all clothing. I obliged and pulled down her basketball shorts along with her panties. Before long her bare teenage ass was sitting on my counter. There was no longer a need for imagination.
My cock pressed against the fabric of my own basketball shorts and she hooked her fingers inside the waistband and tugged it down. My erect cock flopped out and the shorts fell to the floor. She grabbed it and started to knead it, toiling with the head…teasing it. I let the pleasure wash over me for a brief moment before my urges overtook my self control.
I picked her up off the counter top and made her stand up with her bare, toned ass starting back at my needy cock. I spanked her, taking a chance that she would be receptive and it paid off. Her moans bounced through my skull and only made me more eager to defile this gift from the gods.
I slapped my cock against her backside, I wasn’t going to make my move to the hole without breaking down her defense. She quivered and begged, “Please, now.” I told her no. I told her she needed to make sure I knew what she craved. I commanded her to vocalize what her body was screaming to her brain.
“Please…fuck me….fuck me…FUCK ME,” Stacey demanded.
As soon as her words left her mouth, I slammed into her and she let out a grunt not too far off from the ones she does when we’re in the heat of the moment in the driveway. I plowed into her with direct and deep thrusts. She stood her ground and made for a firm obstacle as I challenged myself to break her down, to make her knees melt.
She took it all and became more demanding in her own right. I smacked her rear with a lot of force and her ass bucked right back up on my dick, devouring it in a creamy sauce she had spent the evening preparing for me. I grabbed her head and shoved my fingers in her mouth, all while pounding away. The sounds coming from her partially obstructed airway sent a shiver straight down my spine to my shaft. The finished product was boiling in my loins and I was going to spill when that certain noise or movement of the spine told me it was time to let go.
We were loud, our voices mixing with the sounds of her pussy being juiced along with the slapping of skin. I increased my pace, finally reaching a place where I could rid myself of months of denial.
“Finish me…finish me,” her voice trailing off as the inevitable climax surged forth.
I gasped and let out a cry, my balls spasmed and the animalistic mechanism activated in the deepest regions of my brain sending the seed hurtling into her womb. My cock pulsed and emptied itself into a warm, welcoming cunt. Exhausted I almost immediately withdrew and the cum poured out of her and flowed down her legs, mixing with whatever blood and sweat that was leftover.
She didn’t have much to say and neither did I. We admired each other’s bodies for a minute or two before coming to the realization that this will now be a part of our routine for the next few weeks.
*feel free to PM me your thoughts…thank you for reading
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/89mj5h/games_we_played_mf