For the last few years, I’ve been working with my local newspaper, covering random stories and events to grab a little side cash for entertainment and fun. It’s been a great time, easy, and I get to cover local sports a lot of the time. It’s a daily newspaper that publishes five times a week, so it’s pretty easy going. I’ve been doing it long enough that I usually get to pick where I go and what I cover, barring some breaking news that happens and they need all hands on deck.
Part of this has been consistent coverage of our D-III volleyball team that is in our area. Lucky for me, the sports reporter is more concerned about football, leaving this open for me to spend time getting to know players and coaches, covering games and, as the case was this weekend, travelling to a tournament.
I went down on Friday, covered their evening games that night and all day Saturday. I’ve known some players for several years, as they came up through local high schools, and on to this college. I’ve know the coach for a handful of years, and it’s seemed less and less like a job, and more of a conversation. Some athletes are friendlier than others, and I understand that. But that line was crossed and I found myself in ethical and moral trouble this weekend.
After the final game Saturday night, I did my usual rounds of interviews. Coaches from both teams, players who had a big weekend, and a few other players from other teams. One woman who stood out all weekend was Katie. The 5-foot-4 sophomore player pivotal roles, leading the team in digs all weekend. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed her figure on a lot of those plays.
Her petite, short stature was eyecatching in the days of thicker, taller volleyball players. But her flexibility and agility made her the perfect role for the team. We had talked before, and never a hint of anything more than friendly conversation. But that was all different Saturday night.
After the recorder was off, Katie posed some questions to me. Who I was with down here. Was I staying overnight again? What kind of room did I have? What hotel? Those kinds of things. I figured she was making small talk. Then she asked a bit more personal things. If I was single. Seeing anyone? My type of girl. Going out that night? Those sort of things.
Again, didn’t think too much past it, but I alluded to being alone, single for the night, staying at the same hotel the team was staying at, coincidentally. That was the first pass.
“Maybe I’ll swing by your room? What’s the number?” She held out her hand, fishing for a key card. I was stunned, but in that moment, I began to see Katie in a whole new light. Her white jersey hugged her petite figure. Nothing more than (what I later learned were) B cups seemed to be staring right back at me. Her frizzy, crimpy blonde hair shined. Her face still blush from competition. And her rear somehow squeezed into the most fitted type of spandex all seemed to catch my eye.
Her eyes, blue as the sky, seemed to almost read my brain. I reached into my back pocket, not even thinking about it, and handed her my key card.
“323. I should be back there and done writing in 30 minutes. See you then?” She took the card and did a little hop, skip and jog away.
“Mhmm,” she mumbled. “Maybe sooner…” as she trailed off to the locker room.
…
My story was trash. It recapped the day’s events. The wins and losses. Shallow with no depth. My heart was pounding most of the time back to the hotel and while I was writing. I couldn’t have been done 5 minutes when the door opened up. There was Katie, seemingly still bouncing as if she hadn’t stopped since I gave her the key card.
“Hey there!” she shouted, 20 feet from me. I must have seemed nervous. Or weird. Or awkward because she just laughed at me when I said nothing. “Don’t say too much. Do you need anymore quotes for your story? I’m happy to give you whatever you like.”
She shut the door behind her and plopped down on the perfectly made bed closest to the door. She was donning some baggy grey sweats and a dark, black hoodie with the team’s logo on it. Her hair, still nappy, pulled back in a short, tight pony tail.
“I didn’t shower. Wanted to get here as soon as I could. Mind if I hop in?” She opened her big, black duffel bag. A warm up shirt and another home jersey spilled out as she retrieved her shower kit
“No, go for it,” I said. The first thing I’d said to her, other than some nervous laughter. “It should be all warmed up for ya.”
She stripped off the hoodie and sweats to reveal the same white and black outfit she’d been wearing just hours ago. Her short, smooth legs seemingly pouring out of her spandex. Then off came her jersey, revealing a black and white tye dye sports bra. The hair came down and she bounced into the bathroom, door open as the water kicked on.
I don’t know why, but I began to strip to. Off came my dress shirt, then my shoes and socks. As I pulled down my jeans, I realized they were snug. My erection apparently unknown to the rest of my body, held my jeans up for a second. Then, off came the boxers.
I’m a 6-foot, white male. Clean shaven and in toned shape. I run and train for marathons, so I’m not particularly ripped as I am just healthy and toned. My upper body lacks definition, while my legs and core seem proportionately appropriate.
“Room for another?” I asked, as I knocked on the door.
“Of course. I was waiting,” she echoed back.
I pulled back the curtain and there she was. Facing me, fully nude. The woman I’d talked to for hours over the last few years, and looked at suggestively over the last few hours. Her breasts were far smaller than I imagined. But her core was intensely defined. A fully fledged six pack caught my eye first as she held her head backwards under the water. Then, the smoothest figure and skin I’d ever seen, and touched.
“Oh well hello there. Now there’s something I’d been thinking of,” she said, extending her hands out to touch me with soapy fingers. “Come in closer, we need to conserve water.”
She pulled me in by my erection and turned around simultaneously. I rested it on the small of her back as I hugged her and kissed her neck. There were about a thousand things to say, and nothing but water and soft splashing made a sound. Then, the kissing.
We hardly talked the next while. She began squeezing me, like she was trying to get toothpaste out of the tube. Squeezing became a solid, slow stroking motion. My fingers found their way between her legs. Then her lips. The silence became heavy breathing. And then I entered her.
It’s a scene burned into my brain and probably will be for life. I leaned forward to continue touching her, as she backed into me, rubbing me between her thighs. I brought my hands to her hips and leaned back, looking at her ass grind against my pelvis. And in one motion, she got up on her tip toes, leaned forward, and then back down on me, as it disappeared inside her.
Her heavy breathing turned into a gasp. She placed both hands on the front of the shower as I pulled out about 90% to see myself, except the tip.
“Slow, but hard,” she said, slamming her butt back against me. “Slow,” she pulled me out. “But hard,” as she rammed back down on me.
We did that for a bit. I watched each stroke reappear and disappear inside her. It got going faster as we found a rhythm and aggressiveness we both enjoyed. We spent maybe 15 minutes in that shower, and I don’t think my hair even got wet.
Eventually she pulled me out and turned around, getting on her toes again to kiss me. “Let’s head out,” she said. Turning off the water and pulling back the curtain.
We hopped out, dried off, and laid down on the bed. Neither of us saw it fitting to put any clothes on, and I took advantage of the opportunity to go down on Katie. Everything was as smooth as it looked, as I licked thigh to thigh; lip to lip.
Confidently, I enjoy going down on women. I get a lot of pleasure out of it, too, and my willingness has often led to mutual enjoyment. As the night went on, we often defaulted to 69. I got a little obsessed with her backside and she didn’t mind occupying me while I occupied her.
The night went on like this for a while. Hands, oral, some vaginal, and then breaks. We went and grabbed dinner and brought back wine and beer. Soon enough, it was 2 a.m. and we hadn’t slept. The final time we reached completion was the best at least for me. We had just ventured from 69 to a reverse cowgirl position when she looked back and said, “everything is open back here. If you want to.”
I knew what she meant, but just to make sure, I let her ride me as I placed my thumb on her open hole. I pressed harder as it slipped in and she let out a bit of a squeak, but kept riding. I had only done anal twice and both times both parties were heavily intoxicated. While I had a few beers and a glass of wine, I pressed on.
I pushed her forward, pulled out, then sat her back down, this time in her ass. The tip popped in as she leaned back on my chest. The position was awkward and we couldn’t quite find a comfortable rhythm. It was warm and tight, and it was certainly nothing I’d remembered experiencing. Also, the sensation was overwhelming.
We got into a doggy when she looked back and said, “If you put it in my ass, I’m going to finish pretty quickly. So, if you want to go a bit longer elsewhere, we should do that.”
Honestly, after five or so hours of constant sensation, I was ready for a nap. Maybe get back after it in the morning.
“I don’t mind finishing this up and having a little nap,” I told her, guiding myself into the much smaller and tighter hole.
She wasn’t kidding. It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds before she began panting and moaning, touching herself to bring her to completion. I could feel myself reaching the end as well, and as I got ready to finish, she did and flew forward.
I grabbed myself and began to finish myself off on her back when she flapped her arm at me. “Put it back. Put it…back in…It’ll be a mess if not.”
She could barely get the words out, but I knew what she meant. Or at least I thought I did. I entered her again but she squirmed forward. “No, no. My ass. I’m on the pill…but still.’
I lasted about five more strokes before finishing in her ass. The first time I’d ever done that. I later found out it was not the first time she had though.
We cleaned up and fell asleep, but spent the next day together in the city. Breakfast after checking out and then driving back. She pulled some “family emergency” thing on the coach and didn’t go back with the team, which was kind of nice.
We both agreed we should probably stop after the weekend was over. So after film, she came over Sunday night for a couple rounds.
It hasn’t really slowed down. After adding each other on social medias, we’ve been talking more. She came over last night and we have plans for dinner tonight, too.
I’m compromising a lot with the job at the paper. I’ve got a lot to lose, while she doesn’t too much. But she doesn’t seem like a vengeful type. I guess we’ll wait and see.
If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I got a little rushed because of work and skimped on some details. If you’re interested in more, shoot me a DM and I’m happy to chat!
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/dm6pb4/breaking_ethical_norms_for_fun_with_an
She sounds like a little hottie, how about some pics of her