Mike and I were in the same fraternity back in college and always ran with the same crowd, though we weren’t exactly friends. We’d partied together many times through the years and were part of a group that gets together for boys weekends once or twice a year. He’s always been a stud and I’d heard plenty of stories about the way his fat dick makes the bitches go crazy, but he never gave any indication that he knew anything about my slut side. Now that he’s a married dad, I had given up on anything ever happening with mike.
This weekend was one of these boys trips. About 8 of use met up for a weekend of football, baseball, drinking and bullshit. Found myself hanging with mike more and more through the weekend, especially around the hotel pool. Dude has always been hot, but his hairy chest and emerging dad bod were making my fantasies run wild. I was working hard to keep my newfound lust for him in check.
Most of the guys headed out Sunday, but I was staying in town for business and mikes flight got delayed. Next thing I knew, mike was asking to crash at my hotel ahead of a flight out this morning. I jumped at the chance. We stayed up too late watching football and drinking and when he passed out in my king sized bed fully dressed, I figured fantasizing about mike was as good as it was going to get. I thought about stroking off or maybe trying to cop a feel of his bulge while he slept, but decided to be good and go to sleep.
Somewhere in the night, I was vaguely aware that mike woke up. I heard him taking a piss, heard a belt hit the floor, and felt the bed shift as he climbed back in, but went back to sleep without much more thought.
I’m not sure how much later it was that I awoke to a moan. Mike and I were spooning and he was pushing a massive, rock hard dick against my ass. He was grabbing my ass through my boxers with one hand and pulling me back into him with the other, grinding against me. Then I heard the moan again. It was me. And then I heard the deep manly laugh in my ear as he pulled my boxers down below my bubble ass.
As I lifted my ass to let him get my boxers off, he rolled me over face down and climbed on top in one move. His massive dick was buried between my ass cheeks, grinding and searching for my tight pucker. Some spit in his hand and one smooth move later, and his dick head was pressing, trying to fight its way into my tight hole. Unconsciously, I lifted my ass to meet his thrust. He laughed again and said “say please”. I could barely form the words with his weight pressing me into the mattress, but I managed to whisper “please, bro” just as he sunk into me all the way to the balls.
I screamed out in pleasure and pain as I was stretched to my limit with nothing but spit to ease his entry. In no time, he’d worked up to an incredible rhythm as my hole gripped his massive cock. He pulled my ass up and back so that he was pummeling my prostate. It was clear that mine was not the first ass mike had fucked–he knew exactly how to make my pussy sing for him. As I felt him on top of me, chest heaving, biting my neck and saying fuck yes in my ear over and over, I couldn’t help but cum. I didnt even have the words to warn him, but he felt my ass contract and grip him even tighter. Two more massive plunges right into my prostate and I felt my reward as his dick swelled and coated my insides with his incredible load.
I lay there panting in a puddle of my own fag cum as he fell asleep on top of me, dick inside me and his hand on my ass. He was gone when I woke up, but I’ve got three faint bite marks on my neck and back that will remind me what a slut I am all week. Just hope they fade before I head home on Wednesday.
You don't want to date a footballer? I call bullshit! You would like every other girl.
Anon, my friend, sit down and let me tell ya something:
No I wouldn’t date one, because a) I’m happily married and b) (let’s pretend I’m not for a sec) I don’t want to give up my freedom. I don’t want to have to be perfect every minute of the day whenever i step out of the house. I want to have the freedom to look like a slob/ hair not done/ no makeup while shopping or w.e…I don’t want yo see my fugly face all over the interwebs, I don’t want to be photographed wherever go. I want to not move every few years because he changes clubs. I don’t want to live out of a suitcase because he plays all over Europe in a season. I don’t want to follow him around period. And the main thing: I don’t want to have to put up with stupid ass girls, who think they would be a much better gf and spew hate 24/7 because they don’t like my nose or whatever;
Watching my college team on TV instead of being at the game and with the band has made me quite upset and not just because I’m not there.
The band, cheerleaders, and dance team are not represented at all. I know they all work just as hard, if not harder, than EMU’s football team.
But CBS Sports Network would rather show old guys talk about football at half time than showing the bands half time show. I don’t think they realize how much audience they could actually gain from doing this. I would watch football way more if it meant seeing the band.
Also, the dance team and cheerleaders do great routines and deserved to be shown more.
If you’re going to broadcast football, shouldn’t you broadcast the whole game day experience? Who decided that the actual football was the only enjoyable/important part of game day?
Let me break down what’s going to happen now, because we all know IT SEEMS TO KEEP FUCKING HAPPENING EVERY WEEK LIKE A POS FORMULAIC SITCOM:
There will be a vigil (which should totally fucking happen)
The news will pass off blame and start ‘priming’ the cop b/c they’re fucking horrible and blame it all on the kid (which I fucking see now)
deray (fucking all of Black Twitter, let’s be honest) on Twitter gloriously dropping knowledge in a fucking awesome manner (which i see already)
Some white guy (almost definitely a Republican) will say something horrible
Let’s be honest, some white person will DEFINITELY post/tag this on social media and say ‘All Lives Matter’ and/or prove some other way that they are a racist short of throwing up a sign above their heads saying saying ‘I AM A RACIST’
Fox News WILL say something dumb as fuck
The white cop will get tons of money from donors
Someone on Twitter (probably also Black Twitter) will do more CSI/detective work than the actual police ever will
Someone from Comedy Central/HBO will be more upset about this than all of the news stations put together.
Bernie Sanders will probably at some point say something about it before any other candidate will or at some point before the month is out
Someone will get on television and have a public press conference asking for peace
Anybody else want to name some other shit that will happen bc I’m fucking done
Louis was wearing the matching shoes that Harry had bought for himself and Louis. It’s almost like he wore those yesterday before his match to say, “He can’t be with me today, but the idea of him can.”
We have a lot that we need to do to be prepared for next summer…Everybody knows the importance of this tournament…I think a lot is riding on this tournament, and i know this team does so well under pressure but at this late of a stage in the game, you know we could have been preparing for many years now…I think we are gonna get right down to the nitty gritty…I don’t think we are going to win the world cup without proper team defense. Everybody knows the U.S team is going to score goals…We need to play better as a team defensively…Right now it’s simply not good enough…
Why DON’T we need a women’s team? We are basically the ONLY major world-wide club that doesn’t have one for starters, clearly showing how misogynist our board is.
Even fucking Rayo Vallecano and Levante have a women’s team.
We are behind our biggest rivals in modernism. Barcelona and fucking Atleti have women’s team. There is no damn excuse as to why we don’t. Just pure bullshit.
Now, do we need a women’s team? Well, do you want to be continued to be seen as that misogynist team? Do you want to be behind the likes of our biggest rivals? We have always been ahead of the curve in our fucking history, and now we are behind in a crucial aspect. We need to get this whole “football isn’t for girls” bullshit taken care of within our club. What Ancelotti said accurately describes our whole club at the moment and it’s sickening.
Perez claims to be concerned with finding our next Spanish wonderstars or whatever for Spain’s NT. What about the womens NT? We are basically GIFTING Barcelona and Atletico talented women players for the Spanish Women’s NT. We can not fall behind in this. If we need to represent our history as always being the trend setter.
I skimmed this, but it seemed to explain everything I want to say. So please read this: (x)
Luke knows it’s wrong. He knows he shouldn’t have feelings for Esme. Because she’s 15 and he’s 18 and that’s basically illegal. And he feels like a pedophile because he’s technically an adult and she’s still a minor but he can’t help it.
He doesn’t want to feel this way. He just does. And if Calum found out, well, Calum would kill him if he knew Luke had a thing for his sister.
Sexual tension sucks. Especially when it’s filling every single void between Luke and Esme. And it sucks because Luke thinks everyone can feel it. Even Calum, who’s sitting next to him at the restaurant they’re in. Across from Luke is Esme, and next to her is Ashton. They decided to go out for Ashton’s birthday and they’re in a super high-class place (because now that Ashton’s twenty he thinks he’s mature or something.)
So Luke’s got his phone out, as does the rest of the table, and he’s scrolling through Instagram, when he feels a kick on his leg. He jumps a little and looks up at Esme. She’s got this little fucking smile on her face and she won’t look at Luke. She also won’t move her foot, so it’s just sitting there on his foot, but he doesn’t mind.
He puts on his best “I’m so not in love” face, and goes back to Instagram.
When he looks up from his phone to grab his drink from the waitress, he feels the kick again. He jolts and almost drops his drink, and Esme’s still got that little smile on (and Luke really wants to kiss it off her face). He tries to glare at her, but he can’t. So he just stares at her. Luckily, Calum jumps in to save him.
“Did you guys see that football game today?” he asked. He always got so excited over football and his mates couldn’t help but feel bad, because he’s with them and not playing. But he always insists that he’s living his dream.
“No, Cal. You know I don’t like football,” Ashton groans.
“Bullshit,” Calum calls. “You don’t like FIFA. I could so get you into soccer.”
“I saw the game," Esme says, her small voice contrasting with the older boys’.
"What? I didn’t know you liked soccer,” Luke says, his mouth open wide. Did it suddenly get hot in here or is it just Esme?
“I mean, I’ve played football for basically all of my life,” she explains, and Luke thinks he’s dying. Either that, or he’s already dead and has gone to heaven. Her name will be written on his tombstone (either under cause of death or wife. He hopes wife).
“That’s awesome. I wish I could play. I know everything about that game, inside and out, but I can’t play to save my life.” Luke glances over at Calum, to see that he’s engrossed in his phone, as is Ashton. So much for classy.
“I think that it’s your legs. You’re like 8 feet tall. No human should reach that height ever," Esme says. Luke groans.
"First, no human has reached that height ever. Because I’m like, 6 foot or something. Which isn’t even that tall. Secondly, I was playing ball with your brother over there, who just so happens to be the same height as me, and my legs were no issue,” Luke rants. Esme rolls her eyes and Calum finally looks up from his phone and over at Luke.
“Mate, I am nowhere near the same height as you. You’re like a whole foot taller than me,” Calum says before turning back to his phone.
“No I’m not!” Luke shouts, loud enough to get Ashton’s attention, but quiet enough to not disrupt everyone around them.
Then, he feels the pressure on his leg move upwards just a bit. He looks over at Esme and swallows. Esme doesn’t look back at him, just at her brother.
“So, about that game today,” she starts.
A/N: hey so I was gonna make this into a fanfic okay but idk. Also, you can request imagines and crap in my ask, and feedback would definitely be appreciated.
Hello friends! I decided to make a follow forever not for any particular reason,just to show you my appreciation I guess.If you’re not included in this I’m sorry I probably forgot about you or we don’t interact enough or something. Thanks for following me darlings (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ
In case you have never heard of the World Championship of American Football (which is entirely likely), we must begin your introduction by stressing that it is not the same thing as the Super Bowl. The Super Bowl is a three-hour beer and soda commercial starring flaccid old rock stars and the occasional female rapper. The World Championship of American Football is the world championship of football (the type that is played in America).
It’s been held every four years since 1999, making it just as storied a tradition as the World Cup, which is the world championship of that silly bullshit football they play in Europe. The series is organized by the International Federation of American Football (IFAF), whose 64 members include countries like Kuwait and Moldova (which we’re pretty sure was one of the sovereign territories of Vigo from Ghostbusters 2). The organization is also based in France, because as Euro Disney has unquestionably proven, France is the greatest place to put transplanted American culture.
the christmas holidays aren’t the same without you here. it’s my third christmas without you and i still expect you to come bursting through the door, making a grand entrance just like you always do. how stupid of me. every time i see fathers and daughters, i’m reminded that that will never be you and me anymore. all i want for christmas is for you to come home. but i know that’s impossible. i still don’t understand why god called you home so soon, but maybe it was for the best. it doesn’t feel like it, but i can’t exactly fight god on his plan. what i would do to hear your laugh again, to see you smile again, to have you and me get into a petty fight about dumb football bullshit again. what i would do to have you here with me, my sister, and my mom again. i just wish you were here to celebrate the happiest time of the year with our family again just one last time.
i’ll see you again one day, dad, but i wish “one day” could be today. merry christmas. i love you. ❤️