tagRomanceDon't Ever Give Up Ch. 02

Don't Ever Give Up Ch. 02

bySpotInTheSand©

Note: Special thanks go out to my two regular editors, LilTexasSexFiend and AnInsatiableReader, for making this infinitely better than it was when I first wrote it. As always, let me know what you think, through voting, comments or private feedback. All three works too! ;-) As I said, this story will go up with one chapter posting daily until it's all uploaded, so don't get too mad about the cliffhangers. Enjoy!

**********************

"You know, I heard a rumor somewhere.. someone said you were a psychologist."

Tim had been buried in evaluations and player files for more than three hours now, so when he heard J.T.'s voice outside his office at the RBC Center, it came as a welcome break.

"Yeah," Tim said, looking up briefly before getting back to his files. "Someone definitely peddled you some bullshit on that one."

J.T. chose to ignore him. Why should today be different from any other day, Tim thought?

"I mean, I see the degree on your wall," J.T. said, striding into Tim's small-ish office and stopping by the Doctorate in Sports Psychology degree he'd received from N.C. State, which he'd framed and hung on the wall between movie posters from Die Hard and Lethal Weapon 3. J.T. pretended to study it - Tim pretended to listen to him.

"And I know all these pro and college teams pay you to talk to their players.. convince them that the world isn't really out to get them, just the other team's 6-foot-6, 400-pound defensive tackle. Personally, I'd take the world, but what do I know? You're the one with the degree and the fancy title."

Sometimes, J.T. got to the point. And sometimes, Tim thought, his best friend took the scenic route.

"You got a point in all this, Mr. Drama Queen, or is this your way of warming me up with senseless rambling before the people I'm paid to work with start showing up?"

"You really haven't figured this out yet, have you?" J.T. responded.

"Apparently not, but I'm sure you're going to enlighten me," Tim said.

"Julia's best friend sleeps next to me every night," J.T. said, catching Tim's attention with that. J.T. plopped down into a chair in front of Tim's desk before continuing.

"Now, you and I, we're men," J.T. continued. "We don't really do the gossip thing. Instinctively, we know there are things we're meant to understand - football, beer, James Bond, the Xbox 360, the G-spot. We also know there are things we're not supposed to understand, and when we come across one of these things, we don't bother each other with the details. We simply move on, secure in the knowledge that if it's not related to one of those things I just listed, and we don't understand it... well, it's probably not that important anyway. Am I right?"

Tim grinned. "You certainly seem to think so, and who am I to tell you otherwise?"

"Now," J.T. continued, almost as if his last question was rhetorical. "Women... women are different, my dear Timothy. They have to analyze everything. Anytime something happens that doesn't sit 100% perfectly right in their mind, conference calls are organized, book clubs meet, and long... loooooong... male-bashing sessions occur."

"English, Einstein."

J.T. finally looked up at Tim. "You want Layman's terms? Fine. You can't get past Leira, and you can't stop taking it out on Julia. You don't understand why you do it, neither do I, but we're men. We don't talk about it."

Tim was pretty sure where this was going. He simply waited.

"Last night, you treated Julia like she was some cheap piece of ass you picked up at the campus bookstore, and still, she acts like you're the greatest thing on the planet with a penis and two testicles. She doesn't understand why you do that, and she doesn't understand why she lets you, but she's a woman. Three seconds after she locked your door, she was on the phone with my fiancée."

Tim nodded. "Here's my question, though, J.T.," he began. "Does something exist out there that has a penis but not two testicles?"

"Yes," J.T. said. "His name is Lance Armstrong. You know - really thin mother fucker, usually wears a lot of yellow in France in the summertime, used to bang the shit out of Sheryl Crow. You ask me, that guy should have both nuts, and we should take one of yours away."

Most people don't laugh when someone lands a pretty deep insult. Most people aren't being insulted by J.T. Lancaster, Tim thought. He laughed out loud.

"I would think just having one would make it easier to ride that damned bike though," Tim said. "See? Here you go trying to make the world a better place, and you're gonna fuck up Lance Armstrong's chances of winning the Tour de France next summer."

"Tim - "

"Stay out of it, J.T.," Tim said.

"Just listen, man," J.T. said, but Tim stood up and turned his back on J.T.

"Julia called Sheila. Not you," Tim said. "Julia didn't tell you about it, and neither did I. I believe that officially makes this none of your business."

"Yeah, but we're talking now," J.T. tried.

"It look like I'm in the mood to talk about this?" Tim fired back. J.T. tried a couple of answers out in his head, but apparently none of them fit, because nothing came out of his mouth. Satisfied his friend wasn't going to respond, Tim turned back around and took his seat. He looked down at the files on his desk, but didn't really see them. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence - a rare thing for two people who'd known each other for almost 10 years like Tim and J.T. - J.T. finally stood up.

"We still on to shoot some hoops tonight?"

"5:30 here, right?"

"That's the plan," J.T. said. "What do you have tomorrow?"

"Trip up to Richmond," Tim replied. "The pharmaceutical merger deal. Think it's Sheila's dad's company, but he's not on the manifest."

"Ah, yeah," J.T. said. "It's his company, but he and Sheila's mom are in Acapulco right now. You have to stop somewhere first, right?"

"Yeah," Tim continued. "Start here with four execs, head down to Wilmington to pick up another passenger, then up to R-I-C," he finished, using Richmond International Airport's three-letter FAA identifier.

"They have pharmaceutical executives in Wilmington?"

"I'm sure they do," Tim replied, "but I'm pretty sure that's not who we're going to get."

J.T. looked the question at Tim.

"One of the executive's girlfriends," he finished. "More to the point, one of the married executives' mistresses."

J.T. smirked. "Nice."

"Yeah," Tim agreed, at least with his voice. "But, if they're paying, I'll fly wherever they want me to. Gonna be up there three days, so we're just dropping them off. Have some other passengers from Richmond that are coming down for the Panthers game, so flying them to Charlotte, then leaving the G5 there for a charter Wednesday morning. I think Steve and Brenda have to take it to New Orleans. Anyway, Max is my co-pilot tomorrow. We'll rent a car and drive back."

Max, Steve and Brenda were three of the 15 or so pilots employed by MHC, Inc., an air charter company started and run by Howard Lancaster, J.T.'s father. Now in his early 60s, Howard was mostly the symbolic head of the company. He was still the official CEO and ran board meetings and such, but J.T. handled day-to-day operations now. Tim worked for MHC on a "when-able" basis - one of the perks of a long friendship with the VP of Operations - but to his credit, he flew for J.T. whenever he could. N.C. State's football team had a bye week this weekend and the Panthers didn't need him until Thursday, so he had a couple of days free.

Tim's relationship with MHC had proven to be mutually beneficial. MHC handled air travel for North Carolina State sports, the Carolina Panthers NFL team, the Charlotte Bobcats NBA team and the Carolina Hurricanes NHL squad, which were the same four teams Tim worked for. Tim had brought two of those teams into the arrangement, and Howard Lancaster had delivered the other two. Throughout his doctoral studies, Tim worked for the N.C. State athletic department, and he also picked up an internship with the Hurricanes, who played their home games in Raleigh. When he finished his studies, both teams hired him on full-time, and he convinced both N.C. State and the Hurricanes that it would be cheaper to let MHC handle their travel needs. MHC had handled travel for the Bobcats and Panthers, both based in Charlotte, since both teams had come into existence, and when Tim was fully licensed, Howard had introduced Tim to the owners of both teams. It was a pretty convenient relationship, to have the team psychoanalyst also fly the plane. Plus, Tim worked out a discount with all four organizations.

"You know, I still think it's hilarious, the name of your company," Tim said.

"MHC?" J.T. replied

"What it stands for," Tim answered. "I mean, if you'd started it, then the name Mile High Club, Incorporated, wouldn't shock me a bit. In fact, I'd only be shocked that the name didn't come with a XXX-rated logo. But your dad started the company."

"Named it after something he enjoyed," J.T. said. "How do you think I was conceived?"

"Too much information," Tim protested, but they'd had this conversation a few times before. They were both mostly kidding. The work conversation over now, J.T. stood up.

"We still planning on some boating Wednesday?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Tim answered.

"Cool." J.T. walked to the door, but when he got there, he turned back around and faced Tim. Tim had already turned his attention back to his patients' files, but J.T. waited silently for Tim to pull his eyes back up. Eventually, he did.

"She's not going to accept being your fuckbuddy forever, Tim."

Before Tim could respond, J.T. was in the hallway.

********

Jack Daniels has a lot of power. It can make the most hideous girl look like Megan Fox in a bikini. It can make the whitest of white nerds think they could make it on Dancing With The Stars. It can make picking up the phone at 3 a.m. on a weekend and telling your boss' voicemail exactly what you think of him seem like a great idea.

Despite all that, though, Jack Daniels was never taught how to talk. So Tim thought it was quite odd that he was peering down into his glass of Jack and Coke as if it would provide some sort of answer to any of the questions coursing through his mind.

He was sitting out on the deck in a lounge chair. He'd pulled the cover off the hot tub, and had started it up. He was sure he and Julia would use it later. It was only 8 p.m., and the evening humidity was casting a thick blanket over everything. The sun would go down fully within half an hour, and that would really cool things down.

Despite his lunchtime talk with J.T., Tim was still pissed at himself for what he'd done the night before. Tim knew J.T. wasn't too thrilled with him either - J.T. had been a little more physical than usual with him during their pick-up basketball game, and since he stood 6-foot-3 and weighed close to 250 pounds, he was generally pretty damn physical anyway. Tim had been unable to get Julia and what he'd done off his mind all day, and if J.T. had gotten in his face about it while they were both showering after the game, Tim figured he might have broken down and told his best friend everything. Instead, J.T. had just finalized their plans to do a little boating on Wednesday and headed home.

Even as he'd gone up the stairs last night, leaving Julia splayed out on the island in the middle of his kitchen, he'd known he was being a first-rate asshole - the kind of man he'd promised his mother he'd never be. He had half-expected to hear the front door slamming as Julia left, and he'd have been the last person breathing to blame her. But after about 10 minutes, he'd heard her soft footsteps climbing the stairs. He didn't even want to face her, but he rolled over onto his back and met her eyes as she opened the bedroom door. She'd carefully closed the door, and just stood there. When she spoke, there was steel in her voice that Tim had only heard her use a couple of times before, and never in his direction.

"Don't ever do that to me again."

"I won't."

She'd simply nodded and then headed into the bathroom to take a shower. He waited 20 minutes, until finally, she'd come back into the bedroom. The shower was still running, and her stunning body was dripping water all over the carpet.

"Are you coming?"

Tim had planned to wait for her to come back, but he quickly joined her in the shower. He hadn't been able to get off again - Julia certainly gave it a game effort on her knees for 15 minutes in the shower, but he was already pretty mad at himself, and he couldn't do it. Eventually, he'd just pulled her to her feet and fucked her to two more orgasms under the hot spray.

Nearly an hour after she'd come to get him, Julia had begged him to stop. He'd complied, and by the time he'd finished brushing his teeth, she was asleep in his bed. He'd gone down the hall and crashed in one of the guest rooms like he always did when Julia stayed over, and she was still out like a light when he'd woken up for his morning run. When he'd returned, her car was gone. She'd already brewed a pot of coffee and had taken some with her when she left. She'd left a note for him, telling him she'd come by when she got off work.

Still, apparently, she'd been upset enough with what he'd done to call Sheila and tell her all about it.

Tim was more than ready to continue beating himself up, but he heard the faint sounds of his front door closing downstairs. A few moments later, the glass door connecting the deck to his bedroom opened.

Before he heard or saw Julia, he smelled her perfume. She always wore it - never so much that it overpowered you, but enough that you'd remember her for a while if you were at all attracted to women.

"Sitting all alone with your thoughts tonight?" she asked, taking a seat on the edge of the hot tub.

"And some damn terrible company they make, too," he replied, smiling at her. "You want a drink?"

"I'm good," she said. "I don't need to be drunk to have sex with you. You, on the other hand..."

She motioned to the glass in his hand.

"Yeah, right," he said. Julia was grinning from ear to ear. "You know better. Just trying to decompress from a long day."

"I think... I might be able to help with that," she said, sliding off the hot tub and walking toward him.

"Yeah?" he replied. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I think it would be easier to show you, don't you?"

He didn't answer; he simply watched as Julia dropped to her knees in front of him, making quick work of his belt and zipper. Less than two minutes after she'd come outside, she had his dick buried in her mouth.

"Jesus, Jules," Tim said. "You do that so well."

"You taught me," she replied, and went back to bobbing up and down on his cock. She was right - when they'd first begun this arrangement, Julia hadn't been very good at blowjobs. She was raised Southern Baptist, and that meant nothing besides strict missionary position, and even then, only after marriage. By the time she got over that, she was in college and had found the one male in America who matched the strict ideals she'd just given up - he wouldn't let her go down on him. Tim always thought he should track down this person and revoke his man card - anyone who turns down a blowjob from a woman as hot as Julia Waters didn't deserve to share a species with Tim.

Anyway, she had stayed with the dumbass throughout the rest of her undergraduate program, and she'd taken a year off of men after that ended. There had been a couple other guys, but by the time she and Tim began hooking up, she still didn't have a lot of experience in the oral department.

Even a year and a half ago, though, what she'd lacked in ability, she more than made up for in enthusiasm. Tim was more than willing to guide her and help her learn what he liked and didn't like, and now that she knew what she was doing, that enthusiasm simply made her one of the best he'd ever been with.

Julia constantly made eye contact with Tim as she systematically moved her mouth up and down on his rod. He grabbed a handful of her dark hair in either hand and simulated fucking her face. In reality, he was controlling the tempo a little bit, but not enough that Julia wouldn't be able to stop if he started thrusting too deep.

There was no such thing as too deep tonight, however. Sometimes, she struggled to take him down her throat, but tonight wasn't one of those times. She was sliding his cock as far back as it would go with relative ease, and Tim knew he was getting close.

"Stop for a sec, babe," Tim said, and started working on her dress even before she started to pull back. It was probably a different brown dress than she'd worn yesterday, but it looked exactly the same. Within 10 seconds, it was laying in a pile underneath Julia's knees, leaving her only wearing a black thong and a matching sheer bra. Nice touch, Tim noted.

As her lips engulfed his dick once more, he reached around to her back and disposed of her bra. After rubbing her back for a minute - something she loved anytime, whether there was sex involved or not - he reached around her arms and grabbed what he could of her breasts, pawing at them and squeezing them.

"You want to fuck my titties, baby?" Julia asked, pulling off his cock.

"I'm pretty sure I've never said no to that," he replied, and with that, his dick was sandwiched between Julia's beautiful C-cup breasts. "Oh, God, your tits feel awesome wrapped around my dick."

"I know," she replied. "You just love feeling your hard dick in between these nice, big, natural titties, don't you?"

Tim groaned a positive response. He hadn't told her much about his past - nothing specifically about Leira - but he had complained several times about women he'd dated that had surgically enhanced themselves, Leira included. Julia knew that of all the things he liked about her body, the fact that all of it was hers was probably his favorite thing, so she used that often when talking dirty.

Julia pressed her tits together, providing a nice deep tunnel to slide Tim's cock in and out of. He couldn't really fuck her tits while sitting down, but she was more than willing to do most of the work. Every so often, she leaned down to take him back in her mouth, lubing him up so he would slide more easily between her breasts.

She was pushing him to the brink again, so Tim pulled her up and turned her to the side. She stood to the right side of the chair and bent over the arm, taking his cock back in her mouth. He pulled her thong to one side and roughly thrust two fingers into her pussy.

"Oh, baby, I'm already so wet, just from sucking this cock," she cried out, but he didn't pay attention - he just kept sawing his fingers in and out of her pussy. She groaned, and the extra vibrations around his dick drove him wild.

They continued like that for five or 10 more minutes, until Julia had a mini-orgasm and soaked Tim's fingers.

"You ready to get fucked?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Out here?" she asked, nodding.

"No," Tim said, taking Julia's hand and pulling her inside the house. She thought they were headed toward the bed, but he spun her around and pushed her up against the glass of the huge window. He quickly removed her thong.

"Holy fuck, this window is cold, Tim," she complained.

"I figured," he replied, bending his knees low enough to place the tip of his dick against her lips. "Let's warm it up, shall we?"

Without waiting for a response, he thrust his hips forward, sinking himself into Julia's sopping pussy with one stroke. With his right palm on her back, he pressed her upper body flat against the window as he stroked in and out of her pussy. She had her back arched enough that he could still get a good angle into her pussy, but anyone who was looking would get a nice view of Julia's breasts pressed flat against the glass.

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