tagLesbian SexPost-Game Social

Post-Game Social

byscrummie©

(If you're looking for straight up, well "straight up", lesbian sex this doesn't have it. They say you should write about what you know, so here goes. All of the terms (scrumhalf, prop, center, lock) are rugby positions.)

*

I love this part. The part where you can feel the alcohol moving in your veins, the part when the music gets a touch louder and the lights dim. Everyone has started to forget the aches of the game and the fact that the other team's prop threw a punch at our scrumhalf. The bad feelings have been left behind and in their place are the music and the press of strong female bodies. These are women who dance without thought, they move for their pleasure and their partner's pleasure, whoever she happens to be. And people are paring up. The couples on the teams usually go first, with the singles looking on at each other, sizing each other up. Will it be the center who knocked with wind out of you with her tackle or the lock with the big hands?

Those are my questions as the music throbs. We're all still sweaty from the game and the smell in the room is pungent and earthy. It is the smell of aroused women; the smell of women who love being physical in as many ways as possible. The singles are moving closer to each other now; we eye each other and notice the details that the uniforms obscured. I see the center moving towards me, she's got the broad shoulders and strong legs that never cease to arouse me. I make eye contact, hold it for one second and then look away, all the while dancing closer to her. Moving my hips to the pounding bass, I close my eyes and revel in the feel of my body's motion; willing the center to do the same.

She obliges, as when I open my eyes she's in front of me. Again, there is eye contact; this time permission is asked and answered all in a heartbeat. It's an exchange that we're all familiar with, the assurance that rejection won't come as soon as a move is made. Our hips move closer together; we keep our arms apart for a second, both of us are holding beers anyways. She's the taller of us and quickly moves her thigh in between mine; we're too close to meet eyes now but it doesn't matter. The heat between us, the heat starting between my thighs, is enough. For now.

The song ends and the music pauses for a second as the old system finds a new song to titillate us with. None of us has the funding for a good sound system, as always, we make do. We take the pause to finish our beers, and when the music starts again I pull her closer. Again, her thigh is between mine, but this time I've got a hand on her waist. The feel of her body is amazing; I make the first move and slide a hand down to her ass. She sucks in her breath and runs her hands up and down my sides. Not quite touching my breasts, not quiet reaching my hips; just enough motion to make me squirm and press myself against her. Her thigh is still between mine and I've long been grinding on her. I'm still lightly rubbing her ass as she leans in to kiss me.

Her lips are chapped from the sun and the wind; they feel rough and exciting on mine. I kiss her back, letting my tongue slip in there. That gets a reaction as she pulls me against her even harder. My reaction has me pressing even harder against her thigh; I feel like I could come just from the friction of it all. Her hands are still moving, although they're ever closer to my breasts, she still teases me.

We're still on the dance floor, my teammates looking on with amusement and approval. I bask in that approval, the recognition that a sweaty, dirty woman wearing a tank top and rugby shorts can be beautiful beyond measure. To us, my tall, athletic center is gorgeous. She may have kicked my ass on the field, but now she's turned from a ferocious beast into a sexual angel, moving seductively in my arms. Her lips never leaving mine.

The night is fickle, however; I know our options are limited. We could be naked within five minutes or her car might have to leave within two. I still don't know her name. Right now, though, it doesn't matter. The music is still throbbing, her leg is still burning between mine and her ass is still shifting beneath my hands. Her kisses are still sweet and I let the joy of the moment take over.

Did I mention I love this part?

(As always, constructive criticism is appreciated.)

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