The Interview

She looked up at me with the kind of eye contact that every man dreams of -- half-lidded with desire and with an expression that seemed to ache with the need to engulf my cock with her lips. "I picked you because you have a nice ass, and great legs. And I really like this leg." And then she went to work.

The feeling was exquisite. It had been a long time since I'd gotten any, and I'd never felt anything like this in my entire life. Everything she did was designed to send me through the roof without actually exploding -- the licking, the sucking, the tongue swirling around the glans and the head, the sight of her head bobbing then stopping. When she stopped I let out a small cry, then cried out again when she began to lick and suck on my balls. She then shifted back to the shaft itself. Bobbing once, twice, then stopping.

I couldn't believe it, then I realized she knew exactly what she was doing, and what state she'd left me in. I was amazed, because I realized I'd left her shaking in the same physical state just moments before. She gave me a small smile, and then I smiled back.

"I guess we're getting back to talking football, aren't we?" I asked.

"That's right," she said. "There's still work to do here." She grabbed her camera, and we walked back shakily into the locker room itself. My dick was still stiff as a board, and I could see her erect nipples and see the juices glistening in her trimmed pubic hair. This one was tough, and I knew this whole experience could be epic. She stopped, turned, and took a picture of me, erection and all. "Probably won't make the story. This one's for me."

"You bet it is," I answered.

She took a deep breath. "Let's talk a little more football, shall we? What makes you such a great defensive lineman? Show me some of your moves."

"There's a better place for it than here. Let's go into the trainer's room. There are mirrors there so you can see exactly what I'm doing and all the little nuances that go into things."

The trainer's room had a cabinet on the wall opposite the door. To the right was a padded trainer's table, with mirrors affixed to all four walls opposite the table to give the trainer the reverse angle on what he was doing when taping ankles or doing a treatment for an injury. For what I had in mind, it was perfect. She brought in her recorder and her camera and put them on the trainer's table and within easy reach.

We stood in a good size area alongside the table, about six feet on each side. Seeing her naked from every angle in each of the mirrors was amazing. I had to focus hard getting things right, and believe you me, it wasn't easy to do.

"You'll be the offensive lineman in this demonstration, okay? Stand with your feet apart, just a little wider than shoulder width and bend forward a little at the waist." I could see her pussy lips, wet and red, in the reflection in the mirror behind her. Very distracting. "Now you can see where height is not necessarily good for me. O-linemen try to mess up my legs and feet. Going down gives them leverage."

She smiled and said "Like this?" and grabbed my dick and started stroking.

"Not exactly," I said, "but you can see how that gives YOU leverage here, right?' She nodded and dropped to her knees, trying to go down on me. I took a quick step back. "And that has to be my response. Getting my legs tangled takes me out of the play. Trust me, that was not easy to do." She laughed again. Now, stand back up and get into that stance again. Nice looking stance."

"This is where thick matters more than anything else. Offensive linemen aren't allowed to use their hands to grab, but they do anyway. Lean forward with your fists clenched and lean into me keeping your legs in the proper stance." She did, and then I leaned into her. "I'm allowed to use my hands to grab and pretty much do anything I like." That's when I put my hands on her tits. "More than a handful helps in all kinds of ways." I pinched her nipples and she slapped at my hands.

"That's right. That's one of the moves offensive linemen can use legally. Of course, I don't grab them like that."

"Glad to hear it. So why did you grab me like that?"

"Because you have great tits. Okay, back to football. It's a run play now. My job is to keep them from running it through inside gaps. This is where being thick comes into play. My job is to fill that hole, and the thicker I am, the more thoroughly the hole is filled. So my job is to use my size to fuck 'em completely. I love doing it, too. You understand that concept?"

She smiled and looked down at my dick. "I get that idea TOTALLY. In fact, I agree that that's the best way to go. No doubt about it. And I have no doubt that you're really, really good at that."

"But this is indoor football, and the pass is king here. But that gives me the really sexy stat. We're talking about getting sacks now. The term 'sack' was invented by an old-time NFL star named Deacon Jones. He figured tackling the quarterback for a loss was the same as an ancient army sacking a city. It fits. You'll play the part of the quarterback in this demonstration."

"So now what you're working on is getting me in the sack, in a manner of speaking," she said with a smile, shaking her titties at me.

"That's a really good way of putting it. That is exactly what I have in mind. You ready?"

"I am more than ready. Show me your moves."

"Okay, first turn and face the table. Now act like you're holding football and looking to throw it. That means you put your right foot back, squaring your body to me right here." She turned, and I dropped down to my knees and corrected her stance, turning her feet to a 45 degree angle, and running my hand up her thigh and brushing her pussy in the process. She slapped my hand away and said I was a bad boy. I agreed.

"The idea is to get around the blocker and tackle the quarterback. When I'm coming from this side, you can see me. That gives you a chance to throw it away before I can hit you. You don't get many sacks this way because the guy has too much warning. Follow me so far?"

"That makes sense. Go on."

"Okay, the secret to getting a sack is to overwhelm him. And the best way to do that is to come from the blind side." I walked around her to get to that blind side. Of course, she could see me in the mirror, but you get the idea. "Now the quarterback can't see me coming. He might sense it, but he has to worry about what he can see, if there's someone open the throw the ball to, stuff like that.

"He's in what they call the pocket, the area of safety his blockers have created for him. The secret to getting a sack like this is what is called penetration. I have to penetrate the area of safety to get to the quarterback. You get the idea of penetration?"

"I most certainly do. Penetration. Yes. I like the way you're describing this. Penetration."

"All right, I'm going to make the move and show you what I'm talking about. Assume your position."

I took two steps back. She brought her hands up in front of her shapely chest and stood there. I then took three steps, grabbed her around her upper arms, trapping them against her and pushed her to the training table. While doing that, I held my left foot inside her left leg and forced it to the outside. Suddenly she found herself bent over the table with her legs spread. That's when I did the real penetration -- with my dick, sliding it into her sopping wet pussy as she was bent forward at the waist. She let out a small cry and pushed backwards against my pelvis.

"Now you know what I mean by penetration." She gasped again as I partially withdrew, then suddenly plunged deeper inside her and began to rock back and forth, sliding inside her sopping snatch. She was pinned to the table, but managed to rock back against me, in time to my thrusts.

"Do you like how I'm sacking you," I said, as I continued to drive into her, deeper with each movement. She began to gasp in rhythm to our movements.

"Yes. Yes. Deep. Oh."

The feeling was electric. My dick filled her completely, and I felt every single muscle in her tight, wet pussy. The sensations were like none I'd ever felt before. It was almost magic, like I was home, even for the first time. Our parts fit together like they were supposed to be a matched set all along, an ageless pairing that should have happened long ago and that was destined to be. There was nothing else I could compare it to. It was a level of sexual ecstacy that I never knew existed.

As I continued to thrust, I managed to reach over and grab the camera off of the table. I looked up at the mirrors surrounding our coupling, and the tableau was incredible. Everywhere I looked, in every single direction was the vision of our increasingly frenzied joining, not distorted like a funhouse mirror, but multiplied in vision that matched the incredible sensations that I was feeling. It felt as if the dozen different scenes were all real and all transmitting the vibrations, heightening what I was experiencing by a factor of 12. The look on her face matched the expression on my own. It was almost like being in another world.

My hand was on top of the camera, with the bottom of the device on the table. I pushed the shutter; it flashed and took an image of the mirrors. I didn't stop as I leaned over and said "Do you see what I'm seeing? I see a beautiful woman getting the fuck of her life. What do you see?"

She responded, in between gasps and thrusts, "I see a beautiful cock being buried inside me over and over and I don't want it to stop. Oh God. Yes."

I knew deep in my bones that this was the one pussy I needed, the one that I'd always needed, and the one I'd better figure out a way to keep. But that would be something to ponder later, because the act itself was transcendent and deserved my total and complete concentration.

After time I finally achieved a complete thrust, burying myself to the final in into her wet and willing cavern. When I touched bottom, she let out a cry like I'd never heard, a combination of lust, longing, and completion. That's when she exploded, her canal clenching like none other squeezing and clutching at my cock, encouraging me to join her in completion.

The incomparable feeling of that possession by her inner being pushed me over the top. I think I experienced what an atomic explosion must feel like. There was a flash of light that illuminated my very soul and a silent thundering that drowned out all sound, even her wordless cry of wonder and my bellow of satisfaction. The difference was that I survived this atomic act, the orgasm that the French call the Little Death, but certainly wasn't little in any other sense.

The explosion was indeed immense, filling her very core with the essence of my being, pumping her full with spasm after spasm, matched by the intensity of her own frenzy. I have no idea how long it lasted, but when it was done, I had no urge to withdraw. I wanted to stay inside her as long as I could.

But finally, came time for us to separate. I took a shaky step back from the table as she straightened up and turned around. She leaned back against the table, her lovely chest heaving from the exertion, and the evidence of our performance trickling down her leg from her red and swollen pussy. She sighed, and then smiled at me, trembling much as I was.

"Wow." That was so lame, but I really couldn't come up with a coherent thought at that point. "Wow."

"Oh yes," she said. "Yes." At least I wasn't alone in incoherence.

She leaned over the table and got her camera, held it out in my general direction and snapped off another picture. "I need to take a picture for my own self right now," she wheezed, "because that was something I will remember for a very long time."

"I know exactly how you feel. Did you get enough from me to do a good piece for your website?"

"It will be piece to remember. It WAS a piece to remember, don't you think?"

"Oh, hell yes," I said. "Why don't you give me a call this weekend, say on Saturday? I'm more than happy to do a follow-up with you. We can do another in-depth interview. I'll be happy to fill in any gaps that I missed."

"You filled in all the gaps, believe me." Then she smiled. "But if you want, we can go over everything again, filling in the gap again. But you're right. We need to wait until Saturday."

"It'll take me that long to recover, too," I admitted. "But I promise. I'll be there."