Chloe Could 01

Chloe Could 01

In the beginning there were three. My roomie Dave, his friend Pete and me, Chloe Conn. The roomie mostly sat on the sidelines because he was uncertain how to play the game, but Pete was the captain of the team and he threw the ball first every time. After a few weeks, hah, I learned how to catch the ball with my face and threw it back as soon as I stopped seeing all infamous stars.

In the beginning, Pete couldn't stop teasing me about how I lounged around the house dressed as a girl and I fluffed that off for a few weeks. I let him have his fun for a minute or two and then everything went back to normal.

In the middle, I started to fire back a few things about how he must be gay to pay so much attention to me and the way I dressed. We would go back and forth for 5 or so minutes and then everything would settle back down and life went on. The roomie still sat on the sidelines and let his eyes go back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. That was his involvement in the little cat fights that his friend Pete and I would get into for 5 or maybe 6 minutes. After that, he was happy for life to go on.

After the middle and before the end, it became the normal on the weekends. It may even be classified as expected. It was clockwork.

"Hey Pete, please come on in gay guy, hey Chloe, I see you went all sissy early today, I'll let Dave know you're here faggot, Thanks, hey, do you ever dress like Carl anymore, Oh, and here I thought it was easier for you to stare at Chloe's dick, Screw off queer, you don't have a dick, right?"

And then, it was over and the day went on. There were no winners or losers and the referee, Dave, never threw the yellow flag. It was just the normal back and forth.

The end wasn't so easy to define. The end was more like the beginning of the next chapter. The silly back and forth continued for sure, but it seemed to have changed stadiums. Pete started to throw less passes in the living room and waited to hand off the ball in closer proximity. It seemed that my kitchen became the 50-yard line, the hallway was the end zone and my bedroom doorway was the locker room.

As the end of the first chapter came to a close, Pete fumbled a lot. All of a sudden, he was all thumbs in the kitchen and needed help with everything. I cut him some slack because Pete always seemed so harmless, but it didn't take too many Saturday afternoons for him to figure out that I wasn't breaking his thumbs when he needed help making a ham sandwich. LOL, it took one Saturday! And I don't mind admitting that I allowed him to reach around me with both arms to help me make his ham sandwich. It was almost exciting to be pinned between his chest and the counter top. It seemed like something a normal couple might do on a sunny Saturday afternoon when afternoon delight needed a kick start.

I even cut him some more slack when he shook the mustard bottle so vigorously that his entire body vibrated. I wanted to say something about how his mustard shaking gyrations were a form of dry humping me and they were gay as hell, but the truth is that he found a sweet spot and it felt good to have my buns split by his hard cock through my thin PJ shorts. The roomie must have wondered why a simple sandwich took so long to make, but he never blew his whistle. Needless to say, Pete requested a ham sandwich every Saturday after that.

With about two paragraphs left in the first chapter, Pete found the end zone, but not that end zone. The last Saturday in August was when the reading of the first chapter was completed. It was a big college football kickoff Saturday and that meant that the ham sandwiches need to be bigger and fatter, just like Pete's dick. We made three sandwiches and Pete had become very good at vigorously shaking the mustard bottle. As the chapter came to a close, I figured out that by wearing undies that were one size larger than my normal size, it allowed Pete to fill my gap easier and OMG, so much fuller. It wasn't exactly regular sex, but it had become my sex. Chloe's sex and a BBQ grill wasn't required to cook his hot dog to a big and plump condition.

I think all chapters and books in general rely on the closing sentence to set or reveal the scene. Either Pete knew that the end was coming or he was concerned because he hasn't cum yet, even though we had made more than 10 ham sandwiches together.

"Don't you dare start with the gay comments, but I think it's time for us to let me finish."

"Say that this is our thing."

"Ugh, I look forward to splitting your soft buns. And I mean Chloe's buns! Carl can bug off. Now, you say that you like it! It's your turn to talk about how you make sure I shake the mustard bottle a lot more than I have to. Let me hear you say that you enjoy a hot dog on the side."

"Oh, no problem because I do! The first time was a little weird, but after that, I don't mind admitting that I would go to your house to make a sandwich if you didn't come over here. And as a former boy, I can understand what's going on down there. So, let's try this. I'll over serve the beer and you guys do what guy's do when they watch football and drink beer. Just make sure that Dave uses the bathroom first. We'll see if we can make it so you do a dance in the end zone, but not in that end zone. Also, the bathroom is the end zone."

Hey, I did my part. I mean, my eyes were still rolling from the bun splitting I just received and I had to hide my own firm issue, but I passed out the beers like I was throwing a long pass. I threw three passes on back-to-back plays. In between my beer distribution plays, LOL, I asked the community on Chang for advice on how to make my gay as hell friend happy enough to deserve an end zone dance without making a mess of his pants. I couldn't send him back into the huddle with a big wet spot, right?

Well, the responses came back quickly and they all seemed to have the same theme. The only way to keep his cargo shorts dry and clean was to drop them or remove them. They also mentioned that I should treat the last sentence of the chapter like a two-minute drill. And apparently, I wasn't the first to have a secret thing going on with the roomie's friend. Their advice felt like it came from experience. A good two-minute drill requires the right play calling with perfect and quick execution.

That is the long way of saying that if I was truly interested in protecting him, then I was going to have to take the entire Gatorade bath, only Pete's Gatorade wasn't on ice, it was going to be just above body temperature, I think.

However, they were kind enough to offer up their own playbook to help me make my play selection decisions. It was hard enough to call a "shorts down" play because I had never been in front of a mostly naked guy before, but I was in the red zone and the shortened field limited the play choices. I did go with the field goal play and figured Pete would accept a quick hand job. For my first time, I didn't have the nerve or experience to go for a touchdown. I wanted to feel his bare skin between my bare buns, but it was too tempting to give the 2-point extra try a whirl. And with so many more games left in the season, I figured that there would be plenty of time to run other plays. Besides, as much as I wanted to turn around and lean against the wall for him, there was always a chance that he would freak out by that, so any trick plays would have to wait for another game. Every team has a "big game" on their schedule and it was important to me that I knew he could handle the warm up games before I went with the "drop my panties and split me proper" play.

I almost felt guilty standing in the background as I watched Pete and Dave down their beers and scream at the flat screen and OMG, I felt so naughty when Dave got up to relief himself. I don't know where it came from, but I wasted no time running to the couch and sitting directly on Pete's lap. I mean, I must have taken a red pill and forgotten that I had. As a matter of fact, sitting on his lap like that was on same level as our sneaky ways of making ham sandwiches, LOL, almost. Shaking the mustard bottle is still number one.

"Our time will be short, so don't bother buckling up your shorts. I have a plan to keep your cargo shorts dry, so just go with the flow. I'll meet you in the bathroom end zone when I hear the toilet flush. Say that you're excited and don't lie because I'm sitting on it."

"OMG, you're such a girl with the need for words all the time. Oh, I've been eating fruit all week like you suggested, so have fun with that and I hope it tastes like you think it will. See you in a minute, Chloe."

Oh, holy change the play snap, he just called an end around with a double pass back! I mean, I was going to stoke him off from my knees, but damn, now he's expecting my pass back to be behind the scrimmage line! And there I was with my mind scrambling and no time to double check with anyone on Chang on how to defend a flee flicker play.

But there I was, sneaking into the bathroom as soon as the referee took his spot on the couch to reset the ball at the 20-yard line.

"I fumbled Pete. I've been practicing a hard and enjoyable hand off all morning and you called a half back backwards pass. I thought we could play our plays in sequence and start with a basic hand off. Also, I promise, I was going to buy some bananas to practice with, but I thought I had more time."

"Hah, there are only 32 seconds on the clock and I didn't eat all that fruit for nothing. My turn, say that you dream about sucking me off some day anyways. And to help you, I'll say that it's safe to say that we have crossed a line anyways and neither of us wants to get sacked behind the line of scrimmage when the game clock is ticking down, for today's game."

"All I'll say is that I am intrigued, but getting sacked by you is way down the sidelines, like in a different stadium. But fine, we're both hooked on this silly secret relationship. However, as a first-year rookie, would you mind doing most of the work? Also, just how games are there in a season?"

"Damn, did you just say that we have a secret relationship? Oh, I'll slam your mouth just the same as our quarterback gets slammed to the ground every third play. LOL, that's funny, our team sucks and now, LOL, so do you! Say it???"

Oh no, I didn't say anything else. I mean, mostly because we already wasted too much time talking, but I knew that he was trying to get me say something about how badly I wanted to take the next step in some form or another just the same as he did. And to make sure I didn't say anything, whoa, he shoved his fat rod in my mouth and yup, he did all the work. And he kept working and working and working until it was payday, which he shared with me with a series of grunts and groans.

There wasn't much time left after he punted into my wrecked mouth, but I used those precious moments to remind him that eating all that fruit may or may not have worked because I didn't have a feel for the ball before our game ended. I also reminded that making ham sandwiches was still our main thing and that the hard bathroom floor tiles hurt my knees.

Hah, a good coach has a play ready for every situation. Buy a throw rug, buy those bananas, definitely buy more ham, cheese and mustard and to throw a trick play into the mix, he wanted me to try to go commando under my leisure shorts the next Saturday, which really sounded like a true end around play. Which I may or may not have agreed to practice or at least find the appropriate length loungewear shorts to get away with that.

Hah, back at the coach, right? I took the time to check the size tag on his shorts so I could also buy some back ups in case our second thing became making a mess in his pants because OMG, those floor tiles really hurt my knees and I was already kneeling on a bathroom throw rug! I mean, it's stupid to double stack bathroom rugs, right?

And that was the beginning, the middle and the end of first chapter of my exposure as Chloe Could went. I may not read as many books as some people, but I'm sure chapter two has a beginning, a middle and an ending, which I'm sure leads right into chapter three, right?

End Chloe Could 01