Not a Football Fan

If you hate it when a cheater isn't burned at the stake and love NFL football, please don't read this.

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I got burned out playing football (American style that is, not what Americans call soccer but the rest of the world calls football). I started in Pee Wee when I was eight, played in High School, then college, and then in the NFL for six years. When teammates around me started getting concussed on a regular basis and I read all sort of things about CTE, I decided not to put my future health in jeopardy any longer and even though I had at least a half a dozen good years left in me (I was just one year removed from second team All-Pro), I retired.

Being in the NFL had not done wonders for my marriage to my wife Michelle, either. The travel and time commitments associated with it, plus my wife's distaste for violence of any type, led to our breakup. We only lasted through my second year in the NFL before she left me. I really loved Michelle; she was the love of my life. I didn't even know enough to agree to quit football then -- she may have stayed -- but for whatever reason I didn't. She wasn't vindictive because she actually loved me too, so she didn't even try to get any of the money I made playing football (she was self-sufficient monetarily because she was really smart) and the divorce was as amicable as that type of thing can be so it didn't completely ruin either of our lives. Once I gave up football, however, I regretted not quitting after my second year; maybe it would have saved our marriage.

One good thing about football is that it let me earn a lot of money at an early age (I was 28 when I retired), and I handled what I made very well -- much better than most of my teammates. When I retired I moved to Crimson Court in a suburb of a city more than a thousand miles away from the city where the NFL team I played for was located. Since I have a common last name -- Moore -- and since I now went by my middle name -- Alan instead of my distinctive first name of Ezra -- and usually wore glasses with plain glass when I went out the vast majority of people I came across in my new city didn't recognize me. This was also due in part to the fact that I was a safety, so I'm "only" six feet two inches (188 cm) tall and 205 pounds (93 kg), so my looks don't immediately scream "football player" as they might if I were an offensive or defensive lineman, or a tight end.

I had wisely invested in a startup company that was now doing well and I worked for it part time in public relations, I handled my own investments, I did a significant amount of charity work, and I had no interest in football; my life was good. Well, it was good except for one thing -- I was finding it hard to find rewarding sex. I wasn't coming across many available females that I was interested in perhaps still pining for Michelle, and I was in the longest dry spell of my life.

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When I moved to my new suburb I bought a nice house on Crimson Court located in an upscale community where obviously most of the people were significantly older than I was, and many had kids. Most of the neighbors were friendly; the friendliest was Sarah Hawkins.

Sarah lived next door to me. Sarah was married to Jerry Hawkins and they had two boys, Brett, 11, and Aiden, 9. While Sarah was friendly Jerry was not; he was a pompous asshole. I was amazed that Sarah always had an upbeat attitude despite the fact that every time I saw Jerry interact with her he was demeaning. Jerry apparently worked for a Fortune 500 company in marketing and Sarah ran an Internet business from home, typically working about thirty hours a week according to her.

The kids were kind of between Sarah and Jerry in demeanor, and I really hoped that they didn't start to take after him more as they got older. Jerry had been a college offensive lineman and unlike me still loved football, and seemed to relive his past glory days rooting for the home NFL team, and his boys followed his lead.

When I talked to neighbors -- including the Hawkins family -- I never, ever mentioned that I was a football player. I told them that I had made enough money to buy a house in the neighborhood by working at a hedge fund. No one on Crimson Court (as is true of most places) knows what the hell a hedge fund is, and could care less, so they never asked questions about it.

I found out in talking with Sarah -- who was often out gardening -- that she had many of the same interests that I did, including classical music, certain authors, cooking, cycling, and stage plays.

Sarah is likely about eight to ten years older than I am, and when I first met her while she certainly wasn't a hard body who lived for exercise she was in good shape. Her face isn't beautiful but definitely is pleasant; her body though certainly not model-like appeared to be really nice including substantial mammaries (which I tried not to look at when talking to her); and her friendliness and outgoing personality made her much more attractive than she otherwise would be.

I moved to Crimson Court in the spring. I got to know some neighbors enough to go on outings with them -- including with Sarah and two couples, although Jerry didn't come along, to a play -- and went cycling with some guys and gals from work, including twice with Sarah. We didn't do really arduous trips, but Sarah was able to keep up even though most of the participants were younger than she was.

I was now so non-plussed by football that when the season started I didn't even notice it. That is until on a Sunday when I was out gardening -- as was Sarah -- when she walked over to me and asked "Aren't you watching football?"

"Why do you ask that?" I chuckled.

"I thought all guys did. I can't get Jerry or my kids away from the boob tube when or home team's NFL games are on, even if -- like today -- they don't even count."

"You mean pre-season games?" I chuckled.

"Yeah -- I guess that's right," she snorted.

"No, I'm harvesting some herbs from my garden because I want to try a new recipe; that's what I'll be doing for the next hour or so, with no TV on but classical music in the background."

"You're kidding," she chuckled. "I don't suppose that you'd invite me in to watch, so I don't have to listen to banal announcers in the background."

"Come on it," I smiled, "although I have to warn you that I might put you to work."

"I'll take my chances," she smiled, and followed me in.

Sarah and I had a great time for the next two hours experimenting with three different recipes. At one time she asked "Are you making these for your girlfriend?"

"I don't have one of those yet," I snickered.

"Tell me that a stud like you isn't gay," she laughed, then realized that she might have offended me, and said "Sorry, that was inappropriate."

"To set your mind at ease, Sarah, I'm completely heterosexual," I laughed, finding her blushing face to be humorous.

After some more talk about my new recipes she said "You'll have to invite me and the boys over for dinner the next time that Jerry goes out of town."

"I definitely will," I replied. I did try out one of the recipes on them four days later. I knew that Sarah would like it -- in fact she loved it -- but to my surprise the kids liked the food almost as much as Sarah and I did. That buoyed me up almost as much as a hard tackle did in the old days.

I admit to taking an interest in Blake and Aiden just to be sure to steer them away from their Dad's influence. I showed them exercises to improve their strength and stamina in my well-equipped home gym, let them play video games on my top-of-the-line system as long as they had Sarah's approval, and gave them baseball tips (the sport I was best in besides football). They seemed to like me.

The next two Sundays after the recipe conclave Sarah and I did things together while her husband and boys watched football. It was the third Sunday -- when the first regular season game was on TV -- when things changed.

Sarah and I were looking through some books on plants to see what we might want to try in our gardens come spring when I made some comment about how her family seemed to abandon her when football was on. Her snarky reply was "Yeah, I could walk in front of Jerry completely naked and he wouldn't even flinch -- he'd just tell me to get out of the way of the TV."

I guess my response was Freudian because I certainly never would have said it if I actually thought about it: "That wouldn't be my reaction if you were naked in front of me," I chuckled.

When I realized what I had said and that Sarah had reacted to it there was an uncomfortable silence; I don't know how long the awkward silence was, but it seemed to be several minutes, during which we just made eye contact. Finally with a look on her face hard to interpret she said "I've got to see your reaction," and she pulled her tank top over her head and quickly discarded her bra.

I suddenly was staring at two really nice large mammaries; maybe even double Ds. They had enough sag to prove that they were real but were still perky and flawless with nice protruding nipples.

I'm sure that I stared at her tits with my mouth agape while she stared into my eyes. Whatever task I had been engaged in suddenly was now meaningless. As I stared she started removing her shorts while saying "Tell me when to stop."

I probably didn't really want her to stop, and I was too stupefied to say anything anyway, so I watched undoubtedly with my mouth still agape while she removed her shorts and stepped out of them and then pulled down her panties and stepped out of them, revealing a pussy with sparse pubic hair, large labia, and a prominent clitoris.

Naked (except for her flip-flops) Sarah put her hands on her hips and got a diabolical grin on her face. While I was still mesmerized and was not thinking because all of the blood had gone from my brain to my cock, after some period of time she asked "Is that what your reaction would be; just to stare?"

I guess that my DNA test was right -- I did have some Neanderthal in me -- because at that point in time I grabbed her, smashed her lips into mine, squeezed an ass cheek with one hand, and a tit with the other. She not only didn't resist, after a few seconds she returned my kiss and after a few seconds more she stroked her hand over my crotch and moaned when she couldn't help but realize that my cock was at full mast.

When I broke the kiss I picked her up, carried her into my bedroom, and threw her on the bed, causing her flip--flops to go flying. I undressed in record time. I then quickly got on the bed, gave her pussy two licks, and then stared into her eyes as I said "I should give you a couple of Big O's with oral first but my cock needs immediate attention," not only because she looked so hot but also because I hadn't been laid in months.

She didn't protest or resist as I buried my cock in one push. That would not have been possible except for the fact that she was as wet as I was hard.

She wrapped her legs around my waist and pushed her chest into mine as I tried my best to emulate a pile driver. It wasn't love, or pretty, when after only a couple of dozen strokes I ejaculated enough jism into her that she screamed, dug her fingernails into my back, and clamped her pussy on my cock.

Things were a little gray-black for a while, where the only things that registered with me were how good I felt, how foggy everything seemed to be, and how the moaning body underneath me was giving me a surreal feeling.

I don't know how long it was when I finally pulled my deflating cock out of Sarah's pussy and lay next to her. She turned her head toward me and our eyes locked. "I don't ever fuck married women," I mumbled while staring at her.

"I've never fucked anyone besides Jerry since we got engaged," she mumbled back with a stare as intense as mine.

"Then what the hell just happened?" I asked.

"You're an animal and just took what you wanted and I was powerless to stop you," she snickered.

"Oh, is that what it was?" I snidely asked. "It didn't have anything to do with you stripping in front of me and exposing your big beautiful honking tits or your glistening pussy did it?"

"You could have been a gentleman and told me to stop," she retorted.

After some more staring I felt my cock coming to life again. "So soon?" I asked myself; then I realized why. I was massaging her tits and that really was ginning me up.

Then I did something I had rarely done before. I shinnied down and ate a pussy that I had just fucked. The bitch must have been in heat because she had her first orgasm no more than a minute after I sucked her clit into my mouth and pinched her labia with the fingers of one hand while the fingers of the other continued to roll a nipple between them. A second Big O courtesy of my mouth and fingers soon followed, after which I turned her on her hands and knees.

She had a really nice ass, her pussy glistened, and her asshole seemed to wink at me. I drove my hard cock into her pussy -- occasioning a large grunt from Sarah -- grabbed one of her ponderous mammaries with one hand, and stuck the thumb of the other in her asshole. This time I lasted a lot longer and she had two more orgasms before I injected another load. This load seemed to cause her to pass out. I waited until my cock completely deflated before extracting it from her sweet pussy and then immediately flipped her onto her side and like a starving baby started sucking her nipples.

Sarah eventually regained awareness, continued to complain that I was an animal while I still reveled in sucking her tits, and eventually with a grin on her face she started massaging my balls. I hadn't had three fucks in succession since my first year of marriage to Michelle, but my cock was starting to come to life. Just then Sarah peered over my shoulder, saw that my beside alarm clock read 3:29, and mumbled "Damn; I need to get home by 4:00 because if I'm not there when the game ends Jerry will be upset and come looking for me and as much fun as I've had and despite the fact that he's been a jerk to me the last year I really don't want him seeing me with a just fucked look.

I guess that we shouldn't have showered together because she couldn't resist touching my cock, and my cock couldn't resist penetrating her pussy again. She screamed so loud and spasmed so hard that it was a miracle that she didn't scratch the tile in the shower stall to pieces when she came as I deposited my third load of the afternoon into her pulsating pussy.

After our shower fuck Sarah shooed me out of the bathroom to try as hard as she could to look like she hadn't been ravished for the last two hours. After she exited I held her hands and stared into her eyes. "That was the most fun I've had in years," I honestly said.

She got a sly smile and said "Me too -- unequivocally. I don't think anyone has worshipped my tits so piously before," she chuckled.

"My only regret is that I didn't get to fuck them," I said, the filter between my brain and mouth suddenly having disappeared.

"Next Sunday is a home game and Jerry and the boys will be gone from quarter to 11:00 a. m. until at least 5:30 p. m. Maybe if you play your cards right that could happen," she chuckled.

She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then hustled back to her house with the kitchen clock reading 4:16. I found out later that the game went into overtime so she wasn't even missed.

That night I felt as good and as bad as I had since my divorce. I really did by far have the most fun since my divorce not only because Sarah has great female equipment and is an enthusiastic sex partner but also because she is such an upbeat and wonderful person. I felt as bad because I simply do NOT fuck married women and my self-image took a big hit. However, by the time that I went to sleep I knew that regardless of hits my self-image would take I would be fucking Sarah's tits the next Sunday.

***********

The next week I saw Sarah three times, twice with one of her kids, once alone, and had both kids over to work out with one day after school. I also joked around and wrestled with them. Sarah and I treated each other no differently than we had before we fucked each other's brains out the last Sunday. The time that I saw her alone I said "This Sunday maybe we can go on a bike ride and then see a matinee -- The Mousetrap by Agatha Christy is playing at Signature Theater. Then maybe we can continue our 'discussions' from last Sunday."

"I'd like that," she smiled. "What time should we cycle?"

"As soon as Jerry and the boys leave for the game," I replied.

"See you then," she responded, then turned and walked away, making sure that I noticed that she was wiggling her ass as she did.

Sunday we went cycling for twenty miles as soon as Jerry's car hit the end of Crimson Court. Afterward we went to my house to shower, and damn if the same thing didn't happen the last time that we were in the same bathroom together. Go figure.

We dressed in smart casual clothes for the play and made sure to have no PDA going there or during it. However, on the way back Sarah got frisky and I had to keep her hands and mouth away from my zipper so that I didn't get in an accident. By the time that we were in my house all of thirty seconds we were both naked and intensely kissing.

As I carried the hot naked MILF to my bed she mumbled "Fuck my ta-tas like you promised you bastard."

That was exactly what I had in mind.

I had only had two other titty fucks before in my life, both before I met Michelle, because Michelle wasn't really equipped for one. Sarah's melons were the nicest and best equipped I had ever come across. I had purchased some boob lube over the Internet the previous week and I lathered up the valley between her tits and my impossibly hard cock. Once I dropped my dick between her mounds, causing us both to grunt in pleasure, she pushed her tits together and I got to work.

I don't know what was more fun; the way her soft tits felt on my reciprocating cock or the look of pure joy and ecstasy on Sarah's face as I stroked. Despite my euphoria I lasted a surprisingly long time before I jettisoned a load onto her chest and chin. I was both shocked and gratified when she had an orgasm when I ejaculated. I had heard that a woman could orgasm from a titty fuck but had never experienced it. I was even more surprised and content when Sarah grabbed my cock and sucked the last drops of cum out of it, and smeared the cum on her body into her chest and chin.

As we lay in post-titty-coital bliss she snickered "Was it as good as you thought it would be?"

"Ten-fold better," I honestly replied. "Your mammaries are exceptional; the nicest I've ever seen or felt."

"Compliments like that might just get you another fuck," she giggled, but then grimaced.

"What's wrong?" I inquired.

"I just got a cramp in my left thigh. I think that I pushed too hard cycling trying to keep up with you," she grimaced again and then tried to grin.

"Turn over, I'll give you a massage," I entreated.

"You don't have to," she said while already turning over.

One skill that I do have is an innate ability to massage -- plus strong hands from years of weightlifting in preparing for football. Sarah was squealing in pleasure within seconds, and after a half hour where I worked on every single one of her posterior muscles was sighing in contentment and almost asleep. However, there was a problem. My cock was again rock hard, and her ass and pussy looked so good that while she was in what was now the concubine position I gently but purposefully penetrated her pussy.

Sarah whimpered encouragement as my cock energized her pussy while one hand massaged an ass cheek and the thumb on the other end penetrated her rosebud. She felt so good that I didn't last long -- but I didn't need to because we both came like freight trains at almost exactly the same time.