Supporting the Team

High school football is a lot like the military. The coach tells the players what to do and they do it—no arguing, no excuses, no dilly-dallying. Coach is god.

Bear Creek football was no exception. When the last coach, Scott, came to Bear Creek, he called a team meeting to announce his greatness:

I'm stronger than you—I can benchpress 380 pounds. I'm smarter than you—I went to Harvard and most of you can't spell USC. I am a better football player than you—I played in the NFL. So, when I tell you to do something, you shut the fuck up and do it.

Adding to his mystique was the fact that Scott really was bigger and buffer than his players. When they formed a team huddle before the start of each game, he was a man among boys.

That image was shattered when Scott's wife Sharon took on half a dozen players on the team. She fucked every guy twice and some three times and loved every friggin' minute of it. Scott may be able to benchpress 380 pounds, but he wasn't man enough to satisfy his wife.

He knew he had lost the respect of his team, so Scott and his wife left town in the middle of the night. They had been living rent-free in a house provided by the school and there wasn't much to take with them. Just a few suitcases filled with clothes and trophies. Even today, years later, no one knows where they went or if they stuck together, but it certainly gave us something to talk about.

It also gave some of the women in town something to think about. It turns out that Sharon wasn't the only gal who had been fantasizing about fucking the players. One morning, a few weeks afterward, Marcie and Kim were drinking coffee and gossiping about Sharon's wild night when the conversation took a sharp turn into laughing and winking about how much fun Sharon probably had. Both women were more than a bit jealous.

And that's how they hatched their plan for a once-a-month cat fight to support the Bear Creek football team. Marcie's grandfather, Bull, had an old barn he never used and they could fix it up nice with a wrestling mat and chairs for people to sit on while they watched a female wrestling match. They could use the access road to the barn to control the entrance and there was plenty of room for parking in the field around the barn. They didn't tell gramps what kind of wrestling they had in mind, though it wouldn't have mattered at all.

In his youth, gramps had been a free-spirited cowboy who believed to each his own. As long as no one got hurt, it was nobody's business what you did. He fooled around with most any woman who would spread her legs for him. Tall, short, thin, chubby, it didn't matter to gramps. As long as she was willing, he was happy to oblige.

When he settled down, he married an Earth mama named Jessy who was 24 years younger than him and just as free-spirited. Even after a half dozen kids, Jessy was still a looker and still liked being looked at, free of society's clamps. When they went for a drive in their Mustang rag top, Jessy would often wear a halter top and lift it up over her boobs as they sped down the highway. Appreciative truckers got a really good look and would almost always honk their horns as Bull and Jessie drove by with Jessy flashing and Bull laughing. Sometimes, Jessy would stand up in the car with her arms spread and her tits dangling free, feeling the wind whistle through her hair and over her erect nipples.

They had many good years together, flaunting convention and chasing each other around the house naked until she died of cancer a few years back.

Now approaching 70, gramps was still a free spirit, but he missed Jessy terribly and didn't get many chances for adventure. He mainly took care of a small vegetable garden and watched television. He sold all his cattle and rented his pasture land out to some alfalfa growers—though he kept one horse for when he felt like going for a ride and remembering his cowboy days. He was happy to let Marcie fix up the barn for wrestling, though he wondered why they didn't just use the high school gym.

Marcie told him it was a special event for the Bear Creek football team, and that was enough for gramps. He had played football back in the day and still thought it was a great sport for high school kids. He had been a wiry linebacker, low-key off the field, but ferocious on it. He had knocked several opposing players out of games, even guys who outweighed him by 30 pounds or more.

His glory-day game was when they played Big Elk for the league championship. Big Elk was a much bigger school and usually brushed the Bear Creek team away like swatting a housefly. Once, Big Elk crushed Bear Creek 49-10, even playing their second-string and third-string players the entire second half, and just to rub our face in it, the Big Elk coach left the field lights on after the game and held a two-hour, full-contact scrimmage. We got the message: playing Bear Creek was a waste of their precious time. Our coach was disgusted, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He told his players that he would rather stick his hand in a bucket of shit than shake hands with the Big Elk coach.

We finally got our revenge. Being a small town, Bear Creek usually had only a handful of good athletes. Even if they all played football, there weren't enough of them to have a good team. One year though, it worked out that there were at least a dozen athletic kids in high school at the same time, and a few of them were really, really, good. One was a quarterback named Jake who was a tricky runner and a great passer. He ended up getting recruited by Nebraska and playing quarterback for them for a few years before he got injured. Another was gramps, who ran the defense from his linebacker position. He was a genius at figuring out what the other team was going to do, and a crazed man when it came to shedding blockers and tackling runners.

Big Elk was its usual kick-ass self that year, but Bear Creek was competitive for a change. They played each other in the final game of the season, with both teams undefeated and the winner claiming the league championship. The game was back and forth and came down to the final seconds. Bear Creek was up 28-24, but Big Elk had the ball first-and-goal on Bear Creek's 5-yard line.

The Big Elk coach called a trick play. The quarterback would hand the ball to a running back who would sprint hard left for about 10 yards and then lateral the ball back to the quarterback, who would throw a touchdown pass to a receiver who had been left alone on the right side. It was a smart play designed to take advantage of the Bear Creek players being overly aggressive and all chasing the runner to the left, leaving a wide-open receiver on the right.

Somehow, gramps sniffed it out. While all of the other Bear Creek players were taking off after the runner, gramps charged full-steam ahead at the quarterback. When the runner tossed the ball back to the quarterback, gramps and the ball arrived at pretty much the same time. Just as the quarterback got his hands on the ball, gramps clobbered him, knocking the ball loose and the quarterback senseless. Gramps scampered over to recover the fumble and end the game, while the quarterback lay in a heap. The quarterback wasn't seriously injured, but the Big Elk mystique was demolished.

After the game, the Big Elk coach was as mad as hell, following the refs around the field yelling and screaming at them nonstop about all the calls they missed. He was especially pissed about the last play, arguing that they should have called unnecessary roughness on gramps. The refs just shrugged and said hard tackles are part of football—especially small-town high school football.

Turns out gramps had prepared a special surprise for the Bear Creek coach. After the game, gramps showed the coach a bucket of fresh shit and said, "Hey coach, would you rather shake hands now?" Coach laughed and stuck his hand in the bucket.

Yeah, we heard a lot about that game, that play, and that bucket of shit while we were growing up. It got to be a little boring after the hundredth telling, but we were happy that gramps had some glory days to talk about.

Anyway, fast forward to Kim and Marcie's plan. They would advertise the match as a cat fight between two attractive women and would sell tickets for $20 each, with the proceeds used to support the football team. At the end of the match, there would be a raffle with a special prize for one of the football players. It was a poorly kept secret that the prize would be an invitation to fuck the winning wrestler, then and there, in front of the whole audience. This was, in fact, the whole point of their plan. It would be nice to raise some money for the team, but Kim and Marcie mainly wanted an excuse to have sex with some buff high school kids.

The age of consent in Colorado is 17 but, to be safe, the event was restricted to football players over the age of 18. The age limit was actually a plus, because it gave the players a reward to look forward to if they stuck with the team until their senior year. The cat fight would be a whole heck of a lot better than the school's senior graduation party, which was held at a local Best Western with no-name comedians, magicians, and other wannabe entertainers.

Of course, Marcie and Kim would be the first volunteer wrestlers. Both were in their late twenties. Marcie was divorced and didn't have any kids. Fun dates had become fewer and farther between as she got older. The good guys were pretty much all taken and she wasn't much interested in fooling around with a married guy. At least, not again. She had tried it once and learned her lesson. The guy said over-and-over that he was crazy about her, but the truth was he was too chickenshit to ever leave his wife. Marcie hated sneaking around and she hated it even more when the guy's wife got suspicious and told Marcie that she would pull her eyeballs out with pliers if she ever caught her with her man.

Kim was picky and unmarried and, like Marcie, she was disappointed by how hard it was at her age to find single guys she might be interested in. She had pretty much given up on marriage and was now just looking for a good fuck every once in a while.

They both fantasized about well-hung, randy high school football players but they certainly didn't want to marry any. A thank-you-ma'am fuck after a spirited wrestling match was the perfect solution.

Marcie and Kim agreed that they would fake the match, just like in professional wrestling. They would both show up wearing sexy bikinis with the tops tied loosely in the back. They would pretend-wrestle for a while and then take turns untying each other's bikini tops. They would continue strutting around, taunting each other and giving the crowd plenty of time to stare at their tits. The bikini bottoms would stay on and they agreed to shave their bushes ahead of time so that no pussy hairs peeked out.

After several minutes of circling and grabbing each other's hands, Marcie would get Kim in a bear hug and force her down to the ground. They would wriggle around for a while, giving the audience good looks at their bare breasts and covered pussies. Then Marcie would get Kim on her back, with Marcie sitting on top of her and taunting her—while giving the audience unobstructed views of their boobs.

After a few minutes of taunting and boob shaking, Kim would use her legs and hips to toss Marcie off her, and then reverse the position—Marcie on her back and Kim now sitting on Marcie's tummy while she pinned her arms down and insulted her. Marcie would eventually get frustrated and give up, but she would be so angry about losing that she would rant and rave about some imaginary cheating and demand a rematch.

After Kim agreed to a rematch next month, Marcie would calm down and let Kim pick the winning raffle ticket. Kim would then fuck the high school stud with the winning ticket and it would be Marcie's turn next month.

The big day arrived and a couple dozen horny boys paid their 20 bucks each to watch the cat fight. Two local women, Brenda and Sharon, collected the money and had the boys sign their raffle tickets. Brenda was also the announcer and Sharon was the referee.

After everyone was seated, the wrestlers were introduced: Marcie 5-foot-7, weighing 135 pounds, and Kim 5-foot-2, weighing 120 pounds. Marcie wore a shiny red bikini, while Kim went with blue.

Before the match began, they each walked slowly around the ring, letting the audience gawk and cheer. Marcie had been blessed with great tits: 34Cs that rode high and firm in her early twenties, with pokey nipples pointed straight ahead. Now her full breasts were starting to sag slightly, but her thick nipples still pointed up and out—giving people an eyeful when she wore a tight blouse or T-shirt—or a bikini top made of very thin nylon. She had a little pudge in her tummy, thighs, and ass, but that just made her sexier. She had a body that men and women noticed—men because they liked imagining her naked and women because they wished they looked more like her. The boys at the wrestling match thought she looked as sexy as hell, certainly a lot sexier than the teenage girls they dated.

Kim was more on the cute side. She was small and perky, weighing the same 120 pounds that she had weighed in high school because of all the running and aerobics she did. She had no tummy fat and not much of a butt. Her tits were small and firm with spectacularly thick, dark nipples that were clearly visible through her bikini top. Kim was clearly the high-energy, feisty one, while Marcie was built for comfort, not for speed.

After the women paraded around the ring several times, Brenda rang a bell and the match began. The two women circled each other warily, sometimes grasping each other's hands with fingers entwined, then breaking free again. Kim suddenly pushed Marcie's arm to one side and jumped behind her back. With one arm around Marcie's stomach, she yanked the string on Marcie's bikini top and peeled it off. Kim swung the bright red top in the air a few times and then tossed it into the crowd, letting the horny boys fight for a souvenir.

Marcie pretended to be enraged and swung around angrily, using her height and weight to get Kim in a bear hug. She had both of her hands behind Kim's back and quickly untied Kim's blue bikini top and tossed it into the excited crowd.

They broke free, warily circling each other again, but now with their tits on full display. Marcie's tits bounced gently while Kim's were steady and firm. As they went in and out of their finger-clasping routine, Kim playfully swatted Marcie's left boob. Not expecting a tit-slap, Marcie, said, "What the fuck?" The boys laughed, so Kim kept doing it, slapping one of Marcie's tits every chance she got. Marcie's big tits were getting red and her nipples were full-on hard.

Marcie forgot about the plan and charged Kim, grabbing her by the waist and using her superior weight to knock Kim to the ground and climb on top her tummy. She pivoted around so that she was facing Kim's pussy and roughly yanked off her bikini bottom and tossed it into the crowd. Definitely not part of the plan, but the boys loved it. Marcie got off Kim and stood above her defiantly, hands on her hips, shoulders back, tits thrust outward: "Don't touch my boobs, bitch!"

Kim grabbed Marcie's ankles and pulled her legs out from under her, tumbling Marcie to the mat. Quick as could be, Kim had both hands on Marcie's bikini bottom, ripping it off and tossing it to the cheering crowd.

Now they were both back on their feet, facing each other with bare tits and shaved pussies. The boys started chanting, "Cat fight, cat fight," which pumped up the women even more. Marcie made another charge at Kim, but Kim knew what to expect this time and dodged it. Two more charges and Marcie still couldn't get a firm grasp on Kim.

Marcie was taller and heavier, but she wasn't in shape like Kim and she was tiring quickly. As Marcie made one more charge, Kim grabbed her from behind as she went by and kept her in a bear hug as they toppled to the floor. Soon they were both sitting, with Kim behind Marcie and using one of her arms to pin Marcie's arms behind her back while she used her legs to spread Marcie's legs wide open—an incredible sight for the boys lucky enough to be seated in front of Marcie.

So, there they were, Marcie panting heavily with her legs spread and her red breasts and large nipples jutting out, and Kim in control. Marcie squirmed and wiggled desperately, but could not break free of Kim's strong arms and legs. As she relaxed and accepted her predicament, Kim taunted, "Who's the bitch now?" and roughly squeezed Marcie's left breast with her free hand. Marcie said, "Fuck you!," while Kim mauled each of Marcie's breasts, squeezing the tit flesh the way she squeezed rubber exercise balls at the gym. The crowd roared, "Cat fight! Cat fight!"

Marcie said, "Fuck you!" again and Kim responded by pinching her nipples mercilessly, while keeping Marcie's leg spread wide so that a lucky few got a great view of her honey pot. After one savage nipple twist, Kim sneered, "Give up bitch?"

Marcie opened her mouth wide, but didn't answer, so Kim slowly raised her right hand and stuck her two middle fingers up in the air, daring the crowd to guess what was coming next. After a few seconds, Kim plunged her middle fingers deep into Marcie's crotch. Marcie squealed another, "Fuck you!," which only encouraged Kim to keep going.

Kim's hand was a blur as she finger-fucked Marcie feverishly, Marcie was wet, but she wasn't turned on. She was as mad as hell. She yelled, "Let go bitch!," but it did no good. Kim kept alternating between hard nipple pinching and rough finger-fucking.

Marcie was physically and emotionally exhausted. She whispered to Kim that they were friends and reminded her that they had a deal. If the monthly cat fights were going to continue, Kim would have to control herself and stop the assault. Marcie promised that if Kim let her go, she would collapse on the mat, a beaten woman, and Kim could claim the victory and a football player.

Kim agreed. After one last nipple tug, she let go of Marcie and Marcie collapsed on the mat as promised. She lay on her back with her legs spread giving everyone a view of her gorgeous breasts and a lucky few a view of her wet, shaved pussy.

Truth be told, Kim was plenty wet, too, and couldn't wait to be fucked by a football stud. She revealed that she was indeed the special prize and the winner could fuck her with no questions asked. The boys cheered loudly and then quieted nervously as Kim picked a raffle ticket out a bowl. The winner turned out to be a skinny kid named Brian. Brian had been recruited from the soccer team to kick field goals for the football team. He must have had a strong right leg, but his upper body was nothing to get excited about. When his name was called, Brian popped right up and bounced onto the wrestling mat while his teammates hooted and whistled. Brian was rubbing his dick through his pants and clearly eager to get started. He pulled off his shoes and shirt and dropped his pants and boxers before Kim could say anything one way or another.

Brian's hard cock was 6 or 7 inches long, but it was the skinniest dick Kim had ever seen. It reminded her of a #2 yellow pencil. Kim wrapped her hand around it, hoping it would grow bigger, but no such luck.

Kim was having serious second thoughts about this plan. She wanted a well-hung stud and didn't look forward to being jabbed by a pencil dick. Still, there was something to be said for enthusiasm, and Brian certainly was enthusiastic.

She forced a smile and Brian walked over and cupped of both her firm breasts. He pinched her large nipples hard and Kim squealed "Ouch" and slapped his hands away. Then she scowled at Brian and said, "What the fuck?" What the fuck, indeed. Kim was resigned to being fucked by a pencil dick, but she wanted it to be over as soon as possible. She lay down on her back on the mat with her legs spread and a "Let's get this over with" look on her face.