The Franchise

As for me, well, I had long imagined that fucking Kelly would be pure heaven, and I was NOT disappointed. She was so beautiful, that hot body that I'd dreamt of for so long lay essentially naked and open before me, her slit was tight as a virgin yet wet as a minx. And at the same time, there was something different about it for me as well. At first I simply dismissed it as being so long since I'd been fucking. But when I found myself slowing my thrusting in order to bend over and kiss Kelly some more, I realized it wasn't that at all. I'd fucked hundreds of girls, sure, but that was just it--all they'd ever been to me was free pussy. I cared about Kelly, I... loved her. And that made it... completely different. Not necessarily better or worse, but definitely different. I had wanted to make her cum, not because it would make me seem even studlier, but because I wanted her to get the most out of the experience. Any my interest in my partner went far beyond the space between her legs and two spots on her chest. Maybe this makes more sense: instead of just screwing a pussy, I felt like I was screwing a whole person. And because of that, fucking or screwing just didn't seem like the word for it--I felt myself wanting to call it, and thinking of it, as making love. I'd always thought that making love was simply romantic bullshit-speak for fucking. Now for the first time I understood that there was in fact a significant difference between the two.

Well, at least my brain felt that way. To my penis, pussy was pussy, and all it knew was that it hadn't felt one for a long time, and that this was a particularly good one. My dick urged my hips to thrust harder and faster, chomping on the bit as always to reach the finish line, circumventing my brain's input as much as possible. I don't know, maybe because I was pushing so hard Kelly drew her legs in a little, but wasn't sure where to go with them. My brain forced my hips to stop for a moment, and I guided her calved up onto my shoulders. I helped her slide a little lower on the couch, and then pushed it in, slowly, until my balls rested against her buttocks. "Oh my God!" Kelly exclaimed with a faraway look. I REALLY filled her up now--I could just feel the gentle touch of my tip against her cervix when I really reached.

Some people will always remember the first time they had sex--where they were, how their partner looked, that kind of thing. I think I do, but the fact that I'm not sure says a lot. That is, I remember one of the first times I did it, and the girl I did it with, but I can't say for certain that was THE first time, because right off the bat I was doing 2-3 girls at the same time (not as in doing threesomes, I mean as like having sex with one girl on Friday night and a different one on Saturday). But while other people might have that memory, it was that moment there with Kelly that seared an indelible image in my memory that I will cherish for as long as I live, no matter what happens between us. Kelly, sitting/lying on my couch. Red hair surrounding her angelic face. Arms bent up and resting by her sides, like a lazy yawn, subtly suggesting submission. Cheerleading uniform crop-top pulled up to her armpits, her pink nipples totally erect and her pale breast-flesh rippling slightly with each inward thrust. Her cheerleading skirt scrunched in a small band at her waist, obstructing neither her firm belly nor her neatly trimmed pelvic region. Her slender thighs reaching upward in a V-shape. Her tight buttocks bumping into my thighs as my penis penetrated her wet slit. Her smooth lovely legs resting on my shoulders, right at my ears, still wearing the little socks and cheer shoes, her two layers of panties hanging limply on one ankle. It was like some kind of astrological convergence; my infatuation with redheads, my preference for athletic girls, and my near-fetish for cheerleaders in uniform all coming together. And more than just coming together in one person, that person was Kelly. If Kelly is the last woman I ever make love to, or if I fuck another thousand girls before I die, I am convinced that no moment will ever top that moment. But I'll gladly invest hundreds of hours to try to match it :-)

As you might guess, a moment that was for me so mind-blowingly erotic, so absolutely the embodiment of all of my fantasies, that it quickly proved to be climactic as well. With lower levels of stimulation I can hold my nut for hours, but no dick could hold back against the flood stimulation that I felt. It came so fast I had almost no warning; in the back of my mind a voice said "no" because I didn't want this to end yet. But it was out of my hands; on its own volition it seemed, hips pushed my penis as deeply into Kelly's belly as I could reach and held it there. My penis exploded again and again, drowning me in a tidal wave of indescribable pleasure, bringing new meaning to the words "peak experience."

The orgasm was so intense I was like stunned or something for a short time afterward. Maybe I was just hoping that if I held the position the feeling might return. I was brought back to reality by the touch of Kelly's fingers stroking my neck, gently trying to urge me into kissing distance. I was all too happy to oblige. She opened her legs again so I could bend over her, and there we kissed for a long time, my shrinking penis still safely enveloped by the warmth of her pussy.

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A lot of things can happen in a year. A year ago, I whined when my dad signed Leroy Jenkins to a contract. Now, I'm already working on him to re-sign for next year. He likes to play with me, but we both know he'd be stupid not to, because he won't get the kind of numbers we've been piling up as the two-headed monster anywhere else. A year ago, Kelly was a girl I admired from a distance but couldn't have. Now, Kelly is the girlfriend that shares my bed every Friday and Saturday night if I'm in town. And next year promises to hold even more changes. The Jammers dug too deep of a hole this year to still make the playoffs, but there's great optimism about our chances next year if Leroy re-signs and another high draft pick.

In a few months Kelly is going to graduate, and will need a job and a place to live. I've already decided that as the end of her lease gets closer, I'm going to ask her to move in with me. I don't know if she will--it will probably depend on whether she is willing to weather the reaction of her family. It would also be different if she gets a job; she's been looking hard, but it's just not a good job market right now. I think my Mom has told her that if she wants, all she needs to do is ask and the Jammers will find a place for her--we are after all a family organization. She's also talked about trying out for the Jammer Spirit next year. I have mixed feeling about that—I really don't like the thought of thousands of men admiring my girlfriend dancing half-naked on the floor, but it seems a little hypocritical when my Mom was one back in the day. And I can think of all KINDS of nasty things I want to do to her while wearing that uniform.

In my wallet, I now carry a business card. It's from the jeweler that sold me the necklace. When he gave it to me, he explained "Keep this. When a guy buys something this nice for a girl, I often see them again somewhere down the line... looking for a ring." I carry that card around as a good-luck charm--I'm hoping that if I do, maybe someday his prediction will come true.