The Spirit Girl

"Oh yeah," I growled with increasing lust, "that's the one."

"Why?" she asked innocently. "It's just a top..."

"It's not JUST a top. It's... a total sex magnet..." I responded, and then to prove my point kissed the flatness of her belly.

She giggled. "Stop that, it tickles." With some reluctance I straightened out to find her lips were waiting for me. "You Rutherfords are all silly! What's the big deal with this top? It's something you'd wear to work out. It covers much more than a bikini, for instance"

"Sometimes dressed is sexier than undressed, if it highlights the curves underneath." My hand was straying up and down her torso with gentle touches. She didn't stop me. We kissed some more... and some more... and some more. Then she looked at me with gentle eyes. "You want to make love to me in the uniform, don't you?"

"More than I want the Jammers to win the championship!" I declared.

"Wow, that's serious!" she laughed, shaking her head again. "I don't get it. Every boyfriend I've had since I joined the spirit wanted me wear the uniform to bed--especially Marshall. But I never did, especially not with Marshall. I could just see him finding a way to get stains on it, just so that I'd have to come up with some explanation of what they were whenever anyone saw them." Then a look crossed her eyes. She kissed me gently, then said quietly, "but just to prove how special you are to me, I'm going to do what I never let any of those other guys do." She kissed me again, while I trembled with excitement.

Sam stood up. "I can't wear the uniform without dancing," she declared. With a glimmer in her eye, she stood up and pushed the coffee table aside, leaving the floor open for dancing. "I spent two weeks learning this routine and never got to perform it. I guess this way it won't have been a complete waste of my time." I sat up in the middle of the couch. She took off the warm-up jacket and tossed it to me; I laid it next to me. A second later the tear-away warm-up pants came flying next to them. She straightened the uniform, then struck a pose in the middle of the floor, hands on one slightly bent knee. "This is going to be a little harder without music, but..." She then launched into an amazing routine. It was high energy--and high sexuality. Her hips swayed, she kicked her legs above her head, she rolled on the floor--and she looked unbelievably hot. My dick sprouted like an iron spike. NO ONE got be this close, and got this good a look, at the Jammer Spirit during games. Maybe that was a good thing.

I clapped enthusiastically when the dance was done, with Sam doing the splits on the floor. "Bravo... that was awesome."

Sam smiled confidently. Then she said "that's how we would do it during a game. Doing it for an audience of one, however... I think I'd do it a little differently."I cocked my head and raised my eyebrows as if to say "oh?" She stood up and struck the same starting pose--and then started in on what you might call the exotic dancer version of the routine she'd just done. She slowed it down to about one-third the pace of the first time. And her emphases... were in all the right places. Rather than kicking strong and with energy, for instance, she would kick slow, sultry, drawing attention to the shapeliness of her legs. She accentuated the moves that called attention to her curves, and cut out altogether parts that did not.

I swallowed hard, as my mouth was salivating now. She had my attention like a moth to a light. And then all at once she stopped. "No, no, no," she complained. "This isn't right at all." Then watching me with a devilish look in her eyes, she proceeded to unbutton and unzip her shorts like a fashion model. Then she folded about an inch of her shirt under so that it just covered the nipples; the bottoms of her breasts dangled tantalizingly in view. My hands started shaking in excitement. She struck her pose; just the barest hint of pink nipple peeked out under the shirt as she stood there. But then she said "hmm... something STILL isn't right." She pretended to think, putting her finger to her cheek while flexing her legs slightly to accentuate their curves in a stunning, Broadway fashion. "Ah! I know what's missing!" she declared--and surprised me by nearly diving onto the floor in front of me. Her hands made a beeline for my pants; I just had time to lift my butt a little before she had them open and unzipped. One second my flag was flying proudly over Iwo Jima, and the next Samantha was going down on me.

I sighed with pleasure and relief as I felt her tongue stroking me, felt the warmth of her mouth envelop more and more of me. I watched her perfect abs flex as she bent over to take my dick into her mouth, felt the loving caresses of her tongue as she sucked. She peeked up at me while sucking, and caught me staring mesmerized at her blow me. She vacated her throat to say "we were talking about size before. Here's what I think about size... you completely fill me, and you're more than I can swallow. As far as I'm concerned, you're all the man I can handle. Beyond that, what does it matter" Then she went down on me again. It bothered me for a moment, being reminded that Sam used to suck Marshall Jacobs' dick. But then I came to my senses. I wasn't a virgin and I didn't expect my girlfriends would be either, so of course she'd sucked other dicks before. The only thing that really mattered was that the dick she was sucking (god it felt good) right now was MINE. And knowing that this sexy dance was something she'd never done for HIM... that made me feel pretty damn good.

She spit me out, then admired her handiwork stretching skyward before standing again. "There... NOW we're ready to try this dance. But I must warn you, there's a no-touching rule."

"Aww..." I moaned.

"That is to say, you're not allowed to touch YOURSELF. If your penis needs attention, I will take care of that. As for me... you're allowed to touch me... any... way... you like..."

I was beyond pumped now. She struck her pose again, and started in on the dance again. I suddenly realized this wasn't so easy--my dick desperately wanted to be fondled. I couldn't reach Sam... but suddenly she spun gracefully several times until she was standing right before me. She bent over like a lap dancer, and I hungrily touched her skin; her ribs, her belly, then up under her shirt. In the meantime, she held my penis in her hand and stroked it.

I lifted the shirt so that her breasts and their huge nipples were out in the open and suckled one. She let me suck it for a minute or so, then spun away just as she'd come close. She picked up the dance where she'd left off, only she left the shirt pulled up so now I could admire her breasts. Then she added a piece to the dance, playing with the open flaps of her unzipped shorts to tease me. Then she turned her back to me, and as good as any stripped she pulled the shorts down to her ankles slowly and smoothly while keeping her legs perfectly straight. She was just wearing a thong underneath. She adjusted the thong slightly, then did a wide-open deep knee bend. I thought I could just see the edges of her nether lips peek-a-boo me from the sides. Then she stood, and returned to the dance.

She got to a place in the dance where she was lying on her right side, then lifted her left leg, then rolled both legs over to the other side while keeping them in a V-formation. As you can imagine, that was pretty hot with her pretty much just wearing a thong. But then she upped the ante. Keeping her left leg on the floor, she bent her right leg and pulled the fabric tent of the thong aside, giving me a full beaver shot. Then she leisurely reached between her legs, and started to touch herself, rubbing her clit gently and tugging her sex open to show herself to me like a pornstar. That was WAY more stimulation than I could take.

With something between a growl and roar, I pounced off the sofa and onto her. She started in surprise at first, but quickly giggled as I fumbled urgently to mount her. I knelt between her open thighs, pushing--but trying to enter without touching myself as per instructions. Her hand appeared and helpfully lined up the shot, and in a second I was fully penetrating her.

"You said I could touch you any way I liked," I growled. She had me revved up like a fucking animal, and that's exactly how I acted. I slammed my dick into her, pinning her to the floor, completely overcome in a tidal wave of lust. She responded, too.. "oh... oh god... looks like you've got a little animal in you, honey... oh..." And because my single-minded fucking was registering positive chords in the recipient, I was encouraged to drive harder, faster, deeper. I felt her wrap her arms around my shoulders, holding on for dear life as I jackhammered her. Her reactions gave me no reason to believe that she wasn't enjoying this just as much as she did.

I hammered that pussy, only dimly aware of anything else in the world except for the sensation of her pussy welcoming my invading dick. I focused on that sensation, which at that moment was beyond description in intensity and pleasure. I didn't let up--fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I stroked and pinned her to floor.

I was driving hard towards orgasm. It wasn't just pleasure; I also sought relief from the pent-up reservoir of lust that she had so carefully stoked up with her teasing. I stroked, stroked, stroked... and in a flash, there was the finish line, and just as quickly bam!, I crossed it. I pinned Sam to the floor with my iron-hard penis. I ejaculated with such force it felt like my nuts were actually exploding.

In my orgasmic stupor, I was only dimly aware that Sam had suddenly curled up against me tight. As my senses returned to me, I realized that her legs were tightly locked around me, her arms held our torsos tightly together, and her head was squeezing into my shoulder. Senses returning, I felt her body shake with the last rumbling aftershocks of her orgasm.

I kept still, waiting for her to relax back onto the floor--but she didn't. She kept holding me tight, as if her very life depended on it. I wanted to kiss her; I kissed the only part I could reach--her shoulder. Then I felt a soft shudder of a different kind. Samantha was sobbing.

I flipped out. I was sure I'd screwed up bigtime by fucking her like such an animal, and made her cry. Maybe I'd just reminded her of how Marshall used to treat her... god, that was the LAST thing I wanted to do. "Samantha... oh my god, what's wrong? What have I done?"

Samantha loosened her grip enough that she could face me. She had tears in her eyes, but a brave smile on her face. "Nothing..." she sighed, "that was absolutely wonderful..."

"Something must be wrong, or you wouldn't be crying," I protested. I wished I could set her down, but she clung tight.

"Women don't always cry because they're sad," she explained patiently with a sniff. "Sometimes we cry when our emotions are overwhelming. Sometimes we cry because we're so happy."

The look in her eyes told me she was telling the truth. I certainly didn't understand, but I was learning to accept that there would be things in life I wouldn't understand. "So you're crying... because you're happy?"

She nodded her head vigorously, smiling through the tears. "Very, very happy."

Our earlier conversation came back to me, and something clicked. "Was that... an emotional orgasm?"

With a simultaneous giggle, sniffle and snuggle, she replied "off the fucking charts..."

------

While was busy desecrating Sam's uniform, Marshall Jacobs was getting his come-uppance courtesy of the other Spirit Girls. We weren't there, but from the blow-by-blow replay it must have gone like this. After the game that night, Jenna the four other girls from the team were waiting in ambush. When he got to the bar, he joined them as he usually did. They immediately let him have it. He pretended to be surprised that Sam was fired, but the girls weren't buying any of it. But the message was really hammered home with an unexpected assist from Stanley Jefferson.

"Hey man... you went and got some girl fired... cuz she was gettin' busy wit' YOU? Nigga, what kind of fool are you? Every dance team in the league got the same rule. They not supposed to hang wit' us, we not supposed to hang wit' dem. And on every team both sides do it anyway. Everyone knows it, but as long as no one complains about it everyone looks the other way. It works for everybody. You just committed the cardinal sin, man. You ain't gonna get no play from no dancer anywhere in the league no mo'. Tha's a lot'a damn fine pussy ain't nevah gonna give you the time o'day again. You wanna be a playa, rook, you got lots to learn."

Then Jenna warned him off. "Samantha is DONE with your sorry ass, Marshal Jacobs. You had better leave her alone, because if you mess things up for her and her new boyfriend, I will personally fuck you up. Oh, yeah, you should probably know this: you might remember meeting Dave, Sam's new boyfriend? Guy with the office in the back of the training room? Here's a news flash: he isn't just an intern like he tells people. His full name is Davis Rutherford III, his grandfather owns the Jammers, and someday the team will be his. So not only is she done being your bitch, she's now dating the guy who signs your fucking check. So I suggest you think twice before you get any more ideas about causing trouble for Sam... or Dave." Like I said, I wasn't there, but I think it must be pretty accurate because the next day I caught Marshall Jacobs sneaking around and peeking into my office. I could only think of one reason why he would do that—to double-check the name plate on the desk.

---------

At 3AM that night, I was lying in bed, naked, rug burns attended to, sound asleep. Sam was sleeping naked next to me. All at once I was awakened by Sam thrashing about and screaming, "No! I don't want to go with you. Let me go! Stop it!" She turn violently right, then back left, like she was trying to escape from something.

I propped myself up on one arm, put my hand on her shoulder and shook her "Sam! Sam! Wake up!" Sam thrashed once more, then froze, disoriented. I repeated myself. "Sam! Wake up Sam! You were having a bad dream."

She blinked her eyes open groggily. "Hmm?" she mumbled in confusion. She sat up, looked around, saw me, blinked a few times, looked around some more trying to figure out where she was for a minute until the cobwebs cleared. When her senses returned, she collapsed back onto the pillow. "Oh my god... it seemed so real..."

"It was just a dream," I soothed, stroking her upper arm.

"Thank god! It was horrible... I dreamt that Marshall Jacobs gave me this necklace... only when I put it on, it wasn't just a necklace. It was like a mind control thing, and Marshall Jacobs could make me do whatever he wanted using this like remote-control-airplane thing. I dreamt he steered me into the bar, and was making me take off my clothes... My brain kept screaming no, but because of the necklace I had no control over my body..." then she shuddered in horror.

I put my arm around her and kissed her cheek. "It was just a dream. There is no such thing as a mind control necklace."

She sighed heavily as her body calmed down from the agitation. "What time is it?" she muttered, looked at the clock, and lay heavily back onto the pillow.

I kissed her. "Do you have nightmares often?"

She shook her head slightly. "No... at least, I don't think so. This isn't the first time I've had a bad dream about Marshall, though." She blinked slowly and tiredly. " This dream kind of says it all, doesn't it? I feel like he could somehow control me, make me do things I didn't want to do, and now I'm having nightmares about it."

"Are you afraid that if you can't understand what happened with Marshall, it could happen again?" I had done my research paper in Psych on dreams.

She fixed her gaze on me. "Maybe. I mean, you're such a nice guy and he was a jerk, yet how many times did I pick him over you? Like he was controlling my mind of something."

"Maybe you need to start by accepting that dating Marshall Jacobs wasn't a total mistake." It was strange to hear myself say these things, but as the thoughts came to me they all fit together and made sense. "Hindsight is 20-20; maybe you'd do it differently knowing what you do now, but at the time you didn't. Let's be honest--Marshall Jacobs is the most eligible bachelor in this city. That night that you met him-- every girl in the club was hoping he would take notice of them. You said it yourself earlier; when you introduced yourself, you thought you'd just be saying hi and he'd move on to the next pretty girl.

But he didn't. I don't know if you ever thought of it like this, but that was really a feather in your cap. Of all the beautiful women in the club, he picked you. That must have felt intoxicating." I paused. "Of course, once he set his sights on you, it was put up or shut up time. If you wanted to be the girl that outshone the rest, you were going to have to give him what he wanted. So you did. And once you started down that path, he kept pushing you just a little bit further the next time. Little by little, he got you doing things that you would have never done at the outset. But that doesn't mean you changed, or were a bad person. If it had been any other girl in that room that Marshall hit on that first night... it would have ended up exactly the same. It happened to you--because you WERE the most beautiful woman in the room."

She regarded me silently for a moment, thinking. "You really think so?"

"Yeah, I do. That first night, when he started chatting you up, there was no surprise that you picked him. I'd have done the same thing if I were you."

She kissed me. "Thank you for being so understanding," she said softly. I held her close to me, felt her cuddle me for comfort. She looked up at me with doe eyes and whispered "I'm really lucky how everything turned out. I couldn't be happier than I am lying here with you. And if all this crazy shit with Marshall was what it took for me to end up here, I wouldn't hesitate to do it all again."

I returned her gaze. My heart swelled with emotion. That's when I blurted it out: "I love you, Samantha."

She eyes kicked into gear, searching my face earnestly. She wanted to believe I really meant it and it wasn't just something that came out in a moment of tenderness --but she didn't. Not yet, anyway. "That's very sweet of you Dave, but you don't know that you love me yet. You're still getting to know me. You didn't even really know I played basketball before today..."

"And I don't know your favorite movie of all time, and I don't know your favorite food," I protested. "I know that. But if your favorite restaurant is someplace I don't even like, is that going to make me feel different about you? A Marshall would say, hay-ll no! I'm going to feel just as strongly for you as I do right now. And that's ultimately what love is, isn't it? A feeling? Feeling like all you want to do is be with someone... feeling you'd do anything to make that person happy... feeling like up until now your life was a puzzle with a piece missing, and that person completes the picture. I can say for certain I've never felt anything like what I do for you, Sam. I don't know if this will last forever, nobody knows that. But I can tell you absolutely, right here and right now, that I LOVE YOU.

I have never felt as loved as the look I got from Sam. "Oh Dave... I love you, too," she replied, voice heavy with emotion, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing tight, which had the effect of pulling me on top of her. She kissed me fervently. When she stopped, she had tears in her eyes. "Now look..." she pretended to scold, "you're making me cry tears of joy all over again." Then we kissed some more.