The Soccer Girl

Living with Carla was a favor to Hank's mother. He didn't want to live with her at all. But she needed a place to stay for the summer, and he had little choice in the matter. Carla's mother and Hank's mother were good friends, and when Carla said she wanted to spend some time living in San Francisco before going to college, Hank's mother quickly volunteered his extra room - without asking, of course.

But while she was there, Hank didn't mind too much - she was a cutie. Carla was only 18, and even though Hank was 23, there was still an enormous attraction between them. Hearing Carla speak Spanish was always a turn-on for Hank, even though he knew it shouldn't be. Carla was born in Spain and raised by Spanish-speaking parents in America, so she spoke it well.

Physically, she was just his type: she was just a little over five feet tall, and very athletic - she had played soccer since she was a little kid, and was in very good shape - and despite her small breast size she more than made up for it with her perfectly round, soft ass. And that's saying nothing of her smile. She had the most wonderful smile Hank had ever seen. It lit up any room she was in. But even that wasn't the main reason Hank found her attractive.

He loved her laugh. She had a very sexy laugh, and she laughed often. Mostly she giggled, and that was adorable enough, but when she laughed, she laughed. Her head tilted back, her curly, dirty blonde hair fell away from her face, and her mouth seemed to fall open. There wasn't a self-conscious bone in her body, and when she laughed, it showed. She wasn't worried about how she looked, whether he teeth were showing, whether her eyes were open or closed, how she sounded... she just laughed as hard and as selflessly as she wanted. That's what Hank found the sexiest. In the first few weeks they spent together, nothing made him happier than being the one to have made her double over in laughter, near tears.

Hank thought of himself as a writer, and he technically was - he had been published in magazines and journals across the country - but he was trying to get through his first book, and it was proving to be a bigger challenge than he had imagined. Hank spent most of his time writing, but Carla always wanted to work out. Running, swimming, playing soccer - it didn't make much of a difference to her. It didn't make too much of a difference to Hank, either, but that's only because he hated it all. He exercised some, but he couldn't quite keep up Carla's relentless pace, so rather than have her go running into the dangerous parts of town, he introduced her to some local fields where she could join pickup soccer games. She went three times a week.

Sometimes he watched her, but it was often almost too much to bear. Seeing her running around in tiny shorts and long socks (a longtime fetish of his), bouncing up and down in excitement, her muscular legs slick with sweat, her big goofy grin every time she scored a goal - all these things served as a constant reminder to how very, very single he was.

In the last game he had watched, one of her new girl friends that she had met through the games slapped her on the ass after a particularly good goal, and Carla had squealed in excitement, then tried to cover it up with a dirty look. The girl, a tall lanky brunette - in most ways opposite to Carla, but still plenty gorgeous - started doing it every goal. Watching Carla's perfect round ass slapped over and over again was too much for Hank, and that sexy look she followed it up with was enough to make him never come back.

Carla, for all her sexiness, seemed so naive and innocent that he knew she wouldn't be interested in sleeping with him, and he was still worried that she might be too young. After all, he had just finished college - just a few months before, she had been in high school!

But that didn't stop him from thinking about her. He often tried to avoid her in his masturbation fantasies, but she always found her way into his head - waiting for him breathlessly in nothing but her soccer socks or yoga pants, begging for his hot, hard cock - but he knew that it wasn't going to happen, and did his best to censor his imagination.

Of course, Carla didn't know that he was struggling. If she did, maybe she wouldn't have dressed so provocatively. She always wore the tightest fitting yoga pants or shortest shorts she owned - and not a panty line in sight - she seemed to wear nothing but bright, colorful thongs (he knew not only because they occasionally peeked over the tops of her pants, but because she left them strewn across the floor).

When she came back from swimming, she would leave her wet bikini on and walk around the house just shy of dripping wet. Her perfect thighs leading up to her bouncing ass whenever she walked around the apartment. When she showered, she always managed to forget her clothes in another room, and Hank had to try and hide his erection many times as she walked by and made small talk wearing nothing but a towel. And yet Hank got the distinct idea that she wasn't a tease. She wasn't acting or dressing how she did for attention, it was just the most comfortable way she knew how to be, and she was too innocent to realize it might be a problem.

It was most certainly a problem. Hank started masturbating more and more, jacking off three times a day most days, every time after one of her little shows. It was affecting his writing, and it was driving him crazy to try and not think of her. And then it happened - the lock on his bedroom door broke. He tried to fix it to no avail, and he knew he wouldn't have the money to call a locksmith for at least a few weeks. Suddenly, his world was thrown completely out of whack.

No longer able to masturbate when Carla was in the house, the way she dressed and moved drove him to the edge. He began to relish the time she spent playing her soccer games. He would stay in his bed late on those days, and before long he gave up on the idea of censoring her out of his fantasies. Every morning that she went out, he imagined what he would do to her if she gave him the chance. The ways he would fuck her, the ways he would kiss her, even the thought of her masturbating (though he was relatively sure she never did it) entered into his imagination as he vigorously got himself off.

One day she walked in on him. It was a Saturday morning, and Carla was supposed to be at her game. Hank started lazily waking himself up by stroking himself slowly. He was getting close, thinking of bending her over on the soccer field and pulling her shorts down to her knees, lining his cock up with her waiting pussy, when Carla walked in without knocking. She was half dressed, and obviously in a hurry. In a flash, Hank pulled his sheet back up and tried not to look at her sports bra and bright colorful panties. No thong today, he noted.

"What are you doing here?" he screamed.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, scared. "I thought you worked today?"

"No. I don't." Hank had calmed down. He was relatively sure she hadn't seen anything. "What do you need?"

"Do you have a ball? I need a soccer ball. I'm running late to my game."

"Yeah, in the corner."

"Thanks."

Hank became extremely self-conscious of the fact that he was still squeezing his own erection as she walked over to the opposite corner of his messy room. Knowing that she had no idea how close he was to cumming when she walked in was a strange turn-on to him, and he tried to keep his cool. His dick jumped under the sheets as he watched her bend over to get it. He watched her little panties ride up and begin to expose her perfect ass. They clung tightly to her curvy cheeks as she searched for the ball.

Hank could just imagine how soft and smooth her pussy lips must be under the thin layers of fabric hiding them. It was just like his fantasy. He could imagine getting out of bed, rock hard and completely naked, and pushing her down into his pile of laundry, ripping her cute little panties down, and -

"Why do you look so scared, silly?" She was now looking back at him over her shoulder, still bent over with one hand on the soccer ball. She had a smile on her face.

"Nothing. You just woke me up. Sorry."

"Sorry to wake you."

It was both exhilarating and terrifying to be talking to the object of his masturbation without her knowing how aroused he was. He tried to extend their conversation.

"Long game today?"

"Who knows? For once, I don't really feel like working out. Maybe I'll come home early. We'll see." She grabbed the soccer ball and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. "Good night, sleepyhead."

The door slowly swung open behind her as he heard her get dressed and leave the house.

"Dammit."

Hank spent the rest of the day trying not to cum. Everything turned him on - TV, breakfast, even his own novel in progress. When he watched TV, all he could think about was what it would be like to fuck the hot news anchor. When he ate breakfast, he could just imagine Carla slowly eating his banana. And his book was quickly turning into erotica. But with the bedroom door unreliable, and the threat of Carla coming home early, he knew it wasn't safe. He felt like a little kid trying to sneak a quick jack-off session before his parents came home from work.

Hank was so frazzled that it took him two hours to think of the bathroom. He felt like a real idiot. For something to do, he was about to replace the toilet paper when it hit him. Of course the bathroom door locks, why not just do it in there? He ran into the bathroom almost at once, taking off his shirt on the way, slammed the door behind him, and pulled down his sweatpants. His erection sprang free and slapped him on the bare stomach. He fell onto the toilet seat and got to work, not even thinking to lock the bathroom door.

Carla walked into the house confused. She saw the half-eaten breakfast, the shirt thrown onto the floor, and both Hank's laptop and TV turned on in opposite ends of the living room. She ignored the mess and took off her shirt and shorts as she walked to her bedroom. She slipped off her shoes and socks and threw it all into a pile, then walked into the bathroom, where she saw Hank masturbating feverishly.

Carla had never experienced anything quite like it before. Hank was wrong about her, she was a frequent masturbator, but she rarely thought about sharing her sexual nature with other people. In fact, she had always found girls to be much prettier than guys, and she never understood how her girlfriends found guys to be the ultimate turn-on. But seeing Hank there changed everything. When she saw him sitting in the bathroom, his eyes closed shut, his mouth hanging slightly open in passion, his big thick dick straining in his hands, she understood.

She loved everything about the sight, from the way he stroked his big balls, lifting them up and down, to the way his abs clenched when he breathed in. But most of all, that dick. It was gorgeous. She had never seen anything quite like it, not even in the porn movies her sister showed her once. She understood. She was consumed.

Then Hank opened his eyes. For a moment, he thought that his dreams had literally come true, that he was imagining what was in front of him. Because, after all, it was exactly what he had been imagining. There she was, Carla, only dressed in a sports bra and tiny panties, dripping with sweat, her mouth open in awed lust. But that moment passed. He mistook her lust for disgust.

"Get out!" he screamed.

"Jeez, okay, sorry!" she yelped, and slowly backed out of the room, watching his dick the whole time. "Sorry." She gently closed the door behind her.

Hank leaned back and slammed his head against the wall. His mother would kill him, he was sure of it. Carla, embarrassed, would report back what she had seen, and his mother would lose her shit, and stop helping with the rent. Everyone would think he was some kind of pervert. There was nothing he could do. And yet, he was so close to cumming. He had been imagining taking her in the shower -- the way she looked over her shoulder as he plowed into her from behind was a new image for him, and it was one that had almost made him blow right before the real thing had walked in.

Carla waited outside the door, breathing heavily. This was new to her. She had never been with a man. She had wanted to, in some way, but never quite like this. She needed him in a way she had never needed anything. She could just imagine the way his penis would feel in her hands. How hot and hard it would be. She wanted to see him cum like in the porn movies she had watched. But what if he didn't want to?

"Fuck it," he thought. "I need this." Figuring he had done all the damage he could do anyway, he reached down and started stroking again. He started thinking about the way she had looked when she bent over for the soccer ball this morning. The faint outline of her pussy, the way her muscular legs had bent just slightly at the knees. He wanted to take her just like that. He closed his eyes tight and imagined.

Carla cracked the door open and peeked in. He was at it again! She watched for a while. His brow was wrinkled and his arm was flexing as he pumped himself up and down. His breathing was ragged, and so was hers. She licked her lips.

There had always been a competitive streak in Carla. She wanted to win. She wanted to be the best. And suddenly, this urge clicked in her. Watching Hank stroke himself, she knew she could do a better job. She was already thinking of strategy. She knocked on the door and opened it in one motion.

Hank looked at her, mouth wide in shock, speechless.

"Can I help?" Carla said, innocently.

"Help?"

"Yeah. You look like you're working pretty hard there. Maybe I could help you get off? Maybe I could help you cum."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Would that be okay?"

Hank didn't know what to say, but Carla wasn't about to wait for a reply. She walked over to him and dropped to her knees in front of him. She put her hands on her knees and leaned forward, closely inspecting his dick. He took his hand off, confused, and watched as she leaned even further in. He could feel her breath on his dick as she got closer, and her big curly hair brushing up against his thighs.

Carla was fascinated. She loved the loose flesh of his sack, the tight skin of his dick, and especially his near-purple head. She saw the veins and traced one with her finger, from the base of his dick all the way up to the top of the shaft. At her touch, his cock jumped. Carla giggled nervously and looked up at Hank. He was breathless, waiting to see what would happen next.

She took her hands off her knees and put them on the outside of his thighs. She didn't really know where to begin, but she thought she'd tease a little first. She ran her hands up his thighs to his flat stomach, and then back again. She knew she couldn't tease for very long. She wanted to see him get off. She reached forward and wrapped her hand around his dick.

"Like this?" she asked.

Hank had never seen such a beautiful sight. There, on her knees in front of him, was a hot young girl, barely dressed, and ready to learn. Her small hand couldn't even fit around his penis, and he watched as she wrapped her other hand around him to make up the distance.

"Or like this?" she asked.

"Uh-huh." was all Hank could manage to get out.

At that, Carla started giggling. She didn't let go, and seeing her so happy with both hands around his dick almost made Hank cum. He thrust his hips forward, but she quickly withdrew her hands.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. Just keep doing what you were doing."

"Can't handle two hands, huh? Okay."

His near--orgasm gone, Hank was able to compose myself as her small hand grabbed hold of him again.

"Now what?" she asked. "I've never done this before."

"Move your hand up and down." She did. "That's right."

After holding off for so long, having her slowly jack him off felt wonderful. She looked up at him with her big eyes, and jerked his dick slowly.

"Do you like that?" she asked. He nodded. She giggled again. "So warm! It feels good in my hand!"

Hank's vision wavered and his toes curled. He had never felt anything like this.

"I should go faster, right?" she asked.

Before Hank could say a word, she started to jerk him faster. She leaned in close again, and he could feel her breath on his balls. She remembered the way he had gently lifted them up and down and started rolling his balls around in her hand.

"I bet that feels really good, huh?" she said, from way down by his balls. Hank had given up on speaking, but he rocked his hips forward. She looked up his shaft, and it seemed to go on forever.

"Jeez, Hank. You're enormous."

By now Carla's knees had spread out and her ass had sunk all the way to the floor. Hank couldn't look away from her perfect ass in those tight little colorful panties, slowly rising and falling against her muscular thighs.

She looked him in the eye, and that goofy-Carla smile spread across her face. He still couldn't believe it: there, smiling at his balls, with his dick covering half her face, was the cute girl that had been driving him crazy for weeks. The girl that, as far as he knew, had never had a sexual thought in his life, was about to make him cum, and she was grinning like it was the best time of her life.

Carla started jacking faster than ever, and the way her hand felt on his balls drove him over the edge.

"I'm close," Hank managed to gasp.

"Close to what?" Carla asked.

All at once, he started to cum. Carla sat up and leaned back, surprised and excited, but she didn't let go. She started moving faster than ever as his cum started flowing out of the head of his dick and onto her hands, his stomach, her knees, even down on her forearms just past her wrists.

The cum started pouring over her hands, but Carla didn't think to slow down. She started lubricating Hank's already over-sensitive dick, and he started to lose control. His hips were thrusting up and down, and he groaned until she had completely emptied him.

"Stopstopstop," he gasped. "I can't take it anymore."

Carla looked worried. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. You were perfect."

She smiled big. "Cool." Looking down at all the cum, she said, "Well, guess we better clean up, huh?"

She looked around, and saw that the toilet paper roll was gone. Without a second thought, she started scooping all the cum up in her hand. When her hand was full, she pushed it into her mouth and swallowed it.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Swallowing your cum!" she cheerfully replied.

It took her three handfuls to get it all off of his body.

"Oh my god, Carla," Hank said. "I can't believe you just swallowed all my cum."

"Wasn't that what I was supposed to do? That's what they do in the movies."

Hank was shocked. The movies? Did she watch porn?

"And you don't mind?"

"No. It was alright." She beamed. "That was fun!"

"Yeah it was."

"And a good workout. My arms are sore!"

Carla got off the bathroom floor and looked in the mirror. She wiped some cum off of her knee and looked at her hands, still wet with cum.

"Looks like I need a shower. Do you mind?"

Hank got up and let her shower. He was relaxed, and in a much better mood. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around what happened, but he knew one thing: It was much easier to get back to writing that day.