Chapter 8

"You got me started thinking, Brad," -Randy Buck says. "Kind of an anxiety attack, it was."

"I mean, here I am sitting here, fat, dumb and happy, and so far you're the only one who's come up with even a small part of the battle plan for winning next season."

"I tried to explain to Randy that ordinarily the ownership doesn't get involved in the actual playing strategy," Anderson says.

And I told Andy here that, head coach or no head coach, I would be calling the shots, as usual, something you would think that he would have gotten used to by now.

"Face it, gentlemen, we have here the formula for success."

"The star has direct access to top management, top management makes. decisions from an entrepreneurial standpoint, and Andy, we rely on you to do the .grunt work of enforcing training schedules, discipline, and play implementation through practice, practice, practice.

"And I'm sure that all of us, working together... " Buck is droning on and on, Brad listening with half an ear, wishing he was with Helen, his Helen, the Helen that he wants, the only thing in the world for which he has a longing right now.

And instead, here he sits.

And not in Buck's office but in his library at the Estate, a two hour drive, even after they break up, to get to Helen's place.

What a bummer! Brad thinks, a lump in his throat, numbed by the difference between what is and what might have been.

He could be in bed with Helen right now, the two of them fucking and sucking their brains out.

Instead- "... so I feel that the wear and tear on the team using this technique would more than offset any advantages we might gain by using it," Anderson is saying.

And Brad's attention is drawn back to the conversation by the realization that someone. besides Buck is talking.

"For example, what's the use of gaining a first down, if it's gonna cost you a man each play?"

"It just doesn't make any sense, if you simply add - . up the number of potential short yardage situations in the course of a game."

"I'm sorry, but I don't feel that these tactics take into account the casualty potential,"

"Brad?" Buck asks.

"Well, we knew that this objection would come up and," looking at Anderson, "who it would come from."

"Fine, fine," Buck says, impatiently, "but now I'd like you to address the real issue Andy brings up."

"It'll be rough on us and rough on them," Brad says. "We know this. You and I discussed this the other day, Randy."

"But we came to no conclusion," Buck responds. "How could we?" Brad asks. "I can't say, nobody can, just what the toll will be."

"And that's just in practice," Anderson observes. "Hell, we train for this all out and we're just liable to not even make it to the damned game! And even if we do, who says we could sustain that kind of casualty rate for the season?"

"Man has a point," Buck sighs.

"What. else is new?" Brad challenges.

"You just hit the nail on the head, Brad!" Buck says, delighted, clutching Brad's knee.

"But I was only-" Brad begins, stopping himself. Just as well that they did not pickup on his sarcasm.

"What else is new?" Buck repeats, rhetorically.

"'That, Brad my boy, is exactly the question that you are going to answer for us."

"Come training time, we are going to use that answer."

"As for this, this... thing you've come up with, Brad," looking at Anderson, "it's in."

"But-" he adds quickly, "only on very special, rare occasions. In fact, let's define it. Give me the best situation for it, Brad, now that it's not the backbone of our offense."

Brad shrugs.

"Third down, enemy thirty yard line or longer."

"Attaboy!"

"Andy, can you live with that?"

"Yeah, why not?" Anderson sighs.

"Excellent!" Buck says, standing up, indicating that the meeting is over. "Can I entice you gentlemen for lunch before you head back?"

"Uh, no thanks, Randy, I've gotta get going," Brad says, turning to leave at once.

"Just remember, Brad, I'll expect your usual unusual game plans before day one of training," Buck admonishes.

"You got it. See ya, Andy."

And Brad leaves, not looking back, lest there be an afterthought or further delay.

They finish their shared climax, the violent spurts of the three mighty cocks becoming more and more quiescent, then ceasing, as the twinges of her multiple orgasms also come to a hault.

Casually, Ben slides his cock out of her mouth, leaning back against the headboard, keeping his still huge cock, shiny with her saliva and his jism, right there in her. face, so that she can admire its great, bulbous head, its thick shaft, its size and shape, even in its approaching flaccid state.

Because she is choice.

She is absolutely prime.

And Ben cannot fault Brad for his taste.

The attraction is obvious, could conceivably be overwhelming.

He can see that.

But not the way Brad has handled it, has handled himself, exploiting her and thereby risking scandal for the team.

So that this is right.

This is straightening things out.

And after?

Hey, he is good for the season and she isn't going anywhere.

So that, low key, on the sly, why not?

Which is why he wants to impress her now.

And the others are no less enthusiastic concerning her.

Because, even now, they lie there in a heap, Bubba fully inserted in her ass, Ace in her cunt, a panting, sweating mound of living flesh.

Ace revels in her pressure, the weight of her, the curvaceous voluptuousness of her, a diametric contrast to the pileups he is used to, in which the weight is so much greater, the surfaces so much harder.

I could take a whole lot of this, he thinks.

He owes Brad an indirect debt of gratitude for his "discovery" and for creating a problem which it is his duty to thus delightfully resolve.

And Bubba?

He helps himself to her mammoth mammaries, reaching around her, squeezing them, kneading them as his cock slowly detuinesces in her rectum.

Even when the peristaltic action of her bowels shits him out of her ass, still he lies there, wriggling on her curves, playing with her breasts, not wanting this erotic dream come to life to come to an end.

At first, Helen tolerates their reluctance to move.

But now, she says, "How about Ben here takes a showah wit me, you othah two nex'?"

"Plenny of beer inna fridge, y'alI jus' he'p yo'se'ves."

Reluctantly; Bubba dismounts.

Helen gets up next and Ben gallantly offers. her a hand off the bed.

They go into the bathroom and into the tub, pulling the shower curtain.

The other two stand at the sink, hefty wangs draped into the basin as they wash offs the part that wunts, grinning at each other.

They pad naked into the kitchen and extract a couple of cans of beer from the refrigerator, standing there, chugging them down.

As Helen, in the shower, resists Ben's fondling and fooling around, saying, "Laytah to' that. We got people waitin' ta use the facilities. Not ta mention they ain't all that much hot watah at a time."

"Takin' you up on that laytah, babe," Ben says, meaning it.

"No problem. Seem like ah'm about ta have me a lotta free time anyways."

"Well thass good, then."

And they finish showering quickly.

"You two can go now, you want," Helen says, drying off, a towel draped around her large voluptuous frame.

Ace and Bubba look at each other and shrug, grinning.

And take their shower together to save time and hot water.

And Helen and Ben await them on the bed.

So that, very soon, they are ready to resume their three-way sex.

And Helen takes the most handy body-Ben's-positions him in the bed and starts working on him, sucking his cock until he is hard and then squatting -: above him, inserting his rampant invader up into herself, as before.

And it is Ace who claims the back door this with Bubba the face man.

And they are all going at it with a minimum of prelimiinaries, Ace's rimming of her perfunctory so that she hikes her booty into the air, leaving only head of Ben's cock inside her pussy lips until Ace has inserted himself fully into her ass hole, which he does with speed and dexterity.

So that now, they are once again bouncing and humping full force.

And quickly building up the pleasure within themselves, nurturing it rapidly into the pleasure beyond pleasure, until once more they are all coming.

And there is no delay, this time, in the dismount. Because the pattern, the plan has become clear all of them.

Which is that each of them will get one shot at each orifice of her luscious body.

And they do.

Randy; Buck!

And this meeting today was merely a ruse, a diversion to get him away from Helen so that his team mates could get in here and do their dirty work.

Which is-how dirty?

Can it be that the three men are actually raping Helen?

So that, instead of sitting here in benumbed despair, perhaps he should be in there, rescuing her?

But no, something tells him that that is not what's happening.

And this is confirmed as the sounds of climax, moans of ultimate pleasure proceed in chorus from the bedroom.

Because there is the pause of silence in the aftermath of their shared climax, and then casual conversation and laughter, some of it Helen's, as they disconnect.

And the sound of the shower running as Helen gives over to the men, since they have to clean up and leave, while she can shower at her leisure, so that she contents herself with sitting on the toilet, papering herself fore and aft as Ace, odd man out in the shower this time, washes up at the sink until it comes his turn to do the full honors.

He sees them pass from bedroom to kitchen, Ace still completely naked, Helen now covered with a thin cloth robe, not even noticing him sitting there, watching them through eyes misted over with a mix of emotions-anger, puzzlement, disappointment, indecision-the works.

So that it is not until they emerge, cans of beer in hand, laughing and talking, that they pull up short, surprised at the sight of Brad.

There is a moment of silence as they look at each other.

Then, "Well, well, well! Look who stopped by ta see if ah done passed ma little tes'!"

"Well sorry, bay-bee, but ah done flunked."

"An' had me one helluva tam doin' it too, thank you."

"So now you knows, Brad."

"You do not own me, friend! Not now an' nevah did, so there!"

"An' now that you seen whut you was aftah, whyn't choo jus' piss off?"

"What, uh, what's happening here?"

"Ah b'leeve it be called fuckin', leastways, las' ah heard. Fuckin' an' suckin', thass the name of the game!"

"Sorry, Brad."

"No, lemme correck that."

"Ah ain't sorry, not at all. An' you had joo one helluva nerve, checkin' me out lak you done!"

"What, what are you talking about? I don't understand-"

"Oh, lissen at de man would joo now!"

"An' ah uses de term loosely!"

"Ain' even man enough ta own up ta what he done did!"

"All this be a complete sooprazz ta you, that it?"

"Well uh, yeah."

"But I can explain."

"Tell `er, Ace. Randy Buck put you guys .up to this, right?"

Ace just looks at him.

"Tell `er, dammit!"

And Brad rises, fists clenched.

As Bubba and Ben, hearing the voices, come up behind Helen and Ace, still drying themselves.

And Brad, not being suicidal, unclenches his fists.

"You gonna tell `er or not?" Brad asks.

Ace rolls his eyes upward.

"Whatevah de man say, babe."

"Yeah, right," Helen says.

And Brad glares at Ace, in a quandary as to what to do next, how to make things come out right.

What can he do, after all? Call Ace down for agreeing with him?

That would be ridiculous.

"Hey, Brad, ma man," Bubba says, grinning at him, "any tam y'all got some chickadee you wants to check out, you jus' axe me direckly, dey all be fan lak dis one!"

Brad can only shake his head and turn away. He feels like screaming, ""I am innocent!"

He feels like grabbing Ace and choking the whole truth out of him.

It could only have been Randy Buck who has somehow managed to arrange this; Brad, has never been more certain of anything in his life. But how to make it right with her?

"I'd uh, I'd like for you fellahs to put your clothes on and leave now." Brad says.

And Ace and the other two have no choice but to comply, if they are to maintain the fiction that this is all Brad's doing.

Brad is the boss or he isn't on this deal, and they must act accordingly.

"If you're sure there's nothing else," Ace says, playing it to the hilt, as instructed.

The other two have already disappeared into the bedroom.

They want to keep everybody happy and only Ace is secure enough in his position on the team to be able to defy Brad and get away with it.

"Why don't you just knock it the fuck off, Ace?" Brad grumbles.

Ace casts Helen an imploring glance, shrugs, and goes to get dressed.

And Helen stands there in an archway, looking at Brad, expressionless, as Ace catches up to the other two.

When they are ready to leave, Ace asks her, "You gon' be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fan. You done yo' thang, now go, the three of you. Just uh, lak, don' f git ma numbah, okay?"

"That will nevah happen, sugah!" Ben enthuses. And the three of them leave.

"What happened Helen?"

"Hey! Don' han' me that sheet! You done seed what happent!"

"No, but why? Why did you let Ace and the others do what they did?"

"Say what?

"Why did joo send `em ovah ta do what dey deed? "Answer me dat-whitebread!"

He shakes his head.

"Helen, I swear to you I had nothing to do with it!"

"It's a trick, a practical joke, don't you see?"

"No, mothafuckah, ah don' see!""Okay, okay, that's not exactly true."

"No shit, Dick Tracy!"

"No, I don't mean it like that. This was all Randy Buck's doing."

"An' who da fuck is Randy Buck?"

"He owns the football team."

"Oh, right! An' lak ah'm s'posed ta b'lieve dat de ownah of de team, no less, has set up de whole fuckin' thang!"

"Look. I know it sounds fantastic, but that is the absolute truth."

"Look, Brad. You ain' doin' nuthin' now 'cep'n embarrassin' de bofe of us wif all dis jive bullshit."

"Why don'tcha jus' leave, please?

"Leave an' f git we evah met, okay?"

"An' try not ta be `roun' yo"pahtment wwhen I gots ta clean it, `cause ah needs dis job."

"Ah mean, taday done showed me you ain't got much by way of decency, but you might at leas' show me dat much."

"Show you decency? Baby, I love you!"

And she throws back her head, laughing. "You mus' think ah be some kinda total fool! "Git cho white buns outta dis heah black woman's place."

"Let me show you how much you mean to me!" he pleads, taking her in his arms.

She shrugs him off.

He drops to his knees, burrowing his face into her crotch, beneath her robe, as she stands there, pinned to the wall now that he has taken her by surprise, thrown her off balance.

And she can only stand there, legs parted, looking down at him, shocked.

Because the residue of the last fuck is still inside her, along, with traces of the first two, no doubt.

So that he is eating her pussy, and with it the residue of her last three fucks, none of them from him.

Un-fucking-believable! she tells herself.

First he sets up this ridiculous test, which she deliberately failed to pass, throwing it back in his face.

Then he tried a series of assorted lies and cock and bull stories.

And now, he's eating her pussy, knowing full-well where it's been scant minutes before.

And this is no surface browsing, either.

Because he is eating her in earnest, his tongue strumming her clit, then shafting in and out of her hot, juicy pussy, flowing now with not only her own clear juices but with the melting jism of one to three studs.

And she squats on his face now, incredulous.

Because he is actually going to take her all the way.

And she has to admit it; the boy does have talent.

So that yes, she will allow it.

She will stand here in this awkard, standing position, the spontaniety of it more than compensating for the clumsiness, the discomfort.

But she will not invite him to take a more comfortable spot, preferring instead to see him thus discommoded, after what he has put her through today.

And besides, it's working.

Because now she can feel herself getting hotter and hotter, summoning the pleasure beyond pleasure from her innermost depths with his working tongue.

And sure enough it blossoms within her, its warmth, the exquisite, irresistible sensations filling her rapidly from within.

And she is sweating now, her sexual sweat soaking the light terrycloth of the short robe she is wearing.

So that it is plastered to her large, rounded curves.

As Brad burrows still more fervently into her. muff...

Until- She is coming and coming, not the best series of multiple orgasms she has ever had, certainly far from the most comfortable, but nevertheless, a deep, thrilling, climactic series which transports her, however briefly, to a private sexual paradise before bringing her back down to earth, leaving her weak in the knees.

So that, having gotten her off this way, as Brad pulls his face back, she moves away from him to seat herself on the couch, carefully arranging the back of the robe beneath her.

He seats himself beside her.

But, with a last reserve of energy, she bounces up, going to the apartment door and opening it.

"Get the fuck outta here, you damn prevert!" she says.

"Pervert?" he echoes, correcting her unconsciously.

"Damn straight, prevert! Go thoo all dat bullshit jus' so's you could gitchoo a tayss of cream-filled cupcake!"