“Y’all leave the jug,” she instructed Jeeter when they dragged back to the sidelines.
He left it. She took a deep drag from it and swished it around inside her mouth. She was rinsing her mouth out after Jeeter, but at the last minute she thought better of it and swallowed the combination of moonshine and man-cream. Why not? She’d already swallowed everything else he’d had to offer. Resting, she drank from the jug until it was empty. Then she sat up and surveyed the sidelines. “I reckon I can handle three more of you degenerates ’fore we call it a night,” she challenged.
“Thought your pussy was too sore.” The answer came floating back.
“I’m just plain too horny to fret ’bout that. Y’all come on over here an’ I’ll show you.”
The first one to take her up on her offer was a linebacker with a slow, slouching technique of a determined gorilla. He set the blonde on her stomach and did her doggie-style from behind. He was casually brutal, but she didn’t seem to mind. She came right along with him, squealing like a stuck pig while he emitted his great, wheezing gorilla roars.
A gentler giant followed him. He sat on the grass with his stilt-like legs outstretched and positioned the blonde on his lap. The thigh-muscles he usually used to outrun pass receivers bounded against her springy bottom while he squeezed her breasts with hamlike hands usually used to bat balls from the clutch of the opposition and fucked her with an eager cock more used to curling up inside jock straps. Primed now, made more excited with each succeeding lay, the blonde spread her pussy over his lap like a lady pirate tumbling jewels from a booty-chest. Later she slapped her gushing quim down hard on his sinew-jumping thighs and came just before he filled her with his pot-prolonged discharge.
“Phew!” She lay on her back panting, but not dissuaded. “Next!” she called. “Y’all hear me? Next!”
A short, powerfully built man with wide shoulders and narrow hips and a cock like a donkey’s swaggered over to her. He pushed her over on her back, sprawled over her and shoved his large, rigid dong up her cunt. He had a behind that looked like a craggy anvil, but it pounded up and down over her more like a determined hammer.
As I stood watching them going at it, his predecessor, the guy with the lope-legs and the pass-spoiling hands, spied me and came over. “Now y’all ain’t with our team.” Despite the words, his tone wasn’t unfriendly.
“No, I’m not.”
“But y’all are enjoyin’ the show.” He grinned.
“Yes, I am.”
“Hell, long as you’re here, even if you ain’t with the team, it don’t hurt to be hospitable. Y’all want a piece of the action?”
I thought about it. “I’d like to,” I said honestly. “But the fact is I’m here to see somebody and it’s kind of important.”
“That a fact? Who you lookin’ for?”
“A quarterback named Terry Niemath. You know where I might find him?”
“Terry Niemath?” A big grin broke over his lace. “Shoot! Ain’t nothin’ easier. Right there.” He poiinted
He was pointing at the couple wrapped around each other and straining under the goal posts. I looked at the grinding anvil ass and remembered the short, powerful build and wide shoulders. Yeah! There was even a passing resemblance to Joe Namath. The guy sure looked like he might be the kind of quarterback Rhino Dubrowski said he was. “Thanks,” I told my grinning informant.
I watched as he banged his way to a climax. Yeah. Great concentration. Really good moves. He grabbed the blonde’s breasts and twisted them cruelly. He had aggressive hostility too. No doubt about it, I thought, as they came together writhing and snarling. If he could only pass and run, he had all the makings of a star quarterback.
Giving him a minute to recover from his exertions, I thought about the problem which seemed to be weighing so heavily on Rhino’s mind as to drive him to drink. I’d been right. Rhino was exaggerating the difficulty. Terry Niemath might be gay, but he was also obviously bi. Hell, if he didn’t dig women, he could never have balled the blonde so enthusiastically. All we had to do was throw more blondes at him and make sure he stayed in line in the locker room. Hell, I’d have a talk with him. When he realized what was at stake, how he was going to play for a pro team, he’d surely straighten out. Yeah. The right kind of talk should do it. Problem solved!
I walked over to where the couple was sitting side by side on the grass. They’d gotten their breath back and were sharing a beer and a cigarette. I dropped down beside them with a smile. “Terry Niemath,” I said, “I want to have a talk with you.”
“Well, now, I do declare!” the short-haired blonde with the big boobs with the berry nipples replied. “Y’all are the first man all night who wanted to talk with me!”
Anvil-ass snorted through his beer.
I looked from one to the other of them and back again. “You’re Terry Niernath?” I said to the blonde, my stomach dropping like iceberg time for the Titanic.
“Sure ’nuf, honeychile. Now just what is your problem?”
“My problem. . .” My problem was not solved. My problem was just beginning!
CHAPTER THREE
We changed at Atlanta for the non-stop jet to San Francisco. Terry Niemath scrambled into the window seat. I sat in the middle, Rhino on the aisle. We hadn’t been able to get seats together on the plane out of Little Rock, and making connections had been a mad scramble at the world’s largest and most screwed up airport, so this was really my first opportunity to discuss the situation with Rhino.
“When you told them in San Francisco that there was a sex problem, you really did mean a sex problem!” I had turned away from Terry and spoke in a low voice so she couldn’t hear.
“It sure as excreta ain’t just gender,” Rhino replied glumly.
“Whoo-ee! I surely do love jets!” The blonde quarterback made a bid for our attention. “They’re so big! An’ they make me feel so horny!”
“Everything makes her feel that way,” Rhino sighed. “It’s not just that she’s female. It’s also that when it comes to coitus she ain’t got no quitting sense.”
“Is today the first time you’ve ever flown?” I turned back to Terry, trying to be polite.
“First time in a jet. I hopped ’round Arkansas an’ Tennessee in them little planes, but comin’ from Little Rock this mornin’, that was my first time in one of these here big, sexy mothers.”
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” the intercom crackled. “This is Captain Corcoran, your pilot on the flight from Atlanta to San Francisco this afternoon.”
“He surely does have a ee-rotic voice,” Terry sighed.
What I heard in the voice was clear blue eyes, a square jaw, and a touch of grey at the temples-—all those intrepid hallmarks an insecure passenger looks for in the pilot of an airliner since Duke Wayne7 died—but, then, maybe that was the same thing Terry was talking about.
“That’s exactly the fecal attitude I mean!” Rhino told me.
“We’ve completed taxiing up the runway and we’ll be taking off in just a minute,” Captain Corcoran announced. “Our stewards and stewardesses will now check to make sure that all seat belts are securely fastened.”
Terry had her pea coat spread over her lap so our steward had to lean across me and reach under it to check on her seat belt. A look like that of a cat who has just discovered leftover tuna fish in the garbage pail spread over her face. She smiled meltingly at the steward and pinned his hand between her legs under the pea coat. His face was brick red by the time he managed to extricate himself.
“I just go absolutely ape over dudes in uniforms,” Terry announced to the cabin at large.
“Our cohabitating luck! We couldn’t get a stewardess!”
The plane took off. Terry stared out the window at the discharging jets and moaned low in her throat. The sight obviously jazzed up her libido.