Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Be careful what you wish for.
When my manager called this morning, I was sure the best outcome I could hope for was a trade. A renegotiation of my contract, if they didn’t kick me off the team entirely. But they want me back. They passed along congratulations, said they agreed my situation is a special circumstance and I’m a valued member of the team.
That means I have a few weeks to get my shit in order, because I’m still on the roster for next season.
Rue and I have only had four months to get to know each other and we’re still finding our way. She makes it easy. She’s adapted to all the changes in her young life better than I ever imagined she could, but I still feel unprepared. Like I’m walking around with this perfect, beautifully fragile grenade in my hand. One slip and boom! It could all blow up in my face.
She has my eyes and my sister’s curiosity. And I want to give her the things we never had growing up. Room to breathe. Friends. Choices. How to do that with me as her father is what’s going to be the challenge. I know players who have families. I don’t know many who’ve attempted to raise a child on their own.
Joey Redmond’s arrival seems more like providence than a fluke. He knows everything I don’t about taking care of a child. Things I haven’t even thought to worry about. And he has that way about him.
He didn’t like it when I said it, but it’s true all the same. There is something special about my neighbor. I sensed it last night and this morning. I trusted him instantly. Felt like I knew him as soon as I looked into his eyes.
He has interesting eyes. Like multi-colored stones. Brown and gold, green and blue all jumbled up together, and always looking into mine with empathy and humor. Wariness and a little sadness too, but the sadness is the well-worn kind. Like it’s been there a while and it knows how to blend into the background.
I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t usually talk that much about my problems. I’ve known George for years and I’ve never had that kind of conversation with him. My teammates come to me to sort themselves out, but I’ve never returned the favor. I prefer keeping to myself.
It’s different with Joey. He listens instead of waiting to talk. And even though he really had no idea who I was, he still tried to help. Even though I’d freaked him out by jumping onto his balcony. Even though sitting on cold tile with a stiff dick while a pushy stranger lays out his problems sounds like torture to me. He powered through it all like a champ.
Yeah, I saw it. It happens to the best of us. For some guys all it takes is a breeze.
At the direction of my thoughts, the ache I’ve been ignoring makes itself known again. My palm skims over my erection and I tug on my tight, heavy balls, grunting at the pleasurable sensation.
I know what he’s going through. I’ve been sorely lacking in alone time myself, and dating has been out of the question. I suppose it was only a matter of time before things got too backed up to ignore. I wasn’t able to go to sleep last night until I relieved some of the pressure. Looks like there’s more where that came from.
“Fuck.”
I don’t overthink it, just push down my shorts and boxer briefs with one hand, then lick my palm and wrap it around my cock.
I drag my shirt up so I can see my shaft, flush with blood and arousal as it pumps through my fist. Just like last night, I’m already hard enough to pop. When the hell did that happen?
The sight is almost vulgar, but I don’t look away from it. This is all I need to get me going these days. I rarely even bother with porn anymore. Just this. The sight and sound of flesh against flesh. The hard grip and forceful pump.
I’d never treat a woman the way I treat my dick. The rough, almost angry strokes do more for me than hours of foreplay. My knuckles smack my sensitive balls and my ass muscles clench as my fist tightens around my shaft.
Harder. I need to feel it. I want it to hurt a little. Like I’m forcing my way into a snug ass.
Yes.
Maybe I don’t need a fantasy, but the thought brings a memory to mind. The girl in college who asked me to take her home from a crowded party one night. Who told me she was saving some things for marriage, but then handed me a bottle of lube with a smile and told me what she wanted me to do to her. In detail.