Page 4 of The Goalie

You aren’t supposed to care, a voice reminded me.So what if it’s familiar? So what if he may or may not have had surgery? You’re about to have sex with a hot stranger. Isn’t that the goal? Why are you trying to sabotage yourself?

Before he could ask me again if I was all right because of my momentary pause, I began to unbutton his pants. Let him think I was just stunned by his body. It would feed his ego—and it wasn’t technically a lie. He had an amazing body. I didn’t think I could pinch him and come away with fat.

After unzipping his pants, I grabbed the material coating his thighs and gently tugged them down. He wore black boxer briefs—tight, but not too tight—that only emphasized his hard cock.

Now I was transfixed.

I never thought the male sex organ was a beautiful thing to look at. I wasn’t going to kid myself and I definitely wasn’t going to kid my sex partner. But seeing it so prominently displayed only made my own inner core pulse and I could feel myself get wet.

I wanted him.

I reached beneath the waistband and slid my hand inside. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and he let out a low moan. My eyes widened. I had had sex before, but each time I managed to elicit a reaction like this—a reaction that indicated I was in complete control—it always surprised me. I wanted to get him to moan again. I wanted him to know that when I touched him, I could get anything I wanted from him.

His head rolled back and nearly hit the wall behind him. I didn’t think he cared.

I maneuvered his underwear down in a pile with his pants so I had better access. It always amazed me when my friends would tell me they hated going down on their partners or boyfriends. Honestly, it was one of my favorite parts of sex—after my own pleasure. It reminded me how much power I had over him.

Without waiting, I dropped to my knees and brought his cock into my mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he got out.

His hand cupped the back of my head as soon as I sucked in the tip of his cock. He didn’t grip my hair or try to force me to take more of him in, which I appreciated. I always hated when a guy tried to control this aspect of sex. Either he trusted me to know what I was doing or he didn’t. Thankfully, this stranger seemed to trust me.

I moved up and down his shaft as best as I could. I couldn’t fit him completely in my mouth even though I wanted to. He was just too large.

“You need to stop,” he said, digging his fingers into my hair to stop me. “Or I’m going to cum in your mouth.”

I smiled as I stood. “Sounds like fun,” I said, wiping my bottom lip with my thumb. “Another time, then.”

Who was this girl, and how did she know how to flirt? Where were the awkward pauses, the trailing sentences, the eyes focused on the floor during the entirety of the conversation?

When I stood, his hands found my hips and he whirled me around. I let out a squeak of surprise. His fingers found my zipper and slowly pulled it down. From there, he had to undo the small hook that kept my dress up—something guys had a hard time undoing.

Either this guy had experience or he was just that talented, but he managed to unbuckle the hook his first try.

My dress fell to the floor. I might have worried about an expensive dress being so carelessly discarded on the floor of a gym locker room, but I couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when this stranger all but ripped off my bra and immediately bent his head so he could suck on my breast. His hand found my other nipple, caressing it with his fingertips and causing it to marble under his touch.

I let out a moan, grasping the roots of his hair, holding him in place. My panties became soaked to the point where I was actually embarrassed about the desire I had for this man—a man I didn’t even know.

When he finished, he began to kiss a trail down my stomach and stopped at the waistline of my underwear. Without warning, he ripped them in two with his hands, the flimsy material falling to the floor like delicate snowflakes.

“Hey,” I said, my voice husky. “I liked that pair.”

“I’ll buy you three new pairs,” he promised, sliding a hand up my thigh.

I wanted to argue, but the way he was touching me left me out of words. He slid his finger inside of me and I gasped.

“You’re wet for me,” he murmured against the inside of my thigh. “Goddamn, you’re wet.”

After removing his finger quickly, he stood up and whirled me around again, forcing my hands to clutch the sink. He bent down to retrieve something from his pants. When I heard the rip, I knew it was a condom. Thank God I didn’t have to remind him. In all honesty, the fact that he was responsible was a turn-on.

He slid it on and thrust himself inside of me. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t question whether I wanted this or not. Talking led to questions, and questions led to doubts. This wasn’t something I wanted to be talked out of.

His hands gripped my hips and he continued to thrust, maintaining his pace. I could see him staring at me in the mirror. His eyes watched as my breasts moved with each thrust.

I took my fingers and licked them before moving them down to the nub between my thighs. An orgasm was already starting to build. I wanted to make sure I could enjoy it, because I wouldn’t be surprised if we were caught with the noise we were making.

It only took another second, maybe two. My head was light, my body prickling with fire, as I began to spasm against his cock. A few more thrusts and he released himself completely inside of me.