Not As Fast As Gonzalo by BB_Bunny 3206

(This story is the property of its author, H. K. Smythe. Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the express authorization of the author is strictly prohibited. Characters under 18 do not engage in sexual activity.)

Not as Fast As Gonzalo

Frank English

I used to tell people I'm as English as it gets. Since I've told almost everyone in West Padwellham that twice, according to them, I'll have to save it for Frank, Jr.'s generation. My hometown on the banks of the Padwellham River is a small industrial town, some would consider it a village. Our factory was originally built in the Nineteenth Century to manufacture buggies, we now make automotive parts. Our lives here are simple, Dottie's and my main entertainment is walking across the village green to the local pub after dropping Frank, Jr. off at either her or my parents' house. Dottie is Dorothy, my wife. Our secondary entertainment is the local Saturday league football team. When she first met me, she didn't even know what an offsides was; now, she is among the most rabid fans, even more so than me or my mates.

The pride of my life is Dottie, who is a real knockout. She stands five-foot-two and weighs one-hundred-ten pounds. She's been accused of packing grapefruits in her bra although her boobs aren't that big at 34C's. Her butt is quite nice, too, as she fills her jeans with a 34-22-33 figure. Blonde hair and blue eyes complete her picture. I'm just an average-sized bloke at five-foot-ten and one-hundred-eighty pounds. My buddies still kid me about how on earth I landed the prettiest girl in town.

I'm a couple of years older than Dottie at 28. I'd seen her at the pub and the factory but never tried to chat her up - I guess I thought she was above the likes of me. That changed when I was assigned to her section on a temporary basis. They'd run into some sort of a production snafu, and I had to help them catch up. She smiled at me; I asked her to eat lunch with me; by the time closing came round at the pub I was smitten. The rest is history: she moved into my flat; and six months later, I told her we might as well tie the knot. Three years later I was pushing Frank Jr.'s pram around town on our Saturday morning shopping expeditions.

On the other side of the river is the town of East Padwellham. They have their own factory and soccer team; both are competitive with ours. The city fathers of the two towns could never get along; that's why East Padwellham had to build their own factory, we had to organize our own soccer team, and it's a wonder they were ever able to get together long enough to build a couple of river bridges between our two towns. If bridge building had followed the usual pattern of inter-town cooperation, we would have ended up with two half bridges that didn't meet in the middle!

Football, or Soccer, as they call it across the pond, is a big deal in our town. The four most important things for our team are to beat the East Padwellham Starlings, win the league, gain promotion to a higher league, and avoid relegation, which at our level could mean disbandment, an inconceivable disaster. The members of our team, the Rockets FC, live amongst us. Eddie Phillips, the starting striker for our team, often frequents our pub. Eddie was a star for our local sixth-form football team. His major rival was East Padwellham's Gonzalo, who was the star of East Padwellham's sixth form team. Gonzalo went on to play in the English Football League Championship. It was said of Eddie that if he had been as fast as Gonzalo he could have played there or even possibly the Premier League.

One night at the pub, Dottie and I were having pints at the pub and Eddie came over to our table and asked if he could join us. We acquiesced and he took a seat on the other side of Dottie from me. We introduced ourselves; of course, everyone knew who he was. He seemed quite taken by Dottie's knowledge of football, our team's history, and his own accomplishments. With her beauty and wit, Dottie is usually the center of attention of any mixed group with her and Eddie dominating this conversation. It seemed as though they were flirting, but he kept his hands to himself, so I was unconcerned.

After a while, our discussion moved to next Saturday's game with the hated Starlings. It did seem that the conversation was focusing on Eddie's interest in Dottie and Dottie's interest in the big game's outcome.

The conversation took what was for me an unexpected turn when Eddie asked Dottie, "What would you be willing to do to motivate the outcome of Saturday's game?"

Dottie assured him, "Frank and I will be there cheering our hearts out."

Eddie replied, "The whole team appreciates that, but what additional incentives could you personally give?"

Dottie asked, "What do you mean, Eddie?"

I couldn't believe my ears when Eddie responded, "A night with you would be a major motivation."

Dottie told him, "I'm sure it would be, but my husband Frank might not approve of that sort of an incentive."

I wanted to intervene, but as Dottie seemed to be handling it, and I didn't want to create a problem with the team's star striker, so I held my peace.

Eddie continued, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you of legal age?"

She explained, "Of course, I'm the mother of Frank's first-born."

He told her, "Then it's really a matter of how much of a morale booster you want to be for the team; how much are you willing to do to support a victory on Saturday?"

She asked him, "You're a local guy; what additional do you need to want to beat East Padwellham?"

He wasn't giving up easily, "Ninety minutes of football is a tremendous physical challenge for any athlete; sometimes in the eighty-fifth minute when you're breathing hard and your thighs are aching, it may take an additional incentive for you to give your all for that last five minutes."

The guy was good; I couldn't wait to hear Dottie's response, "So you're saying, for you to go a full ninety minutes, you need me to motivate you."

He was acting like all that remained in this negotiation was when and where, "That's exactly what I'm saying. A woman like you would be a very powerful incentive for a small-town guy like me."

She said, "How about this? If the Rockets win, I'll give you a big victory kiss."

He kept on going, "If we win, half the girls in West Padwellham will be trying to give me a kiss. I think you can do better than that. Don't you think you could offer more than that? This is a big game. I need a big incentive."

It was a bad sign that she was only looking at him and taking her time for a response. The last time she looked at me was when she told him she was a mother. She came back with, "Football's a team sport. How would I know if I affected the outcome?"

He quickly informed her, "I would be giving my maximum effort for the full ninety minutes, regardless of how tired I was, regardless of how much my body ached."

Dottie was hanging in there, "In medieval times, a lady would give a scarf or handkerchief to motivate her shining knight."

He came back with, "Dottie, my friend, this is the Twenty-first Century, not the Sixteenth. These times require a greater effort and commitment."

I was uncomfortable with the way this was going.

She asked, "I'm considering this. Do you think you could give me a hat trick and a Rockets victory?"

I was screaming inside, no, Dottie, no!

He replied, "Twelve hours at my place, based on a hat trick and a win, do we have a deal?"

Ohmigod, I thought, she's going to bet the farm!

She looked around the table, not making eye contact with me, "Deal!" and she stuck out her little hand, which he quickly grasped and shook.

I gasped, "Dottie!"

She said, "Don't worry, Frank, it won't happen. He hasn't had a hat trick in two seasons."

I shook my head. "Are you ready to go, sweetheart!"

Since we both had to go to work the next day, she took my hand, smiled as if nothing had happened, and stood up. We said our goodbyes and headed to my parents' place to get Frank, Jr.

After we had put Frank, Jr. to bed and made our own bedtime preparations, she reiterated, "It's not going to happen, Frank. It's a one in a million shot."

I told her, "People win lotteries every day."

She gave me a whatever shrug.

We made love, but even though she had two orgasms, she seemed a little distracted. It definitely wasn't out best effort.

Dottie

It was Tuesday night and a slow night at the pub when Eddie Phillips walked in. He surveyed the current clientele, and walked over to our table, asking if he could join us. He sat down beside me and we introduced ourselves. Obviously, Eddie needed no introduction. He was a very charming fellow; fun to hang out with.

After a couple of pints, our discussion moved to next Saturday's game. I was bit surprised when Eddie asked me, "What would you be willing to do to motivate the outcome of Saturday's game?"

I promised him, "Frank and I will be there cheering our hearts out."

Eddie replied, "The whole team appreciates that, but what additional incentives could you personally give?"

This was a strange turn, I asked, "What do you mean, Eddie?"

I couldn't believe my ears when Eddie responded, "A night with you would be a major motivation."

I told him, "I'm sure it would be, but my husband Frank might not approve of that sort of an incentive."

I could tell Frank was getting restless; I was a bit intrigued. It had been a long time since I had had such a bold suitor.

Eddie challenged me, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you of legal age?"

I quickly explained, "Of course, I'm the mother of Frank's first-born."

He smiled and suggestively asked, "Then it's really a matter of how much of a morale booster you want to be for the team; how much are you willing to do to support a victory on Saturday?"

He seemed to be being logical, but there was a definite undercurrent of sexual interest. I should have cut him off there, but I was curious as to where he was going with this, "You're a local guy; what additional do you need to want to beat East Padwellham?"

He was a man who knew what he wanted, which was clearly me. I was somewhat complimented by his interest, but I felt I needed to be careful here.

His mellow baritone voice laid out his intentions, "Ninety minutes of football is a tremendous physical challenge for any athlete; sometimes in the eighty-fifth minute when you're breathing hard and your thighs are aching, it may take an additional incentive for you to give your all for that last five minutes."

Additional incentive was the key thing here. I knew this was dangerous territory so I tried to be careful, "So you're saying, for you to go a full ninety minutes, you need me to motivate you."

His confidence was both appealing and scary, "That's exactly what I'm saying. A woman like you would be a very powerful incentive for a small-town guy like me."

I was a feeling the first tinges of arousal, so I tried to be a bit demure in my response, "How about this? If the Rockets win, I'll give you a big victory kiss."

He was undeterred by my reluctance, "If we win, half the girls in West Padwellham will be trying to give me a kiss. I think you can do better than that. Don't you think you could offer more than that? This is a big game. I need a big incentive."

I'm not quite sure why, but it seemed like just he and I were in this moment. I inquired, "Football's a team sport. How would I know if I affected the outcome?"

He quickly informed me, "I would be giving my maximum effort for the full ninety minutes, regardless of how tired I am, regardless of how much my body aches."

I pointed out, "In medieval times, a lady would give a scarf or handkerchief to motivate her shining knight."

He corrected me, "Dottie, my friend, this is the Twenty-first Century, not the Sixteenth. These times require a greater effort and commitment."

I was uncomfortable with the way this was going.

I was trying to be coy, "I'm considering this. Do you think you could give me a hat trick and a Rockets victory?"

I knew Frank was nearby. Had I gone too far?

He replied, "Twelve hours at my place, based on a hat trick and a win, do we have a deal?"

Oops, damn, he's smooth. I had backed myself into a corner. Even so, I was confident, he couldn't do his part. On the other side, the thought of such a dangerous liaison was both intriguing and titillating. I looked around the table, avoiding eye contact with Frank. Not feeling the boldness I was displaying, I confidently proclaimed, "Deal!" and stuck out my hand. Eddie quickly grasped and shook it to seal the deal.

Frank gasped, "Dottie!"

I reassured him, "Don't worry, Frank, it won't happen. He hasn't had a hat trick in two seasons."

Frank shook his head and asked me. "Are you ready to go, sweetheart!"

We walked out of the pub leaving behind one happy football star, and several astonished friends of Frank.

On the way home I thought of what I had done. I really thought it was probably unlikely that anything would happen. A more important question was why I did it. Did I actually want to sleep with Eddie. There was no doubt in my mind but that I loved Frank. Still, the thought of being naughty with Eddie made me moist. I really did want to be impelled to spend the night with Eddie. Bad girl! I could have felt a little ashamed of what I had done, but I didn't. I had taken the chance of doing something exciting that I wanted to do. The truth was that on Saturday I would be rooting for the Rockets and for Eddie's hat trick. For Frank's sake I shouldn't be too obvious in favoring the hat trick.

Frank

Gameday was a pretty day, even though it was dark by the seven o'clock start.

At the end of the first half, the Starlings led two to nil. It looked like neither of the contingencies were going to happen. For me, it was some solace for the Rockets' poor showing. Unfortunately, it appeared to me that Dottie didn't share my sentiments. Unbelievably, Eddie spotted us as he was leaving the field and gave Dottie a thumbs up. She smiled; I didn't.

In the fifty-second minute, Eddie scored on a breakaway with an assist from Maxwell Fleming, the left attacking midfielder. Dottie seemed ecstatic; I wasn't.

In the sixty-second minute, Fleming scored on a long pass from the right attacking midfielder, Jackson Parish. Score; Starlings, 2 : Rockets, 2. Dottie was jumping up and down, screaming. I was unenthused.

Unfortunately for Eddie and Dottie, the Starlings scored in the sixty-seventh minute. I limited my celebration to a half-smirk.

Then, in the seventy-fifth minute, Parish scored on a short pass from the center attacking midfielder, Alex Wilson. Score; Starlings, 3 : Rockets, 3.

In the eighty-fifth minute, Eddie scored on a short pass from Fleming. For the first time in the game, the Rockets were ahead.

If only the game would end now, the hometown team would win, and Eddie wouldn't have his hat trick. Finally, we reached the ninetieth minute. But still there was the goddamn injury time. It had to be less than five minutes. Injury time started with the Rockets on the attack. Some idiot on the Starlings team knocked Eddie down in the penalty area. My heart was in my throat as Eddie approached his penalty kick.

The fucking goalkeeper guessed wrong, and I watched the ball roll into the far corner of the goal. Eddie had his hat trick! Dottie had her night of Passion! I would have the company of Frank, Jr. for most of the rest of the night. Dottie was jumping up and down with excitement as the referee signaled the end of injury time. I glumly turned to leave and gruffly said, "Let's go home, Dottie!"

We had nothing to say on the way home as Dottie was virtually hopping with excitement and I trudged along. We had about thirty minutes for Dottie to change for her ten PM rendezvous with Eddie. She put on a short black minidress and donned a matching black jacket. We silently walked to Eddie's place. I kissed her goodbye a few feet from Eddie's front door.

She smiled and said, "See you in the morning, Frank!" and then knocked on his door.

Eddie gave me a little wave which I acknowledged with a nod, and then the door closed,

and they were both hidden from my view. I walked to Dottie's parents' home to pick up Frank, Jr. I told them that Dottie was still celebrating the Rockets' win, but I was feeling tired and so was turning in early.

Dottie

It was hard to hide my excitement as Frank walked me to Eddie's house. I think he knew, but still I couldn't flaunt my feelings in his face. After all, I planned to spend the rest of my life with this good man that I loved. I tried to act a little reluctant, but it was hard since I was already wet with arousal and anticipation of what would happen to me soon. I would have to restrain myself a little longer, but I knew I wanted Eddie to fuck my brains out.

Frank kissed me goodbye a few feet from Eddie's front door.

I smiled at Frank and said, "See you in the morning, Frank!" and then knocked on Eddie's door.

Eddie guided me into his living room and then closed the door,

I wrapped my arms around him, and we began deep kissing. I wanted to jump his bones in the living room.

After about a five-minute lip lock, Eddie asked, "Would you like a drink before we get started?"

Without shame, I replied, "Let's first get naked in your bedroom."

Eddie smiled, "Can't wait, hnnh?"

Unashamedly I said, "Are you a tease, or are you bringing the goods?"

He replied with a sardonic smile as he led me to his bedroom, "I'll think you'll be pleased with my goods!"

We began kissing and taking each other's clothes off. Once we were nude, we continued kissing and he began rubbing my pubis. I quickly became aware that he brought between eight and nine inches of goods. He knew exactly how to take care of my business downstairs. I don't think it was even two minutes until my body was shaking with my first orgasm.

"Liked that, did you?" he asked me.

My response was to kneel down and start sucking him off. "Oh, that's good!" he told me.

I responded, "I'm not used to one that's this big!"

He commented, "Does Frank have a wee-wee?"

I explained, "No, he's only an inch or two shorter than you. Frank's not here. Let's leave him out of this."

He replied, "Right! God, You're hot!"

I got him back, "Oh, do you like it?"

He told me, "I do!"

He pushed me onto the bed. He said, "Just lean back and enjoy it." I leaned back on my elbows, while he pulled my knees onto his shoulders. He began licking my pubis, following a pattern around my clit and across my slit, touching my labia then back across my slit and around my clit. Each time he did this, my arousal increased dramatically. I was panting and moaning on each circuit, and then I exploded in a convulsive orgasm.

He asked, "Would you like to lube my cock?" There was something in his voice that made me want to do exactly what he wished.

I quickly kneeled in front of him and began licking and sucking his masterpiece of masculinity. After I took as much as I could of him down my throat five or six times, he asked me to stand up.

His next instruction was, "Hang on my shoulders!" as he lifted my right leg and then penetrated my pussy with around a third of that magnificent eight-and-a-half inch-cock. He then began slowly entering and departing my pussy, penetrating another half to one inch into my love canal on each repeat. I think it was the girth not the length that was driving me crazy. I loved my Frank. but he was physically incapable of filling me like Eddie. It was just rutting but oh did it ever feel fantastic. Each stroke was a little bit of heaven as I felt my arousal building. The warmth and wetness of my love canal was only exceeded by the heat of the thick organ sliding in and out of my innermost cavern.

Not As Fast As Gonzalo

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