Close match, weird spectators

You’ve never been particularly interested in sports, and much of your time is spent shifting about uncomfortably on the hard wooden bleacher, on a few occasions removing a splinter caused by its crumbling benches.

You have to resist the urge to stare at your phone all evening, not wanting to be perceived as rude. Before you may not have cared, but you feel almost indebted to Samantha in a way. Sitting there, with no more than two groups of women kicking and chasing a ball around for entertainment, You have far too much time left alone to your thoughts.

Reflecting upon the events that occurred not even an hour prior, you try to find some guilt or remorse in molesting Amanda while she was asleep, but the simple disturbing fact was that you didn’t care.

Tonight you crossed a line, you physically molested Her. Yet It was almost…instinctive, natural, you hardly hesitated at all. You’re not even sure if you thought it wrong at the time.

You’d spent a lifetime up until you went to Pennystone lane having relatively clean morals, only occasionally falling victim to your darker desires in harmless ways. Heck, compared to a few of your old friends you were something of a good kid once. You made for a good boyfriend in the handful of relationships you’ve had, always respectful of boundaries, always easily winning the approval of parents.

Something changed when you moved into No.57, but what? You answer your own question with little contemplation needed, and you can imagine a tiny red devil on your shoulder whispering into your ear “you’ve always been like this, you only needed the right opportunity to take what you want”

Your hand runs over the cellphone in your pocket. Evidence of your sin, dozens of images and videos. And you won’t lie to yourself, you’re proud of them, you’re going to enjoy them, enjoy reliving the moment.

You exhale a shaky breath and run a hand through your hair. Ignoring your erection, and your two roommates demolished panties still wrapped around it.

You try to focus on the game.

Samantha, amazingly is managing to keep up with the other players in her fatigued state, frequently fighting for the ball and making powerful, long distance, and accurate kicks that rocket into the opposing teams net.

One particularly brutal kick sends the ball into the bar of the goalpost with a resounding *GONG*, physically uprooting the cheap net an inch or two.

From then on the enemy goalkeeper seems to give Samanthas shots a wide berth, apparently unwilling to risk injury for the win.

More than a few times she’s **** to slow her pace however, doubling over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. In these moments you see her often gazing up to the medium size crowd watching, looking for you. It’s touching, and when she does you gladly give her a thumbs up and a smile of encouragement.

Samantha and her team don’t have an easy game though, her opponents are equally skilled, and you often notice one girl in particular leading the pack.

From the bleachers it’s hard to see her in detail, but immediately standing out to you aside from her talent, is her bright blonde curly hair, and her almost Samantha sized ass.

There must be something in the water in this city, because in thiccness she’s nearly giving your roommate a run for her money, and even in the loose soccer shorts she wears, a deep wedgie riding up her crack is visible from this distance.

Her strategy is almost the exact opposite of Samanthas straightforward, heavy hitting approach. Instead the blonde girl relies on quick, unpredictable movements, deftly keeping the ball away from her opponents and getting as close to the net as she possibly can before striking.

As the ball approaches the bleachers on occasion, followed closely by the two girls, you can hear the wild clapping of both their heavy asses in tandem, sounding like a two person round of applause following them down the field.

More frequently than any other players her and Samantha seem to come in conflict, the two of them battling over the ball more often than not. The blonde looks to take every loss in stride, lightheartedly shaking them off, and a cheery pleasant laugh from her floats over the field more than once as Samantha intercepts a goal from her.

You’re made a bit uncomfortable however, as Sams demeanour is becoming less and less pleasant than her opponents.

It’s plain to see they have a long running rivalry between them, and every time the bootylicious blonde manages to kick the ball out from Samanthas feet, or cucks her out of a goal at the very last second, you’re **** to see your fat-bottomed brunette friend visibly angry for the first time.

It’s looking like a close game, both teams maintaining even scores for most of the time, and the lead moving back and forth between the two groups would be hard to keep track of without the bored, monotone announcer occasionally calling out the score.

You’re happy to be drawn into the action for a bit, and the game continues into and past sunset. Orange skies fading into the horizon now provide the only natural light, aided by some floodlights placed around the field.

The game in nearing its end as your attention is suddenly broken by a slight mumbling, moaning noise nearby. Looking around the bleacher, the row you sit on is still empty except for the once nerdy girl (now “flasher girl” in your mind) sitting a few feet from you.

She’s barely audible, but you can make out some of her muttering, and only now hear she has a heavy lisp “ufh.. uh… nnyuuu. Tho hot, you’re tho- fu- fucking hot, ungg. Thi- thit on me. Fuck- both of you thuffocate me with yo- mhnnnnn your fat atheth”

In the dim light you can only just make out the details of her face now. Past her thick glasses you see her eyes are partially lulled back into her skull, and her braces filled mouth is partially agape, a small trickle of saliva escaping it.

Your eyes widen a bit, It’d obvious to anyone paying attention what she’s doing.

You crane your neck around to the other people near, but very few are actually sitting close to the both of you, and the few who are have their attention thoroughly focused on the game.

She wasn’t particularly attractive in the traditional sense, but you had to admit you’re intrigued.

Looking closer you see her body is in constant movement, her thighs are rapidly rubbing together and her lower legs and feet squirm wildly. She’s bracing herself with both arms planted firmly on the bench seat, with her butt slightly elevated from it at times.

Rubbing her thighs together isn’t the only way she’s getting off, you can see clutched between her fingers a small, pink remote you vaguely recognize the design of from porn. Remote vibrators were all vaguely similar it seemed.

Just as suddenly as your attention was broken and you first heard her moaning, she stops, and you watch as her body seizes up in pleasure, not even breathing. She’s completely silent and unmoving for a solid 30 seconds as you see her public orgasm coursing through her.

You’re happy to know you’re no longer the only person here with sticky pants, as even in the darkness you spot the growing wet spot on the crotch of her beige cargo shorts, and hear the trickle of her juices flow from the bench and under the bleachers.

She finally moves once more, letting out a heavy, ragged exhale of breath. You don’t give her much time to come down from her orgasm though, as you slowly slide over to her on the bench. She doesn’t notice you even as you stop well within her personal space. You speak quietly “so, you’re a big fan huh?”

She startles with a gasp, scrambling, and looking around wildly she lets out a rapid “pLEAThdon’ttellthemaid!” Before she regains awareness of her surroundings, and calms enough to find your amused face.

She looks down to her thoroughly soaked crotch, and realizing she’s been caught looks up to you with a scowl “what? Are you gonna kick me out or thomething?” You chuckle and quickly shake your head, considering what to say, maybe pander to her exhibitionist side? “Course’ not, i just uh… enjoyed the show?” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

She scoffs at you, and a look of disgust fills her features “what are you thome kinda pervert?” You do a double take, and reply incredulously “excuse me? You’re calling ME a pervert? What the hel-“

A moment passes, and you feel the color drain from you face as you quickly ask her to clarity “fuck, please tell me you’re not underaged?”

She cackles loundly, drawing some stares from around the bleachers, but they quickly lose interest and turn back to spectating. “What the fuck? No.” She continues “i wath joking, I’m twenty-one. Im thitting in a puddle of my ejaculate… in public… and calling you a pervert, it’th, y’know, funny? You’re kinda dumb.”

You quietly thank every deity you know as another longer moment passes between the two of you, and you turn your head back to the field, trying to find Samantha again amongst the 20 or so players. You think your awkward encounter has come to a close, when the Exhibitionist speaks again “wait, why did you think i wath underage?”

You turn your head back to her “what?”

Her eyes narrow and a dark expression crosses her face, she punctuates every word, “Why. Did. You. Thinkth. I. Wath. Underage.”

At this point fed up with this girl, the novelty of seeing her masturbate long past, you reply bluntly. “Probably something to do with your complete lack of any feminine curves.”

Along with rage, another blush fills her face, a shade even deeper than when she flashed the stadium. She turns away from you with a scoff, and a few seconds pass before her anger slowly subsides. “At leatht you’re an honetht pervert”

She holds out a hand to you, one you’re a bit **** to take, but you meet it anyways. “My name ith Jennifer, call me Jenny though.” You nod “Arthur” she gives a weak fake smile of acknowledgment, and turns her head to the field.

“So”, you continue the original intent of your conversation, long lost in shenanigans “Samantha your, “material” of choice huh?”

Jenny lets out a long, almost melancholy sigh “ahhhh, the’th tho fucking hot, her and Eileen too.” You tilt your head “Eileen?” You ask. “Blondie, big ath, the’th with the Norththide Bombthellth” she explains, a few flecks of spit flying from her mouth at the lisp tripping hazard of a sentence.

“Ah” nice to put a name to her face.

“yeah, I’m kinda an ath girl, predictable huh?” You shrug, “i guess”

“Y’know, I’ve never theen you at game before, and if you don’t know who Eileen ith…” the gears are visibly turning in her head. “Then what’th your relathion to Samantha?” You laugh a bit, briefly considering saying “boyfriend” if only to see her jaw drop. “Im actually her roommate believe it or not.” Apparently Jenny is easily impressed, as her jaw hits the floor all the same.

She stutters a bit. “Y- y- you? You’re her roommate pervert?” “Arthur” you correct her harshly, but she doesn’t seem to care as she’s back in deep thought.

*vvmm* *vvmm*

The distinctive sound of a phone on vibrate emanates from her pocket, and Jenny pulls it out, illuminating her face in the darkness. “Thit, my rideth here.”

“Ah” you **** yourself to respond politely “well, nice talking to you I suppose.” You expect her to stand and shift her way past you to leave, but you’re shocked when you suddenly feel your arm sharply tugged to the the side. “Hey, what the fuck?”

You feel The brushes of a marker and Jennys hot breath as she’s hunched over your forearm. She pulls away, and you can see a ten digit number roughly Scribbled on you. “Call me, i may have a… buithneth propothithion for you.” More flecks of spit hit you and you grit your teeth, biting back harsh, potentially illegal words.

“Acthually, what’th your number? Thith ith important.” You sigh, “you could have asked for mine first…” you’re not sure why exactly, but as strange and annoying as jenny was you still relay your number to her, and she rapidly types it into her phone, before leaving with a final “i’ll be in toutth”

You watch her leave the Bleachers with tired eyes, and they follow her shrinking form into the darkness as she approaches the side of the field. She passes a few parked cars there, and you absently wonder what one she’ll get in before you reason her ride must be the one with the lights on… but there was no way…

Suddenly alert, you’re left gobsmacked as you see her in the distance, opening and getting inside the rear of a luxury four-door limousine, a model you recognize as having a price tag in the millions.

The limousine pulls away, driving in the general direction of downtown.

You sit there for a long time, staring at the puddle she left on the wooden bench beside you, if not for it, and the messy numbers left Scribbled on your arm, you might think you hallucinated the entire encounter.

Through the white noise of your thoughts you hear most of the surrounding crowd suddenly erupt in loud cheers, and another, smaller segment of fans booing just as passionately.

The bored announcer is filled with the most energy they’ve shown all day as they cry out “VICTORY! To the Northside Bombshells!!!”

You hardly register the announcement, and you absently mouth the words “business proposition”

Authors note: looks like word of the day is “Bleachers”

This wasn’t really a scene that had any comfortable cutting points, so I thought I’d give you all a super long one tonight. I know it might seem a little sudden to introduce new characters, but I promise I’m gonna drip feed their content in along with our two established ladies for a bit until we have a nice base established with our main girls. Additionally, We’ve had a stretch of Amanda-centric content, but Mary fans out there can look foreword to a nice handful of chapters focused on her in the near future :)

I worked quite hard on this one, so if you feel like commenting I’d love to know what you think!