A Kyle Story - Cassie (20s quaterback's GF)

The stadium was a cathedral of noise. Twenty thousand voices merged into a single, vibrating roar that rattled the cheap seats where Kyle sat. He was poured into a faded jersey that strained across his gut. A thin sheen of sweat, born from the combination of the autumn sun and the exertion of climbing to his seat, clung to his forehead. He watched the field with a flat, annoyed gaze that had everything to do with losing a twenty on a bad game-spread.

Fucking gambling sites... The thought curdled in his mind. Now Kyle wanted to vent. He looked around, his eyes scanning the crowd with a predator’s patience, seeking a distraction from his dwindling wallet.

He’d spotted her after a minute. While the rest of the crowd roared or slumped in disappointment for the team, she was just looking at her phone, only raising her eyes to glance at the field every other minute. A piece of art bored with its own gallery.

She was twenty, maybe twenty-one, the kind of sculpted beauty that came from a lifetime of being the best-looking person in any room. Her hair was a cascade of honey-blonde waves, perfectly tousled to look effortlessly fucked. Her face was sharp and symmetrical, dominated by a pouty, glossed mouth that was currently twisted in a sneer of boredom. She wore a tight white top that clung to a pair of firm, high breasts, her nipples making themselves known against the thin fabric. Her jeans were less clothing and more a declaration of ownership, painted over her long, toned legs and the perfect curve of her ass.

And, what was the most important for Kyle, was that she was scrolling through her phone with the dead-eyed impatience of a hostage.

Her boyfriend, Kyle knew, was the number one jersey on the field. The golden boy. The quarterback. He was currently in the locker room, getting an earful from the coach after a lackluster first half.

Kyle moved. It was a slow, deliberate waddle down the row of seats until he stood directly in front of her, his bulk blocking her view of the empty field. She looked up, startled, her perfectly shaped eyebrows arching in annoyance.

“Can I help you?” she said, her voice a practiced drawl of condescension.

Kyle’s voice was flat, conversational. “You’re not that much into the game, are you?”

She blinked, the annoyance shifting to a flicker of curiosity. “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

“Right,” Kyle said, leaning in just enough that she could smell the beer and sweat on him. “If you’re going to be waiting here, doing nothing, and being bored, I would like to have sex with you in the locker room instead.”

Cassie’s face cycled through a series of emotions. Shock. A flicker of genuine anger. Then, a slow, devastating wave of boredom that seemed to settle into every line of her artificially enhanced face. She closed her eyes for a moment, her shoulders sagging. She opened them and looked at Kyle. Not with lust, not with disgust. Just with the weary resignation of a girl who had been standing in uncomfortable heels for two hours and was sick of checking Instagram.

“I’m Cassie,” she said, her voice devoid of inflection.

“Kyle.”

She sighed heavily. It was a sound from the very bottom of her lungs. “The game’s supposed to go for another half time so I guess we have plenty of time, and I guess it is better than just being bored.”

“I promise it is better than just being bored,” Kyle stated.

“Look who is talking,” Cassie said, her gaze dropping to her phone, then back up to his face. Her eyes traveled down his massive frame, a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe, or just the morbid fascination of the truly bored—crossing her features. “Sure, let’s go.”

“Then we can go now,” Kyle said. He gestured with a thick finger toward the tunnel leading to the bowels of the stadium. “Follow me.”

Cassie looked at the field, empty save for a few groundskeepers. She looked at her phone, at the zero new messages. She turned back to Kyle. Her eyes met his. “You have to use a condom,” she said. It was not a request. “And only my pussy. Nothing else. Understood?”

“Understood,” Kyle said, a slight smile touching his lips. All those bored bitches repeated the same thing.

He led the way, having figured out the halls of the uni’s sport center in advance just for a chance like this. Cassie followed a step behind, her heels making sharp, staccato clicks on the concrete, the sound of her obedience.

Finally, they were in the home team’s locker room. It was a vast, cavernous space, smelling of antiseptic and sweat. The players’ gear was scattered in front of their assigned lockers. In the center of the room was a large, circular bench. And directly behind it, a row of chrome lockers. Number one was front and center, a jersey hanging on a hook.

Cassie stopped dead when she saw it. “No,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice. “Not here. We can’t—this is his—”

“This is perfect,” Kyle said, his voice a low rumble. He walked to the locker and opened it, revealing a row of pristine pads, extra jerseys, and a framed photo of Cassie in her cheerleading uniform. He took the photo out and set it on the bench, facing them. “He’s busy. You’re bored. This is the best use of our time.”

Cassie’s face was a mask of conflict, the boredom now warring with a fresh wave of anxiety. “He could come back any minute. The coaches are just down the hall.”

“That’s not true,” Kyle said, stepping close to her. He put a thick hand on her hip, feeling the firm muscle beneath the denim. “The second half just started. Nobody is gonna be here for at least an hour.”

He spun her around and pressed her against the cool wall of the locker, her cheek against the cold metal. He worked her jeans open, his thick fingers fumbling with the button, and shoved them down along with a tiny pair of lacy panties. Her ass was a work of art—two perfect, rounded globes of tight muscle and smooth skin, now exposed and ****.

“Goddamn,” he said, running a hand over the soft curve, then delivering a sharp slap that made her jolt. “The quarterback’s got good taste.”

“Can you just not talk?” Cassie asked, her voice trembling, her breath fogging the metal of the locker.

“I am gonna talk as much as I want,” Kyle said. He unzipped his own pants, letting them pool around his thick ankles. He pulled a condom from his wallet, tore it open with his teeth, and rolled it onto his already rigid cock. He wasn’t a small man exactly, but even his average length made Cassie’s eyes widen a bit when she glanced back over her shoulder.

“That’s…” she started, her voice losing some of its impatient edge.

Kyle didn’t wait. He pressed the head of his cock against her opening. She was already wet, her body betraying the boredom and the thrill of being in a forbidden place, her slickness coating his tip. He pushed forward, forcing himself into her in one hard, slow stroke. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath, her hands slamming against the locker.

“Jesus,” she hissed, but it wasn’t a protest. Her hips pushed back against him, just slightly, already seeking more.

“What,” Kyle grunted, “not the cock you are used to?”

Cassie snapped back, her voice a tight, breathy thing. “My boyfriend is actually bigger.”

Kyle smiled, a wide, ugly grin against the back of her neck. “That means I can fuck you as hard as I want.”

Kyle began to move. It was not gentle. It was a slow, grinding, piston-like motion, but he built a brutal rhythm immediately. Each forward thrust slammed her body against the locker, making it rattle and boom with every impact. The sound of his belly slapping against her firm ass echoed in the vast, empty room, a wet, rhythmic percussion.

“You feel that?” he grunted, his voice thick with exertion. “You feel a fat fucker using your tight little cunt while your boyfriend makes you proud playing football?”

“I feel it,” she panted, her voice strained but dripping with excitement now, her earlier **** dissolving with every stroke.

“Tell me,” he commanded, increasing his pace to a punishing drive. He grabbed her hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise. “Tell me you like being a hole for a fat nerd in your boyfriend’s locker room.”

“I… I like it,” she gasped, her breath catching with each thrust, her words broken into fragments. “I like being a hole for you.”

“For this fat nerd,” he corrected, giving her a particularly brutal thrust that made her cry out, her voice echoing off the tiles.

“For you,” she moaned, her voice cracking. “I like being a hole for a fat nerd!”

Kyle leaned forward, his sweaty chest pressing against her bare back, his mouth hot and wet near her ear. “This is the best fuck you’ve had in weeks, isn’t it? The quarterback too busy with his playbook to pay attention to this tight cunt?”

“Yes,” she admitted, the word muffled by a sob of pleasure. She was pushing back against him now, meeting his thrusts with a frantic, hungry need, her earlier **** completely annihilated.

He straightened up, reaching around to grab one of her breasts, squeezing it hard through her tight white top, twisting her nipple until she gasped. “You like this cock better than his, don’t you?”

“It’s… different,” she gasped, her hips grinding against him in a filthy circle.

He laughed, a low, ugly sound of pure male satisfaction. He gave her ass a hard slap, the sound echoing like a gunshot. “I’m gonna cum. You want it in this pussy, right?”

“Yes,” Cassie said, her voice raw, ****. “Fill me up.”

Kyle drove into her faster, a frantic, uncoordinated series of thrusts, his own grunts echoing off the lockers. He was a sweating, heaving mass of flesh behind her, using her. “Take it. Take this fat fuck’s load. This is what you’re for, Cassie. When the quarterback isn’t giving you attention, you’re for a fat, ugly fuck like me to use.”

Cassie’s body arched, a sharp cry escaping her lips as an orgasm ripped through her, her walls clamping down on him, milking his cock. Kyle let out a final, guttural groan, his hips slamming against her one last time as he came, his body shuddering for a few seconds, buried to the hilt inside her.

They stood there for a moment, panting, their sweat mingling. Then, the sound of a door slamming down the hall.

Cassie’s eyes flew open. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her face going pale. “They’re coming back. The team. He’s coming back.”

Kyle pulled out, his softening cock sliding free. He tied off the condom and threw it on the floor. “Follow me,” he hissed, his voice losing its languor. He pulled up his pants, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the bathroom that adjoined the locker room.

They slipped inside just as the heavy door to the locker room swung open. The sound of voices, deep and gruff, filled the space. Kyle pushed Cassie into a stall and locked the door. They stood there, pressed together in the cramped space, their breathing ragged.

Through the thin metal door, they heard the team file in. The quarterback’s voice was the loudest, frustrated and angry. “I can’t believe that play call. I was wide open.”

“Forget it, man,” another voice said. “Too late to worry now!”

Cassie’s hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes were wide, her body trembling. Kyle looked down at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. He reached down and unfastened his pants again, pulling out his half-hard cock, still slick from her.

“You want to finish what you started?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She stared at his dick, then up at his face. The terror was there, but so was the raw, wet heat between her legs. Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees on the cold tile floor.

She took him in her mouth, her lips stretching around his girth. Her tongue worked him expertly, the kind of skill that came from years of practice on the high school and college quarterback. Kyle leaned back against the stall, his hand resting on her blonde head, as just ten feet away, her boyfriend’s voice boomed.

“Anyone seen Cassie?” the quarterback called out. “She said she’d be waiting.”

“Probably in the stands, man. She’s fine.”

Kyle watched Cassie’s face as she worked. Her eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks hollowed, her focus entirely on the cock in her mouth. She was loving it, he could tell. The way her tongue swirled, the way her hand came up to cup his balls, the soft hum of appreciation she made when his cock hardened fully in her mouth.

He let her suck him for a long minute, listening to the sounds of the team undressing, the clatter of pads, the roar of conversation. He could feel himself getting close again.

But then, the sound of a shower turning on.

“Go,” he whispered, pulling her to her feet. “Now. While they’re in the showers.”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and slipped out of the stall and out the bathroom door.

Kyle waited a beat, then followed. He slipped out of the bathroom, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the locker room. The team was mostly in the showers, the air thick with steam. He was almost to the exit when a voice stopped him cold.

“Hey.”

Kyle froze. A massive defensive lineman, fresh out of the shower with a towel around his waist, was staring at him.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” the lineman asked, his voice a low growl.

Two other players emerged from the showers, their eyes narrowing at the fat man in the wrinkled jersey. One of them was the quarterback. He was tall, chiseled, his eyes scanning Kyle with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“Who the hell is this?” the quarterback asked.

Kyle’s mind raced. He was trapped. He tried to conjure an excuse, a lie, anything.

The defensive lineman stepped closer, his massive frame blocking the exit. He looked Kyle up and down, taking in the sweat-stained shirt, the gut spilling over his jeans, the lank hair plastered to his forehead. A slow grin spread across his face.

“Looks like we got ourselves a fan,” the lineman said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Sneaking into the locker room to get a whiff of the jockstraps.”

The other players laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. The quarterback’s eyes landed on the photo of Cassie, still sitting on the bench, facing them. He picked it up, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. He looked back at Kyle, something clicking into place in his mind.

“You,” the quarterback said, his voice dangerously low. “Were you in here with Cassie?”

Kyle opened his mouth to speak, but the defensive lineman clapped a massive hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard.

“Nah, look at him,” the lineman said, laughing. “You think this fat fuck could get within ten feet of Cassie? He probably just wanted to steal a jersey or jerk off in the showers.”

The quarterback stared at Kyle for a long, tense moment. Then, the suspicion faded from his eyes, replaced by the same condescending amusement as his teammate. “Get the fuck out, creep!”

The lineman shoved Kyle toward the door, hard enough that he stumbled, his gut bouncing. The laughter of the players followed him out into the corridor.

“Fat fucking loser,” he heard one of them say as the door swung shut behind him.

Kyle stood in the empty corridor for a moment, his face burning. He could still taste Cassie’s lip gloss on his tongue, could still feel the tight grip of her cunt around his cock. The words stung, but beneath the sting, a deeper satisfaction pulsed.

He smiled, a slow, ugly grin that split his sweaty face. The fat loser was about to become a regular feature of game day. If he was lucky enough with the tickets, of course.