Go hard in the Turkey Day football game

That night you suggest to everyone: “Hey our family’s big enough, let’s play some football before the meal. Give mom some space to cook and we can burn off calories. It’ll be fun.”

Of course the grandkids want to play. Working the aunts and uncles is a little harder. Luckily your new sister-in-law loves the idea, because of her enthusiasm, she convinces your other siblings and their spouses to join.

That night your wife complains, “Of course she wants to play. She’s 22. She’s gonna run all over us and make us look old.”

“I’ll take care of her,” you promise. You’re playing “Two-hand touch”. When you touch someone with two hands, they are tackled. Your hands are going to be all over your sister-in-law, and in the heat of the game, you can’t promise that your hands won’t grab her chest.

The morning is chilly. Everyone wears hoodies or coats, except your sister-in-law. She came to play in short shorts, a loose old T-shirt with the sleeves roughly torn off (you can see her red sports bra from the giant sleeve holes) and eye-black under each eye. Her hair is tied back in a tight ponytail.

Her and me are captains since we’re the only ones who really want to do this. The men and grandkids get chosen first. You take your 18 year old sister. Your wife is chosen last; she’s not happy to be out in the cold.

On the first play of the game, your sister-in-law catches the ball. As she runs her big tits bounce in her compression bra; she’s majestic. She runs right at you. You grin and put your hands out. You’re ready to touch her. You compliment yourself on what a great idea this was.

You reach out to grab her tits…and fall right on your face. Your sister-in-law jukes out of the way and runs past you. Everyone ooos and aaahs at her moves. You lay embarrassed on the hard ground. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Are your ankles okay, old man?” She asks as she walks by.

It’s on now. You take the game way too seriously. You yell at the kids when they drop the ball. You yell at your wife when she does absolutely nothing while everyone runs past her. The other team dominates.

Your sister-in-law runs past you with the ball yet again. You chase her. You Superman dive. Both your hands grip the tattered collar of her shirt. You faceplant while she keeps running full speed. The old shirt rips off her body.

She steps over your prone body smiling, “You can keep that as a souvenir of when I kicked your ass in football.”

She’s so confident in her red bra. The cool breeze hardens her nipples. You can’t take your eyes off her pokies. Fuck those big tits make you lose concentration.

The ball hits you in the face (everyone laughs). You pick it up off the ground and run. You dodge nieces and nephews. No one is touching you on the way to the goal line. The only person in your path is your cocky sister-in-law with her big bouncing tits in a sports bra, posed so you can see a hint of cleavage, ready to tackle you. You hold out your stiff arm, and run straight at her.

She reaches to touch you, but her arms are shorter than yours. Your hand presses into her soft chest. You push her back and run. You turn your palm and cop a fill of her boob. Goddamn they’re natural for sure. You squeeze again and run past her into the endzone.

You spike the ball and cheer. You raise your arms in victory at your team’s only score. Your whole family sees your boner tenting your gray sweatpants.

Your sister-in-law laughs, “Game’s over. I’m not touching that.”

You got to touch her boob once, but now you’re thoroughly emasculated and humiliated. You need to compete with her in another game to win.