ROMANCE: End Zone Desires (Sports Bisexual MMF Menage Romance) (New Adult Threesome Romance Short Stories)


Copyright 2015 by Natalia Wood - All rights reserved.

 

 

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End Zone Desires

 

Sports Bisexual Menage Romance

 

 

 

 

 

By: Natalia Wood

 

End Zone Desires

Chapter 1 The Winner

“And, the winner is, hang on while I draw the number,” my boss said as he rummaged around in a plastic bucket full of paper numbers, “four and one, it’s 41, yay!”

 

To be honest I wasn’t taking much notice as I only bought the ticket because the money goes to one of the girls to help pay her medical bill. I was too busy enjoying my Big Mac, I like to enjoy my food, taste it and think about it as I eat, so I tend not be very sociable when feasting.

 

“No one claiming it here?” I heard his voice again. “Must be one of the other shifts then. Tough luck everyone, this is one hell of a prize, a night at a Special Promotion for the New York Tigers, staying in a top class hotel. Even if you don’t like football, the winner is  gonna have one hell of a time.”

 

Everyone was busily checking their tickets, but it seemed it belonged to no one here, so they all returned to their lunches and desks with miserable faces. I’ll check my ticket when I get back to my desk, it’s in the top drawer, I think.

 

I really like my job, when you’re a big lady, like me, then you appreciate a job sat on your ass. I work at a Call Centre, but it’s one of the nicer ones. I hear terrible stories about them, but I’ve been here years and I love it, okay, well, I like it. I don’t much care for the night shift but at least they rotate it so we don’t always get the worst hours.

 

Trouble is, once you put that computer back on, you’re at it until home time. Not only do I get to speak to a variety of members of the public, some nice and some not so nice, but the hours pass by quickly, as we never stop.

 

So, that’s my job, day in, day out, with two days off a week, which is “me” time, time to spoil myself and my cat, Trojan. All in all, I’m a contented woman, and happy with my life.

 

The ticket draw had completely slipped my mind, until an internal memo was doing the rounds saying the prize was still unclaimed. I’m pretty sure I checked my ticket on the day of the draw, but pulling open my desk drawer, I see the pink ticket sat there staring up at me with the number “41” clear as day. Although a couple of days at the football doesn't exactly appeal to me, there is also a big slap up meal and a couple of the football jocks to chaperone you around, now that is my kind of dream.

 

I shout over to my friend sat opposite. “Hey, Wendy, come and look at this, I won the football weekend.”

 

“Wow, girl,” Wendy is more excited than me, “you are so going, even if I have to kick your butt on the day, you gotta go, Ursa, there’s some fine looking young men on that team. Plus, you get dinner and a classy hotel room for the night, and they’ve got some fancy fireworks on the evening. You have got to go,” she says, wagging her finger at me.

 

Actually, I could do with a bit of break, I’ve been trying to lose some of my 250 pounds and it tends to depress me. My doctor even recommended that I have a lap-band fitted to help with the weight loss. But, I’m really not sure, I’m quite happy with the way I look. I have natural, thick, blond hair, which sets off my round face and people tell me I’m pretty. My cleavage is big and beautiful, but I guess my arms and legs have a little excess skin on them, and I barely have a waist, but my ass is nice and curvaceous. I might not be a supermodel size, but plenty of men pay me complements and I have no problem getting dates. Obviously, I’m not the sporty type, but a night in a 5-star hotel and dinner with a couple of football hunks, is not to be turned down. I just kinda wish it was something more exotic, like a cruise in the Med. Still a freebie is a freebie.

 

“Hell, yes, I’m gonna go, girl,” I confirm to Wendy, but I think to myself that I’ll have to do some studying on this team, I know nothing about American football, let alone the New York Tigers.

 

She sticks my winning lottery slip up in the air, “Ursa Cookson got the winning ticket, folks, our girl is going to go footballing,” she announces that I’m the winner.

 

“I’ll buy your ticket,” one of the younger lads shouts over to me.

 

“Nope,” I shout back, “this trip is mine to keep.”

 

Chapter 2 The Limo

Of course, work gave me paid leave as well, all part of the prize, so I wasn’t complaining. Everyone was happy for me, and of few of the boys, jealous, but so what. I won it fair and square.

 

I took a local flight to New York, but it was only about an hour long, I’m not too keen on flying, the seats are often too small for my frame, but this flight was first class and there was plenty of room. My neighbor is looking after Trojan, my cat, so everything is sorted.

 

The flight was smooth and easy with the hostesses totally attentive, in no time at all we’re landing at JFK Airport in New York. I was told to look for a placard with my name on, and I spot it as soon as I pass through the arrivals gate. It is being held by one of the dishiest guys I’ve ever set eyes upon, and stood next to him is another gorgeous hunk. Suddenly, cameras start flashing around us and I realize that they’re flashing at little old me, making me feel very special, I was glad I had dressed for the occasion.

 

The two guys come over to greet me, and judging by the way the photographers are flashing their cameras, I gather these two are professional football players. 

 

They both approach me and introduce themselves.

 

“Welcome to New York, Ursa, I’m Valdeze Miller and this is Zac Wilkinson, and we’re assigned to be your escort while you’re here, so how about we do a quick photo session and then rush you off in the car?”

 

“Okay,” is all I could think to say, as I feel so overwhelmed, I never knew this team was so famous.

 

We did the photos of me and two huge, hunky guys. I have to say, they are both very dishy, and I’m beginning to feel like a super star with all the attention I’m receiving from the photographers, and my two chaperones.

 

We make our way through the airport with the photographers following us, snapping away. Then we arrived at the car, and what a car it is. A huge stretch-limousine in black, with tinted windows, it must be the size of over two cars.

 

Valdeze opens the door for me and I clamber inside. If the limo looked impressive outside , the inside is totally amazing. Full leather upholstery, more like a luxurious couch than a car. The seat stretches all the way around in a u shape. There’s a huge flat screen TV, with polished wood tables, and a cocktail cabinet. This car interior is almost bigger than my living room, at home.

 

We all settle down on the leather seats, and Valdeze hands me a glass of bubbly.

 

“It’s non-alcoholic,” he says, as he’s toasting to the photographers who are still trying to take our photos as we’re settling into the car. “I’m sorry about this, we have to do it for the publicity. The charity tickets bring in a lot interest, so we’re assigned a winner, in pairs. However, let me assure you Ursa, you have the best pair in the team. By the time you go home, your gonna love this team, that’s if you don’t already.”

 

“Oh, well, erm...” I stutter, slightly embarrassed, as I admit to my lack of knowledge about pro-football. “I don’t know anything, sorry, I just happen to be the one to win the ticket, sorry guys,” for some reason I wanted to be honest with them.

 

“That’s cool,” Zac says to me, “you’ll know plenty when we’re finished with you, I promise.”

 

These guys were genuinely lovely, they acted like gentlemen, giving no sign that this was all part of the job. They really seem to be enjoying themselves, and I certainly am, how could I not, in such charming company?

 

“Well, cheers, to being the chaperone to such a beautiful lady,” Valdeze says, in a deep, husky voice, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

 

“That is such a nice thing to say, thank you, Valdeze,” his words relax me, instantly.

 

I know that a large lady isn’t everyone’s kinda gal, but these guys don’t seem to care. They’re so warming towards me, that I’m excited to be spending a couple of days with such charming men.

 

“So, Ursa, we’re starting with football practice,” Zac informs me. “I’m a Defensive Back and Valdeze here is a Quarterback. You don’t need to know what we do, just sit back and have a good time in the crowd. Do you think you can manage that?”

 

“You’re right about that, I’m afraid, I don’t have a clue what your positions are. I can promise though, that I’m going to enjoy every moment of this trip, so bring it on,” I truly am excited at the prospect of watching these hunky guys running around grunting.

 

“Aww, she’s gonna miss us you know, Zac, my boy, I can tell, she’s gonna miss us, isn’t that right?”

 

“Of course I will, but it just makes it all the more exciting, once practice is over.”

 

Zac takes my hand in his, completely enveloping it in his big, dark skinned hand and brushes his lips over my skin. The sensation is so tingly that I shudder with delight. Then I start to wonder to myself just how far all this playful fun is going to go. Looking at the twinkle in his eyes, I’d say it might be a quite an adventure.

 

The car stops and we’re at the football ground. They take me to the stands and introduce me to other players and other ticket winners, there are five of us altogether. With a coke in my hand, I’m soon waving them to go and get ready for their practice. They dash off and I hear a cheer as the rest of the team start to spill out onto the pitch, wow, they look so big in all their gear, this is gonna be fun, fun, fun.

Chapter 3 Practice

The team start their training by running into large pieces of gym equipment, that hold big blocks of plastic covered sponges. It looks painful and I cant understand why anyone would do it willingly, still it made for good fun watching them. Huge guys with muscle packed bodies, straining against the equipment. 

 

There are other members of the public here as well, in fact practice seems almost as popular as the actual game, but they’re not getting the treatment that we’re getting. They have laid on all the works for us, plenty of snacks and drinks and someone on hand to attend to our every needs.

 

Each of the players seems to acknowledge parts of the crowd, sending them off into big roars. I soon get into the exciting atmosphere and I’m doing my own shouting and cheering. Once they split into practice teams, everyone hushes to watch.

 

At first I can’t tell which of the players are my boys, because they have those protective helmets on their heads, but I soon realise that they have a number, and a name on the back of their shirts. It’s all well organized, activities for kids and even a group of Service men and women in uniform, watching. I never realized how important a football game can be to so many different people

 

Having never actually watched a pro football game before, I am quite shocked by the level of physical contact, huge muscular men battering into each other. Even with their level of protective clothing, it’s still gotta be painful. I watch as Valdeze has the ball, just as he throws it to another guy, he is smashed into, by three guys, and he goes down in a crumple with all three of them piled on top of him. I groan inside, feeling he wasn't going to get up from that in a hurry, but to my amazement he is soon up and running around again. These guys sure are tough. If it had been me under all that muscle I would probably need hospitalizing. Still, the thought of being buried underneath those guys sends a delightful quiver through me, and I feel a slight dampness between my legs as my juices are awakening.

 

I don’t know any of the moves or rules, but it’s still exciting to be here, watching a large group of men ramming into each other and listening the crowd cheering. It’s unreal and I love it.

 

When it’s all over, we’re ushered indoors to have refreshment with the players. Whilst snacks had been provided for us, I’m still hungry and the players needed to eat after there training session. Mind you, I always have plenty of appetite left for more food. It’s my one weakness, well one of them anyway.

 

I’ve got to know a few of the ticket winners so I don’t feel so alone, but we’re all waiting for our own chaperones to reappear. Everyone loves how we’ve all been allocated players to take good care of us. I feel like royalty.

 

Suddenly I’m greeted with a huge sandwich hug between my two guys, I tell you, I could have stayed in that position forever, even though they haven't showered yet and are still in their sweaty football kits.

 

“Here we are, Ursa,” Zac yells. “You miss us, girl?”

 

“Hey, you guys stink,” I tell them.

 

“We thought you’d like us like this?” Zac laughs. “Do you fancy a shower with us?” he whispers in my ear.

 

“You’re kidding, right?” I say, laughing at his naughtiness.

 

“Come on, Ursa, it'll be fun, it’s just a naked shower, what harm can you possibly come to?”

 

“What if someone sees us?” I say, pushing him away.

 

“This sort of thing goes on all the time?” he informs me, as if I’m supposed to be familiar with the behaviour of football players.

 

I look at Valdeze, I may have only known them a few hour, but already it seems obvious that he’s the sensible one of the two, but he’s got a big grin on his face and I can tell he is game.

 

“Are you sure?” I check with him.

 

“Anyway,” Zac says, “someone needs to soap the bits we can’t reach.”

 

The thought of being naked in a shower with these two guys, makes me feel really hot, but I’m still a bit apprehensive.

 

“How the hell you gonna sneak someone like me into the male showers?” I question.

 

“It’ll be fine. Everyone’s eating right now so the changing areas and shower rooms are clear,” he pauses with a smile on his face, “you chicken then?”

 

No, I am not,” I assure him. “I’m game, so long as I can’t get arrested, or it’s not illegal or something.”

 

“Come on, we won’t let anyone see you, only us,” he informs me, as he drapes his arm over my shoulder and starts to lead me into the back.

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