20 - Fallon
~ 20 ~
FALLON
The public weight room was a new feature on campus, an extension of the Virgil Henson activities center. I hadn’t been there yet, but I’d always intended upon checking it out. So when the guys mentioned they’d be there after a shortened practice, I jumped at the chance to work out with them.
The problem was… distractions.
Holy shit.
I completely underestimated how hot they looked, all sweaty and pumped and focused. I fawned over Dalton’s lunges, gawked at Emerson’s squats. I marveled over the sheer amount of weight Trey could bench press without a spotter, his arms already bulging from the triceps pull-downs the three of them were working on.
I watched most of this from one of the treadmills, on an incline I’d chosen specifically for the purpose of impressing them. It was burning my calves, tightening my glutes. When Dalton walked by and playfully upped the speed another full mile-per-hour, I stuck my tongue out at him, but kept things going.
There were other teammates there, too, all of them laughing and spotting each other and generally breaking each other’s balls. I learned later on that their normal athletic facility had been shut down for temporary maintenance. Getting in their workouts had been strongly suggested by all the coaches, which was why the place was wall-to-wall beefcake.
No one knew who I was however, so I received quite a few looks from the other guys. A crop top and tight black yoga pants tended to do that. I’d worn the outfit to be cute for Dalton, Emerson, and Trey, without thinking my ass and thighs might attract the attention of damn near the entire team. But they did, and while the extra attention was a little fun, the jealous or possessive looks the guys shot me here and there put happy butterflies in my stomach.
So the guys couldn’t stop watching me, and I couldn’t stop watching them. My eyes stayed glued to their sweat-soaked bodies, their pumping muscle. The swollen curve of their shoulders. The sexy tapering of their broad, V-shaped backs, slowly giving way to their trim, flat waists.
The excitement and arousal I felt over the whole thing rose to a fever pitch, to the point where I couldn’t take it anymore. Coupled with the fact that they hadn’t really touched me since our breakfast confessional, other than a few heated kisses here and there, I was like a sexual dam, ready to burst.
It was Dalton who eventually made it over to my machine. He took a giant swig from his water jug, then leaned into me, conspiratorially.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “When we invited you down here, we didn’t expect you to be strung up like a piece of meat.”
I smiled. “It is what it is.”
“Yeah, well not for much longer. A few more sets and we’re done.”
“I’m done now, pretty much.”
I punched the cooldown button on my treadmill, and lowered the incline back to something resembling sanity. My lower body stopped screaming as it slowed to a walk.
“Hey, mind if I ask you something? It’s about Emerson.”
Dalton nodded and offered me some water. I shook my head.
“I know he lost his mother when he was young, and your parents took him in.”
“That’s right,” said Dalton. “But not right away.”
“No?”
“His mom died, and from what I understand his dad took off not long afterward,” he explained. “Who knows where he went, but he left him with his grandmother. Emerson was with her for a while, until she died also.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, right?” Dalton agreed. “It was especially bad, because he’d just gotten used to the idea of losing his parents. His grandmother was a saint. He loved that woman. For that reason, he took it hard.”
“Jesus,” I swore. My heart ached.
“After that he ended up in the foster system, when they couldn’t find any other kin. He bounced around for a little, and then…”
“Your parents took him in?”
Dalton gulped more water and nodded. “He was with a few other families first, but yes. We’ve been foster brothers for a lot of years now. Played together, all throughout high school. Came to Texas A&M as a package deal, for the most part.”
I bit my lip in contemplation. “Did he ever mention any other brothers?”
“Who, Emerson?” He shook his head. “No. Never. As far as I know, he was an only child.”
Like me , I thought to myself.
The treadmill beeped three times, stopped, and I stepped off. Before I could check my workout results, a sexy grunt forced me to glance over Dalton’s shoulder. Emerson and Trey were doing dumbbell kickbacks now, their glistening arms sprouting muscle upon muscle. A few of the other players were talking to them, while stealing glances back in my direction. I immediately looked away.
“Too much testosterone around here,” I smiled back at Dalton. “And most of it’s being wasted.”
He coughed. “Wasted?”
“Yeah,” I said, a little more seductively. “All this energy being expended for exercise…”
I leaned in, screwing my tits tightly against his chest.
“When you boys could be expending it upon me.”
Dalton’s sapphire eyes glowed with sudden and complete enlightenment. Those kissable lips dropped open.
“You mean—”
“I mean you guys have barely touched me since our little arrangement,” I murmured breathlessly. “And I’m more than ready for it.”
“We—we were giving you space,” he stammered.
“Space?” I laughed. “Did I look like I needed space when the three of you were jackhammering me into the bed?”
My blunt words had an immediate effect on him. Dalton’s whole body stiffened with arousal.
“I’ve been a good girl, enjoying my new bedroom alone,” I told him. “But I’m done being good. I want to be bad again. Very bad.”
Sliding a secret hand between us, I found exactly what I was looking for. The thing shifting between his muscular thighs felt like a knot against my palm. A knot in one of those thick climbing ropes.
I inhaled Dalton’s salty-sweet scent, reveling in the feel of his strong heart, beating steadily against my chest. Somehow, he was all mine. This beautiful, highly-revered, elite college athlete. The perfect specimen of a man, who was not only hot and horny for me and hung like a stallion, but who was also my roommate, my lover, and my very best friend.
I gave the knot against my palm a promising squeeze, then pulled back to look him in the eyes again.
“Give me a ten-minute head start,” I smiled insidiously, “then grab the others and head home. You’ll find me in my bedroom, with my hand between my thighs. And I won’t be wearing a stitch of fucking clothing.”
The shocked look on the quarterback’s face turned into a wide smile. “You got it.”
“And don’t shower either,” I called back, as I turned away. “I want the three of you just like this… all hot and sweaty and ready to expend your energies on me.”