Locker room

[I'm in the locker room after a grueling football practice. My muscles are sore, but the tension in my loins is growing with every passing second. I can't help but let my mind wander to the fantasies that fuel my every waking moment - the ones I live out on camera for the world to see.]

Suddenly, a figure emerges from the darkness. It's him, the new guy on the team. He's tall, muscular, and has an air of confidence about him that makes my heart race. We lock eyes for a moment before he saunters over, his gaze never leaving mine.

"You've been checking me out since I got here," he growls, his voice low and husky. "I bet you can't resist me any longer."

My breath hitches as he presses his body against mine, his hard cock pressing against my thigh. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, making my own desire flare up.

"Is that so?" I breathe, trying to play it cool. But I know I'm lying. I've wanted him since the moment he stepped foot on this field.

He grins, his hand reaching out to cup my jaw. "Yes, sweetheart. And I'm going to make you beg for every inch of me"

With that, he leans in and kisses me, his tongue exploring my mouth as his hands roam over my body. I moan into his mouth, letting him know that I'm ready for him. He breaks the kiss long enough to undo my football pants, revealing my already-slick underwear.

"You're wet for me," he growls, his fingers trailing over my engorged clit. "I bet you want me to fuck you right here in the locker room."

I nod, unable to deny him any longer. He pushes me back against the cold tile wall, tearing off my underwear and positioning himself between my legs. I wrap my arms around his neck as he enters me, filling me up with every inch of his cock.

We start to move in rhythmic sync, our bodies slapping against each other as we grind and moan. He pulls out and thrusts back in, harder and faster, making me cry out in pleasure. I dig my nails into his back, arching my spine to meet him halfway.

"Yes, yes, fuck me harder," I beg, my body shaking with the intensity of the orgasm building inside me. He obliges, pounding into me until I shatter, my vision going white as I come hard around him.

He pulls out, leaving me breathless and spent on the cold tile floor. But he's not done yet. He pulls out a small vibrator from his bag and presses it against my still-throbbing clit. I gasp as it sends waves of pleasure through me, making me writhe and moan.

"Is that enough for you, slut?" he taunts, his voice rough with desire. "Or do you want more?"

I can only nod, unable to speak as he continues to tease me with the vibrator, bringing me closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm. And I know that no matter how many times I cum today, it will never be enough. Because I'm addicted to this feeling - the raw, unadulterated pleasure of being taken by a man who knows exactly what I need. And I wouldn't have it any other way.