We win.
Well, the players win their game technically, but I'm caught up in the thrill of victory as the horn blows and the final touchdown is called for the Grizzlies. In that moment, I feel like I'm part of the team too. I squirm against the metallic seating of the grandstands, mindful of the itchy of lace against my skin.
Josh said that me wearing this helps him and Mason play better. I guess in a way that does make me part of the team too.
As fun as the game was, I still wouldn't call myself a real sports fan, but it was nice hanging out with Emma and the girls as we cheered everybody on. It was something different. A new sort of college experience outside of my usual academic pursuits.
Though if I'm being honest, I'm more excited about what's going to happen after the game.
As the red, black, and white colored crowd filters out of the stadium, I say goodbye to Emma after exchanging numbers with her and her friends. Girls aren't allowed in the locker room. I go alone. I head down the tunnel and wait by the door for someone to fetch me.
As I idle around, I check my phone. My heart skips a beat as I look over Sir's texts. No messages, just a series of photos. Quick, grainy and blurry snapshots. Sir doesn't have the most modern phone. He hasn't upgraded it in years, so the quality isn't that great, but my eyeballs still devour everything he's sent.
A sunset near a flat stretch of desert. The enormous wheels of his rig splattered with dirt. A plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and pancakes.
These are...different. He's never sent me anything like this before. Dick pics, sure, but nothing like this. Sir's told me about his work trips on his trucking routes, but he's never sent me photos so I can actually see for myself what his life is like when he's away.
My heart does something. Not quite a skip. More of a stumble.
I try not to read too much into it, but it makes me wonder...and it makes me hope. I know I belong to Sir. I'm his boy. His slut. His submissive. I understand the dynamics of our relationship. It's about sex, and when it isn't about fucking, it's about power.
He's not my boyfriend. He's my Dom.
I'm under no false impressions about what's going on...yet this makes me believe that something more could grow between us. Slowly, but surely. That we might share something personal together beyond him just sharing me.
There are, of course, less mundane pictures too. One of an obscenely dirty restroom...and one of Sir's gigantic cock. He's hard and leaking, his fingers tight around the base.
Pretty Boy
Thank you for the photos, Sir.
Sir
Such a polite little slut. How’s the game going?
Pretty Boy
It just ended. We won!
Sir
I bet you're having a good time.
Pretty Boy
Yeah, still don't think I'd call myself a sports fan, but tonight was different. I've really enjoyed it.
Sir
Course not, but you're about to be a slut for sports. Your holes better be ready to take it for the whole team.
Pretty Boy
Yes, Sir. I'm excited. Right now I'm waiting to get into the locker room.
I bite down on my lip as I look over our text messages. Do I dare say anything more? I know what's about to happen and what's expected of me. Sir's made another special arrangement for me. He's not just slutting me out to other Doms at the Bear's Den or his close friends or my roommate.
This is a whole new group of guys that'll use me. Guys that I go to school with. Who I'll have to see around campus in the last few weeks before graduation. It's obscene and dirty. And while I want to do it, part of me is a little scared too.
