The Quarterback's Little s****r - Sex Stories

The Quarterback's Little s****r

... couldn't look, but she had to. The ball soared through the air; she didn't even know who he was passing it to. And then it came down... ...over two defenders... Emily gasped. ...right into the arms of his receiver. Much of the crowd stood, screaming. Darren, the guy who caught it, had nobody between him and the endzone. As he sprinted passed the goal line, Emily was jumping up and down, looking incredible in her cheerleader outfit and feeling it for her b*****r who'd passed for the first touchdown. [Today, when I score the first touchdown, I'll only be seeing you. ] Emily had heard her phone buzz as she lay dozing Saturday morning with the sun streaming in her room. Somehow she knew it would be from her b*****r before she could even pick it up. It had been all Emily could think about until she saw him again on the field. When plays were going on, most of the cheerleaders were fixated on their team or favorite team members. Some of the girls were inevitably dating receivers or linebackers or even the occasional linemen if they were brave. For the first time, Emily was the quarterback's, and the secret was all hers. Except, when the team ran by after celebrating with their receiver in the endzone, Brad had come close and pointed with the ball right at her. The other girls didn't make anything of it, more so jealous for his unflinching attention, but to Emily it meant a lot. It was pure, like the way her teammates saw it, but in a different way. It was pure love for Brad and ...

... hope for what would come next with him. By halftime, Brad looked like a better quarterback than he had ever before. People could be so fickle: cursing him one moment and acting like he was their best friend the next. Nobody would have thought to put the first two games on Brad after time had expired. He was phenomenal. All game, Brad could feel the presence of his little s****r on the sidelines. But it had focused him. He didn't aim to prove that he had enjoyed what had happened at home the previous day, but he had anyway. It would be such a convenient excuse that Emily had led him to play his best game yet, and only with a few minutes of her time in the upstairs bathroom on her knees for her b*****r. He'd already looked forward to spending time with her every Friday for a year; now he had one more reason to do so if she allowed it. Emily hoped nobody could tell how wet she'd gotten over the course of the game, more each time she saw her b*****r score and soon after felt his eyes upon her. It connected her with his every move, every play in the game. She was slowly learning what it meant to want someone badly, she just didn't recognize the feeling or understand how it could be so intense toward her big b*****r. He couldn't do more than hug her after the game, and Emily didn't dare whisper into his ear that she intended to blow him again before the next game; there were too many people and cameras watching. It would have to stay secret, hidden in the grin she shot him when he was ...