I charged down the football pitch towards goal, dodging the defenders who I imagined between me and my target. I always liked to get some solitary practice in before a match to focus my attention. This Saturday's game was home against the Stafford Vixens, which meant Jillian Cairns would be playing – a tough tackler, but a little slow. I jinked over where I pictured her leg, spinning the ball ahead of me, then looked up and placed the ball safely in the top right corner before running to the corner flag screaming in celebration.
Well, that's how I imagined it. Unfortunately, that's not how it would go. Not now the coach had a new striker on the team. Lana Whitbread. She was a reasonable player, and even I would agree had a better turn of speed than I did. I preferred to play a little behind the main striker, Tina, and so was better tactically than Lana, but not as good a pure striker. That had never been a problem before. We had finished in the top three of our league in each of the last four seasons playing with me and Tina teamed up – ever since I gained a regular place in the team in fact. Unfortunately, Lana was owed a favor by the coach's wife and she had worked on him until he agreed to try a new system; i.e. her, not me! This Saturday would be the first day I'd be warming the bench for any reason other than an injury.
To make matters worse, my boyfriend Wendell had just dropped me like a stone. I'd finally got up the courage to agree to his requests about sex. I'd only had sex once before, and frankly that nearly put me off for life. But I loved Wendell and he loved me, or so I thought. We went everywhere together. Our friends referred to us as the Big Black Stud and Mulatto Vixen – a joke to show I'd only been with black guys before and my mixed parentage was the closest he'd come to a mixed-race relationship. So anyway, we'd even got talking about the M word. Not now, of course, but some day. So I figured it was probably time to reevaluate my position on sex. I invited him over, and that's when he broke the bad news. Sorry, Sweetcheeks, you're dumped luv! Great! Just what I needed.
Sorry, this is such a jumbled mess. Well, it's hardly surprising with all that is it? And if you want the real stinger, he dumped me yesterday and my birthday is tomorrow. Happy birthday to me. Yeah right!
I sighed and headed for the showers, carrying the ball under my arm. The truth was, I'd been working out even harder today because ever since I got over the idea of sex being painful, I found I was aching to do it. Mostly that was the 'night before' syndrome, where the expectation gets to you until you finally perform. Some of it though was, I knew, suppressed sexuality catching up with me. I was hoping working out and a cold shower would get me over that.
When I entered the locker room, I heard something which made me stop dead. It was a man sighing in passion. More than that, it was a voice I recognized; Wendell. For a second I considered storming around the corner, to confront him, but something told me not to. Instead I carefully placed the ball down and peeked around into the next aisle. There was Wendell, flat on his back with Lana sitting on his chest gazing down at him. She was wearing her football shirt and boots, but nothing else. He was fully dressed. She reached behind her back and slowly stroked his balls through his thick, black jeans. "About time you came to me, my Big Black Stud," she cooed. "You need a real woman to give you what you want."
"Don't call me that," said Wendell. "That was what her friends called me."
Lana slapped him across the cheek. "I'll call you what I want, stud. Besides, if I call you it, that might erase that frigid bitch from your head."
Again I had to struggle not to rush over to confront them, but I had a better idea; a flash of genius which might just give me a good birthday after all. There were two things I needed, and I had to hurry to get them both before anything major happened between these two cocksuckers. First I jogged out to my car, to take out the new videocam Daddy had bought me for my birthday. It was the top of the line, able to shoot in any conditions, superzoom to 1000x, sound magnification, steady-grip handle, you name it. Hell, you could even buy an x-ray add-on if you wanted, though frankly I couldn't see the point of that. I stripped out the film I had been recording and dashed back inside, heading for the coach's room. A quick bit of work with a hairgrip unlocked the door and I was inside. This week's private training session videos were sitting on a shelf behind the desk. I yanked out Lana's and rammed it into the camera, then half-sprinted, half-crept back to the shower room.
As I got there I heard a loud CRACK and a cry of pain. I turned the corner to a position where I could see the aisle my ex (hell, he sure was now) and the bitch were in and nearly dropped the camera in shock. I adjusted position quickly, placing the camera mount against my shoulder so I could record the amazing scene that was playing out before me...
"Want some more, stud?" asked the bitch, grinning.
"Yes, mistress, Lana." Said my ex. He was now tied up. His hands stretched above him to the ceiling. His pants lay about his ankles. His big black cock was pointing directly towards my hiding place. And Lana was standing behind him, with a belt in her hands. She brought it down across his ass cheeks, letting its end flick round to slap his thigh. He cried out in pain again.
