Match of the Day

Karen Fitzroy couldn't have felt more proud as she and her husband Con walked past the array of press photographers into the swanky West End hotel. They were there to celebrate Blackport Athletics' biggest triumph since Con's playing days, winning the UEFA Federation Cup, having beaten some of Europe's best clubs on the way. Not only had their son, 22-year old Richie, established himself as a regular member of the first team, he'd actually scored the winning goal.

In the reception area a beaming young woman took their coats, and as they entered the ballroom, low lit with a glitter ball casting a strobe effect around the room, both were handed large glasses of champagne. Karen's eyes sparkled as she glanced around, spotting the famous players of the team and their glamorous WAGs, their grizzled Serbian manager, for once not looking like a bear with a bad migraine, and a few other parents, although only three of the first team were British and, Karen thought with a glow of pride, Richie was the only one Blackport born and bred. He saw his parents arrive and came over to give them both a big hug.

As Con drifted off straight to the free bar, Karen circulated among her fellow guests, swiping more champagne from the circulating waiting staff as she went. She was well known within the Latics circle, and with her 1980s-big auburn hair, her prominent bust (thanks these days to a reliable push-up bra) and standing five-feet-ten tall barefoot she really stood out in her three-inch high heels and glittery black trouser suit which sparkled as it reflected the various spotlights around the room.

Over the next hour or so Karen nibbled from the buffet but mostly quaffed champers as she made her way around the individual players congratulating them and giving each a peck on the cheek. The last one she approached was their blond star and captain, the 27-year old Estonian Mikko Sepp, valued at an estimated £90 million on a bad day. With a reputation as a slightly aloof figure, even among his teammates, he was standing slightly off to the side of the congregation, watching them with a small, perhaps condescending, smile of amusement, no wife or girlfriend apparent. A little tipsy by this point, Karen tottered over to him on her high heels, said "Onitlussed sulle", proud of herself for having especially learned an Estonian term of congratulations, and was gratified by his warm and genuine smile. She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down slightly to kiss him on the cheek. At the last moment he turned his head slightly so that Karen's sloppy kiss landed not on his cheek but smack on his lips, and at the same moment a jolt of electricity shot through her as Mikko's hand slipped between her legs and gave her crotch a firm squeeze. Then, with a wink, he moved off.

Karen was so stunned she momentarily braced herself against the wall. She wasn't sure whether to feel outraged, flattered or titillated by the young man's brashness. She glanced around quickly but nobody seemed to have noticed what had happened. Still a little dazed, Karen weaved her way over to the buffet table and took a slice of apple pie, thinking she had maybe sober herself up a bit and wondering whether it really had happened or she had imagined it. There was nothing imaginary though about the cloying dampness she felt in her panties.

As she turned back to the party Karen's eyes sought out Mikko. From the other side of the large room his big blue eyes were locked on hers. Perplexed by his apparent interest in her, Karen circulated the edge of the crowd, but Mikko always remained across the room to her, and it seemed as if his eyes never left her. Surely, she thought, he'd just been playing with her and couldn't really be interested. At 52 she's retained most of the good looks that had taken her to second place in the Miss UK contest back in 1991, although her jowls were now a little puffy with fat. Her figure was still pretty good, her slight paunch not showing through her clothes. Even so, one of the most glamorous men in English football, barely half her age, who could have any gorgeous young woman he wanted, fancying her? Bloody ridiculous.

The next time she looked towards Mikko he was standing by a door leading from the room. Catching her eye again he gave the slightest flick of his head then opened and stepped through it. For a moment Karen wondered if she'd imagined the gesture, but she was sure she hadn't. She glanced around the room -- Con was over at the bar with his old teammates from the 1998 double-winning team, and nobody else seemed to be paying much attention to her. Before she realised she was doing it, she was making her way across the room to that door. She told herself she was merely intrigued, that nothing unexpected was going to happen, but even as she thought it she felt her nipples stiffening and her belly flip-flopping nervously.

The door led to what appeared to be some kind of service corridor, white and with harsh overhead neon lighting. Mikko was standing beside a second door and, on seeing Karen, stepped through it, leaving it open. Swallowing nervously, Karen followed. She found herself in a cleaners' cupboard, with metal shelving holding polish, dusters and so on and a few vacuum cleaners and floor polishers on the floor. Mikko grinned at her, breathed "Hello", and without ceremony took her by the wrist and swung her against a wall. Startles, as she stumbled one of Karen's stupid toe-pinching shoes slipped off and she kicked off the other one for balance. Now Mikko was exactly the same height as her. He pressed his body against hers, pinioning her to the wall, and his lips smacked onto hers, his tongue demanding she open her mouth to him.

Barely able to breathe, Karen slipped her arms around Mikko's shoulders and pushed back into him as his long tongue explored her mouth. She kissed back, their tongues writhing caressing each other. Karen gasped into Mikko's mouth as he pulled the hem of her blouse from her trousers, inserted both hands and roughly pushed into her bra and began kneading her boobs.

To her own surprise, Karen found her own hands fumbling with the belt and fly of Nikko's trousers. He shuffled his hips to drop them to the floor and, taking one hand from her tits, pushed down his underpants, wriggling them to his ankles. Karen's breath deepened as Nikko reached for the waistband of her trousers. Was she really going to do this, have an against-the-wall shag, something she hadn't done since her teens, with a beautiful, idolised young foreigner she'd only just met in person in a squalid cleaning cupboard? Her first sex in more than six months? Too fucking right she was.

Nikko crouched down as her dragged Karen's trousers and sodden pants to the floor, then lifted one of her feet out of them. His head was an inch from her crotch and she gazed down as he inhaled the scent of her arousal. Then her head rocked back and she let out a whimper as his fingers prised apart her pussy lips and his tongue traced the length of her wet slit. Her legs almost gave way but Nikko stood again and they shared another deep kiss, Karen tasting herself on the tip of his tongue, her hand seeking and wrapping around his iron-hard cock.

Nikko pressed tight against her, his hand felt for her pussy and then his prick surged into her, making her yelp. He wasn't as big as Con but that didn't matter a jot to Karen as her young lover slammed into her time and again, his hands gripping her bum cheeks, squeezing them and pulling her onto him with each thrust. With the benefit of youth he lasted for several minutes before she felt him surge into her, and by then she had lost count of the number of times she had cum, rockets exploding in her head and her entire body on fire.

They stood together panting for a few moments, Nikko's forehead resting against Karen's. Then, with great tenderness, he unbuttoned her blouse, pulled it off her shoulders, eased down one of her bra straps and took her breast in his mouth, his tongue flicking the nipple and his teeth grazing it. Karen had thought she was spent, but she gasped again as a new tide of wetness flooded into her burning pussy.

With that, Nikko grabbed a duster from a pack on the shelving, wiped himself clean, pulled up his pants and trousers and, with one final kiss on the cheek, left her. Karen used the duster to mop herself as dry as she could, then raised it to her lips and licked it, savouring the sweet taste of their mingled nectar. Rearranging herself as best she could, she hurried to a ladies bathroom she'd seen further along the corridor, where she tidied herself up as best she could without makeup to hand. Something was prickling her inside the bra cup Nikko had pulled down, and when she investigated it she found it was a small folded piece of paper, bearing a handwritten mobile phone number. As she returned to the ballroom, her shoes dangling from her fingers, Karen tried to control her Cheshire Cat grin as she contemplated the prospects of scoring again in a second leg.