FORWARD
This story is an erotic adventure that features a married couple in an open and caring relationship having sex with other partners. If that offends you, stop reading now.
Side note: Please don't let the reputation of Philadelphia Eagles fans taint your view of this story. We're not all rude, arrogant or rowdy. And that whole incident with throwing snowballs at Santa happened in 1968, for Christ's sake. Let it go.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE AT LEAST 18 YEARS OF AGE OR OLDER.
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When Chuck arrived at Time Out Tavern on Sunday, February 4th, 2018, he knew it would be a great night. What he didn't know was that it would become one of the most memorable nights of his life.
The Philadelphia Eagles had finally made it to the Superbowl, and Chuck had decided to watch the Big Game at the local sports bar not far from his place. While he lived on the other side of the bridge from the city, South Jersey was still very much Eagles territory. It's not until you get north of Trenton that you start running into Giants fans.
Work was slow for him this time of year and he'd already scheduled the next day off with his boss, who'd laughed when he asked and said he'd probably be "calling in sick too."
Chuck had no plans on getting shit faced. Somewhere in his thirties, the idea of getting falling down drunk had lost its appeal, and the hangovers had become far rougher to deal with the morning after. But he figured he could stay out late, have a few drinks, hopefully celebrate a win and not have to worry about getting up early on Monday.
Most of his friends did have to work the next day, and had decided to watch the game at home with their families.
Being single, (Chuck got divorced four years ago, and it had been six months since his last girlfriend dumped him) he was also hoping against hope of maybe meeting someone. It was going to be a wild and hopefully celebratory night, and sure to be a packed house at the bar. There had to be at least a few single women, right?
Chuck arrived an hour before the scheduled 6:30 PM kickoff and sure enough, the place was already filling up.
While several giant high definition flat screens filled much of the available wall space, the best spot to view the game was right at the bar itself. He got lucky and managed to find an open stool. Pulling out a small stack of cash, he slapped it on the bar, staking his claim to the space.
A live band was churning out a decent set list of upbeat classic rock hits while the pregame shows played silently on the screen. No one really cared about that stuff at the moment. People were too busy getting the celebration started; drinking, dancing, high fiving total strangers and singing the Eagles Fight Song whenever the band paused between tunes.
Chuck didn't move from his seat often, too afraid of losing it. But he did socialize with those around him, discussing the chances of an Eagles win and their mutual disdain for Tom Brady. He also joined in with every Eagles cheer, along with the hearty booing of the one knucklehead who'd walked into the place with a Patriots jersey. (I promise you though, no one beat him up or otherwise abused him.)
Then it was kickoff time. The band stopped playing as the TV volume went up, the sound broadcast through every speaker in the place.
For the next hour, the place was absolutely electric, and when the Eagles lined up with thirty-eight seconds left in the second quarter to pull off what famously became known as the "Philly Special," bringing the score to 22 -12 at the half, the gathered crowd went ballistic.
No one bothered to watch the halftime show, the band had started playing again and everyone was far too celebratory.
The noise in the place was so loud Chuck could barely hear the voice beside him. "Is this seat taken?"
He turned to see the beautiful, dark haired woman with even darker eyes addressing him. He hadn't noticed when the guy next to him had vacated his stool, but saw no signs of anything left behind indicating his return. "Looks that way," Chuck shrugged with his best welcoming smile. "You're more than welcome to it."
She scooted by him, her large, full breasts brushing up against his arm as she squeezed into the tight space to claim the stool. Her long, curvy leg also rubbed against him as she crossed it over the other, revealing more than a glimpse of thigh from under her short white skirt.
"Thanks," she said, flashing him a brilliant smile. "Been trying to get a space up here all night."
Chuck couldn't help but give her a quick once over. She wore, like many in the place, an Eagles jersey. But hers was low cut, revealing plenty of cleavage. It was also cut short at the waist, showing off her flat, firm abs and belly button piercing. Her skirt was even shorter, with a slit up the side, and as she shifted to get comfortable on the stool, the slit opened wider, teasing more than a hint of her very round ass.
Chuck considered himself a gentleman, and so tried not to gawk. Yet his gaze lingered just a tad too long. She caught him looking of course, but instead of being insulted or angry, her smile widened and her eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle. Still, he blushed and turned away, embarrassed to have been busted staring.
Then he felt her tap his shoulder. "Buy a lady a drink?"
He turned to face her again and this time met her eyes more directly.
He couldn't truly determine her age. Other than the green and white mix of mascara around her eyes, her makeup wasn't gauche or tacky, caked on the way some older women do in a desperate attempt to hide their wrinkles. Her lips were full but natural, her nose, chin and cheekbones well defined, but with no hint of plastic surgery.
Only the crows' feet around her eyes gave any real hint of her being older than thirty, but he'd be willing to bet not much more than that.
Her body was voluptuous, with curves in all the right places, and if the muscle tone in her calves, thighs and exposed stomach were any indication, she worked out on a regular basis.
All in all, definitely an alluring package.
Chuck sipped his beer, summoning up his courage. "Of course." He flagged down the bartender who, thanks to some smart pre-tipping from him earlier in the evening, was attentive and came right over to take her order.
She ordered a light beer, one of the specials. Chuck took it as a good sign that she wasn't just gonna try to milk him for expensive drinks all night.
They tapped their bottles. "Amazing first half so far!" She had to speak loudly over the din, but her voice was fair and pleasing. "You think we got this?"
"As long as we can keep Brady in check," said Chuck. "We just can't play scared. Gotta plays balls out right to the end."
She grinned and raised her bottle again. "I'll drink to that. To 'balls out!'"
He tried not to make much of the look in her eyes as she stressed the last two words, or point out the obvious double entendre'.
"I'm Tina, by the way," she smiled, extending her hand.
He shook it firmly. "Chuck."
Her laughter was lilting. "You don't look like a Chuck."
He shrugged with a grin. "Well, what do I look like?"
"Actually...has anyone ever told you you look like Nick Foles?"
Chuck had to laugh. "Actually? Yes, several times. And if that son of a bitch can pull off a win for us tonight, I'm gonna take full advantage of that fact!"
She let out another loud, melodious laugh. "I bet you will. Might even get you laid!"
"Ya think?"
She cocked her head and winked. "Oh I could definitely see that as a possibility."
"Holy shit, this is off to a good start!"
Chuck thought. While he was no loser, nor completely inept when it came to women, he'd never considered himself a Ladies Man either. Plus the fact that he'd been off the market for over ten years while married meant he still had some rust to shake off when it came to his pick up game. But Tina was certainly making it easy, building his confidence.
The second half began and they spent the rest of the game side by side, chatting, cheering, and hugging after each amazing play. She never shied away from pressing her soft, natural breasts into him whenever they embraced, and more than once his hands casually traced the bare skin of her back or the sides of her hips. Her skin was soft and supple, the result of regular moisturizing.
When Brandon Graham strip sacked Brady late in the fourth quarter, forcing the turnover that all but sealed the win, they found themselves not just embracing, but kissing. Her lips met his with more than just celebratory excitement. Chuck could feel her desire like a heat radiating from her.
As they sat and watched the final few minutes of what would be a history making game unfold, his hand found its way to hers. She gripped it tightly, then guided it to her thigh.
Chuck rubbed her leg slowly. The room was tense, the clock ticking away as the Patriots mounted their last desperate stand. No one was looking at them as his hand moved further up. He paused, inches from the promised land, unsure just how far he should push this.
Then her hand found his again, and made the choice for him.
To his utter delight and not quite complete surprise, she wasn't wearing panties. His fingers first made contact with her soft, downy fur, then the warm, slick flesh of her cleft, brushing her stiff little button at the top. Her legs clenched tightly and Chuck saw more than heard her gasp of pleasure.
Then the final play of the game unfolded, almost in slow motion; the mad scramble of bodies on the field, the desperate Hail Mary pass, the ball bouncing around several times before hitting the ground as the clock struck zero and the game was over.
The Eagles had won the Superbowl!
The tavern erupted in a frenzy of yelling, cheering, crying, hugging and high fives. Tina and Chuck were on their feet as well, hugging first each other, then any random stranger nearby.
