Goalie

Chapter 2: Santos, Part 1

"Mmmmmmm....." I begin to hum. I squeeze my eyes shut, shifting my body weight on my knees, and grab her hips tighter. I feel myself getting close to the orgasm I'm chasing.

Suddenly, the door flies open, breaking me of my rhythm.

"What the f**k, man?" I shout, as Darren Pumin struts through the door.

"Sorry. I thought you were done."

"Santos." Sasha reaches between her legs and strokes her clit. "Keep going, Santos. I'm so close."

I ignore Pumin, who walks into the closet and rifles around. Instead, I look down and see Sasha's creamy, flawless ass. I slap it once, making her squeal and begin relentlessly pounding into her again.

"Hey, you want a Cuban?" Pumin yells from the closet. "I'm only bringing out a few."

"Hang on," I shout back. "Let me finish here first."

I thrust a few more times and Sasha clenches on the inside.

"I'm coming!" she shouts and then screams through her orgasm.

"Right behind you, mmmmmmm....." Seconds later, my balls tighten up and I feel a familiar sensation as my orgasm races up my spine, exploding in the back of my brain. My hips continue with small gyrations, practically involuntarily, as I come down from the high.

"Damn, you two are loud." Pumin stands in the doorway of the closet, holding a few cigars.

"No one asked you to hang out for the show, dickhead," I respond as I kiss Sasha on the neck and pull out slowly. "Thanks, baby. That was just what I needed."

She drops down to her stomach in exhaustion while I remove the condom and fling it Pumin's direction.

"Ah!" he yells, protecting his face with his hands. "Keep your dirty spunk away from me! And pick that condom up off my floor, asswipe."

I hoist my jeans up and leave them unbuttoned as I do what he asks. "Relax. I never leave a mess behind. I'm more of a gentleman than that."

He scoffs. "What you were doing right there, that didn't look very gentlemanly to me."

"I can be a gentleman and a dirty, dirty lover at the same time." Sasha snorts a laugh into the pillow. "See? She agrees with me."

"He's right." She grins seductively. "He's always gentlemanly when he spanks my ass."

Pumin c***s an eyebrow at Sasha. "Really. What other kinds of dirty things do you like, Sasha?"

She rolls onto her side, baring her naked body to us. "Why don't you come over here and find out?"

"Here." He hands the Cubans to me, never taking his eyes off of her, and whips his shirt over his head.

I throw the rest of my clothes on and head out the door just as Pumin leans back against the headboard, his c**k already in Sasha's mouth. I have no idea how that woman can go so many times in one night, but I'm appreciative of her efforts. There's nothing like a spine-tingling orgasm with a warm body that doesn't care how kinky it gets after an intense game to take the edge off.

I've been the starting goalie for the Texas Mutiny for three years now. Before that, I was the back-up goalie in San Diego. I loved being in California. That's where my family is. Well, what's left of it. My abuela died several years ago, so it's only a couple of uncles and aunts now. But my wife Mariana's family is in San Antonio so when I was traded here, it worked better for everyone. With three small kids, it's good for my mother-in-law to come stay when I have long road trips. I know it helps Mari out a lot.

After lighting up one of the fancy cigars, I dig my phone out of my pocket.

No texts.

Hmm. I double check and make sure I texted Mariana after the game.

Having a drink with the guys to talk shop. Be home soon. Don't wait up. Love you.

Yep. It went through. That's weird she didn't text me back. She always does. But the baby has been keeping her up at night. She's probably just tired and asleep already.

I feel bad about not heading home straight after the game to help her out. I love my family and my kids more than anything in this world. But one thing this team prides itself on is its camaraderie. We're a tight knit group, and I feel guilty if I don't show up at least for a little while to these get-togethers.

I am always in serious awe of how well Mari takes care of us, even when I get home late. She's an amazing mom, a talented cook, and keeps the entire house running smoothly. She always knows my schedules, keeps me organized, and has been my biggest fan since college when I first noticed her at an afterparty.

Her long dark hair, big brown eyes, lightly tanned skin… she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It was obvious she was uncomfortable at the party. She didn't deserve to be there. She was too good for it then and too good for it now. Her heart is truly gold, and I would never subject her to some of the things that happen here. Even if I subject myself to them regularly.

I feel a twinge of guilt over the fact that I'm here, drinking, smoking, having dirty s*x with a groupie, while she's at home with the kids, but quickly push it deep down inside, like I always do. Mariana deserves to be made love to. She deserves intimacy. She doesn't deserve to be f****d from behind like a filthy w***e just so I can get a nut off to relax. I know that's terrible justification, but it's the only one I've got. I have never been able to figure out why, but I can't seem to come down from the adrenaline rush after a game. I found over the years, long before Mari and I met, that s*x is the only way to re-balance myself somehow. So I just never changed my ways. And truthfully, I've been doing this for so long now, I'm almost numb to what I'm doing.

Almost.

But I refuse to let the deep-down thoughts come back up.

"Hey man, where'd you get that smoke?" Nate Funderling asks me. I pull a spare out of my back pocket.

"Pumin had them. Sasha distracted him before he could pass them out."

Funderling chuckles. He's not immune to her ways, either. Sasha is a freak. There is nothing she won't do. And no one.

"Speaking of groupies, where are Tiffany and Rowen?"

"Careful, man," I warn. "You don't want Rowen to hear you using the words 'Tiffany' and 'groupie' in the same sentence anymore."

He shrugs. No one saw it coming when they got together. Tiffany had been the best groupie we had for years before Rowen was moved up from the practice team. They hit it off right away. It didn't take long for her to quit f*****g us so she could stay monogamous to him. I didn't begrudge either of them. They're both good people.

"I think they're laying low for a while. She's still kind of shaken up. She's not sitting in Section 100 anymore. She's only sitting in the box during games."

His eyebrows shoot up. "No s**t? Just because of that nudie pic Shivel posted? I thought for sure she'd be over it by now."

I shrug. "I guess she's still getting harassed when she sits in the stands. They were the biggest sports story for a while there, ya know."

"Have you talked to Shivel since it happened?"

I shake my head and take a puff on my cigar.

"He's been cut."

"No s**t?" I say slowly. "Because of the picture? Does Rowen's daddy have that far of a reach?" His dad, being the legendary Ryan Flanigan, a soccer god among men, was still very, very active in the sport.

Funderling lights his cigar and takes a puff before answering. "Apparently a six game suspension and being demoted to the practice team didn't help him keep up his skills very well. Some younger mid-fielder surprised everyone and just took off with his abilities. He's in. Shivel's out."

Neither of us say anything more because there really isn't anything to say. We all watched Shivel's decline happen for about a year. He stopped practicing as hard. Started partying harder. Gained a little weight around the middle. He didn't become an alcoholic or anything, just let the perks of the job go to his head. It happens. If you can't stay focused on the job, it can all go to s**t quick.

I spend the next couple of hours in a fog of cigar smoke and Jäger shots. By the time a couple of groupies get naked and start making out with each other in the middle of the room, I'm ready to call it a night. It's fun to let loose for a bit, but kids get up early, and if I don't get at least one solid REM cycle, I won't be able to function in full dad-mode tomorrow.

Scheduling a cab on my handy dandy taxi app, I say my goodbyes and head out. Within an hour, I'm stumbling through my house. I consider going all the way to my bedroom, but I don't want to wake Mari up. Plus she hates the smell of cigar smoke. I don't want her to wake up to the odor and put her in a bad mood to start the day.

Couch it is.

I flop down on the oversized sofa and snuggle into the pillows. The last thing I think about as I fall into a drunken sleep is how Mari was right to buy this couch. It is, in fact, the comfiest couch I've ever slept on.