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Max
“Watch closely, Grace, this could be the future of your genetic offspring. Already the fifth set and he’s just now breaking into double digits!” Brett taunts from behind me as I try to line myself up with those stupid little fucking arrows on the bowling lane.
I can feel my manhood sliding down the lane in the gutter as the ball follows it.
I fucking hate bowling.
I stare long and hard down the lane, willing the ball to pop out of the gutter and make a spectacular splash into the pins. Nope, it stays right the fuck there in the gutter as it sails past the pins.
“You would think even with how bad he is, eventually the ball would want to stay on the lane,” Chase says loudly.
I turn around, growling. Both of them sit there with their girls, laughing away as if this is some funny joke.
Fuckers.
Avery and Mandy are laughing right along with those guys, it’s fucking horrible. I turn to the one bright spot in this place, wanting comfort for my poor ego.
Fuck.
Walking over to her is like the walk of shame. Grace is trying really hard not to laugh but it isn’t working. She has her hand over her mouth, but the way her face is turning red and the way her breasts are jiggling she is seriously holding it in.
Slumping down into the seat next to her, I say, “Even you, Grace?”
She bursts out laughing with the rest of them. “I thought you were kidding when you said how much you don’t like bowling. Maybe you just weren’t that good. But…”
Looking up at the scoreboard I see the number twelve in my row of boxes. Every single person here is solidly beating the shit out of me, especially Grace. Fuck me.
“I wasn’t kidding, bowling is the bane of my existence,” I say.
“But Brett was so sure when we set up this group date that you would love going.”
Glaring over at him, I can see that cocky little shit setting this up, along with his big fucking cohort next to him, Chase.
“Brett is an asshole of the highest caliber who deserves to get fleas on his balls,” I say as Brett walks by, laughing even harder.
“That’s right, funny boy,” I say even louder when he picks up his ball and sets himself up to go down the lane. “Drop that ball right on your big head.”
Fucker bowls a fucking strike.
Grace stands up for her turn and kisses my cheek with gusto. “I’ll protect your honor, baby, don’t worry.”
That just makes everyone around us laugh all the harder as she goes on to bowl a spare.
The one saving fucking grace to this is when Grace walks with the ball those hips move in the most delightful way. It’s like poetry in motion. Bounce, bounce, swish, swish then a lunge as she shoots the ball down the lane.
The sexual tension between us has been building so quickly this last week that it’s all I can do not to take her right here on the bowling lane in front of everyone. One of the very few things stopping me is I want to keep her sexy bits all to myself. Those little parts are for me to ogle and lust over.
The hickey, she informed me tonight on the ride over to the bowling alley, is still there. Good, I am going to have to leave another one somewhere else.
I like the idea of marking this chick as mine.
I teased her I was going to give her a hickey belly chain and she made me swear I wouldn’t. Hope might somehow see it and she so didn’t want to have that conversation yet. Hickey or a ring, one way or the other I will be marking this girl as mine.
The sexual tension is killing me. I want her. I want her with everything in me. When she comes back to the seats and plops herself right down in my lap, I growl.
Giggling, she leans back into me as she pulls my arms up around her. Tilting her head back, she whispers “Mmm… Maybe the bear is poking me right now.”
She’s right, my cock is so ready to get hard for her just the warmth emanating from her ass is making me get firm. Shit. That’s all I need right now, to try bowling with a full-fledged hard-on.
