Victory Tour (Part 257)

I made it out to the field and took my spot for calisthenics as The Boss made the speakers surrounding us vibrate.

"Cadillac, Cadillac. Long and dark, shiny and black."

"Man, who knew white folks be writin' songs ’bout me?" Marshawn cackled as we stretched.

"You? Brutha, that's ’bout me!" Jerome Jackson snorted.

"Don't thank I'd be braggin' ’bout some white dude sangin' ’bout me," Willie Joseph deadpanned. "Now, some pretty lil white gal? She wouldn't be able to keep from sangin.'"

"Better let her be on top," somebody on the far side of the field snarked.

Coach Tucker put an end to the fun with a blast of his whistle. It was time to start getting ready for a playoff game. I didn't really pay attention to the music after that, except when the offensive line started chanting along with "Hooked on a Feeling."

After position drills (why was I sent with the quarterbacks instead of the receivers?), the defense and scout offense went to one end of the field while the offense and scout defense went to the other. Coach Fuller and Coach McEntire conferred to set the ground rules and I was handed a red scrimmage vest. I got the feeling it would be about as effective as waving a red cape at a bull. I'd just have to trust the coaches to keep the defense under control.

The defense lined up in the hybrid 5-2/3-4 look we'd used against the Bearcats. If I correctly understood what they were doing, the flexed ends were responsible for cutting off anything to the outside.

We walked through the basic dives and such multiple times with the second defense swapping in to get a look at what the Wildcats would be throwing at us Friday night, then we started running plays at full speed. Marshawn, of course, had to keep up a running commentary as we went. I swear, the guy was incapable of playing without the constant banter. It was like it was in his DNA or something.

"Yeah, Supermodel betta not come into the Danger Zone," he chattered to an accompaniment from Kenny Loggins as we lined up for another play where I just handed off and got out of the way. "He just get a bruisin.'"

"Marshawn, every bruise you put on me'd just be another spot for Ny'Quesha to kiss better," I smirked.

"That ain't funny!" he fumed. "Come over here and say that!"

Coach Fuller got the linebacker under control by reminding him of the price to be paid for every hit I took in practice. I wouldn't put it past Marshawn to wait for practice to end to apply a few hits and try to get off on a technicality. I'd just have to spill his dessert if he did.

Things progressed without incident until the Wynonna Judd song I'd recommended came on. It was on the second chorus that Marshawn began singing along, just with a few minor changes to the lyrics.

"No one else on earth could ever hit you, break yo neck the way I do," he crooned before smothering Morales on a fullback trap.

I didn't have the heart to tell the linebacker he was grooving to a country song. But it had a definite R&B vibe to it.

Coach Fuller was directly responsible for the next bit of fun. He came over to the offensive huddle after getting the defense set.

"Run that bootleg like ya did Friday night," the defensive coordinator said. "I'm pretty sure the Wildcats have it in their playbook, we just haven't seen it on any of the film we've watched."

Coach McEntire called the wingback buck sweep to the left, which meant I'd be going around the right end toward Darius Smallwood.

I carried out the fake to Morales, then one to Rivera, waited the merest instant and headed for the right end. To find Darius waiting for me. My body performed a spin move of its own accord, avoiding contact as Darius tackled air and whistles blew.

"Way to be in position, Smallwood," Coach Fuller called out, "just have to finish the tackle. You've got to be ready for moves like that Friday night."

I returned to the huddle to find Coach Tucker giving me a curious look.

"How'd you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?" I asked in response.

"The spin move," he said.

"No idea," I admitted. "My body just reacted."

We made it through the segment without me having to throw a block when we ran a toss sweep or attempt a pass. We'd get to that the next two days. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

The special teams segment was nothing unusual. I fielded punts, watched kickoffs go to other guys on the return team and held for kicks, alternating snaps with Scottie. The sophomore showed improvement from back in August, but still had trouble with Jed's velocity. The fakes we worked on were ones we'd practiced before but hadn't used in a game. Soon enough, we were running gassers, huddling around Coach and shouting "TEAM!" on three.

I shed my shoulder pads and prepared to finish my gassers as captains went to deal with the media and everybody else hit the showers. Coach McEntire delayed me for a minute, but it wasn't about the scout team.

"I understand you selected some of today's music," he said, "the female artists in particular."

"The captains did ask for suggestions," I said. "I included a few I thought Morgan Ensberry would like."

"Next time, be sure to include some from my cousin Reba," he smirked.

I have no idea if the man was actually related to Reba McEntire or not, but it wouldn't be any stranger than Staci palling around with Ariana Grande.

I knocked out my remaining gassers in less than 10 minutes despite having exerted more energy than normal today, but I could see sleep coming easily tonight. This had been a long day.

I raced through a shower, prepped laundry, dressed and reported to study hall. The backpack hadn't gotten any lighter while it sat in my locker.

I got Economics notes from Chuck and took a look at the problems he expected us to be assigned. Cody had a copy of Zoe's Algebra II notes and was amazed I'd worked all the problems for the chapter. I'd have to turn in the first 10 at some point tomorrow. Riley had some notes from Western Civ and several guys chipped in tidbits from English IV. Elise gave me my six-weeks test from Chemistry. I'd done well enough to maintain an A average. I think that meant I'd keep the Beemer for the rest of the semester.

Unless Mom found some other reason to punish me. I couldn't wait for the governor's package to get here.

Within half an hour, I was caught up on pretty much everything. It helped that Prof. Silverberg was taking over my Creative Writing tutelage. May I could get some work done tonight.

Since I was scheduled to house sit for Arlene this week, Morgan said she'd catch a ride with Jed. My big question was whether I'd sleep at the apartment or the Osborne house. The second-biggest question was what to do for dinner. Rosa's sounded mighty attractive right about now.

But before I could get there, I had to deal with Coach Tucker one more time.

"Tell me about what happened at lunch," he said as I exited the team room.

"Rhonda Devers decided to jump my case because I apparently made Marie cry when I sent her to her room instead of spanking her last night," I said. "I had to take a phone call and was able to get away from Rhonda.

"Mr. Hennings seemed to think you were faking the phone call to get away from him," Coach said.

"Mr. Hennings was looking for an excuse to bust me," I said, pulling out my phone and calling up recent calls. "I think he's still operating under Dr. Franks' edict that I'm a troublemaker. Here, look at the call log."

Coach took my phone and looked at the screen.

"Was the call after the one from George Patterson really from the governor?" he asked, handing the phone back.

"Somebody claiming to be from the governor's office, anyway," I said. "I thought it was a scam. They wanted me to make a campaign contribution. I could get a personal meeting with the governor for just $100,000."

I don't know if Coach knew my tell like Morgan did, but the look he gave me indicated he didn't totally believe me. Not that I cared. It wasn't like I was in line for a cushy government job or anything.

"Just watch yourself," he said. "It might help to avoid Miss Devers in the future.

Like I had gone looking for her in the first place. I thought one of the benefits of being in Independent Study was it'd be easier to stay away from her. The girl gave me shit for spanking Marie, then she gave me shit for not spanking Marie. I got the feeling Rhonda was going to give me shit just for existing.

Maybe things would go better tomorrow.

Finally free, I put the backpack in the trunk and swung through Rosa's for enough grilled beef and tortillas to get me through the night, then headed over to Arlene's only to be disappointed. The house was locked and Marie's car was gone. Even the apartment was locked and unoccupied, but I couldn't tell if Lupita was still staying there. Probably should've asked somebody, but the last couple of days had been a little busy.

With nothing better to do, I headed over to the Osborne house. May as well get that list for Grandma.

I entered through the utility room and started typing on my phone as I went. Laundry detergent and dryer sheets to start. I learned someone had removed the bedding I'd left in the dryer last night. We could worry about filling the freezer later.

In the kitchen, a microwave, George Foreman grill and toaster oven would meet my needs. Better add a coffee maker for the coffee drinkers in my life. I thought a larger trashcan and trashbags would be a good idea. The little can under the sink might have worked for Mrs. Osborne, but the crowd that had visited yesterday showed it was inadequate unless I wanted to empty it every few hours.

The living room appeared almost unchanged with one notable exception. The TV had been mounted on the west wall, held by metal brackets. Scratch the table I'd been thinking of setting it on. I'd have to turn it on later and see how the view was from various angles.

Otherwise, there was no new furniture. I wondered how long Grandpa had waited before giving up. At least he had the TV to keep him busy.

A DVD player and some kind of stereo (with or without CD player?) would pretty much complete the entertainment center.

If the replacement recliners were positioned the same as the old ones, that would leave space for a coffee table. End tables and lamps for the couch wouldn't hurt. Probably ought to get a few more chairs we could use if we ever had another big crowd like yesterday.

In the office, I'd need a chair for the desk and one of those plastic floor mats for it to roll on. A rack or two of wire shelves like were in the apartment would work in place of a dresser. That still left plenty of room for some kind of bed. Maybe I could take one of the queens from upstairs if Grandma hadn't already found something. Better measure everything to make sure it'd fit.

Now, on to the master suite.

I stepped in to get my first look at what would probably be Karen's bedroom until she left for Europe. I didn't know if Chanda would move in, as well, or stay at the convent in order to be close to the Matamoros girls. I'm sure there'd be lots of therapy sessions conducted there over the next few weeks.

A king bed, the headboard placed against the interior wall, dominated the room, taking up a good chunk of the space in the middle. A large dresser sat against the outside wall with just enough room to maneuver between it and the foot of the bed. There was what I believe was meant to be a sitting area along the back wall, but there was no furniture in the space.

The nightstands had been removed — you could still see the imprints they left in the carpet — and would need to be replaced. A little TV set and its stand were also gone. No problem. I'd just watch TV in the living room.

I was startled by hearing a flush from the master bath and turned to see Dr. Ramakrishnan opening the door.

"Oh!" she squeaked, holding her pantyhose wadded up in one hand. "I didn't expect you to be here today."

Oh, God. She'd taken off the Buddy Holly glasses and let down her hair, which hung below her shoulders. She'd also undone a couple of buttons on her blouse, exposing copious cleavage and a hint of lace.

I couldn't help myself. The blouse and skirt, though they covered more skin, may as well have been a Paige Turner outfit. Even mostly fully dressed, Chanda was just as devastatingly sexy as Lupita. And Jan. And Karen. What was it about women exiting a bathroom that got me so worked up?

Stepping to the psychologist, I took her blushing face in my hands and pulled her in for a scorching kiss. Instead of backing off and berating me — if not slapping the holy shit out of me — for such inappropriate behavior, she moaned sexily as she looped her arms around my neck and created two more dents in my torso.

I know, I know, I shouldn't be doing this. I've said many times, most importantly to myself, that I wasn't looking for another girlfriend. But the woman was just sooo damn sexy. And willing, based on her reaction.

Tongues battled furiously as we shuffled toward the bed, collapsing onto the mattress without breaking our embrace. I started working my way down her throat and cleavage, her bosom flushing and heaving. The button below her bustline came undone, exposing the cups of her bra. I slid the fabric of the left cup over enough to expose a dark brown nipple and latched on.

"Oh, God," Chanda whimpered, tightening her hold on me as a little tremor raced through her. "Karen warned me about you."

But she wasn't protesting, I noticed as I switched to the other tit.

I slid a hand up her thigh under the hem of her skirt. I don't know if she'd taken her panties off with the hose or just hadn't bothered wearing them to start with, but I encountered nothing but smooth, bare skin all the way up.

That caused me to take the next step. If she was daring to go commando in my house, I was damn sure going to take advantage of the situation.

Dropping to the floor between her slightly spread legs, I flipped the skirt up to expose her. She wasn't as hairy as I would have thought — nothing on the order of Fran Goldstein, by any means, or even Erin Aguilar — but a trim job was clearly in order before bathing suit season.

Time for a little dessert.

I leaned in as her thighs spread farther apart and took a swipe with the flat of my tongue. The acrid taste told me she hadn't just been removing her pantyhose in the bathroom. Fuck it. I'd be tasting her natural flavor soon enough.

Chanda clamped both hands on the back of my head, holding me close as I administered a tongue lashing. The way she moaned and writhed made me think she was enjoying it.

As I brought fingers into play, Chanda jerked and squawked when I encountered an obstruction. How the fuck could a 24-year-old woman in this day and age (and in this country) still be a virgin? Let alone still be intact? Surely, she'd have played with herself enough by now to remove it.

The discovery slowed me considerably, but didn't stop me. I employed nothing but lips and tongue, coaxing her little button out of its hiding place. Gentle sucks and light licks had her butt bouncing off the mattress as I got her off for the first time.

I wiped her juices from my face and rose to my feet. The sight of her with legs skewed lewdly and labia glistening was almost too much to stand.

"You can't stop now!" she whined breathlessly as her chest continued to heave.

"Be right back," I said, turning for the bathroom.

"Hurry," she panted.

The linen cabinet was easy enough to find. It wasn't full, but Mrs. Osborne had left a few ratty old towels behind. They'd do, but more items — toiletries, bathroom and bedroom linens, cleaning supplies, toilet paper — were added to my growing shopping list. Who knew buying a partially furnished house would cause me so much work?

Grabbing two dark red/maroon towels, I returned to find Chanda removing her blouse and bra. Looks like she wasn't going to chicken out. I dropped the towels on the bed and began shucking my clothes lest she start having second thoughts.

Stripped to my boxers, I spread the towels on the bed when Chanda stood to remove her skirt. The sight of her totally nude, nipples erect and pussy dripping, was a vision straight out of the Kama Sutra. It was time for her yoni to meet my lingnam.

I helped her get settled and slid the boxers off, causing her eyes to go wide when she saw me battle-ready. I joined her, getting into position between her thighs.

"You're sure?" I asked before slotting into her furrow.

"Gary, shut up and take it like a man," she panted.

With everything aligned, I began applying gentle but steady pressure to her opening. Chanda's hymen wasn't as heavy a barrier as Erin Aguilar's had been. Actually, it was almost like a tissue, maybe a paper towel. A wet paper towel. Anyway, it gave way without me having to do much more than lean into it.

Chanda still gasped and clutched me as I broke through. It took every fiber of my being not to just plunge in, slowly sliding a millimeter at a time into her incredibly tight, steamy depths.

I stopped upon reaching full penetration, allowing her to shift her position a bit as she got used to the sensations.

Her eyes rolled back and she groaned deep in her throat as I felt a flutter around my dick. That was all the encouragement I needed.

It was a struggle, but I kept the strokes as slow and gentle as I could. Pounding the Punjabi bint into the mattress would have to wait.

I stared into her pretty face, her eyes closed, as I worked. A few minutes later, her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled, simply adding to her beauty, once she focused on me.

There were no words, just happy sighs and moans, as she joined in the activity. For a virgin, she showed surprising acumen as she rolled her hips and squeezed with her internal muscles. I was going to enjoy having this one in my harem. She could flat out fuck!

Another, slightly stronger, shudder caused Chanda's breath to quicken as she increased her efforts. Looks like a big one's coming. I matched her pace, adding a little force to my strokes, but still held off on pounding violently.

When it hit her, it was almost cataclysmic, causing her to howl and claw at me as her body shook. I followed seconds later, flooding her channel with a healthy dose.

Chanda's orgasmic cry was almost my undoing as the door burst open.

"Chanda, are you OH, MY GOD!!! GARY! HOW COULD YOU?!?!?!" Karen shrieked.

"Hey, Kay-Kay," I panted, still plugged in to another woman's spasming pussy. "What's up?"

"Get off her, you animal!" Karen shouted, grabbing me by the arm and pulling. "Oh, my god! You didn't use protection. Come on, Chanda. We've got to wash you out."

Chanda surprised me by strengthening her grip on me with arms, legs and cunt.

"Get over it, Karen," my newest lover snapped. "You knew this might happen before you ever introduced us. It's like it was kismet, fated to be. Now go. I want to cuddle with the man who made me a woman."

"But you could get pregnant!" my aunt protested.

"What if I do?" Chanda responded. "It's not like you don't want the same thing. I heard what everyone said Saturday at lunch. I figured it was time I found out what all the fuss was about."

"But what will your family say?" Karen continued, losing little, if any, steam.

"That it took me long enough," Chanda snorted. "Some of them have tip-toed around asking me if I was a lesbian ever since I told them I was staying on to teach at the university. Why would I want to stay at a school with no men?"

That seemed to get to my aunt. I know she'd faced the same suspicions when she started teaching there. Fortunately, I knew better.

"C'mere, Kay-Kay," I said, rising to my knees — which caused my dick to pull out of Chanda with a slurp — and reaching for our interlocutor.

Hooking an arm around Karen's waist, I pulled her to the edge of the mattress. It was only then I realized she was again dressed for the gym in the sweats she'd worn last week when we'd fallen off the wagon. And an oversized T-shirt. Was that one of mine? Looks like I've lost another piece of clothing to one of my girls.

"Let go of me, you bastard," she protested, batting my arm ineffectually as I pulled her close.

"What is your problem, young lady?" I demanded, getting both arms around her waist. "You know I have other girlfriends. Why is Chanda such a big deal?"

"Because I don't want everyone thinking I'm procuring for you," she spat. "She wouldn't even be here if I hadn't asked her to talk to you. Besides, I should get to have a baby first. She's got plenty of time. My clock's ticking!"

"Well, maybe we can do something about that," I leered, slipping a hand inside the back of her sweats.

"Stop that!" Karen commanded as I palmed a buttock. "I don't have time for your games."

"I remember someone telling me once upon a time I need to loosen up and live a little instead of having my nose stuck in a book all the time," I smirked as the sweats and panties started sliding down her legs. "It's not all about lecture halls and libraries."

Karen seemed unable to decide what to do first, pull up her pants or push me away. I took advantage of her indecision to steal a kiss. A few more kisses and her resolve seemed to weaken. I was soon working my way down her throat while groping her ass.

"I can't believe I'm letting you get away with this," she moaned as a finger reached between her legs from behind to tickle her labia. "You are going to get me in so much trouble."

Chanda rolled out from underneath me toward the middle of the bed as I pulled Karen onto the towels. My English teacher found it hard to complain about my behavior with my tongue in her mouth. She only whimpered and gripped my head when my tongue got into her pussy.

Somewhere in there, her lower garments and shoes wound up on the floor. We'd just have to sort our clothing out later. Right now, I had better things to do.

I found the subtle differences in Karen's flavor compared to Chanda's interesting. Karen tasted a little ... muskier, if that was the right word. Her cries, whimpers and whines as I made her come on my tongue were also slightly different.

Maybe that was why my cock revived so quickly. Or maybe it was the thought of servicing two incredibly sexy women in the same bed in the same hour.

God, I love my life!

I couldn't tell whose eyes were wider, Karen's or Chanda's, as I slid into my second pussy of the evening. Karen just groaned and let her head fall to the mattress as I began pumping. I noticed Chanda, looking a little glass-eyed, slip a hand between her thighs, keeping time with my strokes.

I don't know how long I went at it, but it was long enough to get Karen out the T-shirt and sports bra she wore. That allowed me to compare and contrast the women's breasts, as well. Karen's nipples seemed to be a little longer. And pink, of course.

The air had taken on a significant scent before I felt the tingle start in my balls. There were several gasps and squeals from both women and Karen was shaking and shuddering when I finally cut loose. That one felt like I blew out a ball as I came for the second time in a matter of minutes.

Good thing this was Monday. I should have plenty of time to recover for Friday's game. If I didn't fuck two women every night.

"You'd better get home," Karen gasped as I wilted insider her. "Claire's liable to come looking for you."

"She knows I'm house sitting for Arlene this week," I panted. "I just need to decide if I'm sleeping here or the apartment."

"You should probably go to the apartment, then," Karen said, pushing me to get off her. "Lupita's staying at the convent tonight, at least. Those other girls were supposed to arrive today.

"Besides, there's not any bedding here. Chanda and I are still staying at the new house and need to get moving. Your mother's not the only one who might come looking."

I stood on wobbly legs and looked at the three sets of clothes scattered on the floor. Pretty sure the skirt wasn't mine. Neither were the bras.

Before I could start sorting through the mess, Chanda was in my arms, her naked tits pressed to my body and her tongue down my throat.

"That was an incredible experience!" she husked upon coming up for air. "I couldn't have dreamed of a better first time. When can I see you again?"

"That's a very good question," I mumbled. "I'll be here or at the apartment in the evenings, but a lot will depend on how much schoolwork I have. Mrs. Stirling is supposed to give me my assignments for the week in the morning. I hope to be able to do it all before practice."

"I know one assignment you've got," Karen said. "I expect 500 words on Hamlet's mental state by the end of school tomorrow. And no asking Chanda for help. I don't want a psychologist's opinion, I want yours."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, thinking I could find something online tonight to get me started.

"And I'll be at the women's shelter every day," Chanda pouted. "We're just now getting the girls settled in. We've got doctors appointments and all kinds of shopping to do before I can even start working with them."

"We'll figure something out," I said, stealing another kiss. "My life will get a lot more manageable once football's over. Then, I just have to make it to the end of the semester and graduate."

"How long will football last?" the Punjabi bint asked.

"No later than Dec. 22," I said. "It's win or go home from here on out."

"They're in the playoffs," Karen said at Chanda's questioning look. "The season ends if they lose. The state finals are the weekend before Christmas."

"Now you've got me all conflicted," Chanda whined. "I want you to be successful, of course, but I also want to spend more time with you."

"We'll work it out," I smiled.

The women headed for the master bath to clean up, each giving me a smoldering kiss before departing. I found and put on boxers, pants and shoes. Since I was in dire need of a shower, I decided to carry the shirts bundled up in the windbreaker. I should be able to make it to the apartment without freezing.

I stepped out of the master bedroom and through the little hallway to the living room. Where my grandmother was sitting on the couch.

"You never sent me your list," Grandma said with a stony expression as I held my bundle of clothes to cover my naked chest.

"Sorry about that," I said, fumbling to pull my phone out without dropping my clothes. "Let me text it to you."

"Am I going to have to negotiate an agreement with Chanda now?" Grandma asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Probably wouldn't be a bad idea," I mumbled with a furious blush as I hit send.

"I swear, you're worse than your father was at your age," she snorted. "Both of them? You'd better go take a shower. You must smell like a Kansas City cathouse."

"Yes, ma'am," I mumbled, hurrying to obey her command. I did not want to still be there when Karen and Chanda came out. This had been awkward enough.

I raced out of the back door, through the gate and across the alley, just thankful there hadn't been more of my relatives present. Like Grandpa. Or Mom.

I'd have a hard time explaining things. It was difficult enough to believe I'd bedded three virgins since Friday night. And Lord only knows what possessed Karen. I was beginning to think exhibitionism was more than just a fantasy the way she went at it with a freshly deflowered Chanda right there beside us.

I still wasn't counting this as a threesome, though.

It all caught up to me as I let myself into the apartment. I barely had enough energy to put the shirts in the hamper, hang up the windbreaker and get out of the pants. At least I remembered to empty the pockets first and plug in the phone.

Showers, Hamlet's mental state and Creative Writing would just have to wait. The backpack should be secure enough in the Beemer's trunk.

I did a faceplant on the bed, not even trying to get under the covers. I'd better not be a lucky contestant tonight, I thought as my world faded to black.