There are periods in any person's life when the normal setbacks and frustrations of daily events suspend themselves, and a certain magic sets in, making everything you touch turn to gold; not just for one day, but for several days on end. For Melissa the next week was magic.
It began the next day at work. She went in that morning primed to the hilt with Darren's information, and spent the good part of the day knocking out the article.
Murdock was out on assignment, and without the intimidation of his presence, Bob was able to help her freely in grasping the magazine's style. She was just finishing up when Pallbrook walked in, Murdock striding along behind.
"Well. How's our newest member getting along?" Pallbrook said cheerfully.
"Just fine, sir."
"Good. Murdock seemed to think it would be a good idea for me to check out your notes, so I thought I would."
She paused a moment to stare at Murdock. "I'm afraid I don't have any, sir," she said, watching as a smirk climbed across his face. "But I do have the article. Will that do?"
She chuckled inwardly as the smirk collapsed into an open-mouthed gawk of amazement. Murdock stood for several minutes, reading over Pallbrook's shoulder before finally stomping off to his desk to pout. Once Pallbrook had finished reading, he leaned over and whispered into Melissa's ear.
"You got this right from the home's mouth?"
"Well, no," she replied. "The horse was a little feeble, but the trainer was very helpful."
"Meredith?"
Pallbrook's boisterous laugh filled the room as he turned his attention to the other two members. "Mark my words, gentlemen, this young lady is going to put this magazine an the map."
This drew a hearty "hear, hear" from Bob, but only a glaring snort from Murdock as Pallbrook continued.
"I'm telling you! Send her out to get an article, and she brings back enough material for a three-part series. I'll tell you what, Miss Dansin. Why don't you take the week off, and get yourself moved in? You've certainly earned it."
But that was just the beginning. Her week off gave her nothing but free time, and Darren was quick to fill it. He offered to postpone his return to New York to spend the weekend with her, and she agreed, on the condition that he check out of the hotel and stay with her. He readily accepted.
They spent the first two days finding and fixing up her new home. It was a small, furnished second-floor apartment on Oak Street, and she had fallen in love with it on sight. Bob even managed to get Friday off, and helped them search the various shops, delighting equally in each new treasure she found to make the apartment hers.
The rest of the time was Darren's alone. Each day was spent discovering some new part of the city, and each evening some new height of passion and emotion. The feeling between them grew quickly, and firmly, and it came as no surprise to either one when he postponed his return three more days. It was a special time for Melissa, and she was beginning to wish it would never end.
But, like all good things, it had to. It ended the night before her return to work when Darren had to leave.
Bob drove them to the airport, and they said their good-byes quickly, outside the terminal. They had both agreed this would be better than that self-conscious "what do I say, what do I do process" that precedes any boarding.
The ride home was quiet, with Melissa staring pensively out the window. It was Bob who finally broke the silence.
"A little."
"I think you're in love," he said, chuckling.
"Don't be silly," she said. "That just doesn't happen to me. A long time ago, my dear, I had to make a choice between love and career. I chose career."
"Don't be silly, Melissa. There's lots of women who have both. What makes you so special?"
Knowing she could trust him, Melissa confessed her unique approach to journalism to him, diagramming in bold fashion the technique that was her trademark. She also explained how any man she'd ever been with, although seeming to accept it at first, would inevitably destroy the relationship with jealousy and anger.
"Well, don't worry about it," he said. "I firmly believe that for every person, no matter what their particular preference or quirk may be, there's a counterpart in the world to exactly fit them."
"I wish that were true."
"Believe me, it is."
Something in his voice suddenly sparked her curiosity. "Have you found your counterpart?"
He stared at the road mutely for several seconds, weighing the question before answering. "I think we should discuss me some other time. Just trust me. I know what I'm talking about." With this the conversation died, leaving Melissa in a cloud of mystery.
The next week found Melissa in good spirits as she threw herself totally into her work. But as the weeks progressed, and nothing was heard from Darren, she began to sink lower, and lower. Although she never allowed her personal feelings to interfere with the firm execution of her career duties, she drew less and less satisfaction as time went on.
It was not until about a month and a half after Darren left that she finally resolved herself to the fact that she had just been a fun week, and began regaining her cheerfulness and enthusiasm. After this, the memory of Darren was soon forgotten.
It was weeks later, a rather cool day for mid-August, and Melissa was working over an article when Murdock strolled into the room, and over to her desk, plopping himself down on the corner.
"How's it going, hot-shot?" he said.
"Oh… hi, Murdock. Been out killing babies?"
"Cute, sweet-meat, real cute," he said, picking up her coffee to take a sip.
"Murdock, don't drink my coffee."
"Why not?"
"You always curdle the water," she said, smiling sarcastically.
"Look, I didn't come to banter with you. I want to know if you're up for your first really tough assignment."
"Sure!"
"Good," he said, handing her the brief. "Here's all the background. Go to it."
She quickly thumbed through the papers. It was a series of clippings, and a biography on C.J. Claybourne, a.k.a. "The Rocket Man". He was the NFL's newest hot-shot quarterback, in town for a preseason game with the Bean.
"Where do I meet him?" she asked.
"Well, you don't, that's the problem," he snickered, the inevitable gloat on his face. "He's never granted an interview in his life, and never intends to. Good luck."
As usual, he planted his bombshell, and then made his exit, allowing her to stew in private.
She was on her own with this one. Not even Bob could help her. All he knew about Claybourne was that he was always the first one on the field, and the last one off. His only suggestion was that she might be able to corner him alone after practice.
It was on this assumption that she headed out to Soldier's Field, and waited while the team filtered out. Sure enough, she spotted the lone Number Twelve heading for the dressing room, and posted herself by the door, awaiting his exit.
But too much time seemed to pass, and she became worried that he had found some alternative exit. Screwing up her courage, she decided to plunge right in, and entered the private male domain of the locker room.
Once inside, she was greeted instantly with the startling aroma of male musk and well-worn uniforms as she tip-toed down the aisle, searching the tiers of lockers for some sign of C.J. He was nowhere to be found.
"Shit. Just my luck," she cursed.
She turned and started to leave when suddenly the sound of water wound its way through the room. She crept around, peering over the shower-room wall, and glimpsed the solitary figure through the haze of steam. She had found her man.
"Well, there he is. Now, how do I get him?" Quickly an idea formed. Never being one to pass up an opportunity, she turned and availed herself of the nearest locker, stripping off her clothes.
She closed the locker quietly, tip-toed across the cold cement floor and, taking a deep breath for courage, stepped into the uncertainty of the steamy shower.
He was standing there, soaping down his powerful body, and Melissa just stood grinning down at his beautiful cock.
"Hiya, Rocket Man. How's it hanging?"
"My God!" he exclaimed, the soap squirting out of his hands in shock. "You're a…"
"Melissa Dansin from Personalities magazine. Thought I might get an interview."
"Look… you…"
"You dropped your soap," she interjected, bending over to pick it up. She reached down slowly, allowing him the full rear view of her sweet cunt, her beaver hanging like a beard below her puckering asshole.
Carefully she straightened up and turned her eyes riveting on his slowly swelling cock. It was beautiful. The whole length of it gleamed and glided wetly under the shower spray. It grew larger as the combination of her blatant stare and her tongue circling the ruby-red ring of her lips began to have its effect.
"Before we get into the interview," she said, "I thought you might like someone to wash your back."
She walked over to him, her excitement rising at her own boldness. He did not resist when she began rubbing the bar of soap, not over his back, but over his prick, paying particular attention to the tip, making the huge prong grow harder beneath her knowing hands.
His moaning increased, and his body trembled as her soapy hands probed the full length of his cock. Her lips came up, barely touching him, and she ran the hot tip of her tongue slowly over his mouth.
"What's your favorite position, stud?" she whispered.
"The quarterback position," he replied, an mused smile forming on his face.
She we taken aback, stepping away to stare at him, a questioning look on her face. "What the hell is that?"
"I'll show you. Turn around."
She did as she was told. Slowly he widened the spread of her shapely legs, and placed the palm of his hand on her stomach. He pushed her upper body forward until her hands were resting on her knees.
He paused awhile to pull at her delightfully dangling tits before continuing. His fingers milked them like two sagging udders. The pressure of his pulling fingers worked like a lever to release the ever-present bounty of her passion, which flow coursed through her body in tingling waves.
Satisfied that she was on her way, he grabbed the soap and came around behind her. Quickly he lathered up his hands, bent down, and proceeded to wash the springy mound of her cunt.
His hands coursed freely over and through the hairy patch of her crack, and down the insides of her legs. He watched as her pleading cunt-muscles would contract, begging him to enter, forcing the aromatic juices of her twat to stream down her thighs and cut through the soapy lather like tiny snow plows.
"This is the quarterback position?" she said, her voice coming in stops and starts as her cunt-lips puckered in arousal. "I've never seen them doing this."
"We're just warming up a little," he said.
He ran his soapy fingers through the deep, hairy crevice, up between her ass-cheeks, until he hit the tiny crater of her butt-hole. His finger now circled the quivering muscle, depositing a thin coating of lather, before inserting itself into the tight, hot confines of her asshole.
A heady, erotic sensation engulfed her as his digit snaked inside her bowels. Her thrill was enhanced by the novelty of her wide-open position and the unusual surroundings.
But Claybourne was not one to put things off. He stepped back, gently removing his playful finger from her shitter, and paused a moment to appraise the voluptuous beauty of her glistening body.
"I think it's time to begin," he said, quickly stepping up right behind her. "The first thing a quarterback does is get a good position on the center."
With this he firmly placed his hands on her crotch, driving both thumbs up into her soaking cunt. Her legs almost collapsed, and her stomach seemed to drop as the matched thumbs climbed her hot, slippery cunt-channel.
"Yes. Fuck, yes," she moaned. "I understand. Then what… what happens?"
"Next, a split second before the ball is mapped, you give the center a nudge, some particular sign that you're ready for the ball."
Quickly the thumbs withdrew, only to return accompanied by the forefingers of each hand. Together they shot even farther into her squirming cunt. The fingers and thumbs began flexing and moving, prying at her insides, stretching the elastic walls of her box. Her muscles sucked at them, frying to milk all the pleasure she could, flying with each contraction to pull his large hands in behind them.
"Next you take the ball," he said, his middle fingers closing on the small knob of her clit. "And move it around, trying to fake out the defense."
His fingers responded by puffing and tweaking her love-bud as her hips twisted with each caress. Melissa was going crazy. The feel of his hands, the pretense of a football lesson, the curling steam of the shower, all of it, all the sheer novelty of it combined to elevate her to a peak of sexual frenzy.
Nor was he immune to these stimuli. His eyes caressed her body, delighting in the view of her exposed asshole and gaping cunt. Finally it was his own mounting passion that told him the game must soon end.
"And now the last thing you do," he said, pressing his soap-covered prick-head against her asshole, "is to hand the ball off, and let the fullback crash the line."
The second the words were out, his hands shot out of her box and grabbed her hips as his powerful hips rammed forward, piercing the defenses of her tight little shitter.
Her cry rang out loudly, echoing off the tiled walls. His cock surged deeper and deeper as her bucking hips strained to escape his massive bulk.
"Shit! It's killing me!" she cried. "It's… it's… Oh, Goddamnit!"
"Take it, bitch! Take it all the way!" he barked, no longer in a playing mood, his passion breaking over him in one tidal sweep. "You'll love it. It hurts now, but you'll love it."
With one final, ass-smacking lunge, he was in, every inch of his huge cock last in the grip of her warm bowels as her butt-hole stretched to the limit.
"Yes, it's happening," she groaned as the pain became mixed with a rising pleasure. "It hurts like hell, but I love it. You said I would. I do. Fuck me. Fuck me with it!"
"Take it. Take it all, cunt!" he said as he began fucking her asshole with all the strength in his body.
"Don't stop! Do it! Fuck my ass harder! HARDER!"
Claybourne kept driving his powerful, thick tool up into her tightly clenched asshole with hard, long, brutal strokes. His crotch smacked savagely against her butt-cheeks.
Melissa's head flailed from side to side in long ecstatic arcs. She was not only loving, but reveling in his corn-holing cock. She thrust back harder and harder against his pistoning prick. The pleasure/pain of his tearing cock was almost unbearable in its lust.
Claybourne now brought one of his hands down to the top of her tipping cunt, parting the softness of her beaver and gently rubbing her clitoris.
"Fuck, yes!" she shouted. "Get me on both ends! Bring me off with it. Let me feel it front and back!"
He knew his cum was rising. He could feel it climbing the long tubes from his balls as he frantically dug into her cunt with his fingers, trying to make her orgasm happen with his. Wildly he finger-fucked her pussy while pounding her ass in the same rhythm with his prick.
The double action between finger and cock, cunt and ass quickly brought her to the edge of oblivion. She breathed frantically as she felt her climax come closer and closer into being.
"Now! Do it now!" she screamed.
"I am! Oh, fuck! Shit! I'm there! It's coming!" Then with a series of shattering groans, Melissa could feel his long hard cock begin to jerk in convulsions. Before she knew it, he started exploding like a bomb far up into the steaming depths of her bowels.
That was all it took. The hot torrents of cum shooting wildly into her asshole touched off her orgasm, sending her torso into a wild bucking dance as a hot, maddening barrage of pleasure rippled through the entire length of her writhing body.
The convulsions sent both of them dropping to the floor. In the process, his cock pulled out, freeing her to crawl over to the warm wet tiles near the shower, before collapsing.
For several minutes she just lay there, allowing the shower water to circle around her body, her mind in a delightful, post-sexual blank. She nearly dozed off listening to the water as it landed on the hard mosaic of the floor.
"Ooooeee! Hey, Ernie, look here! Rocket Man's gone and found himself a new toy."
The sound of the strange voice made Melissa bolt upright in shock. Her wide-eyed gaze fell on two titans with towels around their waists, and nothing else. She shot a quick glance back to see who was stretched out casually, his hands behind his head, his face grinning up broadly at the two young bulls.
"Melissa," he said. "I'd like you to meet Ernie Teichuk, star fullback, and Randy Mather, star running back. Fellas, Melissa here's with some magazine. She came here to interview me."
"Yeah?" Randy said in his pronounced Southern accent. "You sure look like you been inner-viewed."
Melissa felt just a little uneasy at the lewd chuckles that followed his comment.
The third man finally spoke. "Hey, Randy. You figure she'll interview us, too?"
"I don't rightly know. Hey, Rocket Man, you willing to share your interview with us?"
Claybourne laughed before answering. "Well, hell, Mather, we're a backfield, aren't we? That makes us like family, and families always share."
"Hey, wait a minute!" she yelled.
She paused and stared a moment at the three men. She was beginning to thrill to the idea of taking on three men at once. It was something she had never done before, and she was curious. But the real thrill came when she thought of the look on Murdock's face if she brought in a triple interview. That was all it took to convince her.
She sensed immediately that the biggest thrill for them would be to play hard to get.
"Look. I think I've got something to say about all this. And I say no." She started for the lockers.
Randy instantly pushed her down. "Hey, baby, I'm telling you you're gonna love it. Ernie here's the boy who gave the Longhorns their name. Show her, Ernie."
Ernie dropped his towel to reveal a cock that would indeed put any steer to shame. Melissa's mouth almost watered at the sight, but she fought back the urge. Preferring to keep up her act of resistance, she now took a hard swing at Randy's balls that was calculated only to remove his towel.
He grabbed her instantly in his viselike grip. "Look, sugar, it ain't going to do you no good to fight. I got my start fucking gators in Florida, and you just ain't any match for that."
Suddenly she was on her back as all three men converged. Randy was the first to act. Grabbing her head roughly, he turned it towards him, and put his open mouth against hers. He forced her chin open, and thrust his tongue in deeply. Melissa found it hard to keep fighting as the slippery, hot licker ran along her teeth, then up to poke hard at the roof of her mouth.
Ernie had quickly positioned himself between her outstretched legs. He pulled the limbs wide apart, and placed them over his shoulders, lifting her lower torso into the air. Without wasting a second, he dove into her open gait sucking hungrily at the cream that poured from her yawning slit by the bucketful.
Randy now stopped his kissing, and began moving down, only to be replaced by Claybourne. He squatted over her, pressing his tight, hairy balls into her vacant mouth. She sucked gently, rolling the sensitive jewels an her tongue as he jacked off in an effort to revive his exhausted cock.
Hoping to help him, Melissa now scooted down, grinding her soaking cunt harder into the fullback's licking face. Her tongue shot up, travelling down C.J.'s balls, to lick at the soft bridge of flesh behind them. Her tongue lingered erotically before continuing on to the puckered muscle of his asshole.
By now Randy had found his way to her tit, and was trying to take the whole thing into his mouth. His hot jaw pulled and sucked with so much force that she felt as though her nipples were being pulled out by the roots.
Her own tongue now managed to work its way into Claybourne's asshole, its hard tip piercing and poking the inside of the tiny hole. He shivered as her slick little lapper snaked and twirled, licking at the soft inner wails of his shit-chute.
Ernie now straightened up. Convinced he had gotten all the juice she was able to provide at that moment, he removed her legs from his shoulders and spread them wide. He then placed himself between her moist thighs, and rammed the swollen knob of his gigantic dick against her gaping, helpless hole.
Although she could not see what he was doing, Melissa instinctively braced herself as he drove the full length of his mighty meat into her cunt. It was one sudden, powerful thrust that straightened every limb of her body with its force.
Her mouth flew open, releasing a giant moan as the insane joy of the whole encounter flooded out in one moment.
But no sooner had it ended than her mouth was filled with Claybourne's now erect cock. She sucked it hard, the pleasure in her body mounting to unbelievable heights.
Randy had switched his position to her other tit, and was trying to swallow it with the same fury as he had on the first. Ernie was pounding his cock into her cunt like a man possessed, and C.J. was grinding his hips into her face.
Melissa was in heaven. Her pride swelled almost as high as her sexual ecstasy at the thought of driving three men crazy with her one little body. All four of them were equal partners in the same glorious insanity.
Now, suddenly, the positions changed. They twisted her around until Ernie was under her, his pistoning prick lunging into her sopping cunt from below. Claybourne moved up on his knees, taking advantage of the new position to ram his cock even farther down her willing, hungry throat.
Now it was Randy's turn. He moved around behind, and pressed his hard prick against her shitter. Melissa was suddenly grateful for her earlier session. Her asshole being already lubricated with cum, Randy had merely to give a quick push, and he was in, sliding his giant prick-shaft up her cooperating ass hole.
Never in her life had Melissa felt so helpless, and at the same time so strong. She was helplessly impaled on three massive pricks, and at the same time it was in her power to bring three men off at once. She was determined to do just that.
The two men at her crotch were varying their rhythm. First Ernie drove in while Randy withdrew, then they reversed. Melissa shivered from the tickling sensation of both cocks touching through the thin partition of flesh that separated them. It was incredible. No orgasm in her life had ever risen so slowly, so filled with promise.
Now with their own climaxes coming, all three began to rut in unison, their grunts of exertion coming together, as Melissa's own orgasm came near.
It was Ernie who went first. His hot cum blasted into her cunt, his shakes and quivers only serving to set the others off in rapid succession. The four of them were one mass of quivering flesh as each man poured his boiling wad into her, her own body bucking and sucking to satisfy the enormous explosion of her own climax.
It was over quickly, each man finally rolling off in turn. As she lay there, three sets of hands rose to caress her submissively, filling her with a sense of victory.
It was going to be one hell of an article.