Make You Beg

“Scout!” She gasps, trying to pull back and cover herself, but he wraps an arm around her, keeping her in place.

“What?” He smirks. “You’re not shy.” He leans down and runs his tongue across her nipple before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

She throws her head back, parting her lips with a moan, and my cock instantly grows hard in my boardshorts.

“Are you?” he questions, trailing kisses across her chest to repeat the action on the other.

“No.” She starts rocking her hips against his.

“Get up,” he orders, slapping her thigh.

She stands off him, and he walks over to the bench seat to the left. He lifts the cushion and grabs an extra blue line out of it before letting it fall back into place. He spins her around, bringing her arms behind her back, and ties the rope around her wrists.

“Scout.” She whimpers. “That’s tight.”

“Good.” He slaps the side of her ass, making it jiggle and giving her an instant red mark. Then he looks over at me. “Record this.”

I pull out my phone and happily hit record.

He bends down, picks her up, and she squeals as he lays her on the couch opposite me. Her head and shoulders hang off the edge. “Open your mouth,” he tells her, gently pushing all the wet hair from her face.

She licks her lips and takes in a deep breath, making her stomach cave in and showing off her ribs even more than they already were. He shoves his board shorts down his legs and takes his hard cock in his hand. He slides the tip in, then backs out before sliding a little more in. His hand massages her breast since they’re fully on display.

“Spread your legs,” he orders.

She brings her knees up and opens them a little.

He slaps the side of her breast, making her flinch. “More.”

They fall wide open, and he reaches down, untying the knots on either side of her bikini bottoms. Wading them up, he throws them at me. The wet material lands in my lap, soaking my dry boardshorts.

“Open up for me, Hen,” he tells her, picking up his pace in her mouth. His hands slide down her stomach to her parted legs. He plays with her shaved pussy—finger fucking her and bringing her to orgasm while his dick fucks her mouth. When he’s done, he pulls out and yanks his shorts up.

He comes over and plops back down next to me, picking up his beer.

I look back at her, her head still hanging off the end of the couch. Cum between her legs and some of his on her face. She’s breathing heavily, making her breasts bounce. “Just going to leave her there like that?” I ask, enjoying the view.

“For a few minutes.” He tips his beer back. “Once I’m hard again, I’m going to bend her over this table and fuck that wet cunt from behind.”

I chuckle and toss back my beer. I can’t blame him one bit.

“You know.” I lean over my desk, whispering for only her to hear. She gives me a side glance before looking straight ahead. “Next time you want to get wet, just ask me. We can skip class and go spend the day out on the lake.”

Her head whips back over to me, and her face pales.

I run my eyes over the makeup smeared on her face and the wet pieces of hair that stick to her cheeks and smirk. “I’m always down to make a home video.”

RYAN SCOUT

My ass drops to the bench, sucking in a breath. I remove my helmet and toss it to the ground by my feet. Picking up a Gatorade bottle, I squirt water into my mouth.

“Fuck,” Monroe growls, falling down beside me.

“Yeah,” I agree breathlessly.

“Fuck, man. Coach is kicking our ass today,” Law adds, coming over to us. “What did you two do to piss him off?” He looks back and forth between Dax and me.

“I didn’t do anything.” I shake my head.

“Wasn’t me.” Monroe takes the bottle of water from my hands.

“Scout, meet me in my office,” Coach orders, walking over to us. “Now,” he adds before walking off.

“Oh.” Law laughs. “It’s totally you.”

I lean over, pick up my helmet, and rise from the bench. I follow Coach through the gym and into his office. “Yeah, Coach?” I ask as I enter, still dressed in all of my gear with my helmet in my hand. I’m guessing he’s going to ream my ass about something, then send me back out there.

He leans back in his swivel chair, his fingers intertwined over his stomach. “We need to have a talk.”

I got that. “About?” My grades are good. I make straight A’s. The University of Texas isn’t going to take me on football alone. Too many other athletes try to get on there. And as a wide receiver, I want to start, so I need to prove my dedication on and off the field.