“That’s a good point.” I pivoted around in his arms and kissed him passionately.
The announcer’s voice came over a hidden loudspeaker, and I quickly made up a plate at the buffet and took my seat. Dante grabbed a couple cold beers out of a mini fridge and told me as he sat down beside me, “If you want anything from the regular concessions, we can call the concierge. He’ll bring you whatever you want.”
“Heaven. Absolute heaven,” I murmured, and put my head on Dante’s shoulder as I picked up his hand.
“I’ve never known anyone that liked a sport so much. I’ve never known anyone that liked anything so much,” Dante said.
“It’s not just a sport. It’s football.”
He grinned at that. “So, you played in high school?”
“Yup, all four years. College, too. For three whole weeks anyway. I went to Stanford on a full football scholarship. But I destroyed my knee not even a month into my freshman year, and came right back home again.”
“God, I’m sorry,” he said.
I just shrugged. “It is what it is. I’ve had a few years to get over it.”
“What position did you play?”
“Tight end.”
A huge smile spread across Dante’s face. “You’re shitting me. That’s not a real position, is it?”
I burst out laughing. “Wow. You seriously do not know jack shit about football.”
“No, I really don’t. Now tell me, is that a real position?”
I just started laughing again, so Dante pulled out his smartphone, and after a minute of tapping on his screen he said, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
That just made me laugh even more. And then I joked, “So what will you be doing for the next three hours while I watch the game?”
“I’ll be watching you watch the game.” He looked really pleased with that prospect.
“Oh no. See, if you’re going to hang with me, it’s vitally important that you learn to love football. You don’t have to love it as much as I do, but you do have to love it. And that means actually watching the game.”
I’d been teasing him, but he looked concerned and pulled out his phone again. After a couple taps on the screen, he read, “Each team gets four tries, or ‘downs’ to—”
I plucked the phone out of his hands and kissed him before telling him, “You don’t need that. You have me.”
“Oh no. I’m not going to distract you with my stupid questions. I want you to enjoy the game.”
I snuggled against him and said, “Oh I will, guaranteed.” The teams were taking the field, and I took his hand and said quietly, “I’m so glad you brought me here. I used to come here all the time with my dad, and later with Jamie. There are a lot of bittersweet memories in this stadium. I’m so glad I’m making new memories with you.”
Dante tried hard to feign interest throughout the first half. I thought that was incredibly sweet. At halftime, he turned to me wide-eyed and asked, “Who’s winning?” And then he smiled at me cheerfully. I smiled too and planted a big kiss on his lips, and then he asked, “How long do we have for intermission?”
“Halftime, not intermission. And we have about fifteen minutes.”
“That’s it?”
“Yup.”
“Ok, I can make it work,” Dante said with a big grin, standing up and pulling me to my feet with him.
“Make what work?” I asked as he towed me into the private bathroom with him and closed the door behind us.
“I want to make sure this is your best experience ever at this stadium,” he said. And then he got on his knees in front of me.
“Oh holy shit,” I murmured as he unzipped my jeans and slid them and my boxer briefs down to mid thigh, then licked my cock. It instantly sat up and took notice. “Wow, are you really going to --- ahhhh,” I moaned as he took my cock in his mouth to its base and sucked me, gently at first, but soon with increasing urgency.
In just a matter of minutes I was yelling and shooting down his throat, both hands braced on the walls of the bathroom. Dante kept sucking me as he caressed my balls, and when I finally finished, he pulled up my underwear and jeans and zipped me up again. Then he stood up and glanced at his watch. “Nine minutes,” he said with a satisfied grin. He winked at me and left the restroom.
It was a solid minute before my legs stopped shaking and I could actually follow him back to our seats. When I sank down beside him, I pulled him to me and kissed him, and then I said, “The score is two-zip.”
“No it’s not. It’s fourteen-six, Forty Niners.”
“Not the football game,” I said with a smile. “You’ve now made me cum twice, and I have yet to reciprocate.”