Sweat, Turf, and Unexpected Hands
by tomohiroThe soccer field at Riverside Community College buzzed under a relentless afternoon sun, the kind that turned the grass into a baked patchwork and made the air thick with the scent of fresh-cut clippi
13 days ago
•long read•intense intensityThe soccer field at Riverside Community College buzzed under a relentless afternoon sun, the kind that turned the grass into a baked patchwork and made the air thick with the scent of fresh-cut clippings and player sweat. Chasity's cleats dug into the turf as she sprinted down the wing, her ponytail whipping like a flag in the wind. The game was tied at halftime, and her team's energy crackled—shouts echoing off the bleachers, the referee's whistle piercing the chatter. Her parents had shown up unexpectedly, waving from the sidelines with thermos coffee in hand, her mom yelling encouragements about "pushing through the burn" while Dad fiddled with his phone, probably live-streaming for the family group chat. It was all so normal, until Tomohiro lumbered into view.
He'd arrived late, van parked crookedly in the lot, his bulk squeezed into a folding chair near the parents' section. Chasity spotted him first during a water break, his polo shirt straining at the seams, that familiar duffel bag at his feet like he was ready for an on-site session. Her mom had invited him—something about repaying the favor after those home massages, insisting he come watch the game and "network" with the athletic crowd. "He's family now," she'd said over breakfast, oblivious to the heat flushing Chasity's cheeks. Mia was on the bench too, subbed out early for a twisted ankle, her eyes locking on Chasity with that sly glint. The invitation had been a joke at first—Mia texting group ideas after the basement tandem—but now it felt like a powder keg, with Tomohiro's limited English making every interaction a risky game of gestures and nods.
Chasity's thigh burned from a slide tackle earlier, but she played it cool, jogging over during the next substitution. Coach pulled her for a breather, and she didn't hesitate, grabbing her water bottle and veering toward the equipment shed behind the bleachers. The structure was a squat metal box, half-hidden by a chain-link fence and overgrown bushes, the kind of spot kids used for sneaking smokes or quick makeouts. Mia was already there, leaning against the corrugated wall, her shorts hiked up from the heat, jersey untucked. "Your folks roped him in good," she whispered as Chasity approached, nodding toward Tomohiro, who was clapping awkwardly from his seat, misunderstanding the crowd's cheers. "Mom thinks it's cute. But us? We know better."
Chasity's pulse hammered, the game's distant roar masking her quick breaths. She remembered the van after last week's match—tinted windows steaming as Tomohiro's thick fingers worked her pussy while the final whistle blew. That ache low in her gut twisted now, her sports bra chafing against hardening nipples. "Sub me out again?" she asked Mia, who grinned and pulled out her phone, firing a text to Coach about a "hydration check." Tomohiro caught the signal—Chasity waving him over with a subtle head tilt—and he rose, duffel in tow, weaving through the parents like he was just stretching his legs. Her mom waved back, thinking it was some halftime chat about form.
Inside the shed, the air was stale, cluttered with stacked cones, deflated balls, and a rickety bench that smelled of rubber and old sweat. Sunlight slanted through a high vent, casting striped shadows on the concrete floor. Mia locked the door with a rusty click, and Chasity stripped her jersey without a word, peeling it over her head to reveal sweat-slicked skin and the black sports bra clinging to her C-cups. "Quick," she muttered, shimmying out of her shorts and underwear, the cool air hitting her shaved pussy like a tease. Mia followed suit, kicking off her cleats, her thong discarded to show the faint tan lines from bikini season. They were both glistening, thighs marked with grass stains, the thrill of the game still buzzing in their veins.
Tomohiro ducked in last, the door creaking shut behind his wide frame. He dropped the duffel, eyes flicking between them, his English stumbling out in fragments. "Game... good? Massage... now?" Chasity nodded, pulling him close by his belt, her hands fumbling with the buckle. His dick was already tenting his khakis, thick and insistent, and she yanked them down, freeing the veined shaft that slapped against his gut. Mia dropped to her knees first, mouth watering at the sight—remembering how it stretched her in the basement, the curtain shaking while her mom babbled about knots. She wrapped her lips around the head, tongue swirling the salty pre-cum, sucking hard enough to hollow her cheeks. Tomohiro grunted, hand tangling in her hair, guiding her deeper until her nose brushed his coarse pubes.
Chasity watched, fingers dipping between her own legs, parting her slick folds to rub her clit in slow circles. The shed's walls vibrated faintly from the crowd's cheers—her team must've scored—and it amped the urgency. "Fuck her throat," Chasity said, voice low and commanding, stepping closer to pinch Mia's nipples through the air. Mia gagged softly, spit dribbling down her chin as Tomohiro thrust shallowly, his belly pressing her forehead. But he pulled out quick, dick glossy and throbbing, turning to Chasity. "You," he managed, pointing, and she bent over the bench, ass up, cheeks spreading to show her puckered hole and dripping pussy.
He didn't waste time—squirted lube from the duffel onto his palm, the scent sharp and clinical mixing with their musk. First, he rubbed her entrance, two fingers plunging in knuckle-deep, curling to hit that spongy spot that made her knees buckle. "Shit, yes," Chasity hissed, pushing back, the stretch burning just right. Mia knelt beside, licking the backs of his thighs, her hand joining to thumb Chasity's clit, rolling it fast and slick. Tomohiro's free hand gripped Chasity's hip, bruising the tan skin, and he lined up his dick, the fat head nudging her lips apart. One push, and he sank in halfway, her walls clenching greedy around the girth, juices coating him immediately.
The bench scraped the floor with his first full thrust, balls slapping her clit, but the noise blended with the field's whistles. Chasity bit her lip, tasting blood, as he pounded steady—each slide dragging her inner walls, the friction building that deep coil in her belly. Mia slid underneath, on her back now, tongue flicking out to lap at Chasity's swinging tits, then lower to where Tomohiro's dick pistoned in and out. She sucked his balls on the upstroke, tasting Chasity's tang, her own fingers buried in her pussy, pumping in rhythm. "Taste us both," Chasity gasped, grinding down to smear more wetness on Mia's chin.
Tomohiro's rhythm faltered, sweat beading on his forehead, but he held back, pulling out with a wet pop that left Chasity's hole gaping, twitching for more. "Turn," he grunted to Mia, who scrambled up, bracing against the wall, one leg hooked over a storage crate. Her ass presented perfectly, cheeks spread by her own hands, pussy lips puffy and red from her fingering. He entered her in one go, the squelch loud in the confined space, her moan cut off by Chasity's mouth crashing against hers. They kissed sloppy, tongues tangling with shared spit and arousal, Chasity's hand snaking down to pinch Mia's clit while Tomohiro reamed her.
"Fuck, he's splitting me," Mia whimpered into the kiss, her walls fluttering around his shaft, the veined length dragging her toward the edge. The shed heated up, their bodies slick, the air heavy with the slap of skin and heavy breaths. Outside, the halftime buzzer blared—Chasity's cue. She broke the kiss, eyes wild. "My turn back in. Don't finish her yet." Tomohiro nodded, slowing to shallow grinds, his dick buried deep but still, thumb circling Mia's asshole to keep her on the brink. Chasity dressed fast, shorts sticking to her thighs, the fresh-fucked ache making her wince as she slipped out.
Back on the field, the sun blinded her as she subbed in, legs shaky but adrenaline surging. The crowd cheered—her parents included, Dad yelling her name— and she sprinted into position, the throb between her legs a secret pulse with every step. Her mom waved a program, chatting with Tomohiro, who must've slipped back to his seat, face flushed but composed. The game blurred into a haze of passes and dodges, Chasity's focus split—stealing glances at the shed, knowing Mia was still there, impaled and desperate.
Ten minutes ticked by, sweat stinging her eyes, until Coach subbed Mia back in. She emerged from the sidelines, hair messy, lips swollen, walking gingerly but flashing Chasity a wink. The switch happened seamless, Mia jogging onto the pitch while Chasity got pulled again—this time for a "cramp check." Her heart raced as she veered back to the shed, the game's roar fading behind the fence. Tomohiro was waiting, pants around his ankles, dick hard and slick from Mia's pussy. Mia lingered just outside, pretending to tie her shoe, but slipped in after, locking the door once more.
"Again," Tomohiro said simply, pulling Chasity's shorts down mid-stride. She didn't resist, bending over the same bench, ass high. He spat on his hand, rubbing it over his shaft mixed with Mia's cream, then thrust back into her pussy, the added lube making it filthier, sloppier. "God, fuck me hard," Chasity demanded, the words spilling out as his belly smacked her cheeks, dick bottoming out with each drive. Mia stripped again, climbing onto the bench to straddle Chasity's back, facing Tomohiro. Her pussy hovered inches from his mouth, and he dove in, tongue broad and flat, lapping her folds while pounding Chasity.
Mia's juices dripped down, some landing on Chasity's ass, trickling toward where Tomohiro's dick stretched her. Chasity reached back, fingers spreading her own cheeks, and Tomohiro took the hint—pulling out to press the head against her asshole. "Yes," she breathed, the ring yielding slow under the pressure, his girth forcing her open inch by inch. The burn was intense, asshole clenching around him, but she relaxed into it, the fullness pushing her toward bliss. Mia ground down on his face, pussy smearing his chin, her hands bracing on Chasity's shoulders for leverage.
He fucked Chasity's ass deliberate, the tight grip milking his shaft, while his tongue fucked Mia's hole, nose bumping her clit. The dual assault had Mia shaking first—thighs clamping his head, a muffled cry as she came, squirting a hot gush over his mouth and down his neck. Tomohiro lapped it up, grunting into her, his hips snapping harder into Chasity's ass, the friction raw and unyielding. "Fill her," Mia panted, sliding off to kneel, her fingers now working Chasity's pussy, three digits plunging deep to curl against her g-spot.
The overload hit Chasity like a tackle—ass stuffed, pussy fisted, the game's distant cheers syncing with her building peak. She bucked back, asshole spasming, and shattered, walls pulsing around Mia's fingers, a flood of squirt soaking the bench. Tomohiro followed, dick swelling in her ass, then erupting—hot ropes of cum painting her insides, the warmth spreading as he ground deep, plugging it in. He pulled out slow, cum bubbling from her gaping hole, and Mia leaned in, tongue scooping the drip, licking Chasity clean before sucking Tomohiro's softening dick, tasting the mix.
They dressed
He'd arrived late, van parked crookedly in the lot, his bulk squeezed into a folding chair near the parents' section. Chasity spotted him first during a water break, his polo shirt straining at the seams, that familiar duffel bag at his feet like he was ready for an on-site session. Her mom had invited him—something about repaying the favor after those home massages, insisting he come watch the game and "network" with the athletic crowd. "He's family now," she'd said over breakfast, oblivious to the heat flushing Chasity's cheeks. Mia was on the bench too, subbed out early for a twisted ankle, her eyes locking on Chasity with that sly glint. The invitation had been a joke at first—Mia texting group ideas after the basement tandem—but now it felt like a powder keg, with Tomohiro's limited English making every interaction a risky game of gestures and nods.
Chasity's thigh burned from a slide tackle earlier, but she played it cool, jogging over during the next substitution. Coach pulled her for a breather, and she didn't hesitate, grabbing her water bottle and veering toward the equipment shed behind the bleachers. The structure was a squat metal box, half-hidden by a chain-link fence and overgrown bushes, the kind of spot kids used for sneaking smokes or quick makeouts. Mia was already there, leaning against the corrugated wall, her shorts hiked up from the heat, jersey untucked. "Your folks roped him in good," she whispered as Chasity approached, nodding toward Tomohiro, who was clapping awkwardly from his seat, misunderstanding the crowd's cheers. "Mom thinks it's cute. But us? We know better."
Chasity's pulse hammered, the game's distant roar masking her quick breaths. She remembered the van after last week's match—tinted windows steaming as Tomohiro's thick fingers worked her pussy while the final whistle blew. That ache low in her gut twisted now, her sports bra chafing against hardening nipples. "Sub me out again?" she asked Mia, who grinned and pulled out her phone, firing a text to Coach about a "hydration check." Tomohiro caught the signal—Chasity waving him over with a subtle head tilt—and he rose, duffel in tow, weaving through the parents like he was just stretching his legs. Her mom waved back, thinking it was some halftime chat about form.
Inside the shed, the air was stale, cluttered with stacked cones, deflated balls, and a rickety bench that smelled of rubber and old sweat. Sunlight slanted through a high vent, casting striped shadows on the concrete floor. Mia locked the door with a rusty click, and Chasity stripped her jersey without a word, peeling it over her head to reveal sweat-slicked skin and the black sports bra clinging to her C-cups. "Quick," she muttered, shimmying out of her shorts and underwear, the cool air hitting her shaved pussy like a tease. Mia followed suit, kicking off her cleats, her thong discarded to show the faint tan lines from bikini season. They were both glistening, thighs marked with grass stains, the thrill of the game still buzzing in their veins.
Tomohiro ducked in last, the door creaking shut behind his wide frame. He dropped the duffel, eyes flicking between them, his English stumbling out in fragments. "Game... good? Massage... now?" Chasity nodded, pulling him close by his belt, her hands fumbling with the buckle. His dick was already tenting his khakis, thick and insistent, and she yanked them down, freeing the veined shaft that slapped against his gut. Mia dropped to her knees first, mouth watering at the sight—remembering how it stretched her in the basement, the curtain shaking while her mom babbled about knots. She wrapped her lips around the head, tongue swirling the salty pre-cum, sucking hard enough to hollow her cheeks. Tomohiro grunted, hand tangling in her hair, guiding her deeper until her nose brushed his coarse pubes.
Chasity watched, fingers dipping between her own legs, parting her slick folds to rub her clit in slow circles. The shed's walls vibrated faintly from the crowd's cheers—her team must've scored—and it amped the urgency. "Fuck her throat," Chasity said, voice low and commanding, stepping closer to pinch Mia's nipples through the air. Mia gagged softly, spit dribbling down her chin as Tomohiro thrust shallowly, his belly pressing her forehead. But he pulled out quick, dick glossy and throbbing, turning to Chasity. "You," he managed, pointing, and she bent over the bench, ass up, cheeks spreading to show her puckered hole and dripping pussy.
He didn't waste time—squirted lube from the duffel onto his palm, the scent sharp and clinical mixing with their musk. First, he rubbed her entrance, two fingers plunging in knuckle-deep, curling to hit that spongy spot that made her knees buckle. "Shit, yes," Chasity hissed, pushing back, the stretch burning just right. Mia knelt beside, licking the backs of his thighs, her hand joining to thumb Chasity's clit, rolling it fast and slick. Tomohiro's free hand gripped Chasity's hip, bruising the tan skin, and he lined up his dick, the fat head nudging her lips apart. One push, and he sank in halfway, her walls clenching greedy around the girth, juices coating him immediately.
The bench scraped the floor with his first full thrust, balls slapping her clit, but the noise blended with the field's whistles. Chasity bit her lip, tasting blood, as he pounded steady—each slide dragging her inner walls, the friction building that deep coil in her belly. Mia slid underneath, on her back now, tongue flicking out to lap at Chasity's swinging tits, then lower to where Tomohiro's dick pistoned in and out. She sucked his balls on the upstroke, tasting Chasity's tang, her own fingers buried in her pussy, pumping in rhythm. "Taste us both," Chasity gasped, grinding down to smear more wetness on Mia's chin.
Tomohiro's rhythm faltered, sweat beading on his forehead, but he held back, pulling out with a wet pop that left Chasity's hole gaping, twitching for more. "Turn," he grunted to Mia, who scrambled up, bracing against the wall, one leg hooked over a storage crate. Her ass presented perfectly, cheeks spread by her own hands, pussy lips puffy and red from her fingering. He entered her in one go, the squelch loud in the confined space, her moan cut off by Chasity's mouth crashing against hers. They kissed sloppy, tongues tangling with shared spit and arousal, Chasity's hand snaking down to pinch Mia's clit while Tomohiro reamed her.
"Fuck, he's splitting me," Mia whimpered into the kiss, her walls fluttering around his shaft, the veined length dragging her toward the edge. The shed heated up, their bodies slick, the air heavy with the slap of skin and heavy breaths. Outside, the halftime buzzer blared—Chasity's cue. She broke the kiss, eyes wild. "My turn back in. Don't finish her yet." Tomohiro nodded, slowing to shallow grinds, his dick buried deep but still, thumb circling Mia's asshole to keep her on the brink. Chasity dressed fast, shorts sticking to her thighs, the fresh-fucked ache making her wince as she slipped out.
Back on the field, the sun blinded her as she subbed in, legs shaky but adrenaline surging. The crowd cheered—her parents included, Dad yelling her name— and she sprinted into position, the throb between her legs a secret pulse with every step. Her mom waved a program, chatting with Tomohiro, who must've slipped back to his seat, face flushed but composed. The game blurred into a haze of passes and dodges, Chasity's focus split—stealing glances at the shed, knowing Mia was still there, impaled and desperate.
Ten minutes ticked by, sweat stinging her eyes, until Coach subbed Mia back in. She emerged from the sidelines, hair messy, lips swollen, walking gingerly but flashing Chasity a wink. The switch happened seamless, Mia jogging onto the pitch while Chasity got pulled again—this time for a "cramp check." Her heart raced as she veered back to the shed, the game's roar fading behind the fence. Tomohiro was waiting, pants around his ankles, dick hard and slick from Mia's pussy. Mia lingered just outside, pretending to tie her shoe, but slipped in after, locking the door once more.
"Again," Tomohiro said simply, pulling Chasity's shorts down mid-stride. She didn't resist, bending over the same bench, ass high. He spat on his hand, rubbing it over his shaft mixed with Mia's cream, then thrust back into her pussy, the added lube making it filthier, sloppier. "God, fuck me hard," Chasity demanded, the words spilling out as his belly smacked her cheeks, dick bottoming out with each drive. Mia stripped again, climbing onto the bench to straddle Chasity's back, facing Tomohiro. Her pussy hovered inches from his mouth, and he dove in, tongue broad and flat, lapping her folds while pounding Chasity.
Mia's juices dripped down, some landing on Chasity's ass, trickling toward where Tomohiro's dick stretched her. Chasity reached back, fingers spreading her own cheeks, and Tomohiro took the hint—pulling out to press the head against her asshole. "Yes," she breathed, the ring yielding slow under the pressure, his girth forcing her open inch by inch. The burn was intense, asshole clenching around him, but she relaxed into it, the fullness pushing her toward bliss. Mia ground down on his face, pussy smearing his chin, her hands bracing on Chasity's shoulders for leverage.
He fucked Chasity's ass deliberate, the tight grip milking his shaft, while his tongue fucked Mia's hole, nose bumping her clit. The dual assault had Mia shaking first—thighs clamping his head, a muffled cry as she came, squirting a hot gush over his mouth and down his neck. Tomohiro lapped it up, grunting into her, his hips snapping harder into Chasity's ass, the friction raw and unyielding. "Fill her," Mia panted, sliding off to kneel, her fingers now working Chasity's pussy, three digits plunging deep to curl against her g-spot.
The overload hit Chasity like a tackle—ass stuffed, pussy fisted, the game's distant cheers syncing with her building peak. She bucked back, asshole spasming, and shattered, walls pulsing around Mia's fingers, a flood of squirt soaking the bench. Tomohiro followed, dick swelling in her ass, then erupting—hot ropes of cum painting her insides, the warmth spreading as he ground deep, plugging it in. He pulled out slow, cum bubbling from her gaping hole, and Mia leaned in, tongue scooping the drip, licking Chasity clean before sucking Tomohiro's softening dick, tasting the mix.
They dressed