Those bronzed, muscular thighs emerging from those silken red shorts? I’ve seen them spread wide, trembling as she held them in the air as I pumped.
That curvy bottom, stained by grass stains and bent tight as she prepares to deliver a corner? I grasped it as I nailed her from behind. I’ve pulled that ponytail tight.
I’ve kissed that mouth that smiles ruefully as she loses control of the ball.
I played ‘keep it up’ with her. She dribbled. I shot.
Her scent rises from the depths of my memory. I wonder who her substitute for me is.
