Welcome to week 19 of Wank Wednesday, your weekly festival of smut, find out all about it here. To join in write a story using this week’s prompt #captain and then use the link widget to add it to the list. Please remember to include a link back to this post in your post, if not I’ll remove it from the link list and please do take the time to read a few of the other contributions. Thank you for writing and reading.
This weeks prompt is #captain
All it takes is a squirt of Rive Guache to take me back to my first crush, the first girl I wanted to fuck. The first woman I fantasised over and lay at night frigging myself to sleep imagining it was her knuckles rubbing and thrusting into me.
She was the captain of the sixth form hockey team and to say it was my coming of age crush is an understatement. I know that everyone jokes about hockey players, all burly lesbians that can out sing and out drink the guys, but she wasn’t like that.
Sure she was gay, but she was sweet and slim and hot. Lightening fast brain and legs, no wonder I was smitten.
I was a geek, not even good enough to be on the substitute of the b-team. So I’d just worship from afar and catch a sniff of her impossibly cool, grown up, perfume as she passed in the corridor between lessons.
Now I’m all grown up, a woman, I’ve not played hockey in years, not even tried. I don’t sit waiting to be chosen for teams anymore, I make my own decisions and forge my own way. I don’t wear Rive Guache but I can smell the woman that does, just the other side of the changing room divide. Not just her perfume, I can smell the damp shower-fresh flesh of her. I’m dressed now and round the corner, slowing to greet her and compliment her. She’s half dressed and she pauses to acknowledge me, our words simple but our body language and eyes make their own conversation and eventually she turns her back to me and invites me to close the zip on her dress for her.
Without a doubt I know I’ll be undoing it later tonight.