Off-Season (6)
As soon as Yuko left for Japan for about a week on her summer vacation, Elena contacted me right away, like she'd been waiting for this exact moment. I'd half-expected her to reach out while Yuko was away... but not this immediately after her departure.
Even though we hadn't exchanged numbers, we could still connect thanks to the Corear group chat on my uncle's ItsApp.
Slap-slap-!
Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack-!
"Ahh... haaah!"
Our intentions were clear from the start. That night, after finishing work, Elena came straight to my place. No small talk, no greetings. The intense kiss began right at the front door and led straight to the bed, igniting a blazing fuck session.
Elena must have been starving for it, devouring my cock with aggressive hunger. It felt completely different from sex with Yuko. With Yuko, emotions were woven in—sure, it was a bit one-sided at first, but it went beyond just relieving pent-up lust.
But with Elena, it was pure, unadulterated sex. Total immersion, focused solely on chasing that raw sexual high.
The vibe was night-and-day too. Yuko's was soft and warm; Elena's was fiery and tight, pulling you in deep.
Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack-!
"Nngh... haaah...!"
Every time I thrust deep, Elena bit her lip to stifle the rough moans trying to escape. Yuko had done the same at first—embarrassed to fully surrender to the pleasure, holding back her true feelings. But as we fucked more and intimacy built, that prim shell peeled away. Now she openly told me what she liked, how she wanted it.
Elena's restraint wasn't primness, though. To me, it looked like pride. The high-standards girl who brushed off hot guys' advances, now spreading her legs wide for this thick cock, lost in ecstasy? She probably hated admitting it, even to herself. Every time, she'd cling to that fragile ego at first. And every time, I'd shatter it.
"Say it. You've been craving this."
"Hngh... sh-shut up..."
"You wanted it. That's why you messaged me the second Yuko left, right?"
"Sh-shut... the fuck... up..."
Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack-!
"Aaaahhh...!"
As I pistoned relentlessly, Elena finally let out a clear, throaty moan. I buried my cock deep, stopped thrusting, grabbed her hair—half her eyes rolled back—and said,
"Say it with your own mouth. That you wanted this."
She glared at me like she hated my guts. Her slightly bloodshot eyes showed instinct clashing with pride.
Schlup-!
I slowly pulled out. Gripping my pussy-soaked cock, I tapped her clit. Each tap made her twitch, her legs squirming helplessly.
"Say it. Out loud."
The winner of that battle...
"...Fuck me."
"Can't hear you."
"...Fuck my pussy."
"With what?"
"...Your big, thick cock."
Instinct always won.
Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack-!
I hammered away again. Pride fully discarded, Elena moaned wildly, giving in completely.
"I wanted this... this... harder... deeper...!"
"Feels good?"
"So fucking good... I'm losing my mind... every time your cock slides in... my pussy clenches... something this huge inside me...!"
Her pussy clamped down hard. I was nearing the edge too, and she sensed it.
"I'm... gonna cum... cum... together...!"
"...Where?"
"Wherever... you want...!"
I yanked out in a hurry, ripped off the condom like it was trash, and unloaded thick ropes across her face.
Spurt-spurt-!
Sticky cum dribbled down her cheeks. Unlike Yuko, Elena didn't swallow—but for her, this facial was the ultimate turn-on. Seeing her usual haughty self like this? The conquest was indescribable.
"Hoo..."
I collapsed onto the bed with a short exhale. Elena wiped her face with a prepared towel, got up, and headed to the bathroom. No pillow talk like with Yuko. Once sex ended, her cool rationality snapped back—the Elena I'd first met.
We only did it once. Intense, but just once per visit.
Enjoying my sage time on the bed, my phone pinged with a message. It was none other than Reporter Kim Min-seok.
I sat up slowly, wiped myself down with a towel, and booted up my laptop at the desk. The email from Sports Korea was there. Video quality wasn't top-tier—probably compressed for email. Download took a bit. Spain's internet was fast, but not Korea-fast.
Elena emerged from the shower just as I headed in. I took a satisfying piss, showered cold, and felt the fatigue melt away. Dried my hair, stepped out—and heard noise from my room.
There was Elena, glued to my laptop. She glanced at me and asked,
"Documentary?"
"Yeah."
"When'd they film this?"
She stood, already dressed, eyes still curious.
"What do you think?"
"Looks good. Can't understand the Korean, though."
"Be more specific."
Elena majored in film at the same uni as Yuko, though different department. I recalled Yuko saying she was leaning toward advertising over pure film.
"Hmm..."
She sat back down. I perched on the bed behind her, and we watched Kim's video together. As a total amateur, I had no complaints. If AD Alcorcon approved, it was YouTube-ready.
The hour-plus vid ended. Arms crossed like a pro, Elena said,
"They put real effort in. Framing, editing—clean as hell. Well-made."
"Yeah?"
"One quirky thing: extra focus on soccer play highlights."
I'd noticed too. Early parts zoomed on my looks, but game footage shifted to team play—showing how polished AD Alcorcon B's soccer was. No boredom at all. Bonus: ex-national teamers praising me, via Kim's connections maybe. More docu than variety show.
"Netflix drop?"
"Nah, just NewTube."
"Huh?"
She tilted her head, puzzled.
"This quality for NewTube?"
I was impressed too, but her expert eye saw it as beyond that. Explained Kim's confidence.
"A magazine production, not even TV..."
She smirked faintly.
"Whatever. You're gonna blow up."
I just shrugged instead of answering.
A few days passed. Yuko returned. Elena didn't say it, but she seemed quietly disappointed. I almost told her to hit me up anytime—but held back. Elena might not care about others, but she drew the line at stabbing her friend in the back.
...Though we'd already had our fill.
Back to routine. Niela stopped showing at the training center. Miguel Amaro and Joni Montoya's dedication paid off—their form sharpened fast. Ruben Soriano and I were already peak-ready.
A week later, Kim messaged: video uploading soon. AD Alcorcon's approval took extra time.
I ignored it. Preseason squad call-up was two weeks out—focus on prep.
Time flew. As preseason loomed, Kim's excited messages hit.
And the follow-up text? Despite Kim's warning, it shocked me plenty.