We both fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, and I wake up the next morning at seven thirty. It's not too early, my body is well rested, and I've still got plenty of time until practice today since Coach wants us to start moving the end of our practice days a little later. He’s is really into the whole 'bio clock' thing, and wants our peak performance times to coincide with game time. As our preseason game this Saturday is an evening game, it means evening practice.
I have two hours still until I need to report in for morning video sessions, and looking at April sprawled out on my bed, only half covered by the bed sheet which is twisted around her shoulders and upper body only, I know exactly what I want to do.
Quietly, I get on the bed at her feet. She's still gloriously naked, and I carefully pick up April's right foot, and start massaging the sole with my thumbs, but not so light as to tickle her.
She stirs slowly on the bed, humming contentedly to herself as I continue my massage, squeezing each toe before letting it go, a technique I learned from a sports massage therapist I saw for a while while at Western. I lift her feet to my lips, and suck her toe into my mouth.
"Mmm, what are you doing?" April half mumbles, smiling. Her breath quickens as I continue my caresses. "Tyler . . . "
"Shh . . . this is all for you," I whisper, lowering her foot and kissing my way up the inside of her leg. She keeps her eyes closed, but her knees part, and I get to see her pussy up close in the morning light. It's perfect, soft and smooth, her tender flower opening already and glistening. I reach out with my tongue and trace the petals, losing myself in the flavor and essence that coats my tongue. She's tangy, spicy . . . perfect.
I keep licking, my mind whirling with our connection, a spark that I'd never felt before. It felt like . . . like coming home.
But now, I have another delicacy in front of me as I lick and suck, and I focus on that instead of the memories of last night. She reaches down, running her hands through my hair while I keep licking, dipping my tongue deep inside her before finding the hard jewel at the top, and nibble on her clit. My lips bring her hips off the bed, and she's crying out softly, groaning and grinding up into my face, calling my name in a shaky, quivering voice.
"Ty . . . Tyler," she gasps, her breath catching as she's on the edge of coming. I lick faster, and bring a finger up to stroke at her while I lick, sliding inside her just as she reaches her peak. With a strangled cry, she comes, soaking my face in her juices and wailing breathlessly before sagging into the mattress, spent.
I crawl up next to April, kissing her skin tenderly until I'm looking into her dark, nearly black eyes, and I stroke her hair. "Good morning, beautiful."
"Is that what I can expect if I stay over?" April asks, a still shocked expression on her face.
"You sleep naked like, and that might be exactly what happens," I tease lightly, then lean in. April kisses me, first with a bit of hesitation and then with open tenderness, and reaches down to my hip, trying to find my cock. "Uh-uh. Not before practice, and besides, I told you . . . that was all for you."
"You're going to spoil me," April replies, kissing me again. "At least let me make breakfast, then? If not, I'm going to feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
"Deal," I reply. "Past two days, I've been eating reheated takeout and breakfast cereal, and lunch has been . . . not exactly balanced athlete's food."
"Well, I can at least make you some eggs to go with that cereal," April says, stroking my cheek. "Thank you. For our date, for last night, for this morning . . . for everything."
"You make it sound like this is going to be a one time thing," I say, trying to be nonchalant. "You planning on dumping me after only two dates?"
April shakes her head and smiles. "No. Just . . . never mind. Let me go make some breakfast. Did you actually buy any food, or am I just going to see condiments and takeout containers?"
"Yeah, of course," I reply, kind of embarrassed. I have actually been to a grocery store, but I doubt what April finds in the fridge and kitchen is going to improve her outlook on my culinary skills. "At least . . . a little bit."
"All right guys, tomorrow is our second preseason game," Coach Blanchard says, looking around the assembled conference room. There are thirty-four guys in the room, and at least a dozen of the guys around me know that they're going to be cut or put on the ten practice team slots within the next two weeks.