Kat – short for Katai – is odd, right?
I mean, she’s not scary-weird or anything, but a little odd. Her mannerisms, especially her laugh. She does this odd thing with her hand when she’s laughing. Now, I’ll bet you’ve just pictured someone laughing and raising their hand up, like they’re about to slap their thigh or something? Not like that. It’s more like she’s got a ping pong bat in her hand, and she’s swinging her arm back out wide, ready for a big shot. And then she kinda flaps her hand back and forth. It reminds me a bit of the spirit fingers that Kirsten Dunst does in “Bring It On” – remember that? Who laughs and does that? Odd, right?
And like when we’ve just had sex sometimes, too. I mean, I go all gooey and squishy, right? That’s not odd, it’s just normal, right? You probably do that too, right? But she’s like, I dunno – jumpy, or something. Charged up. Squirmy, not squishy. She gets off the couch, goes for a pee (I guess that’s OK), opens the fridge, comes back, sits down, wriggles, gets up again. She’s smiling and wondering what’s next – at least, I think she is? I know she’s happy, but I dunno, I just wish she would snuggle.
Actually even when we are having sex, too. I mean, I love having sex with her, she’s great. Her family heritage is northern Thailand – hence her name. When people comment on her frame, she likes to say, “Yeah – long people.” She’s all arms and legs, small tits. Gamine. She gets a bowl cut – so fucking sexy. When she’s naked, stretched out long on the couch, one leg dangling off the side, flashing her tight little snatch – oh my god my pussy goes a-twitching!! And she gives me “that” smile – enigmatic, cryptic. I’m a sucker for that.
Then we get into it, and it’s so hot, I’m sucking on her, and she tastes like treacle, and out of the blue she’s disappeared!! Suddenly she’s on top and we’re grinding our pussies together and that’s so fucking good that I’m gonna cum in a second and then she’s gone AGAIN and she’s licking out my ass with such tender precision and well – how did that even happen??
Odd.
And before you ask – no she is not a Gemini! Anyway how would that apply to someone from a hill tribe on the Thai border? I just don’t get it. I don’t get her.
And there it is – that’s why I love her so fucking much. Believe me, I am totally gone for her. Every day. I watch her bouncing around the kitchen, this way, that way, pots and bowls clattering, she’s humming away, and oh god – how can my heart melt and flutter at the same time??
Last Sunday night, we’re lying on the couch together. Well, Kat’s lying; I’m sitting at the L-shaped end with my legs stretched out. Kat’s on her side, turned towards the TV – got her head in my lap, legs pulled up. Beautiful symmetry. I’m stroking her bowl cut, looking down on the side of her face, especially admiring her ear. Her ear lobe joins to the side of her head in such a smooth line. She has a little freckle right on her lobe. I’m thinking of bending over, licking it slowly.
We’re watching the English football replay, Women’s Super League. The Chelsea ground is just down the road from our flat, but we go for Arsenal – partly because Chelsea are just too fucking good and win all the time, but mainly because Arsenal have got a few of the best Aussie players – gotta support your home country, right?
I’ve got a crush on Caitlin Foord, she is so perfect. When she’s advancing on her defender down the left flank, jinking and weaving into the box, and you know she’s gonna go one way or the other, but you don’t know which way – oh god I feel a tingle in my tits!! Stupid, eh? But her mastery, her poetry, her smile – oh yeah baby, take me down on my left flank anytime!!
Anyway, so Arsenal are one down to Man U after twenty minutes and it’s close, right? Tense. Then I notice that Kat has opened her legs, like a butterfly yoga pose, and has started rubbing her pussy! She’s wearing black leggings and a sloppy Lisa Simpson saxophone T-shirt, probably no bra. She’s not giving her snatch a heavy going over, just a casual rub or two with the flat of her palm. Like she’s warming it up, or something. WTF, right? I mean, what about the game, girl? She’s watching, but is she really with it? Odd.
Now I’m distracted. I’m watching the game, I’m watching her. Her lazy left hand. But I’m not gonna say anything. I know my baby. She’s on her own path now.
Arsenal score! A gorgeous cross from Katie McCabe, a powerful header from Foord. I’m pumping the air. One all, we’re back in the game!
“Oh yeah baby,” I call out loud, like I’m actually at the ground, “fucking nailed it you hot bitch!!”
Kat stands up quickly, facing the TV, her legs a little apart. From the side, I can see her hand is still in her crotch, still just gently rubbing. The game restarts. Man U have a chance, but van-Domselaar parries smartly. The crowd goes “Ooooohhh!!”
In one fluid movement, Kat pulls her leggings and knickers down and straight off. She’s still facing the TV, still rubbing. Maybe with a bit more rhythm, a bit more purpose. What’s going on? Is she getting off watching all those hot girls on the pitch? I can see a teasing hint of her flat little butt under the edge of Lisa Simpson. Goddamn it, right? How am I supposed to concentrate on the game now?
Then she’s gone! Turns away from me and the game, darts up the stairs to our bedroom. I have just enough time to swivel my head to catch a glimpse of her snatch as she goes up. She hasn’t said a word.
Odd, right?
I shrug, and focus back on the game. Chloe Kelly releases a thunderbolt from the edge of the box, her left leg swinging gracefully high on the follow through – but it’s high and wide. Come on girls, find the net! I’m kinda wondering what the hell Kat is doing up there, and OK maybe I’m picturing a few juicy options if I join her, but no way right now – gotta support the Gunners girls!
Half time. The girls go off, the commentators are raising questions about Russo’s hamstring after last week’s collision. Is she gonna last? I get up to make tea.
“Babe,” I call up the stairs, “do you want tea?” No answer. I make two cups anyway, and fish around in the cupboard for the biscuits.
Second half restarts. Man U have made two substitutes and they seem a bit fresher. There’s some close tackles, the question of a penalty. Still one-all; still no Kat.
Thirty minutes to go, and she reappears, like she’s just popped up out of the floorboards. She’s still half-naked. “I want it,” she states, flicking me her signature smile, and climbs onto my end of the couch. Pushing my legs apart, she sits between them, facing the TV, and leans back against my chest. I wriggle around a bit so I can still see the game.
Kat pulls her legs up, then pulls mine up with her hands, and wraps them around each other. Then she flops her knees open, mine going with them, so her pussy is fully exposed to the TV.
“What the…?” I exclaim.
“Shhh,” she responds, “the game”.
“What the fuck is gonna happen next,” I wonder. Don’t get me wrong, I’m horny now, ready for her next crazy stunt, but there’s only twenty minutes to go and Arsenal need a win here. The crowd erupts - Stina Blackstanius has just been subbed on to work her last-minute magic, and I wanna see that. Meanwhile, Russo remains virtually invisible.
Kat takes my right hand and enfolds it across the back of her right hand. She pushes our hand sandwich onto her pussy. Her hand is on her pussy, with my hand on top.
“Make me make me cum,” she instructs. Her voice is a little thick with arousal, and it takes me a minute to process what she wants. Then I get it – she wants me to use her own hand like a toy on her twat. Odd, of course, but I got this!
Looking over Kat’s shoulder so I can keep my eyes on Arsenal as they surge forward again, I align my fingers along the backs of her fingers, and push her fingers into the folds of her snatch. God she’s wet! What has she been doing upstairs?! She sighs out happily.
“Oh yeah my lover, that’s good,” she encourages, “just like that. I want it.”
I slide her/my hand down her snatch, teasing around her hole, and I feel her hips arch up, reaching for more pleasure. She’s really hot to trot! Using my fingers over hers as instructed, I curl her fingers up the sides of her snatch, arriving at her clit, where I squeeze her fingertips together. She squirms against me.
“Oh fuck,” she grunts, “oh god that’s good baby, keep making me do that.”
Just then, Katie McCabe unleashes another bomb into the box, and in some impossible balletic maneuver, Foord brings the ball down to her feet. Twisting and spinning, she flips it cold off the ground towards the top of the goal and…it hits the crossbar. Shit! Man U clear desperately for a corner.
“Babe? Babe? Keep going,” Kat pleads. I realise I’ve stopped my own twisting! God, there is so much pressure here!!
“Yeah baby? Like this baby?” I coo gently at the freckle on her ear, and I squeeze her fingertips onto her clit again, and release, and squeeze. She’s gasping now, her head laid back on my shoulder. In my power.
The corner comes in, but Man U handle it easily. All the momentum is with the Gunners, but shit, there’s only ten minutes to go, and scores are still locked! This is killing me!
“Make me fuck me baby,” Kat begs, her voice quivering.
“As you wish, you hot slut,” I nuzzle into her neck, and I squeeze her two long fingers together with mine wrapped around them, and push the whole lot inside her. She shivers and moans with delight, and I pull them out, push them in again. My whole hand is slick with her juices. Fuck I’m getting super hot now, my pussy buzzing for some attention.
It’s time to up the stakes a bit. I reach under Lisa Simpson with my free hand, aiming for a tweak of a nipple or two, and all hell breaks loose. Kat screams and nearly catapults off the couch, as my fingers bump against something hard. Fuck me - she’s got nipple clamps on!! And not just any clamps - the nasty bamboo ones! Just two little lengths of bamboo, with a band at each end to squeeze them tight - vicious little unrelenting bastards.
My brain does a quick calculation - she must’ve put them on at least half an hour ago, upstairs. Her tits must be on fire with pain - and I’ve just knocked one! Sweet Jesus, she is seriously odd.
Anyway who cares – Arsenal are on the hunt again! Steph Catley threads a killer pass down the wing, and suddenly Foord is jinking and swerving in the left corner. She shrugs a tackle, breaks free at the goal line and cuts in. I push Kat’s hand knuckle-deep inside her and she starts doing her yelpy thing that means she’s on the edge. Foord spears her pass into the six yard box and – OH YEAH BABY – there’s Stina, in three feet of space, ready to receive. She punches the ball hard at the goal, but somehow the Man U keeper blocks it and the ball bounces free. I flick the bamboo clamps mercilessly and Kat howls in agony and ecstasy. She’s trying to buck free but I pin her legs open with mine, stabbing our finger bunch into her cunt again. Russo appears from fucking nowhere, pounces on the ball, but she’s facing away from goal. Now what? Kat is grunting, cumming, writhing. I’m still pumping our hands deep inside her cunt. “STOP!! STOP-STOP-STOP,” she bawls. Russo’s got a millisecond to make her magic. She backheels it – just like in the 2022 Euros – and it skims past every leg and into the goal. I pull our hands out of Kat and pump the air – “YESSSSSSSSS!!! YES-YES-YES YOU FUCKING LEGEND!!”
Kat rolls off me, onto the floor on her hands and knees.
“Get them off me, baby, please. Oh fuck, it hurts so much,” she cries.
I sit her up and get Lisa Simpson off. The crowd is going wild on the TV. Fucking hell, her nipples! They are black as night! I mean they are always dark, but not like this.
“You daft prick, what were you thinking?”
“Just get them off, will you?”
I cinch the band off one bamboo set, and then the other.
“Owww! Ow-ow-ow,” she gasps, her face twisted in pain. I know that feeling, when the blood flows back into a squashed nipple – it’s intense. Kat’s biting back the tears.
The TV erupts with a roar. Full time – Arsenal win!! You fucking hot bitches!!
I dash to the bathroom and return with two warm facecloths. Sucking air, Kat places them gingerly on her tits.
“You’re a fucking odd git, aren’t you?” I tell her, sitting back on my haunches.
“Shut up! I got a bloody good blast off, didn’t I?” she shoots back, glaring.
“Ha - thanks to me!” I realise we’re almost arguing, and what’s the point of that? “How’re they feeling now?”
“Yeah, I’ll live, I think,” she replies, peeling the facecloths off. She looks down her chest at one nipple and then the other. Sitting on the floor, her hair all crazy, her cunt almost steaming, her T-shirt pulled up to expose her busted boobs, illuminated by the flickering light of the TV screen – man, she could be an extra in Blade Runner.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I declare, leaning in quick and close, and planting a gentle kiss on each tit. She shivers, and reaches under me, fumbling for a way inside my pants.
The post-match interviews have started, and predictably, Russo is first. The interviewer dubs her the “Backheel Princess”, and Russo rolls her eyes, smiling. “That should go well for me,” she observes dryly, but I’m losing interest now. Kat’s nimbly circled around behind me, her hands all over me, rolling us onto our backs together on the floor, like upside down turtles, giggling.
I know she won’t be there for long. Soon she’ll be on top, or down below, or somewhere equally perfect.
Odd, right?
