Sports Groupie
Posted: Mon Oct 08, 2007 7:20 am
My future wife contacted me on a Sunday afternoon, via phone, we had never dated. I had just returned from a Rams/Packers game in the Coliseum and she couldn't relate. That was ok, in fact, I liked that, a young lady I would soon change into a sports fan, sitting alongside her manly man, cheering on the Dodgers, Lakers, Rams. This would be a new adventure for this lady, so I thought. While dating, I stuck my chest out and told her about my sports prowess, but she didn't seem impressed. She said she enjoyed skating, ha!, just like a pussy, how wonderful our relationship was beginning with New Horizons.
3 short months later, she was now my bride, my wife, and things began changing drastically, beginning with sports. She would never accompany Boofer to games, but go shopping, sit home, work, visit her mom, anything but take an interest in what I held dear. She was such a beauty, I decided that life and the bedroom took precedence over my hobby, yet I still went to my games, played hoops on the side, while she turned her nose up. I once told her I was Veteran, a combat vet, "what do you think about that?" She told me she knew nothing about it, but her old boyfriend had joined the Army and in Germany, and she missed him desperately sometimes. Very nice, very nice indeed.
After 3 years of marriage, I hatched this idea to take her to a hockey game. Afterall, it was skating, fast, icy, just like her. She chewed gum, hum hawed around, and finally said ok, "but it better not be like baseball, and it was a one time thing." She was now taking Boofer for granted, she was living with a 4 sport letterman, a man among men, but didn't appreciate it.
I picked her up at her receptionist job around six, dressed in white peep toed heels and ruffaly beige dress. She dressed for the Doctors down the hallway, her mother had hoped one would marry her, cast Boofer aside. I was working as a salesman and must admit, I needed her part-time job to pay for Gerber foods. This dependence would last the duration of my marriage, and she never climbed out of the peep toed heels, except to strip in a club for Boofer and tips.
I had gotten the best of seats, 4 rows up from the ice, Kings and Flames. Upon entering she demanded a beer, she said she had to do something while being bored. That beer turned into 4 beers, and she was spilling the last one and cheering for number 47. Number 47 got into 3 fights that night, lost them all. I noticed this animal instinct in my wife I had never noticed before. She enjoyed violent men, violence, blood on the ice. She had a way of curling her legs in those panty hose, tightening them close together, sipping beer with an evil grin. This was something new, not good, for she had already got me in trouble with a night in the slammer for fighting.
Climbing into my Datsun, all I could afford after marrying her and paying for Gerber products, she looked back at the stadium, (the Forum), and as we were cruising down Manchester, she put her seat back, opened up legs like a chicken fillet, with those peep toed heels sideways, and took a deep sigh. She must be thinking about Boofer and roughness, so I asked if she wanted a nite cap, before being "good" for Boofer in bed? She shouted, "I'd love a guy like that to fuck me!" Who? "Number 47, why can't a man like that fuck me!" I politely reminded her Boofer was a 4-sport star in high school, had she forgotten that? She turned her head sleepily toward me, grinned, "I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about That!" She was pointing back at the Forum, now in the distance as we approached the freeway to Hollywood and the bedroom.
This wasn't all bad I thought. If 47 had warmed her pussy up for me, all the better, who cares? Upon climbing in bed ahead of her, waiting on Olivia to pee, undress, and come to Daddy Boofer, something new emerged and not all pleasant. An aggressiveness that turned me off, while sucking the hide off my cock, pulling my hair, and grinding with this passion for sex like a starved wolfess, she didn't have Boofer in mind. This was no mercy fuck, but a wife gone wild over violent behavior.
The worst was yet to come. I had purchased her a light blue sweater, in exchange for letting me go to games while she worked. She opened the gift box, showed it to one of the Doctors, and said, "look what my Boofer got me!" She then said, "I have something for you, and you'll like it, be home and in bed by 10 tonite." Of course I cut the game short by a period, hustled home with a few scotch and waters in me and waited for my precious to arrive. She went into the bathroom, put on a nylon peach lingerge baby doll, carrying my gift box. "Get up Boofer, and open your present, you Hockey man you!" It was a blue and gold jersey, with a Crown on the front, Number 47! "Come on! You don't expect me to be someone else in bed Olivia!" She sat on the end of the bed, evil grinning, crossed legs, tightly wound, "Put it on Boofer, and I'll be Good for you, and Number 47 too!"
by Boofer
3 short months later, she was now my bride, my wife, and things began changing drastically, beginning with sports. She would never accompany Boofer to games, but go shopping, sit home, work, visit her mom, anything but take an interest in what I held dear. She was such a beauty, I decided that life and the bedroom took precedence over my hobby, yet I still went to my games, played hoops on the side, while she turned her nose up. I once told her I was Veteran, a combat vet, "what do you think about that?" She told me she knew nothing about it, but her old boyfriend had joined the Army and in Germany, and she missed him desperately sometimes. Very nice, very nice indeed.
After 3 years of marriage, I hatched this idea to take her to a hockey game. Afterall, it was skating, fast, icy, just like her. She chewed gum, hum hawed around, and finally said ok, "but it better not be like baseball, and it was a one time thing." She was now taking Boofer for granted, she was living with a 4 sport letterman, a man among men, but didn't appreciate it.
I picked her up at her receptionist job around six, dressed in white peep toed heels and ruffaly beige dress. She dressed for the Doctors down the hallway, her mother had hoped one would marry her, cast Boofer aside. I was working as a salesman and must admit, I needed her part-time job to pay for Gerber foods. This dependence would last the duration of my marriage, and she never climbed out of the peep toed heels, except to strip in a club for Boofer and tips.
I had gotten the best of seats, 4 rows up from the ice, Kings and Flames. Upon entering she demanded a beer, she said she had to do something while being bored. That beer turned into 4 beers, and she was spilling the last one and cheering for number 47. Number 47 got into 3 fights that night, lost them all. I noticed this animal instinct in my wife I had never noticed before. She enjoyed violent men, violence, blood on the ice. She had a way of curling her legs in those panty hose, tightening them close together, sipping beer with an evil grin. This was something new, not good, for she had already got me in trouble with a night in the slammer for fighting.
Climbing into my Datsun, all I could afford after marrying her and paying for Gerber products, she looked back at the stadium, (the Forum), and as we were cruising down Manchester, she put her seat back, opened up legs like a chicken fillet, with those peep toed heels sideways, and took a deep sigh. She must be thinking about Boofer and roughness, so I asked if she wanted a nite cap, before being "good" for Boofer in bed? She shouted, "I'd love a guy like that to fuck me!" Who? "Number 47, why can't a man like that fuck me!" I politely reminded her Boofer was a 4-sport star in high school, had she forgotten that? She turned her head sleepily toward me, grinned, "I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about That!" She was pointing back at the Forum, now in the distance as we approached the freeway to Hollywood and the bedroom.
This wasn't all bad I thought. If 47 had warmed her pussy up for me, all the better, who cares? Upon climbing in bed ahead of her, waiting on Olivia to pee, undress, and come to Daddy Boofer, something new emerged and not all pleasant. An aggressiveness that turned me off, while sucking the hide off my cock, pulling my hair, and grinding with this passion for sex like a starved wolfess, she didn't have Boofer in mind. This was no mercy fuck, but a wife gone wild over violent behavior.
The worst was yet to come. I had purchased her a light blue sweater, in exchange for letting me go to games while she worked. She opened the gift box, showed it to one of the Doctors, and said, "look what my Boofer got me!" She then said, "I have something for you, and you'll like it, be home and in bed by 10 tonite." Of course I cut the game short by a period, hustled home with a few scotch and waters in me and waited for my precious to arrive. She went into the bathroom, put on a nylon peach lingerge baby doll, carrying my gift box. "Get up Boofer, and open your present, you Hockey man you!" It was a blue and gold jersey, with a Crown on the front, Number 47! "Come on! You don't expect me to be someone else in bed Olivia!" She sat on the end of the bed, evil grinning, crossed legs, tightly wound, "Put it on Boofer, and I'll be Good for you, and Number 47 too!"
by Boofer