Finding Nirvana Sky

Returning from my Vegas trip with my friends and teammates, the season kicks into full throttle. Life as a professional athlete is cool, but it’s not all fucking hot chicks, driving fast cars, and spending an excess of money. It’s a job, and like every other profession, there’s good and bad points.
The game is brutal on my body, keeping myself in prime condition can suck sometimes—I’d rather devour fast food than eat healthy salads and lean proteins for every meal—and I can never trust a woman to be into me the man and not the professional athlete.
Sure, maybe I fuck hot chicks and drive a fast car. And yes, I have an excess of money, but I do my best to save and give to charity. It’s not my fault I’m easy on the eyes and on the fast track to winning a Super Bowl.
Girls eat that shit up.
Well, most girls.
But not the one woman I can’t seem to get with my good looks and charm—Montana Webber.
And it doesn’t make sense because the chick is into football almost as much as I am. And not just football. Her favorite team is mine, the Maine Titans, so one would think it wouldn’t take all that much to get her panties off and her pussy on my face.
One would be wrong, and I am One.
I know that sounds cocky, but when all it takes to get other women in that position is a wink, I can’t be faulted.
But Montana, the brown-haired beauty, has been nothing more than a pain in my dick since I met her through my boy Leo last year.
Leo McGray is my running back and has it bad for his female friend, Tallulah, who happens to also be friends with Montana. Tallulah owns a pub we spend a lot of our free time at and so, Montana and I are thrown together almost every day.
The Smirking Lizard is like a second home to us, and I guess you can say the little group we’ve formed with Tallulah and her friends is like an extended family. I shouldn’t want to fuck Montana, but it’s beyond my control.
Call it frenemies or step-siblings fooling around, we’re a romance trope in the making. Or so the other girls in our group tell me.
Yeah, they’ve all caught on that I have a hard-on for their friend. It’s their friend that refuses to see my dick.
My ears perk up and pinpricks pierce my skin when Kimmy, the ditsy girl from the group, whispers, “I think Montana is getting stood up.”
I hadn’t known she was here tonight for a date.
“What?” I ask.
Kimmy shrugs. “She agreed to meet some guy from the maintenance crew at her apartment for drinks. He helped her move her sister’s stuff in and she felt bad saying no.”
I chuckle. “I didn’t know she had emotions like feeling bad. She sure doesn’t feel bad when she shoots me down.”
“Maybe that’s because your offer is usually for a place to sit and that place is always your face.”
“Not true,” I say. “I’ve offered my dick multiple times.”
“In his defense, both usually work,” Sammy says.
He isn’t wrong.
I glance around until I find Montana sitting alone at the bar, chatting with the bartender. The dude looks more into her than taking care of his customers, but Montana doesn’t seem to notice or care. At least, for the guy’s sake, she isn’t spewing venom at his advances the way she does to me. The girl has a worse bite than a tarantula, which is fitting, seeing as I call her Spidey. Which she hates. So I do it all the more.