Blitzed by the Brit: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

better afterwards. It’s hard to fantasize about sex when your mind insists on dragging the past back up to haunt you. My entire sexual history consists of Brian, and my imagination isn’t creative enough to replace him. That means I’m making myself miserable while trying to make myself happy—not the ideal circumstances for an orgasm.
    But now there’s Charles.
    On Saturday morning, I can’t get out of bed without rubbing one out, and the relief doesn’t last long. I spend the morning working on my article about Charles, but the angrier I get about our interview, the more I need to touch myself again. In the end, I set myself a rule; I can only masturbate once per two hours of solid work.
    I still can’t focus on the article, and I blame Charles completely. The interview had been awful, but I’d expected that. Charles had acted like a cocky, arrogant asshole. Completely true to form for a college footballer. The whole sauna thing had just been icing on the cake.
    But as bad as the interview had been, he’d doubled down and made things ten times worse by bursting back into the sauna and waving his huge, hard cock in my face.
    Who does that? Seriously, who walks into a sauna in college completely naked and with an erection? Even if he’d thought the place was empty, it still seemed patently absurd.
    He’d expected me to be grateful. Like I was supposed to say ‘thank you for showing me your cock, can I suck it now?’ Does that really work? Of course it does. Even in my limited social circle, I know at least five women who are shameless enough to throw themselves at him if he appears naked in front of them.
    I couldn’t do that even if I want to. Not after last time with Brian. Most people in my year already think of me as the slut who banged half the football team. The fact that it isn’t true hasn’t stopped the rumor from spreading like wildfire. I can’t just go and jump on the new star footballer in his first week. Not that I want to. Sure, just by being in my head when I’m under the covers, he’s already given me more pleasure than Brian ever had, but thinking about someone while touching myself is a million miles away from actually doing anything in real life. Some fantasies should stay fantasies.
    He wants me though. I’m not imagining that, am I? He walked in on me with a rock hard cock—if that’s not a sign of desire then I know even less about men than I thought.
    God, I desperately need to get laid. I need to find some average, nerdy guy to undress me, move about a bit, and finish three minutes later. Anything to quench my thirst for a cock I can’t go near.
    I hate Charles for doing this to me. I just want to write an article and be done with him, but I can’t get him out of my head. My anger seeps through onto the screen as I type and I realize that the article I’ve spent most of the weekend working on is absolute trash.
    I like to consider myself an impartial writer, but as I read a printed draft of my article, I realize that what I’ve written is completely biased. It’s not the words so much as the tone. All my anger and frustration with Charles has appeared throughout the article. Anyone who reads this will immediately know I don’t think too highly of the college’s new star athlete. That might be true, but as someone who wants to be a professional writer, I can’t let that be so obvious in my work.
    I have to rewrite it. I realize this at eleven o’clock on Sunday night. I’m mentally exhausted, but I pull up a blank Word document and start from scratch. I work for five minutes before I stop typing and go to bed. I’m not going to sleep—I just need to take care of a bit of business before writing about Charles.
    This idiot is really and truly in my head.

    M y deadline is technically five o’clock Monday afternoon, but so long as I’ve submitted it by nine o’clock Tuesday morning, no one is going to mind. That’s all well and good, but it’s midday on Monday and