A Hotwife Rub Down: a hotwife sports romance by Dilana Rose

Author:Dilana Rose [Rose, Dilana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-03-13T00:00:00+00:00

It’s Vegas Baby

Aaron

By the time we got to Vegas, my team were relaxed, rested, and satisfied.

We’d slept on and off through the long-haul flight to the States, and connections to Vegas.

My team bonded over watching me fuck Destiny three times.

They knew she was my wife, Lyssa. But they’d been quick to catch on when she was Lyssa and untouchable, and Destiny for all.

Not that they all fucked her. I had my limits, and I knew Lyssa’s. When she needed a break, they stripped her off, lay her down in her seat, and watched her play with herself until they came all over her tits and stomach.

Ben and Diaz stepped up, helping me with crowd control, and offering me a seemingly endless supply of warm washcloths to wipe down my wife.

My wife.

I’d never felt so much pride as I did while watching my team fawn over my wife as if she was the first and only woman they’d seen naked. They respected her. They wanted her. And I trusted them to protect her.

When we made our way through international arrivals, Lyssa was the first to spot the carousel with our bags. Some random asshole twice the size of my wife shoved her out of the way so he could rush to his bag. My instincts had my fists ready, but my team got to him, first. I had to be the adult and hold them back before they educated the dude on how to treat a lady, Aussie style.

Lyssa blushed when he apologized like a meek schoolboy. Not that he had a choice. A wall of muscled men surrounded him as I’d helped Lyssa to her feet, and Diaz collected her handbag that had gone flying in the collision.

“Come on, come on, the bus is waiting,” our coach barked. He’d been upgraded to first class while the rest of the team support staff had traveled in real economy. Shit got real and I could feel tension rebuild around us.

All or nothing.

If I performed to my best on the international stage, Lyssa would negotiate the hell out of my brand, setting us up for life. If our team couldn’t match it with the nation’s best, or if the US audiences didn’t buy the product we were selling, then …

A rugby league career didn’t last long. It couldn’t. We didn’t have inches of padding to protect us in tackles. I had a good six years left, if I was lucky and none of the younger guys claimed my spot.

“Where’s the press?” Tommal asked when we arrived at our hotel. Management’s PR team had assured us that there would be a film crew and journalists ready to capture our initial thoughts of Vegas, the hotel, and about bringing the game to the States.

I stepped down from the bus to the hotel concierge and not a camera in sight. How could we build a buzz if no one knew we were here?

“Come on,” Lyssa said, taking charge while management hit their phones, assuring us that they had everything under control.

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