Wearing Number Eight: For Arda

[The Inspiration]

Being back home was the same, but strangely different all at once. Nothing about her small town, her friends, or her job had changed. But it felt like something within her had, and she was now looking at everything just a little bit differently.

Arda was in Spain for the season, playing for Real Madrid. And so Mikaela had found herself a new fan of Real Madrid, and frequenting the sports bar quite often to watch him play. With the time difference, and his schedule being so busy, they didn't get much overlap or time to talk. They'd kept the promise of speaking every day, whether through text or phone. But she'd still found herself wanting more. She found herself going mad sometimes missing him, his scent, his touch. Even her vibrator felt lacking. She craved him, and the way his physical presence consumed her. But there was no timeline, no date for her to look forward to when she'd see him next. Just an endless stream of texts and calls, and nights imagining her touch was his.

He had a big game today. Mikaela could tell he was the slightest bit nervous just from how much he was texting her about it.

"You'll do great. You always do 😘 " She sent off the text from her home office. The morning light was seeping through the window. He started typing, but then he stopped. Minutes passed without a response. Maybe he had already left for the game...but there was still a lot of time, she thought, before he had to leave. Her phone buzzed.

"I need some inspiration for Game Day."

She chewed her lip. "What kind of inspiration?"

"You still have my jersey?"

She laughed at his message. Of course I still have your jersey. I came so hard I saw stars in that jersey. She wanted to say. But she didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

"I might. What do you want me to do with it? Do some good luck chants over it? Burn it as a sacrifice to some God?"

"Not exactly."

She bit her lip again. Arda was still typing his next reply.

"I want you to touch yourself in my jersey." Her mouth dropped. Her phone vibrated again before she could regain her composure. "And I want proof."

Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach, as she smiled down incredulously at her phone. He was cocky, bold. She'd give him that.

"So the weight of the match rests on my shoulders, is what you are saying?" She smiled devilishly. "Or should I say my fingers?"

"I don't care what you use, just that you cum as hard as you did last time you were wearing it." Her mouth hung open. She saw him typing. "And I need proof that I can still please you, even when I'm halfway around the world."

Mikaela giggled, tapping her feet on the floor, like a schoolgirl. "Ok ok." She said out loud to herself. "Be cool be cool." She ran her hands over her face before she started typing her next message.

"What's in it for me?" Her heart pounded in her chest as she sent off the message.

He started typing, but then stopped, as if he was thinking through his answer. Then her phone buzzed.

"I'll give you a little inspiration, and then you give me some. Deal?"

She chewed her lip. She wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but she hadn't been this turned on since the last time she was with him, in person. Based on their conversation so far, she needed release. Whether it was to help him for his game or not.

"Deal."

She stared at her phone for a few minutes, the anticipation of his next text consuming her every thought. She opened and closed their text conversation again, before setting her phone to the side of her bed, out of her reach. But the sudden buzz had her jump across the space easily.