Football Smut Collection

Paulo Dybala - Not A Joke

Warnings: explicit sexual content

She laid in bed, her eyes stuck on the ceiling, the chance for sleeping seemed to be as far as the moon and back. She should have been there in Cardiff. Guilt was eating her up alive. If only she’d managed to push some of her meetings around, if she’d tried a bit harder… It wouldn’t have changed a single thing though.

She was scolding herself for not being there and also for thinking she should have been at the stadium. Paulo knew how important her job was for her and he accepted it, just like she accepted that he wouldn’t always be available when she needed him or that their wedding might be postponed with years due to his busy schedule.

It wouldn’t have changed anything if you’d been there, she repeated to herself again. She wasn’t his lucky charm, especially that most of the times she couldn’t attend the games. Yet, this time the guilt was overwhelming.

This was the most important day of his life and she skipped it for a meeting that lead nowhere in the end. She’d wanted to pick him up from the airport at least but he hated the thought of her driving during night so she just waited for him to get home as patiently as possible.

After some time 3, she heard the car pull up in the yard, and a couple of moments later the door opened. His steps were heavy, the type of movements she recognized any time. When the team won, his steps were feather light, like he was walking on clouds. However when they lost, his steps sounded like he wore concrete boots. She could hear him dropping his sportbag, followed by a heavy sigh before his steps echoed through the hallway to the bathroom.

She wondered if she should go and greet him but knew there was no point. Paulo often shut himself down completely after defeats for a day or so and when it happened, there was nothing to be done or said that could move him out of his apathy besides being left alone to wallow.

His feet lightly thud against the stone floor before his shadow blocked the dim light that came through from the kitchen. With a quiet clap -he was obsessed with the idea of getting motion sensor lamps- the lights turned off and the room fell into complete darkness.

He tiptoed to the bed and slipped under the covers besides her. His arms sneaked around her waist and he pulled her body to his before he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. She sighed softly, uncertain if she should say anything. His hand slipped under her oversized t-shirt -if they’d won, she would have worn his jersey but opted to change after the match, not wanted to put salt into his wounds- and into her panties.

It was quite clear now what the plan was; fuck the pain away. It was fine by her. For one, she’d rarely ever turn him down when it came to sex and two, if it helped him to work through the loss, she was more than willing to help. After all, this was a win for her too. Paulo learnt her body over the course of two years they were together that now he knew where to touch her and how nearly better than she did.

He placed open lips kisses over her shoulder, made her shiver lightly as his fingers lightly caressed her pussy. He wasn’t rushing anything, he took his time to just enjoy her body. His free hand cupped her breast and he massaged softly, her nipples pulling tight against his palm as he switched from one to the other.

Her breath hitched a little as his middle finger slipped over her slit, juices gushing out of her. Her hip bucked to his hand instinctively. His teeth sank into the soft spot at her pulse point, lured a strangled whimper out of her at the same moment as his finger slid into her hot pussy. She knew he’d mark her, it gave him comfort after losses, he might not be able to control everything, he might suffer from the disability to reach triumph all the time but he had her, and he liked her reminding her who she belonged to through this.

His finger moved slowly in and out of her, way slower than what she would have preferred but she knew better than to raise concern. This was his time to decide what they were going to do and how they were going to do it. She enjoyed the ride regardless, even if she was hungry for a little more. She knew if she held on and remained patient, she’d get her reward. Paulo was not one who could remain sensual and slow for too long, especially not after a defeat like the one today.

Another finger slipped into her wetness and her back arched. He pinched her right nipple between his index finger and thumb and she felt her juices gushing against his palms. He picked up his pace as she put her leg over his, spreading her legs in order to give him better access. His palm pressed against her clit and she shook against his body, bit her bottom lip to hold on just a little longer.

“Don’t hold back. Not tonight,” he growled into her ear as his hand slipped around her throat in a light grip. She liked playing with him, holding on for as long as possible before she’d let herself fall but this was not the time he needed that. He crooked his fingers in her and she let out a small scream as she fell. Her muscles tightened around his fingers and he groaned deep in his throat before he pulled his hand away and swirled her around so she was laying on her stomach.

His fingers were quickly replaced by his cock. He wasted no time to push into her tightness. They moaned loud in union. She buried her face into the pillow to contain her whimpers as he thrust into her repeatedly so hard, the bed banged against the wall. His movements were desperate, he was lost in her hotness. Their bodies turned sticky, sweat broke out on their skin as she let him forget for a couple of minutes.

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up, made her hiss as her skull ached sweetly. Their bodies clashed to each other, her hips moved back to him involuntarily as she gripped the headboard and held on. She felt the pull in her belly, her toes curled and her muscles strained almost painfully in her body as she struggled to wait for him through his savage pounds into her.

His breathing was heavy and uneven, his moves turned sloppy, and unruly as her muscles squeezed him a mere breath away from letting everything go.

“Give me what’s mine,” he grunted in a low voice and she cried out, her orgasm washed over her with such force, her vision blurred for a moment. He followed her after three hard thrusts that made her ache through her entire being. “Thank you,” he panted softly, his forehead rested on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“You think this was for you?” She chuckled jokingly. “You can lose the World Cup, I’ll still want my orgasm.”

“Not funny,” he smacked her buttocks playfully and she yelped. Laughter hid in his voice.

“It was not a joke.” She grinned, happy to feel the mood lightening a little bit. He was going to get through this like he fought through everything else.