sir-thisisadndserver

You made him his meals- breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with snacks included, based on the diet that his trainer provided for you both. The week leading up to a fight night was the worst for his diet and mental health- because that’s when his cut would start. His usual meals were cut in half or replaced by a protein shake altogether. Andrew even measured how much water he drank because by Friday he had to lose 10 pounds to make weight. The first day of his cut would be fine- he’d wake up before the sun even peeked through your windows and go to the bathroom to weigh himself before texting the weight to his coach. He stretched- did nothing to promote strength anymore so much as to promote sweating and get his movements down to a science before his fight.

You would find him shadow boxing outside in the heat- eyes closed so he can get the motions right in his head while you made breakfast. Andrew went from almost 4,000 calories down to maybe 1,500 just to maintain his energy- his breakfast was now egg whites and fruit with black coffee 6 oz., you watched him pour it into the measuring cup beforehand. After breakfast it was back to training while you made sure hotel and flight was booked properly- that cars were rented and interviews were scheduled while you watched him jump rope for nearly 15 minutes straight before practicing his footwork. His coach said he was using too much force- too much tension so Andrew was making sure he stayed on the balls of his feet to preserve his energy and strength if the fight went too long.

It was maybe two days of that routine until his cut started. Anger and sleep deprivation started to set in. Andrew was mentally drained- he was hungry, dehydrated, and deprived. Because another thing his coach believed in?

Abstinence.

No big distractions the week of a fight. You would field all his calls and appointments, you would handle the business and make sure nothing stressed him that wasn’t dire until the actual fight night. You wouldn’t even kiss him. Not even a peck before bed because you knew if Andrew had a taste then he’d breakdown and inhale you for as long as he could. You almost had to sleep in the guest bedroom a few times because you’d feel him at your back in the middle of the night and somewhere between grinding in his sleep or you moving around in yours- he got hard. Painfully so and sometimes he was so pent up that you’d feel his hips press into your ass for some relief and you would have to pull away. Force yourself from him because you were just as needy and desperate.

Cold showers for both of you would help. Andrew’s was spent letting the icy water rain down on his sore muscles- achy body desperate for some relief but his coach would tell him to not even jerk off before a fight. That was just as bad as sex. The pent up testosterone and anger would be fuel for Andrew- it would become the driving force and power that would help him win. Cumming would help him relax and the last thing he needed was his star athlete relaxing before a fight. But you didn’t have the same rules- you would spend your freezing showers biting your fist and using your fingers to rub your clit and help dull the ache in your pussy. But it never helped. You would cum- panting and shaking but all you would want was Andrew to be the one who made you cum.

What’s worse was that Andrew could tell- maybe it was to torture himself more on his end but Andrew knew the look you had. When you’d watch him come back from his jog dripping with sweat- the way you would bite your lip and how your eyes would hungrily stare at him while you watched the beads of sweat drip down his chest and melt into the waistband of his shorts. When you’d sit by the pool and listen to the way he would grunt while holding a plank until failure- heavy breathing through his nostrils and soft grunts that sound similar to the way he did when he was on top of you. Sliding between your pussy and forcing your leg a little higher up his torso to get the angle that makes you see stars just right. Andrew knew the look you had- so he followed you after you said you were going to shower. Stood outside of the door and listened to the little whimpers you bit back while you attempted to quell the need you had for him.

God it was fucking torture. But Andrew couldn’t touch you. Right? You knew better than to ruin his fight over being a horny bitch for your boyfriend- but Andrew didn’t want you to suffer along with him. He wasn’t fucking selfish, if anything- Andrew was a fucking giver and maybe that was the worst part about denying yourself the pleasure of his touch during fight week. He left you more than satisfied. And it was torture to Andrew- that he couldn’t fuck you but- he could still bring you pleasure even if he couldn’t stuff you full of his cock and feel the way you clench and spasm around him when you cum. It was fucking torture for the both of you and Andrew wasn’t going to let you suffer any longer when the fight was still days away and he knew he’d be sore and bruised and bloody after that you’d be too scared to touch him- but he saw the way you bit your lip and how your leg shook with anxiety and pent up sexual frustration while you both sat and watched his opponent’s last few fights on opposite ends of the couch.

God you wanted to slap him- how fucking dare he walk around in nothing but his boxer briefs that hugged his thighs so well. That showed you the swell of his ass that you wanted to bite and gave you an uninhibited view of his soft dick that was still fucking huge and made you clench around nothing when he passed by to sit and watch along with you. From the corner of your eyes you saw how wide he sat- how this thick fucking thighs took up the entire end of the couch and the ripple of his abs moving like waves every fucking time he took a breath. The stress ball in his fist was clenched within an inch of its life from how hard Andrew worked to keep himself concentrated on the tv but dammit he could feel you watching him. The way you bit your lip and finally you stood with a pathetic excuse of- “I’m gonna take a shower,” so you could rub your pussy and cum but his heavy hand grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“C’mere,” he grunts- tugging you into his lap with no effort at all while you’re left dazed. Gasping his name and struggling to get out of his hold because you know what he’s doing- you know what he wants. Pathetic little whimpers of his name followed along with ‘we can’t’ or ‘baby wait’ while he ignores your halfhearted attempts to pull away from him- because the second you were in his lap? The second you felt his cock stiffen underneath you from the way you wriggled and moved about? You melted. Moaned pathetically into the hot air while Andrew nipped and licked at your neck- heavy hands that were sore and bruised pawed at your body. “You need this,” it was simple. Andrew knew you needed to cum. Andrew didn’t care if he couldn’t cum. Andrew wanted you to cum. “Been so good for me sweetheart,” doing everything you can to keep him healthy and keep him on track- maintaining his schedule and sanity while neglecting yourself. Taking care of him- reminding him to take his vitamins and even measuring out water for him and making his meals and not eating in front of him because you knew how hard it was for him to eat plainly while you got to eat what you wanted.

“Let me take care of you,” he keeps cutting you off- silencing your protests with his slightly chapped lips and swallowing your whimpers with his tongue against yours. God it felt so fucking good- his rough hands dragging your shirt up so he can lick and suck at your chest with needy until you start to grind in his lap. Your clothed pussy catches his hard-on just right- rubbing against him to relieve yourself of the ache and you could feel how thick and stuff he got with only a few minutes of kissing and touching you. Twin groans breaking the kiss- tongues no longer tangled together but you continue panting in each other’s mouths before you try to pull away. You can’t- you’ll make him cum like this- you know how stressed he is and when you try and tell Andrew that you’re fine and you can wait another week or two he’s already manhandling you onto one of his deliciously thick thighs.

“Ride,” it’s a command- Andrew isn’t asking you anymore. He’s not waiting for you to ask permission or waiting for you to leave the bed late at night for you to stuff your fingers into your pussy and give yourself a pathetic orgasm that won’t stop the burn between your thighs. Andrew wants you to take it from him- to grind your covered pussy over the thick quad muscles of this thighs and give yourself whatever pleasure you want since he can’t fuck you the way you deserve.

“Andrew- b-baby no I-” you’re sputtering- shaking your head because you need to deny yourself the pleasure and he shuts you up with two strong hands grabbing your hips to drag you up the meat of his thigh. “Fuck!” You probably scream it in his ear but the way your panties rub against your needy pussy lips felt too fucking good and Andrew was moaning- panting right alongside you. Your pleasure was his pleasure- he unfortunately got off on you getting off and- god this was bad. This could go bad so fast but you were weak- useless to stop him from manhandling you up and down his leg. Your warm pussy was intoxicating to him- he swears he could already feel your wetness seeping from your panties and onto his skin but even more perfect was the way you whined his name. Little broken and choked off gasps of “ah~ Andrew!” into the tiny space between you both.

“Please baby- I need you to cum,” it was like he was living vicariously through your orgasm- mumbling against your chest before his lips wrapped around your nipple to suck and scrape his teeth against. He should’ve taken your panties off first- should have rid you of all your clothes before forcing you to grind on his thigh like this so he could feel your wet folds catch the soft waves of his muscles. Both of your arms grab onto Andrew- one hand threading through his soft curls to pull and grab onto while the other claws at his back. The wide expanse of his shoulders getting attacked by your nails and there’s no way he’d be able to tell his coach that you didn’t do it- no way to deny that he wasn’t between your perfect thighs when the evidence was on his body but god he couldn’t give less of a fuck that he does now.

“Like that- just like that pretty girl,” he can feel the way your thighs clench- how you’re already so fucking close with the way your breathing gets shorter and the way you can barely finish saying his name without cutting yourself off to moan. “Please baby- little more okay?” Muffled- mumbled into your skin before he resumes licking your other nipple into his warm mouth. Every drag of your cunt across his thigh sends electricity straight through your body- your clit catching the fabric of your underwear perfectly and you’re so fucking close. You just- god you felt so fucking empty. Pussy clenching around your own wetness and nothing else while your body moves itself back and forth- Andrew tensing his thigh to give you a little more to use for your own selfish gain. Every roll of your hips and scrape of his teeth give you just that much more and you’re about to beg him to fuck you until you finally feel his hand at your hip slide down to grab the meat of your ass before going lower. The tips of his thick fingers just barely brushing at your entrance-

One more grind- maybe you even try go a little too far but you desperately need to sink back onto Andrew’s fingers that tease at your wetness. He wants you to use him- wiggling his digits a little with every glide of your pussy until finally you go back just a little more and you whimper when he’s finally inside you. “That’s it,” like it’s what he wanted all along- like it makes him feel better to feel how wet and fucking needy you were for him. Such a good girl- neglecting yourself for him? “Better?” Almost sounding condescending- taken to fucking you with his fingers now because the feeling has you already riding a high that you can’t even keep rolling your hips anymore. You feel it- blinding heat and pleasure bubbling up with every drag of his thick fingers through your leaking pussy.

“Keep going,” his lips dragging along your jaw- biting your skin because he knows you’re close and he wants to feel you cum. Your sweet pussy juices drip down his hands- loud wetness making the room sound fucking nasty and all it does is encourage Andrew to use his thumb to circle around the right hole of your ass. His other hand continues forcing your hips to roll over his thigh- your clit dragging back and forth and when you tighten around his fingers you all but cry out when you finally cum after he runs again that perfect spot inside you.

“Yes! Andrew- fuck!” Finally- you’re cumming- your body gives into the pleasure he’s forcing onto you. But he doesn’t stop- if anything- Andrew is drunk off your body. He’s high off the way you sound and feel- how your skin tastes and he needs more. “W-wait! Andrew-” standing with you in his arms- tongue back in your mouth to silence your pleas. He needs to taste your pussy- he needs to bury his tongue inside you and hopefully he can go back to concentrating on his fight this week.

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