#minji

—

"It can be anything, really."

The faculty member looks at you with a tinge of derision in her eyes. You can feel it. "Anything?" That fucking intonation in her voice. She knows you're awfully desperate.

"I mean, nothing too physical." You raise your arm halfway up to show her your lanky muscles.

There's about a month left, currently, until the semester's end. You, to start, have zero (0) scholarship hours. To keep this education support money, there's a requirement of twenty-four (24) hours of university work per term for your full scholarship. These can be gradually collected through the events and activities: Orientation Day, International Day, Student Committee. Still, you decided for the last few months to slack off and do absolutely nothing, except taking Rushall Olympic to UEFA Champions League glory three (3) times in a row with the meta tactic of Football Manager Two Thousand and Twenty-Four (2024): 4-2-3-1 gegenpressing.

"You came too late," the faculty member states. She must be about fifty or somewhere around there. The folds in her skin are apparent. And with the nature of her gaze through her rectangular glasses, it's apparent that she's not so fond of a shirker like you, very likely worn out by them over the years. Seoyeon — that's her name.

"Is there, like, really nothing?" you ask with your discouraged look. Your back hunches. Your lips quiver.

Seoyeon scoffs, "You said nothing physical, and that basically filtered out the remaining," and her eyes glance at the computer screen, "three jobs."

You sigh, resigning to your fate. "What are they?"

The faculty member chuckles. "Well, there's this camp for the underprivileged — three days of area department."

That means carrying things, using a handheld radio, and staying up late. You're definitely going to look like an asshole for saying no to it, but you push on through, regardless.

"What's the other two?"

Seoyeon's brows are raised scornfully. You just give her a silent sorry. How dare you say no to a charity camp!

"There's a week of bathroom cleaning."

Seoyeon definitely sees you recoiling. Still, washing your filth is already enough for you. There's no need for others' in your life!

"And this one just came in: a coach for our faculty's women's football team."

Well, now we're talking.

Your eyes widen. You smack your hands on the counter immediately, drawing a few unwelcoming eyes from the other folks working behind the counter. Seoyeon's expression remains rather calm, however.

"Didn't catch you as the sporty type."

A smile unwillingly escapes your lips, "I used to play football," and you weren't particularly good at it, not really. With your rather short height, your days as a central midfielder did give you some experience in this regard. Your passivity and lethargy got in the way of being a professional footballer, though.

Seoyeon chuckles before putting up a remark, "Well, it's definitely great that you show interest in this," and she does a few more clicks on her computer. "Still, I have to say that this is the most complex job out of these three."

"Yeah — tactics, people management, mentality," you say eagerly out of the adrenaline rush you're getting. "Trust me, I've been through it."

"Vanarama South?"

You blink out of a little surprise. "North! Didn't catch you as the sporty type."

Seoyeon chuckles, still remaining wary of her words. "My partner likes to share about their Dagenham and something team."

"Dagenham and Redbridge!"

"Yeah, that one," Seoyeon says with a polite smile. "Well, I can register you in and we're done."

Without a hint of doubt, "Yes, I'll take the job."

—

"Have you heard about the ads in ChatGPT?" Gaeul asks you, one hand holding her tote bag. Her mid-back-length pink hair sways around as she walks beside you in the hallway. She's looking as elegant as ever. Her grey jacket barely covers the professional thirst-trapper text on her white tee.

"Oh, that, yeah, I've seen it. Shit's fucking dystopian."

She sneers, "Gotta re-read everything now."

"Bait or deadass?"

Gaeul just chuckles as she readjusts her bag that's sliding down her shoulder. "So, what are you doing for the scholarship hours? You have zero now, right?"

"I registered for the girls' football team," you answer. The sentence feels splendid rolling off your tongue.

Gaeul shoots you a slightly amazed look, taken aback by your confidence. "Wow."

You giggle. "Yeah, wow."

"So those hours in FM aren't wasted?"

"They're not."

Gaeul elbows you tenderly. "Damn, I have a proper manager friend."

Your heart flutters a bit at your friend's words. You're positive that she means it.

"Any tips?" you ask.

Gaeul thinks sonically with her finger on her lips, then: "Just don't put yours into the players."

Your brow knits, not understanding her advanced joke. "My what?"

"Okay, wait, that was too crass. I shouldn't—"

"Oh." Any tips? Tips, and you laugh in a child-discovering-pee-and-poo-joke kind of way at Gaeul's unapologetically nasty humor. "Yeah, great one. Like I'd stand a chance against tall, athletic, sweaty women."

Gaeul chuckles along with you. "Well, maybe one of them would have a crush on their meek manager! You never know."

"They wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole if we lose the first game. I'm fucking sure of that," you joke, putting yourself under the barbed bat.

"Shy boy," Gaeul teases. "Oh, there they are," and she points forward with her finger gun.

You look away from Gaeul in the direction of her hand to find a few people standing in the hallway. What the hell is she pointing at? Not noticing a damn thing, your eyes glance back at Gaeul, who's still pointing forward. You try to look again.

Until you find them.

Your eyes meet two women chatting, standing in the sea of students, one a tad taller than the other.

"Hey!" Gaeul appears to greet them, almost a shout, and the women turn to you and Gaeul.

The shorter girl's eyes are widened. "Hi!"

"Hi," the taller woman says, also with a smile, albeit seemingly more polite and reserved. You just nod at them, trying not to be a deadweight to Gaeul's social life.

You take a moment to observe Gaeul's friends quietly as they talk. The shorter woman does not hold back with her words, mixing profanities within the descriptions of her recent days and weeks. Her expression feels a whole lot more bubbly and unrestrained. The other girl, though, seems more controlled in her words and posture, emanating an authoritative aura from her tall (well, taller than you) frame.

"Yeah, this fucking sucks. Anyway, who's your friend?" The smaller one's words put you back into the present.

"He's," and Gaeul makes this funky hand movement as if presenting you to your potential dates, "your new manager!"

The two women make these ooh lips together, as if fascinated by your presence. You feel a little more self-conscious about their actions. Still, it's great to meet the players!

"Well, welcome to the team!" the shorter girl says, offering you a handshake. "I'm Hanni Pham, vice-captain."

You accept it. Hanni's hands feel softer than you expected for a footballer. Her grip is rather firm — not too tight.

"Kim Minji, the captain," the bigger woman states with a composed smile. She doesn't offer you a handshake, though, just a small nod.

"Hi, nice to meet you guys," you say diffidently.

"What's your favorite team?" Hanni asks you enthusiastically, tilting her head a little to the side.

You scratch your back, so fucking timid that you need somewhere to grab. "Blackburn? West Ham? I just watch football in general, not especially supporting anyone."

"Do you play FIFA?" Minji quizzes with a small laugh. "I swear if we get another wannabe again."

"No, no," you stammer. "Just FM. Still, I wouldn't call myself an actual manager," you quickly tranquilize any hints of cockiness to Minji and Hanni.

Minji shrugs. "That's better, at least. Can't be arsed to play three at the back again."

Hanni just laughs, and you, out of shyness, start laughing as well. That's your first genuine connection with them. Feels great.

"Hey," Gaeul whispers through your laugh. "We, uh."

"Oh, yeah, I gotta," and you clear your throat, "go now. See you guys at the training!" you utter a tad louder than you would normally do with athletic women. You're shocked, to be honest.

"Okay, see ya. Are you coming with him, Gaeul?" Hanni asks.

"I don't know yet. Gotta cover his ass for the Computer Vision assignment," Gaeul answers with a soft elbow to your side. You give her back an elbow.

"Just do it on the bleachers," Minji breezes.

Gaeul purses her lips, then: "Definitely, maybe."

—

So, Gaeul is doing it on the bleachers.

She's watching you from afar as you arrange your first training session with your players in the evening. It goes pretty well, you'd say. Most of the time, you just let your assistant manager tell you what to do next, and you just say it louder than her to the players — movements, passing, shooting. You're doing your best out of passion and everything. Gotta put those FM hours to use.

"Do we have a match practice session?" you ask your assistant, Yujin, as the players are on their chance conversion training.

"Yeah, we put it at the end, though," Yujin says. "It's the most fun one out of whatever these are."

"Oh, alright."

The sun continues to dip below the horizon of the college. Players are putting in their all under your leadership. It's a lot for your first day, but you're doing well. You watch your players training proudly, though you feel like you're lingering on Minji a bit too long. Your mind is unsure of why, however.

The match practice arrives eventually, and you start working on dividing the women into two teams. You sound the whistle to start the game, calling out fouls and unfair plays between the girls. It goes by pretty well, you'd say, and in a heartbeat, the session ends. Everyone gets their fair share of sweat. Everyone is happy.

"Alright, thanks for today, ladies. I'm so glad to coach you today. See you on Thursday!" you announce, earning a round of applause from the players on the grass before they get up and prepare to leave the practice ground.

Minji and Hanni stay behind, though, sitting on the green, and you're curious as to why they're not getting going yet.

"You guys aren't leaving?" you ask, hands in your pockets.

"We're kind of wanting to ask you something, gaffer," Hanni says with a small chuckle.

"We don't have class tomorrow morning," Minji chimes in. "Wanna come to the bar with us?"

You blink consciously before pondering over the invitation. Going to a bar with your players that you've just spent a measly few hours with under the setting sun. Well, maybe it's a way to get to know them better! Especially with them being your first and second-choice captains. You'll have to bring Gaeul with you, though, in case she wants to bag a guy back to her dorm, or she wouldn't shut up about missing the action.

"Uh, sure?" you answer, voice so damn unsure. "I gotta get changed first, though, can't go to the bar like—"

"We're going like this!" Hanni cuts you off cleanly. Your group is going to fucking stink all over the bar with your dried sweat. "We won't be there long. Just three shots and we'll leave."

How can you say no to such a chance? Preliminary team bonding and all.

—

You just drank your sixth shot.

You're resting your chin on your fist weakly, struggling to hold yourself up. The jazz music grounds you a little bit under the soft glow of the yellowish lights. Still, the melody is no match for the drunkenness you're facing between Hanni and Minji. Gaeul doesn't really help either, instead chatting with a few guys at their table far away from you. Endearingly, that slut. She's nowhere to be found in your fucking sight.

(It's like you're able to register any information with your eyes now, still.)

"Are you drunk yet?" Hanni quizzes blithely.

You slur embarrassingly, voice overly syrupy and groggy, "Yeah."

Hanni just chuckles in response.

"So, what's your deal?" Minji starts. "Why did you become our coach?"

"Manager," Hanni corrects.

"It's the same damn thing at our level," Minji rebuts, pouring herself a shot of strawberry soju. "Anyway, how did you end up being our coach?" There's a brief glance from Minji at Hanni scoffing, but the taller girl carries on the question with you as the coach.

The brain fog of mathematical coincidences rings true inside your head — mostly about 111 and its multipliers comprising 37 and 3 (and its multipliers) as its factors. There's no space for thinking anymore, not really, and you just blurt out, "Scholarship hours."

"Huh," Minji raises her brows a bit before taking another shot down her throat with an exhale afterwards.

Hanni adds, "So, why not just other jobs? I'm sure there's a whole fucking catalogue of scholarship work more interesting than managing a women's football team."

You giggle drunkenly. "It's either this or cleaning the bathroom."

"So, you're saying that you like sweaty women more than cleaning the bathroom?" Hanni asks playfully before taking a swig out of her strawberry soju bottle.

With a shrug, "Perchance," and the women laugh softly.

"To be honest, you seem more competent than those FIFA knobheads," Minji states.

You just nod dumbly, not knowing what to respond without looking overtly arrogant.

"They tried to play Minji as either a wide center-back or those utter woke nonsense roles: Mezzala, Carrilero, roaming playmaker," Hanni chimes in, looking somewhat frustrated with a fucker closing off her sentence.

"What do you have in your mind, though?" Minji asks you. "Are you gonna be another Amorim?"

Intoxicated out of your consciousness, you reply with an intention to please them, "Of course not. I'll adjust to my players!"

Hanni laughs before saying, "Double pivot of us, that's our only request. I feel like we play better with Minji as a box-to-box and me as a playmaker."

"Her sharp eyes and my muscles," Minji adds, flexing her arm for you to see. There's a pang of realization in your mind, and you now know why your eyes lingered on her for a tiny bit too long. It's her fucking biceps! "4-2-3-1, 4-3-3, or even Burnley Dyche-ball works — hoofing it to Yoon and Kazuha up front."

"I'll keep that in mind," you say, slurring out of your inhibition. Your nose notices the smell of dried sweat from Minji's body. It's supposed to make you heave, but somehow, you are starting to get addicted to it.

Hanni joins the show, moving a little closer to you. "What can we do to be sure of that, though?" she asks, and there's almost this hint of sultry in her voice. You can't quite confirm it, too drunk to explain the cause.

You blink, trying to regain your sobriety to no avail. "Play well!" you stammer out, and that's your only advice for now. Hanni's smell is overwhelming you as well, fighting against the stark aroma of Minji with her lighter, less pungent body scent. Your brain short-circuits for a heartbeat with your eyes laid upon the space between Hanni's neck and collar. The supple flesh of her chest is almost bared, simply covered by her black sports bra.

Minji edges in behind you. "Really? Just that?" You glance towards her, and there's also the hanging down of her shirt that reveals her pert breasts sitting under the white sports bra. Your spine stiffens under the powerful scent of the women and the sight of their toned bodies. The jazzy music doesn't help either, further indulging you in this aromatic seduction of your footballers.

"I'm sure there are other ways we can show you our teamwork," Hanni says, pouting, tilting her head to the side a bit as though she's asking for something sinister.

"I can show you my Rushall save! I have it on my computer here," and you pick up your conveniently placed bag and grab your MacBook from it. Finally, you get to show someone your Champions League glory — almost twenty seasons in the making. This is definitely not from the fact that you're awfully apprehensive and horny for them so you try to use FM to cover it up.

"Let's do it at our place, Coach," Minji half-orders, and you halt your movements. Her breath smells of strawberries and mint and some leftover alcohol. "Perhaps you can insert your plug into our sockets there."

Ooh, free electricity.

(It's sex, you're not a dumbass.)

As you walk out of the bar, following Minji while holding onto Hanni's shoulder, your eyes find Gaeul again. The pink hair really helps with your built-in Find My. She's talking to a guy that you don't recognize. You detach from Hanni to say goodbye to Gaeul for the night regardless.

"Hey," you greet.

Gaeul turns to you, craning her neck slightly to see the subjects behind you. "Oh, you're leaving," and she looks at her watch for a second, "now?"

"Yeah, I gotta," and you think of an excuse aside from having sex with your two seductive, sweaty players. You come up with one: "I miss FM."

Gaeul chuckles sarcastically. "Right, FM. Fuck me."

You give her an awkward smile, body bubbling with alcohol. "Football Manager."

"More like Feet, Balls, and Massage," Gaeul mocks heartily, and the guy she's talking to laughs at the pun. "Minji and Hanni's stinky feet," and she pinches her nose together as if she's disgusted by the thought.

"See you tomorrow, if I can make it," you bid Gaeul farewell, not putting up with her bullshit (again, endearing) any further before Hanni and Minji change their minds.

Gaeul just laughs before waving at you. "See ya."

—

You're unfamiliar with their dorm, really. Never once have you been here before during your four-year stretch of being a student here.

The elevator ride doesn't really help with the intoxication running in your veins. Their smell overwhelms you easily in the confined space that's rising through the floors. Atop the alcohol, you feel even dizzier than when you were in the bar, when they teased you about inserting your plug into their sockets.

(The MacBook charging adapter isn't that big, if we're being honest.)

As you enter their room, the scent of the spring breeze wafts into your nostrils, mixed with their dried sweat in front of you. You take a deep breath to feel the atmosphere of their living space thoroughly. Filled with plushies and dolls, a double bed sits in the center of the room next to a wall. There's a Lauren James poster on the other side — Chelsea tenure. You place your backpack at the side of their bed as Minji and Hanni leap onto it.

"Fucking hell," Hanni groans into the bed, utterly exhausted, and she turns to you. "It's okay, boss. You can sit here."

You sit rather shyly on their bed, taking in the feeling of their cozy room. Your room is a little better, you'd say — bias and all — but you wouldn't mind having a stay-over at theirs.

Minji rises from the bed, smirking. "So, what is this Rushall save of yours? Can we see it?"

"Yeah, sure!" and you pick up your MacBook shakily along with your adapter. "Where's the socket?"

Hanni points towards the portion of the wall beside the bed. "There."

Your eyes find it with no problem. Then, you insert the plug into it with a click, and you hear a moan. Your mind is certain that it's Hanni's — the light intonation and everything. You turn to her and give her a blank look.

Hanni giggles. "It has been a while since somebody else used my socket, so it's a great feeling to have those holes filled by you, gaffer."

You nod. "Well, try to clean it often, or at least find a cover for it. Dust might make it deteriorate faster." There are probably no innuendos stemming from that sentence.

Another cute laugh from Hanni, then: "Yes, gaffer."

You boot up the game, takes a while, but you get there regardless. The game looks the same as it is a few days ago: tactics, players, matches. You did save the game properly! Minji and Hanni scoot over beside you as you start going through the tiniest details of your game.

"So, this is my tactic: a fuckass 4-2-3-1 gegenpress. It's everything you can expect from the tactic, really," you start, clicking through the panels of your tactic. "Counter-press, high tempo, counter-attack, high line."

"Who's that in the midfield?" Minji asks tenderly, pointing at the double pivot sitting in the middle of the pitch.

"This is Nik, bought him from Arsenal for dirt cheap because I need the home-grown quota, and this is Patrick, got him from Hannover for, also, dirt cheap. Their stats are pretty standard, but they play well," you ramble.

"So, like, they're just two normal defensive mids?" Hanni quizzes, putting a finger to her mouth as if it makes her look fluffier and more adorable (it does).

"Yeah, it's the meta right now — two DMs. I'm an engine exploiter more than a tactician," you admit humbly. "I'm not that much of a proper manager." Your head falls slightly with a small, pathetic whine. You hunch your back out of guilt.

Hanni and Minji chuckle softly before the former tilts your chin up with her finger. "Hey, it's fine. I'm sure you're miles better than those FIFA wannabes," she lifts you up with her kindness. Your heart beats a little faster as you smell the strawberries and salt in her mouth — intimate.

"Really?"

"Really," Minji states, picking up your chin and turning you to her instead of Hanni. "They think they're the best at football management just because they can flick their fingers faster than others."

You whine cutely at Minji, who then smiles approvingly back.

"I have a question for you," she says, leaning in so close to you to the point that your heart is exploding from the smell of her strawberries-plus-mint breath.

"Yeah?"

"If we're in the game," and Minji glances at Hanni for a split second. "What would be our position? On top? Or under someone else?"

Minji's spouting sexual nonsense for the sake of being dirty and suggestive with you. She's trying to have sex! Hanni laughs tenderly at her words as well. Still, gotta put up your nerdy façade to not look like a hopeless horn-dog and get laughed at!

You half-stutter, half-joke out, chuckling awkwardly, "Well, you're playing under me, of course."

That's rather charged, surely, even if the cadence is all over the place and merely unintentional. Minji and Hanni giggle at your profound words.

"Under you? Seems like a fucking splendid position to be in, my lovely gaffer," Hanni says.

They're trying so hard to fuck.

"Me? Lovely?"

Hanni just giggles before continuing, completely ignoring your self-doubt, "Tell me, in the game, would you play us as two DMs? Or would you," and Hanni uses your trackpad and moves the left defensive midfielder on your screen up by a position. Oh, so Minji is left-footed, and the formation is now asymmetrical. "Adjust for us?"

As much as you love the symmetry of your 4-2-3-1 gegenpress, you have to admit that real life cannot be defined by hard-coded grids. Maybe you'll have Minji on top of Hanni, roaming from end-to-end as the latter covers the defensive line below her, spraying passes to her teammates. Maybe you should just let them lead, unshackling their creativity and having them maraud your midfield.

"I'll adjust accordingly!"

Hanni nods positively, smiling. "A great coach should be flexible, definitely."

"Maybe," Minji cuts her off, but the words are still somewhat reinforcing each other. "You should have a principle — something that you believe in," she says, moving in a little closer to you. The danger of her proximity is there, surely — her thighs against yours — and there's her strong, womanly, post-practice scent radiating from her skin.

"An idea?" you inquire.

"Something like that," Minji answers with a shrug. "There needs to be a balance, of course. You give the players something, and you demand something from them."

A sound, then: "I kinda get it now," Hanni says. Just like Minji, she edges in. You feel her thighs on yours. The light smell of her body wafts into your nostrils. And with the blended scent of their bodies, you're so fucking hard right now.

You move your MacBook up a little to cover the erection under your shorts.

"Compromising," Hanni utters. "Give and take."

The position you're in is also obviously compromising as hell — sitting between them and utterly overwhelmed by their touches and smells like this.

"You need to understand your players and yourself," Minji states. "Same applies to the players."

"It's a team game," Hanni chimes in. "Gotta have some goddamn empathy."

"Do you think you have empathy, Coach?" Minji asks, rotating your neck towards her by the chin. This is the first time you've noticed how soft her hand is. Her face is so close to yours that your lips almost touch. "Or are you just treating this job as another scholarship fodder?"

You're not treating them as such, of course. Two strong, sweaty, athletic women against you — your body won't stand a damn chance. Still, being this close to them does evoke a tinge of warmth out of your lazy, sluggish ass. You're going to give your all to them!

"Of course not," you answer, and the women appear to approve of your words.

"Your heart is in the right place, Coach," Hanni praises. "Still, not everything is in its right place yet."

Yeah, your cock still isn't inside them yet!

"Are you just gonna keep me guessing?" you ask, with the last of your restraints not to tie it into debauchery.

Minji scoffs, and: "Well, do you want to?" She's practically squeezing her thighs with yours now. You get goosebumps as her hand lands on your back, pushing your spine straight.

Hanni joins, placing her hand on your knee, and you squirm. Her thighs press into yours, effectively interposing you between her and Minji. "Or you can just keep explaining your save to us. We don't mind, can call it a match tactics session."

"I'd gladly explain my game to you ladies," you joke, knowing full well that the air is shifting towards you and Minji and Hanni having the hottest, sweatiest, freakiest sex in the world.

"One last thing, I think," Minji says, rubbing your back with her soft hand lovingly. "Gaeul has been relaying us some," and a pause, as if it's going to up the tension of this scene (it does), "information."

"It's basically a background check, don't worry," Hanni assures as she caresses your lower thigh with her palm. Your lower body shivers slightly. "Still, we're impressed!"

Minji giggles before continuing, "Yeah, Gaeul said that you possess many tangible qualities."

Gaeul? Not talking shit about you? That's rare. "Color me surprised!" you utter with your usual dose of self-doubt. Minji and Hanni just laugh quietly.

"She told us you're passionate," Minji begins.

"She told us you're empathetic," Hanni adds.

"And the most important one," Minji speaks, folding your MacBook down as if she's preparing for a physical movement. Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest. Your hands tremble restlessly on the palmrest. Your legs quiver anxiously under your computer. Nik and Patrick disappear from your eyes as the screen sleeps. Still, you're holding your own somewhat steadily.

Not until Minji opens her mouth to enchant you with her words, though — first cursing of the night.

"She told us you're a slut."

A light push from Hanni is all it takes to make your back land on the bed with a small thud. Minji grabs your computer away from you to the nightstand — your precious computer that's covering your erection.

"Is that a training cone in your pants, gaffer?" Hanni asks coyly, a finger to her lips. "Can we play with it?"

"Perchance," you respond.

Hanni just chuckles before bringing her hands to the edge of your shorts. Your body trembles with the anticipation of your cock springing free from its confines. She runs her fingers along your slutty waist teasingly. Fuck, the fabric is about to rip if Hanni keeps playing with you like this.

On the other side, Minji climbs onto the bed, crawling towards you, and her neckline is drooping down a little. It's a shame your line of sight doesn't allow you to look at her shapely tits sitting under the sports bra. Your breathing hastens as she climbs atop your body. You want to reach out and touch her, but you're too stunned to do anything right now.

Minji crawls forward until the textile of her shorts is just above your face. The smell of her dried sweat becomes awfully intense here. Your atmosphere becomes her and only her.

"I hope your mouth can do more than motivate us," Minji coos, taunting you with her hands running along the upper edge of her trunks.

Hanni keeps teasing you along the hemline of your shorts. She finds your boxers now, but she won't pull them down and free your cock just yet — not now.

Fucking Pham.

"Fuck, I can talk about my tactics," you joke to Minji.

She scoffs, "Well, then, I wanna know," and she pushes her garment down a little, just enough for the flimsiest of her pubic hair peeking out from her spandex — neatly trimmed, well-kempt. "How do you plan to penetrate our defensive line?"

"Gegenpressing is not allowed, I suppose?"

"That's too aggressive," Minji deflects with a laugh.

You try to find some witty-ass response to the question, pondering on it, thinking about it. Your arms are lying still beside your body, not daring to touch Minji's somewhat muscular frame.

You come to an answer eventually, and it involves using your hands to demonstrate the tactic.

"The core idea is to maraud the flanks. Overloading the wide defenders always works."

You start feeling her outer thigh just above the knee. Minji chokes on her breath. That's enough to keep you going. You run your hands up her skin, making her feel the pleasure of your stroke. Your hands slip under her shorts, feeling how her skin heats against your palm.

Below, Hanni's thumbs are dipping below your hemline, threatening to yank your garment off your legs. Her fingers run along the upper fraction of your trimmed hair, making your lower body squirm with pleasure. She's lingering so close to your hard cock that it hurts. You can do nothing about it, though. Shaking your feet doesn't communicate a damn thing.

"Your footballs are so big, gaffer, suits big girls like us," Hanni murmurs, and finally, she begins releasing your dick from the tight prison of your pants. She pulls the garment down at an agonizingly slow pace as you're being completely overwhelmed by the scent of Minji's toned body.

"How are you gonna attack the central areas, huh?" Minji inquires, tipping your chin up a bit to her eyes. They're so full of lust. The pleats of her descending shorts and boxers finally clash against your hands, and you have to tease her on the fabric instead.

"It depends on who's having the ball right now," you answer. "My wingers cut inside, and my full-backs do low crosses from the byline."

"So, who's having the ball right now?" Minji asks.

"Hanni," you joke. Minji finds hilarity in it, laughing and easing the tension in the process.

"Fuckass," Minji curses. Then, she pushes her shorts down a little further, and you can see the opening of her cunt. The fucking smell of her core assaults your nose easily, stripping away your frail defenses as she hovers over your face — raw, musky, lust-inducing. She trims her hair. It's not quite shaved, and to be honest, it riles you up much more than a smooth cunt.

Hanni ever so slowly pulls the shorts and boxers down your legs. Your feet try to communicate quietly with pathetic movements, but Hanni just laughs at you instead. Again, fucking Pham.

Eventually, your cock springs free from your clothes once Hanni pulls them down far enough. Precum flies everywhere around your cock, and you hear this cute squeal from Hanni as well. It probably lands on her pretty face.

"Fucking hell, it's goddamn massive, gaffer," Hanni opines about the size of your training cone, which is a euphemism for, let's just say, your penis. You wouldn't call it big (it's like somewhere between five (5) and six (6) inches hard), but if Hanni says so, you'll go along with her.

Hanni pulls the garments down the rest of your legs in a hurry, and you kind of shimmy your feet to ditch them away. Now, she's met with your cock standing tall. It's hard under the soft glow of the room's lights, and you're rumbling in anticipation of what she's going to do next with it.

On the front, Minji stands up on the bed, resulting in you whining out of disappointment. Her tall figure, though, spellbinds your eyes — the muscles, the veins. God, she's a fucking treat. She pushes the lower half of her clothes down the rest of her rather long legs, eventually, and they rest on your chin. One more time, God, the fucking aroma of her dried sweat from her shorts and underwear. Each second of exposure alters your brain cells into these lechery-ridden units, one by one.

Minji is aware of your need for it, though, and she kicks her garments away onto the floor. Again, you whine in displeasure, but you don't move for it, not when they're trapping your legs and your head like this. Maybe, definitely, they'll grant you something far greater than Minji's sweat-soaked underwear.

"You really are a nasty little slut," Minji scoffs before sinking to her knees. And finally, you get to bask in the sight and scent of her cunt. She trims her hair neatly, not quite completely shaven clean. But to restate, it fucking makes you even more fucking feral. She's already glistening with her juice — wet. Then, there's the smell — the tart, sweaty smell of her pussy that almost knocks you out with how fast your heart has been beating for the taste of it.

Down under (not in Australia, just your dick), Hanni starts feeling your leaky, twitching cock with caution, drawing a line up your length, rubbing over your foreskin. You feel her hot breath against your body, making you quiver with apprehension.

"Perhaps I should just jerk you off and get this over with, gaffer," and you see Hanni smile and giggle devilishly through Minji's thigh gap.

You instantly negate, pointing at her, "I'll fucking drop you if you do that."

Hanni coos, still rubbing your cock, "I'll have to sit on the sideline for a while if you fuck my pussy, nonetheless."

Your brow tightens a bit. What the fuck is she talking about? Hernia?

"Come on, do you really think I'm gonna let your cum go to waste, gaffer? You don't like cumming inside your players?"

Oh.

Pregnancy.

Your brain is too fucked-out to protest against her words. And to be completely clear, you find the notion of unloading yourself inside Hanni's wanting cunt alluring as well.

Hanni doesn't make a show of taking off her shorts, instead yanking them and her panties down her legs in a haste. She climbs onto the bed before straddling you with her thighs. You cannot shift your legs freely now, not that you want to, though. Your eyes just take a look at whatever you can see through Minji's legs — the slim waist, the yummy thighs, the soaked cunt. You're so ready to let her fuck you up.

Up front, Minji starts running her hand through your hair, feeling the texture and the oiliness of your head. It has been a while since someone ruffled your hair like this. Your eyes roll up with bliss until Minji finally sinks down.

The taste of Minji's cunt explodes on your tongue at the first contact — salty, intense. "Fuck!" Minji groans from the depths of her lungs as you kiss her cunt, even if you're not quite moving your lips yet. The voice bounces all over the room. Let's hope the walls are thick here.

Hanni doesn't let up either, also lining your cock up against her wet opening. Your body squirms helplessly once she drops herself down ever so slowly. You try to thrust your hips up into her cunt as well, but Hanni pins you down with the strength of her hand. With each inch, you moan into Minji's pussy until you hilt inside Hanni. Fucking fuck, Hanni's cunt is just so fucking tight.

"Shit," Hanni utters with a little drag in her tone, "you're stretching my defenses wide, Coach."

And you can't really answer, too busy eating Minji's cunt. You appreciate the sentiment, still.

Hanni just stays there for a while, perchance feeling the way your cock pulses and throbs inside her. She tightens and loosens around your cock in a rhythm. You fucking swear that you can just cum right now, inside of Hanni fucking Pham.

Minji sets up the first grinding on your face, eventually, and you tag along with her movements by tongue-fucking her musky, sweaty cunt. You taste her inner walls, feeling how the muscles contract around your flesh, feeling how she pulses, feeling how she heaves. Minji keeps moaning out of the bliss she's feeling from your dexterity. You're an impressive pussy-eater, magnificent even!

With a few more thrusts of your tongue, Minji repositions herself slightly. She moves down until your tongue can't reach the inside of her cunt anymore, instead coming into contact with her clit, and that's when she groans even more raucously into the air that reeks of sweat and sex. Her body spasms on your face, and you can't help but keep stimulating her to climax.

Down south, Hanni begins grinding her pussy on your cock. She picks up her pace without relenting. Your eyes roll up with the pleasure of her walls contracting around your hard cock buried deep inside her. Hanni's moans come out more reserved than those of Minji's — less intensity, lower scale — as if their personalities are switched upon feeling the pleasure from your body. You don't mind, nevertheless, it's good to have two sweaty women riding you!

Hanni's hands grip your shirt firmly. The grinds become bounces. Your toes curl helplessly behind Hanni with the pleasure wracking through your cock, and Minji keeps suffocating you with her musky cunt. The wet claps of Hanni's delectable thighs against your hips echo all over the room — this revered sanctuary of your salacious act.

With the staggering sensation on your pliant body, you can feel your climax building up in your loins. Far, but rapidly approaching. Too quick for your own liking, but you are thankful for every second you've been below them. Thank you, god of sweaty sex, if there's one.

"I'm close," you rasp against Minji's flesh, voice all muffled by her cunt.

The response from Minji is that she ups her ante on your handsome face, determined to cum before you lose the desire for them. Her hand is still in your hair, almost yanking you back and forth under her pussy to control your cervical movements. Your head is slammed into the soft cushion of the bed repeatedly. It doesn't hurt, at least. Hanni rides your cock with even more haste, sending endless waves of bliss through your litheness. Your body becomes a mere fucktoy for the girls now, and you're ecstatic, really. Despite how rough it is, despite how careless they are, you still want to ask for more of Hanni bouncing on it crazy style, controlling your cock with an unmatched flair, and Minji smothering you with the salivating pungency of her cunt.

"Can I just shoot it into your face, huh?" Minji asks with a small chuckle.

You just nod profusely, so much need for her juice on your features, maybe even on your tongue.

Hanni's moans are still softer than Minji's, but you can sense them growing needier and less composed. Her delicious thighs feel so soft around your hips. Your pubic bone feels the tip of her fingers that are rubbing her sensitive spot in frantic circles.

"Don't fucking pull out, gaffer," Hanni manages, giggling mischievously. Her hands are, of course, pinning your pliable physique in place to keep you from spilling yourself outside of her womb.

You hum against Minji's core as a response to Hanni's demand.

Your inhibitions start collapsing under the weight of Hanni and Minji's barrage on your senses — sweat, their muscles, the softness of their flesh. Their descant moans fill your brain with endorphins that push you towards the brink of an earth-shattering climax. Your body cannot hold itself against their constant assaults anymore. Time to cum!

One last time, three things.

First, Minji's stamina and strength make her perfect for the box-to-box midfielder role.

Second, Hanni's vision and technique make her perfect for the deep-lying playmaker role.

Third, your timidity and submissiveness make you perfect as, for them, the seat role.

At the moment you unload yourself inside Hanni's cunt, your nerves are completely fried. You moan whorishly into Minji's body as your own pleasure ruins your axons and dendrites. Their moans bounce off the hopefully thick walls of their own room — Hanni's cute squeals and Minji's deep groans. Your cock spills and shoots ropes and jets of cum into Hanni. And on top of your body, she and Minji start gushing their girlcum onto you as they orgasm as well.

Minji's squirt enters your wanting mouth, and you can do nothing but accept her liquid down your throat — salty, musky. The act itself makes your eyes roll up with intense pleasure of swallowing Minji's pungent fluid. Its taste just fucking explodes on your tongue — unlike anything you've ever tasted. You're such a whore for her.

Hanni, still riding the hell out of your soul, lets out torrents of her juice onto your shirt, marking the garment as yours and hers. You feel this tickle in a similar vein to when water hits your stomach (duh). Her thighs strain, wrapping tightly around your hips as she cums, stopping you from involuntarily pulling out. The conception is obvious: she wants your baby!

The three of you descend from the peak eventually, slowly catching breaths as the tension deflates. Your body is utterly used and abused by your players. Their pussies are just otherworldly — tight, wet, punishing. Hanni's is milking your cock eagerly, and Minji's is smothering you with sharp tartness.

Minji lifts herself up a bit, returning to you the ability to talk freely. The air around your nostrils is still unmistakably her, but being granted such a gift is almost enough for you. Just almost, the sweat particles are still assaulting your lungs.

"Good thing you didn't scream, Siu, when you came," you humor.

"Red card for atrocious joke," Minji heartily sneers with her deep and somewhat now-raspy voice. She dismounts your face, finally, and you feel the air surrounding you return to the faint smell of their spring-like air freshener and just a hint of sex and sweat.

As Minji leaves your mouth and sits on the bed, Hanni comes into view fully for the first time tonight. You see a gush of your own cum leaking out of her wanton cunt, and she just giggles with a finger to her lips.

"Thanks for filling me up, gaffer," Hanni says before pulling herself off your cock. More cum drips out of her cunt onto you, though she doesn't bother stuffing your essence back inside her. "Gonna feel so good when your sperm pierces my egg."

You just look at her blankly as a response, unsure of what to say. Let's hope it's just the heat of the moment and she'll decide not to get pregnant with your baby.

"We should take a shower," Minji says.

"Together!" Hanni chimes in, and Minji just shrugs and smiles a little.

You sit up on the mattress with the power of your weak abs before following them into their bathroom for, certainly, perchance, a few rounds more of exploring one another's bodies.

Right at the door's threshold, however, Minji stops you for a heartbeat as Hanni enters the bathroom.

"Wait," she utters.

"What is it?"

She turns back to you, her height looking so towering here — majestic — and she pinches your cheek. A smile appears on her sweaty face. "Slut."