athlete’s village




Though I’d fallen asleep with a gorgeous 18-year-old swimmer flanking me on each side, I awoke in my room completely alone. Glancing over, I saw that my roommate’s bed was still perfectly made; Tyler must have hooked up with someone last night and never come home. No biggie, bed-hopping was an unofficial sport at the Olympics.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I sat up and glanced down at the precious hardware still lying on my chest. I used my thumb to rub it, smiling proudly at the accomplishment of earning my own Gold Medal. And then I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly at just how tired I really felt right now.

Years of preparation, months of hardcore training, and two days of intense preliminary and then final competition had boiled down to a single, spectacular, almost super-human effort. And then on top of all that, I’d engaged in a torrid threesome with Euro hotties that really wiped me out.

Protein. I need protein.

Swinging my legs off the bed, I worked the cricks out of my neck before spotting the note on my nightstand. Printed neatly on official Olympic stationary, Anneke had written in English:

Good morning, Champion. I know you must be tired, because even Marika’s blowjob could not wake you. A pity, because we would have enjoyed another round. This is especially after waiting so long to finally bed you. But you were worth the wait, and I only wish we had more time. But we have now stayed three days beyond our competition, and we must now return home. We both will miss you, but we will never forget our night with our Champion.

Love always, Anneke and Marika

P.S. Please do not kiss and tell. It would make our boyfriends jealous.

There were two lipstick kisses at the bottom of the note, and with a smile, I began looking around for my suitcase so that I could keep the note as a keepsake memory. But seconds later, I changed my mind. I held it up, smiling at the paper one final time, and then I began tearing it into a dozen little strips and then tearing those strips into even tinier pieces before scattering them into the trash can.

What happens in the Athlete’s Village, STAYS in the Athlete’s Village.


Fully dressed, my hair perfectly tousled and again sporting my brand new hardware on my chest, I walked into the dining hall closest to the American section and went to pick up my usual selection of food. Inside, I ran into a young friend on the U.S. Swim Team, Asher. He hadn’t qualified for an individual event, but had swum the preliminaries for a relay team. And since the finals team had won Gold a few days earlier, like me he was able to strut around the Village with his own spiffy hardware around his neck.

“Hey, what’s up, man?” I greeted in a friendly tone. “Haven’t seen you around for a couple of days.”

Asher blushed and then leaned forward, a glimmer in his eyes. Glancing around to make sure nobody was in our immediate vicinity, he replied softly, “Been buried up to my neck in international pussy, dude. Only now am I coming up for air.”

I raised my eyebrows, and he tapped the medal around his neck. “Gold is gold; nobody really cares that it’s not for an individual event.”

I nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. Inside, I knew I was more proud of my medal knowing that I’d won it all on my own, and not had the victory swum for me by four guys who were faster than me. But that individual pride didn’t mean I had to begrudge Asher for his pussy-hunting success. “Congratulations.”

He grinned and then gestured to the food. “Load up, man. You’re gonna need more energy these next few days than you did for your competition.”

I grinned. It was a good suggestion. Sure, I still had plenty of meets to swim over the next few months, leading up to the short course World Championships in December, but my body could afford a few days of letting itself go. I was hungry, and I wanted to eat some stuff I would have usually denied myself. And when I showed up at the checkout line with my heavily-laden tray, I heard a whistle from behind me along with a sarcastic, “Merda, you do not have enough food, bobo?”

I glanced back to see a familiar face. Two of them, actually. Well, scratch that. It was the same face: twice. Let me explain…

Leticia and Larissa are twins – identical twins, hence the single face twice thing. And it was a gorgeous face they shared. The rest of them was pretty spectacular, too. The twins were indoor volleyball players from Brazil, and since the countries from the Americas were roughly grouped in the same area of the Athlete’s Village, I’d run into them a couple of times over the course of the past week, neither occasion resulting a very positive outcome for me.

Olympic volleyball players are all built the same, at least the strikers. They’re super-tall and super-thin, but without the wide, bulked-up shoulders many female swimmers can develop. The Brazilian twins looked like they could swap their sports uniforms for runway high fashion any time they wanted, and they certainly had the faces for modeling as well. But even more attractive to me, these Brazilian chicks had *fiiine* butts.

The first time I saw them, I’d started gawking at Leticia’s ass (or was it Larissa’s?) and then promptly walked into a light post. I didn’t think either of them had noticed me checking them out, but they certainly turned around and noticed the stupid gringo holding his forehead and moaning in pain while wrapped around the pole. They came over good-naturedly just to make sure I was alright. My sense of machismo kicked in and I insisted I was just fine, but I’d been thrown off-balance enough that I couldn’t come up with a single witty thing to say, and the girls had walked off moments later without giving me a backwards glance.

The second time we ran into each other was while waiting for dinner a few days ago when I was still flirting with Anneke. To my chagrin, the twins stopped in their tracks and Larissa actually pointed at me while asking her sister in *português brasileiro* if I was the guy who’d walked into the light post that one day. Leticia agreed, and they were distracting enough that Anneke asked them politely what they were talking about, and the twins hung around for ten minutes or so to regale Anneke with the tale of me ogling their tight asses and then braining myself on the pole (So I guess they HAD realized I was checking them out).

Their English wasn’t the best, and it wasn’t Anneke’s most fluid language, either, so there were a lot of pauses for the twins to chatter back and forth in Portuguese to figure out how best to explain. The word “bobo” had come up quite a bit, and after Anneke’s inquiry, Leticia explained that it meant “fool” or “idiot” or something else equally unflattering. They of course were referring to me.

The story thus concluded, the Brazilian twins laughed and moved on. I didn’t think much of the encounter, preferring to spend my time basking in Anneke’s flirtatious company. And I simply chalked off Leticia and Larissa to being two hot girls I would never have a chance with.

Until now.

Not much had changed since the last time they saw me. I was still the same “bobo” who had walked into a light post while checking them out. But one small thing HAD changed, and the proof of it was hanging around my neck.

“Oy, bobo…” Leticia whistled as I found her gaze gravitating toward my chest and then being held there, almost as if she were the dude and I was a chick with massive breasts. “There is something… *different*… about you.”

“Congratulations,” Larissa chimed in. “What sport do you again?”

“Swimming,” I replied with a grin, thrusting my chest out, again like a girl putting her… ah… girls… on display.

Leticia then glanced next to me, where Asher stood smirking in amusement. “You do swimmer, too?”

He nodded in the universal affirmative. “Different events, though,” he explained.

“But still champion,” Larissa breathed, her eyelashes batting as she looked me up and down and then also gave Asher the once over.

We both stood proudly to let them check us out: tall, muscled hunks of pure American manliness… with Gold Medals wrapped around our necks.

I was glad I’d picked up the extra calories.


It’s a pretty amazing sight to see a gorgeous young woman take every inch of your cock into her mouth, until the point where her lips are pressed up against your bare-shaven crotch and balls.

It’s an even MORE amazing sight to see her twin sister trade places with her and then repeat the maneuver, looking up into your eyes and swallowing obviously so you can feel her throat muscles massaging the head of your dick.

Strange how that works. The view itself is nearly identical, but knowing you’ve just been deep-throated by the first girl’s *twin sister* just adds sooo much more mental stimulation to an already stimulating view.

Leticia and Larissa had taken Asher and me back to their place, ostensibly because they were still in competition and supposed to be taking it easy overall, and also supposed to stay near their teammates. But unlike swimming, indoor volleyball was a sport more predicated on technique and teamwork than pure physical exertion. While they shouldn’t be wearing themselves out, the girls didn’t have to spend this off-day completely conserving their energy, either. Their coaches would probably prefer that they didn’t bring a couple of guys home to have sex, but doing so wouldn’t kill their Olympic dreams or anything.

Plus, I really think the twins wanted to show us off. Leticia and Larissa were housed in a three-bedroom apartment, and it turned out that their four teammates were inside when we arrived. Asher and I got ogled up and down pretty good as we entered, and the twins made a big show about removing the Gold Medals from our necks before hanging them on a hook over one of the bedroom doors.

“Do not worry,” Leticia said reassuringly after catching my apprehensive look toward my beloved hardware. “No one will take them.”

“It’s a trophy,” Asher explained with a shit-eating grin as he let Larissa lead him by the hand into the bedroom. “They’re telling everyone they bagged a couple of Gold Medalists.”

Leticia smiled, walking her hands up my chest before cupping my cheek and leaning in to peck my lips. “Well… I have not bagged you YET.” And then she too took my hand and led me inside, closing the bedroom door with Asher’s and my Gold Medals hanging outside for their teammates to see.

Larissa already had Asher’s shorts off and was stroking his rapidly-hardening prick in one hand while she licked the head. Leticia sat me down on her bed across the room and began pulling at my shorts to do the same.

Leaning back on my hands, I groaned as the Brazilian beauty went to work. She had large, dark eyes and long eyelashes, and she seemed to really like watching the expressions on my face as she blew me. Then she did her little deep-throating trick, gulping around my prick and smiling at maximum depth before pulling back and gasping for oxygen.

Leticia did it to me once more before her sister whistled. At the cue, she patted my prick and pecked the head once before getting up and switching beds. And then both Asher and I groaned with the extra mental stimulation of watching the “other” twin swallow us whole.

But as good as the deep-throating felt, I was impatient for more. Reaching down, I gently pulled Larissa’s face off my prick and then had her stand up in front of me. I started with her shirt, pulling it up and kissing her belly. She giggled at the ticklish sensation, twisting away from the contact until she was facing away from me. But no matter, standing up off the bed, I raised her shirt higher and higher until she had to lift her arms so I could remove it completely.

Only I didn’t remove it completely. I left the shirt wrapped around her arms and head, inside-out and trapping her in that position momentarily. I took the opportunity to unsnap her bra and then reach around to hold her firm titties, not very big but very firm and capped by thick nipples that seemed to extend a full inch out from each breast. Larissa whimpered and tried to finish removing her shirt, but I reached up with one hand to prevent her from doing so. And then I took my other hand and slid it down her firm belly and beneath the waistband of her shorts.

Larissa was wearing khaki shorts over a lime green G-string, and after running my fingers over the smoothness of her bare-shaven mound and into the moisture of her rapidly dampening pussy, I deftly unbuttoned her shorts and dropped them down to pool at her ankles. Only then did I finally pull off her shirt, and then taking hold of her waist to keep her from moving, I sat back down on the bed, which put my face right at eye-level with Larissa’s perfect, *perfect* ass, covered only by two lime green strings that hid absolutely nothing from view.

“Hey Asher,” I called, glancing over to see that he too had started to undress his girl. “Leave the G-strings and their sneakers on.”

His shit-eating grin spread, and he nodded.

I now noticed that there was one thing distinguishing the identical twins from each other: their panties. While Larissa was wearing lime green, Leticia’s was an electric yellow. Though my original interest in leaving their underwear on was purely for visual titillation, I felt quite pleased with myself for retaining some way of identifying the twins even if they switched places again.

Meantime, I took the opportunity to lean forward and bury my face against Larissa’s perfect ass. Her butt cheeks were impossibly firm and yet just a little pliable when I really dug my thumbs into them. I spread her globes and then nuzzled my nose along her crack, causing a giggle. And then after kissing each perky cheek I reached up and pulled her down onto the bed beside me.

She fell a little awkwardly, her ankles still cuffed together by her shorts. We both laughed as I leaned over to help snake them over her sneakers, and then I took advantage of my position to move her legs apart and flip myself over with my face in her crotch.

The narrow strip over her snatch was now more of a dark green than lime green, obviously moistened by her arousal. It was easy enough to slide the strip off to the side as I leaned in and took my first lick of her nectar. And Larissa suddenly stopped moving as her head fell back and she moaned in obvious pleasure.

I ate her to two screaming orgasms then, Larissa drumming her sneaker heels on my back as I did so. After the second, she impatiently tugged on my shoulders for me to come up and fuck her, but when I glanced across the room and found Asher following my lead by eating out Leticia, I called out, “Hey man, let’s switch!”

Asher picked his head up, his jaw and cheeks glistening with girlcum. His shit-eating grin was back and he nodded. “Way cool.”

The girls didn’t seem to mind as we guys crisscrossed the room, stripping off the rest of our clothes and pulling out condoms from our pockets along the way. And Leticia simply opened up both her arms and legs to me as I knelt on the mattress over her, slid her neon yellow string aside, and guided my rock hard prick into her hot, tight, wet pussy.

“NOW you’ve bagged me,” I said quietly once I was fully imbedded.

Leticia grinned and pulled me down to her lips for a kiss. And then we were off to the races.

Asher and I pounded each of our girls until they each screamed out their orgasms. Not thirty seconds later, Leticia complained that she’d wanted to get fucked on her OWN bed. I laughed, realizing that the girls had never gotten to switch back, so digging my hands under Leticia’s ass I hoisted her up and carried her across the room, never letting our loins get disengaged. Asher did the same, and once he and Larissa were out of the way, Leticia and I dropped onto her bed and I drilled her up to a fresh orgasm.

Then, the girls decided they wanted to switch again, pushing us off them and darting across the room while Asher complained, “Didn’t you JUST want to do this on your OWN bed?”

Larissa shrugged as she came to me, pushing me onto my back. She straddled my hips as she pulled my cock upright, and then sat down, stuffing herself full of American cock and grinning happily to feel it. And she rode me athletically, once again back on her *sister’s* bed.

“Turn around,” I told her after another couple of minutes, and then showed her what I wanted by twisting her hips in my hands.

Larissa quickly got the idea as she spun around into a reverse cowgirl position. And after she bent forward and planted her hands on the mattress by my knees, she wriggled her hips side-to-side while calling back over her shoulder, “You really like my ass, que não?”

“I love it,” I replied, grunting as I thrust up and into her.

“Would you like to put your *caralho* inside?”

The extra surge of power in my next thrust was all the answer she needed.

Larissa laughed and then dismounted me. She opened Leticia’s nightstand drawer, rummaging around for a moment before barking something I didn’t catch in Portuguese. Leticia barked back, and Larissa nodded before closing the drawer and opening the cabinet door beneath, and from there she retrieved a clear bottle of lube.

“How do you want me?” she asked playfully, waggling the bottle.

“The same. On top facing that way,” I replied, gesturing with my hands to make sure she understood.

Giggling, Larissa stuck her tongue out at me and waggled her head. “Always like to stare at my *bumbum*, bobo?”


She laughed some more, and then poured out a healthy amount of lube into her right hand and began coating my condom-covered cock with it. Once finished, she reached behind herself and winced as she evidently shoved a few lubricated fingers into her own ass. But then suddenly the bottle was on top of the nightstand and Larissa was resuming her reverse cowgirl position, this time with her hand aiming my erection at her dusky rosebud star.

“Ohhh…” Larissa moaned as she sank her ass down onto me. “Sooo BEEG… Você é foda!”

“Larissa?” her sister called, adding rapid-fire Portuguese I didn’t understand, although I thought I heard the words “bunda” and “bobo” thrown in there.

“Nn-hnn…” Larissa replied with a head nod, shifting her weight back to take more of me inside her bunghole while also stretching her arms forward and hanging her head down to concentrate.

“Fuck. Me!” I exclaimed rapturously just watching the view. It was incredible to see Larissa’ perfect butt cheeks spread wide by my thick cock penetrating her very center, my blood-engorged prick looking as dark as her tan skin and both only serving to highlight the brightness of her lime green G-string running alongside my dick. And topping that off, well…you know what I said about mental stimulation adding so much more than mere sight.

And it was about to get even better.

Leticia, completely naked save for her sneakers and neon yellow G-string, appeared beside us just then, with Asher hanging back and still seated on the other bed. She watched her sister begin to undulate atop me, pushing my dick up and down her anal chute just a couple of inches at a time.

“It’s soooo gooood…” Larissa crooned, turning to look at Leticia before closing her eyes and canting her head to the side.

Leticia reached out and caressed her sister’s cheek. And then to my complete and utter surprise, she leaned forward and planted a very wet open-mouthed kiss on Larissa’s lips.

Larissa moaned into the lip lock, sitting up straighter and really flowing back into the kiss. Her arm came up around Leticia’s head, pulling her twin sister closer as she also fucked her ass on me harder. Moments later, Leticia moved forward to kneel on the bed alongside us. And with a few more tugs, Larissa pulled her sister around until Leticia was face-to-face with her, also straddling my legs as the two sisters continued to make out.




Asher and I left the twins mostly naked and unconscious, although we were gentlemen enough to put them in bed and cover them with blankets. We then left the bedroom and collected our gold medals to wide-eyed looks from the four Brazilian volleyballers who had been listening to every scream and orgasmic shriek within.

One of the girls was bold enough to curl a finger in invitation for me to go into HER bedroom, but my teammate and I were rather wiped out at the moment. Training for the Olympics? No problem. Screwing Brazilian twins in all their orifices until they passed out from pleasure overload? Much harder. I was hungry again, and I honestly needed a nap.

Unlike some athletes, who go home soon after their events, I had nowhere to be and I was scheduled to stick around through the Closing Ceremonies. And we weren’t even halfway through these 17 Days of Glory.

“Pace yourself, man,” Asher advised with all the accumulated wisdom a 19-year-old athlete could muster.

I nodded, and then we headed back to our own rooms.

Plenty of time left.


After snacking, napping, and eating lunch with some friends, I found myself with a wide open afternoon. It seemed as good a time as any to take advantage of our Athlete access into other Olympic events, and I met up with my roommate Tyler to cruise around.

We took in a beach volleyball game, always fun to watch smokin’ hot girls diving around the sand wearing the skimpiest of bikinis. We both had hooked up with beach volleyball girls a time or two, although not with any of the competitors we were currently watching.

We watched a few gymnastics events, making rude comments to each other about how such and such girl would probably be amazing in the sack due to her ability to put her legs behind her head. I whistled in amazement when Tyler pointed out a sweet-looking blonde Aussie doing the uneven bars. Last night while I was in bed with Anneke and Marika, he hadn’t come home because he was busy cumming between her spread thighs, doing exactly the legs-behind-the-head move I had just mentioned.

“How the hell did you get her to put out the night before her event?” I wondered.

Tyler grinned. “She’s just here for the ride. No chance at a medal. Might as well enjoy herself these next couple of weeks.”

“Sooo just like you?”

“Fuck you, man.” Tyler shoved me in the arm while I laughed, then gave me a resigned shrug. He was finished with his events, and going home without any hardware.

After that, we got some dinner and flirted with a couple of South African badminton chicks, but we didn’t seem to really connect until they found out I’d won a Gold Medal, and then all of a sudden they wanted to go home with me.

For some reason, that reason now turned me off. I mean, I LIKED getting laid, and knew that the golden disk would be the ultimate aphrodisiac for the next week or so. But I figured I could actually afford to be picky at this stage of the game. Sure, the South African badminton chicks were sure things at this point, but was it so much to ask for them to show a real interest in me BEFORE knowing I’d won Gold? And besides, they’d made it clear that they both wanted to go home with ME, not with me AND Tyler, and I just wasn’t in the mood to abandon my friend and roommate.

So I turned them down and Tyler and I made plans to catch the USA Basketball game against some African cannon fodder team. But as we were heading out of the restaurant, we ran into two more guys from the swim team, our apartment mates in the Village.

“Hey, a bunch of us are hitting up this club downtown. Wanna come with?” Preston suggested.

“We were actually going to watch the b-ball game. It’s our best chance to watch Kobe, LeBron, and all the rest up close and personal,” Tyler replied. “Besides, we’ve been to some of the sponsors parties this past week already.”

Jacob shook his head and then wrapped an arm around Tyler’s broad shoulders. “This ain’t no sponsors party. You WANT to come to this club tonight. It’s *choice*. TRUST me.” Jacob put an extra wiggle into his eyebrows for emphasis.

Tyler winced. “I’m not even 21.”

“Legal drinking age in Great Britain is 18, didn’t you know that?” Preston scoffed. “Or what, you can’t drink because you’re training for the *Rio* Olympics?”

Tyler glanced at me. “What do you think?”

I shrugged. “I’m game. It’s not like we can’t go see the Lakers and Heat when we go home. And there’s lots more Team USA to come, unless you think they won’t make it out of qualifying.”

“No chance. And while YOU can probably get laid any second you want, I’VE probably got a better chance at this club.”

“A thousand percent,” Jacob promised.

I nodded. “Let’s roll.”

Preston held up a hand. “First, we gotta go to our rooms to change.”

“Change?” I arched an eyebrow.

Jacob grinned. “You’ll see.”


You remember what I said about all these hot female Olympians looking at me differently once they noticed the Gold Medal around my neck? Well, pretty much any NON-Olympian hot females looked that same way at any male once they realized he was an Olympian, period, whether he had a medal or not. And since this downtown club Preston and Jacob took us to was full of hot female NON-Olympians, and since the guys had made us all change into our Opening Ceremony uniforms… well… let’s just say the four of us were pretty popular.

And then Preston reached into my Ralph Lauren Team USA jacket and hauled out my Gold Medal for the girls to gawk at.

Yeah, getting laid wasn’t going to be a problem.

Choosing which one (or more) to go home with? THAT was going to be a little more difficult.

One problem: All these club-hoppers just wanted to bang me for my Gold Medal. And as I’d already learned from the South African badminton chicks, that reason just… well… it didn’t turn me on.

Blonde, brunette, redhead… Big-boobed, small-boobed, medium-boobed… White, black, Asian, Latina… I had my pick. I could probably be greedy and pick more than one. It was a nice club; really, it was probably the nicest club I’d ever been in. It was a high-class joint without feeling stuffy, and the eye candy was some of the best I’d ever seen. And yet, I felt like I was stuck at a Hometown Buffett – I had all the selection you could ask for, and it all LOOKED appetizing, but I instinctively *knew* that at the end of the night, I wouldn’t really be all that satisfied.

Thankfully, I was saved by the arrival of a couple of rock stars. Not that they were actually rock stars – these guys were BIGGER than rock stars. Seriously, the boys of One Direction could probably walk into the club and receive less attention.

Think my gold medal was an attraction? These guys literally blew me out of the water. You know who they are: two American swimmers, both multiple Gold Medalists from the previous games, multiple Gold Medal winners at THESE games as well. These guys didn’t need uniforms to tell anybody they were Olympians; every human being within a hundred mile radius would recognize them on the street. In two weeks, the world would go back to paying more attention to movie stars, musicians, and Kobe and LeBron. But for now, NOBODY in the world was more famous than these two.

And the club went NUTS.

You’ve heard about Moses and the parting of the Red Sea? This was the exact OPPOSITE. Every human being with a pair of boobs – and more than a couple of guys – suddenly interposed themselves between me and the newcomers. Slowly – *very* slowly – they made their way across the club, waving off invitations to autograph somebody’s breasts or someone else’s forehead. They got a lot of well-wishes and back slaps and a butt-pinch or two, but eventually the pair rendezvoused with us, the other (now ignored) American swimmers in the room.

We exchanged greetings, handshakes and fist-bumps and the like. Mr. Incredible himself congratulated me on my own success and Tyler wondered aloud what they hell the pair was doing here when there was still a relay to be swum tomorrow. But they waved off Tyler’s worries and turned to face their adoring crowd.

I figured it was a good time to make my escape.

Quietly, I slipped away toward the back of the club. Tyler saw me go and gave me a questioning look. I waved for him to stick around. Even if the superstar pair decided to take half of the wannabe groupies home with them, there would still be plenty of leftovers for him. But I was done with that whole scene for the evening and felt like my eardrums could use a break from the deafening roar of adoring fans that drowned out any music the DJ could attempt to put out.

Fortunately for me, there was a bar at the back of the club. With most of the attention center stage, I caught a bartender easily and ordered a 007. Hey, I was in London, after all.

“The same for me,” a female voice added with just a hint of an accent.

I turned to look and popped my eyebrows in recognition. You probably would too. Female tennis player. Blonde. Last name ends in “-ova”. I realize that only narrows it down to about twenty women, but you get the picture. I won’t mention her by real name, but for now, let’s call her… Karolina. Yeah, she looks a little like a Karolina.

She smiled politely and jerked a thumb back at my swimming teammates. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle the competition?”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Not a matter of not being able to handle it. Just not interested is all.”

“Not interested?” Karolina frowned before giving me a sly grin. “You prefer the company of men?”

I barked a laugh and shook my head. “No, no. Not gay. Just… not interested. Little too loud over there. Flirtation a little too impersonal. It’s quieter over here. Better chance of meeting somebody who doesn’t want to get into my pants just because of my hardware.”

“Hardware?” she asked curiously.

I shook my head. “Nevermind.” While I recognized the world-famous tennis player, I was pretty sure she didn’t recognize me. Swimming is a pretty obscure sport for facial recognition without the cap and goggles, and I’d run into more than a few Olympians who didn’t know I was even a swimmer, let alone that I’d won an event.

At first, Karolina looked like she was going to press me about my “hardware”, but the bartender returned with two 007 martinis, setting down one each in front of us.

I fished out my credit card and handed it over, saying, “The lady’s drink is on me.”

“That’s not necessary.”

I shrugged. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Depends on the gentleman’s intentions. Usually, a man buys a drink for a woman to put her in a position of feeling… obligated.”

I laughed and shook my head. “No obligations. Call it professional courtesy for a fellow Olympian.”

She sighed. “Not any longer. I lost my match today.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she replied while staring down at her drink, stirring it gently. “While it would be nice to bring home an Olympic medal for my country, this isn’t the most important tournament for me. Wimbledon felt like only yesterday, and the US Open is coming soon.”

“Perhaps, but for now and forever you will always BE an Olympian. Hence, the courtesy.” I gestured again at her drink.

“Well in that case, I thank you.” She held up her glass.

“Cheers.” I clinked drinks with her and we each took a sip.

That started off a very pleasant thirty minutes or so while we quite deliberately talked about everything BUT our chosen professions. I was sure Karolina had heard every polite question that could be asked about tennis, and I was equally sure she had no clue what sport I was in, only knowing I was an Olympian by the Team USA uniform the guys had gotten me to wear.

Instead, we talked about the weather, the venues, and the other events we’d gotten to see. I was quite candid in admitting I’d checked out beach volleyball and gymnastics primarily to ogle the girls. Karolina pretended to be peeved that I hadn’t included women’s tennis on that list, and I flirtatiously told her that it had been on my to-do list, but lost interest after finding out she was no longer in the competition.

It was easy to talk to her. Having grown up in Florida tennis academies since childhood, her English was almost perfect. I didn’t have to worry about American slang going over her head or choosing my words carefully to avoid uncommon vocabulary. One round of drinks led to a second: mojitos at the lady’s request. The second round led to a third: some fuzzy peach concoction that earned me an amused comment about whether or not my manhood could handle consuming such a fruity drink.

“What, like my buddies are around to give me crap about it? Even if they were, I’m sitting here with a woman as gorgeous as YOU. Trump Card. Done.”

She blushed and giggled, loosening up more and more with each passing drink.

Eventually, though, Karolina then swiveled her barstool around so that she could face me, kicking one of her super-long legs over one knee and leaning an elbow on the counter. She gave me a funny look, and then flashed me a perfect smile before taking one more sip and asking finally, “So tell me, how DOES it feel to be an Olympic Champion, especially in swimming?”

I gagged halfway through my next sip, choking for a moment and then thumping my own chest a couple of times to clear my airway. Upon catching my breath, I looked back at her with slightly bugged-out eyes, replying, “You knew I was a swimmer?”

She gestured over to Mr. Incredible and his eternal rival. “Obviously. But even before your friends arrived, I knew. You all have that… delicious… swimmer’s physique.”

I coughed, more from the compliment about my physique than any residue from the drink. “Uh, never sure I’ve heard it referred to as ‘delicious’.”

She sighed dreamily, “But it is true.”

“Okay, so you recognized that I’m a swimmer. But how did you know I’d won anything?”

“You mean BESIDES the comment about your hardware? BESIDES that moment an hour ago when your friend reached into your jacket and pulled the medal out?”

I coughed again, “Oh… yeah… that.”

She giggled mirthfully, her enjoyment carrying up into her blue eyes. “Actually, I was at the Aquatics Centre that day. I WATCHED your event. Victory by 0.12 seconds, was it not?”

“You SAW me?”

She nodded. “I also seem to remember a rather attractive German girl who was draped all over you that day.”

I coughed once more. “Oh, yeah.”

Karolina didn’t ask a question, but merely gave me an inquisitive look.

I shrugged. “Anneke and I are just friends. Nothing more.”

“Of course.”

“She has a boyfriend.”

“I’m sure.” Karolina smiled and then turned back to her drink, stirring it a moment before glancing back at me once more with a new smile. “Of course, what happens in the Athlete’s Village, STAYS in the Athlete’s Village.”

My blush was answer enough.

“Speaking of which,” Karolina began, sliding her latest drink away and gathering up her purse. “I think it is time you told me your room number.”

My jaw dropped an inch. “Uh… pardon?”

Karolina fixed me with a devastatingly intense gaze – I believe the term is ‘Blue Steel’. With a predatory smile, she explained, “They say MAGIC happens in the Athlete’s Village. But you see, I have been staying at an off-site hotel, so I have no Athlete’s Village room to go to.”

“Uh-huh.” I was a little slow on the uptake.

“If you were to fuck me in MY room, I would not have the same guarantees for privacy. Paparazzi and all that hanging about my hotel, not to mention my coach and various other people who wouldn’t approve of what we’re about to do. Also, you should know that we cannot walk out of this club together.”

“I see…”

“So… room number please? And then I will see you in half an hour.”


It was actually more than thirty minutes, and as the clock ticked on, I found myself getting more and more nervous. I’d given Karolina my room number, true, but we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers and I really had no way of knowing whether or not she’d really show up.

Tyler and I shared a two room apartment with two other guys from the swim team, Garrett and Daryl. All of them were still at the club with the others, and I’d let Tyler know before I left that I was expecting company tonight and didn’t want to be disturbed. Only Olympians and their official support staff were allowed into the Athlete’s Village, so my teammates wouldn’t be able to bring their townie hookups back here. And with the entire apartment to myself for the evening, I found myself puttering around trying to tidy up and make sure everything looked presentable.

(Why? This is a hookup, nothing more. What, like you think she’s going to come all this way and then reject you if the apartment isn’t totally clean?)

But I cleaned up anyway. Perhaps I was just keeping myself occupied rather than feel even more nervous. Perhaps I felt some need to impress Karolina, or at the very least felt increased self-interest in putting my best foot forward.

(But why? What’s so special about this one?)

I LIKE her.

(You’re star struck. This is your first time with someone REALLY famous taking an interest in you.)

Yeah, so?

(Fiiine. Clean up if it’ll make you feel better.)

But then it was too late. There was a knock at the door, and I dropped what I was doing to hustle over and answer it. She was only six minutes late.

“Hi…” Karolina greeted me warmly as she stood outside my door, one hip jutted out to the side with a hand resting on it. You’re going to think this is crazy, but only now did I notice the dress she was wearing. The club had been rather dimly lit and I’d been distracted by the awe of recognizing a quasi-celebrity to really scrutinize her outfit before. But now I noticed it, a quintessential LBD (little black dress) that hugged her athletic torso and was cut exceptionally short to show off her long, slender legs.

“Hey. Glad you made it,” I replied with obvious relief. Backing into the living room, I gestured her inside and pointed toward the table where I’d set out what alcohol we kept in the room. There was rum, vodka, and soda for mixers, and an unopened bottle of champagne we’d been reserving for the end of the swim meet (but which I’d be perfectly willing to open for such an occasion as this). “Feel like a nightcap?”

Karolina stepped in, and I noticed that even though I was well above six feet, in her heels she was nearly as tall as me. She took one look at the alcohol on the table before shaking her head and coming to a stop right in front of me. Her face was only inches away, and she practically looked me straight in the eyes. With a mysterious smile, she reached out her right hand and pushed on the door, letting it swing shut. And then raising that right hand up to my face, she traced my jaw, got a firm grip on the back of my head, and then pulled me to her while shoving her tongue down my throat.


My cock had been completely flaccid with nervousness as I’d puttered around the apartment cleaning up. But Karolina attacked me with such passion and vigor that she had me from six to midnight in about two seconds flat, making an obvious lump beneath my baggy boxers and white Ralph Lauren pants before trying to crawl up and above my belt. Still holding my head with her right hand, she pressed against my chest with her left hand, pushing me backward until I felt myself slammed up against the wall. And then holding her hand on my chest, she backed away and gave me a sultry grin before glancing down at my bulge and commenting, “I’ll bet you have a really big cock, don’t you?”

I chuckled. “One way to find out.”

She nodded as if that was what she’d been planning all along, and reached down to unbutton my navy blue jacket before digging into my belt, opening that up and then going to work on my slacks. She then dropped to her knees, bringing my pants and shorts with her, and she actually had to dodge her head as my erection swung upward, coming mere centimeters from hitting her in the face. No matter, she made contact with it quickly enough, using both hands to clamp down on my firm, sculpted butt cheeks while gaping her mouth open to suck my cock inside without any additional assistance.

September 2018
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