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To the Winner Go the Spoils (f/m)

laughter_n_love

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The whimsical knock at my door left no doubt as to who was on the other side. I expected Callie to be in a good mood, but the look with which she greeted me was downright impish. She cocked her head coyly to the side and held up a cooler that sloshed with the sounds of melted ice cubes and glass bottles. “Celebrate with me?” she asked. An unmistakable rosiness in her cheeks told me that she’d already gotten a head start on the celebration.

Given our history, I knew that inviting her in was probably a bad idea, but today had been a banner day for both of us, and a bit of celebrating was in order. “Sure. But just one drink, okay?” I held up a lone finger to illustrate that I was to be taken seriously. I even cocked my eyebrows for effect.

“Fine, one drink,” she said with all the sincerity of a snake oil salesmen. She breezed past me and plopped down on the room’s only couch, the kind that unfolds to reveal a mattress that allows twice as many guests to sleep in the room. “You showered already,” she said, looking me over in my t-shirt and gym shorts.

“I did. We’ve been off the course for hours.” I moved to sit in the desk chair, but Callie blocked my path with one slender ankle. Her eyes indicated I should sit on the sofa beside her. My compliance was rewarded with an icy beer.

“Too bad. I was hoping we could take one together.”

“Very funny,” I said, not quite sure if she was joking. “Why haven’t you changed yet?”

“Oh, first I had to give an interview, and then the sponsors wanted to congratulate me and introduce me around and talk about an endorsement deal. You know…all the usual bullshit that comes with WINNING a tournament, baby!” She grinned from ear to ear, looking as beautiful and happy as I could ever remember her in all our years of together. We clinked bottles without a toast and savored in the moment of our shared victory.

“Is that the usual bullshit? I thought we’d never find out.”

She snorted. “That makes two of us. But damn, it feels good to finally win.”

“I’m really happy for you Callie. You played your ass off today. You deserve this.”

She was beaming, genuinely touched by my words. “WE deserve this. I couldn’t have done it without you, Bryan.” Her voice turned soft. “You are the best caddie I could ever ask for.”

It was my turn to feel a sense of warmth at her words of praise. The last five years had had its share of ups and downs, with most of the ups in the distant past. Our partnership had started off gangbusters, with me carrying the bag of the hottest female golfer to hit the scene in years. Though she never hoisted a winner’s trophy, she took the LPGA by storm, rattling off a record string of top 10 finishes that was unlikely to be broken anytime soon. She was golf’s ‘next big thing’, and everyone wanted a piece of her, including me. And I got her. Our relationship became both professional and personal, and we thrived for a time; two young people in love that seemingly had everything we wanted in each other. But then we hit a rough patch, and that in turn affected her golf game. It was my decision that we should break it off, but we agreed to put our personal feelings aside and continue to work together professionally. Unfortunately, the damage to her game had been done, and she continued to struggle on the golf course until she eventually lost her tour card. We both put our social lives on hold to focus on getting her game back in order, and that lead us overseas to play on the LPGA of Korea Tour. Today marked her first professional tournament win on any continent, and it signaled that perhaps she’d turned the corner and was finally headed back in the right direction.

“I just carry the bag. You are the one hitting all the shots.” Callie was still beaming, grinning at me over the top of her beer bottle. “You couldn’t miss the mark today.”

“No, I couldn’t,” she agreed. I could see she was thinking, turning something over in her mind like she did when she was working out how to shape her next shot. She slipped her bare feet out of her slides and shifted to place them in my lap. “Rub them for me?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised, given the mood she was in and the influence of the alcohol in her system, but I was momentarily caught off guard. She giggled at me, rubbing her soles against my thigh.

“Callie…”

“C’mon, for old time’s sake?” Her skirt shifted as she moved her legs, giving me an eyeful of her underwear.

I gave her a look of disapproval that completely failed to register a response. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so I ran my beer bottle along the side of her ankle. She squealed and nearly kicked it out of my grasp, which made me chuckle.

“Are you really going to deny me, today of all days?” she pouted.

I rolled my eyes and set my beer down, taking one of her soft feet into my hands. “All right, fine. But only because you made me a lot of money today and I’m in a good mood.” She started to make a face, but at the touch of my thumbs pressing into her arch, she coo’d and melted back into the couch.

“Mmmmm, you were always so good at this. I miss these.”

My thoughts raced back to when rubbing Callie’s pampered feet was a regular part of our routine, back when we spent as much time behind closed doors as we did on the golf course together. “Yeah, well, these don’t exactly seem appropriate anymore.” I worked my thumbs into the pads of her toes.

Callie closed her eyes, losing herself in the pleasure radiating up from her foot. “Whatever. It’s just feet. It’s no big deal.” She ran the toes of her other foot along my thigh, dangerously close to where my manhood hid behind very little protection.

“You think Jim Mackay rubbed Phil Mickelson’s feet?”

This struck her so funny she was forced to cover her mouth to stifle the giggles. “No, probably not, but I’m guessing Mickelson doesn’t have cute piggies like me.” She
demonstrated how cute her piggies were by wiggling the toes of her free foot into my hip area. I jumped and squirmed out of the way, unable to hide the smirk on my lips. “I see you are still ticklish,” she grinned.

This was a bad sign. Like foot massages, I knew very well where tickling was likely to lead. This had also been part of our regular routine. Callie knew this too.

“Don’t,” I said, giving her the same ‘take me seriously’ cocked eyebrows that worked so well for me at the door.

“Or what?” She reached with her toes for my hip again, but I slid out of the way and nearly off the couch.

“Or I’ll tickle back.” I change my grip on her foot, using one hand to wrap around her ankle and holding the other one poised to strike just a breath from her sole.

She shot me a challenging look. “You do, and you know what that means, don’t you?”

Memories from our time as a couple came flooding back to me. “A declaration of war,” I said.

“A declaration of war,” she agreed, making no effort to pull her trapped ankle from my grip. The challenging look remained. My fingers remained within striking distance. We both waited as the moment lingered on. Her toes wiggled, baiting me.

I knew it was wrong, and I knew what would happen, but I did it anyway. Without warning, I attacked her foot, running my fingertips up and down her sole as fast as I could. She exploded with laughter and yanked her foot out of my hand with surprising quickness, robbing me of my one and only chance of surviving this war.

Like a cat she pounced, pinning me against the arm of the sofa. “You’re dead!” she cried, her hands finding their way up and under my t-shirt. I writhed under her, but she knew that I turtled up when I was tickled, so there was nothing stopping her from overrunning my pathetic defenses. I squirmed to get away, but there was no escape from her fingertips as they danced and pinched and prodded what seemed like everywhere along my sides and hips. I tried to pin my arms against my sides but this only served to trap her tickling fingers right where they wanted to be. Involuntary laughter bubbled up from behind my lips.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I begged. But in truth, I wasn’t sorry. Callie might have missed my foot rubs, but I certainly missed this kind of roughhousing from her.

“Sorry won’t cut it, Mister,” she taunted. She dug her slender fingertips into my midsection with maddening effectiveness. I loved it as much as I hated it, and my body betrayed me, as she knew it would. One of her hands snaked out from under my shirt and began to cup and squeeze the bulge that had formed between my legs.

“Callie!” I panted. “We can’t!”

“All is fair in love and war.” While her hand massaged my cock over my shorts, her fingers gave my ribs zero quarter. “Take off your shirt.”

“No!”

“Take it off!”

I was torn. I badly wanted to give in to her, but I worried about the consequences of our actions. “But we said…”

“Shut up and do it.” She gave my cock a hard squeeze that was a lot more effective than my raised eyebrows at affecting a tone of seriousness.

“Okay okay…just stop tickling!” She did, but her hand continued to toy with the tent in the front of my gym shorts. I peeled off my shirt, giving her all new targets to tickle and render me helpless.

She didn’t hesitate. Using both hands once again, she attacked my upper body with a flurry of tickles that I was unable to fight off. My laughter kicked up several notches as my cock was no longer being groped to divide my attention. I was quickly becoming desperate for relief, struggling to draw in breath between bouts of forced laughter. I did the only thing I could think of to save myself; I slid to the floor.

Callie straddled me, pressing her hips over mind and lowering herself until she was pinning my erection against my body. I could feel the heat from between her legs as she ground against my shaft and returned to attacking my midsection with tickles, focusing mostly on my navel and the areas just around it. I was in dire straits, both from being tickled out of my mind and having my cock treated in a most teasing fashion.

“Please….please stop! I can’t take it!”

“Liar. You love it and you know it.”

I did what I could to fend her hands off, but it was pointless. She was almost as good at tickling as she was at draining putts; she rarely missed her target. And she was right in what she said, but that didn’t stop my very real need to escape the tickling.

Tickle lust had overtaken Callie. I knew that look well, though I hadn’t seen it in years. She was relishing every bit of control she had over me, and she wasn’t about to give any of it up. “Put your hands behind your head,” she ordered.

“Wait….what?”

She eased up on the tickling so there would be no misunderstanding. “Put your hands behind your head!”

I hesitated, knowing what it would mean if I did, and trying to decide if I was just kidding myself when I said we couldn’t do this. I didn’t dwell on it long. Nodding, I placed my hands behind my head, completing my submission.

There was a brief pause as Callie eased off me long enough to rip my shorts off past my ankles and relieve herself of her own panties. I lay there, naked and unmoving, until moments later, she was back on me, guiding my cock into her warm and wet pussy. She lowered herself with ease until was fully impaled, her pelvis pressing down onto mine. She shuddered and whimpered with a tiny mewl.

I wondered how long I would last, knowing what was to come.

She rested there for a moment, enjoying the sensation of feeling filled up inside. And then she began to rock her hips. Just a little. Just enough to get the friction going. My breath caught in my throat. I wasn’t going to last long at all.

Callie had other ideas though, as I knew she would. With my hands behind my head, my entire upper body was there for the destroying, including my ultra-sensitive underarms. She teased me there, running the pads of her fingertips along my inner biceps and around my chest, tickling me anywhere she liked without going for the kill just yet. I groaned and giggled, the tickling distracting me from the pleasure emanating from my cock. Callie grinned down at me, the cat who has caught the canary.

“I’ve so missed you,” she said, dancing her fingertips into my underarms.

I howled in protest, but kept my hands in place as she had directed. It was maddening, forcing myself to endure the tickling in one of my worst spots. She ground her pelvis into mine a little faster, a little deeper. She began to moan over and over. Her fingers flew faster and faster under my arms. The game would be over for both of us, soon enough. I was determined to last until the torturous end, laughing hysterically even as orgasm built up to critical levels in my loins.

She came first. I felt her walls constricting around my cock, felt her hips grinding into mine with a singular purpose, and that was all I took for me to lose my load a moment later. She arched back, holding onto my thighs for leverage, as we both came for what seemed like forever. And then it was over for both, and she was grinning down at me impishly with a look of satisfaction plastered on her face.

“Don’t you miss this?” she asked.

“What about…your game…?” I panted. I was feeling spent in more ways than one, and drawing in gulps of air was my only focus at the moment.

“Let’s see how I play next week in Seoul. And if I finish in the top 10, plan on celebrating again.”

“….and if you don’t?”

She giggled, tickling my nipples and making me bark in laughter. “Then we’ll celebrate anyway, this time with you tied up!”
 
I very much enjoyed this. Absolutely adore f/m scenerios!
 
best story i have seen in a while, i did wonder if there was a sort of revenge or reversal story on the way.
 
Excellent job! I know this is a year old now, but I hope you get around to writing a sequel sometime.
 
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