Page 51 of Some Like It Hott

Preston

We start with bouncy basketball.

“Bouncy basketball?” I demand when she tells me that’s where we’re headed.

“It’ll make sense when you see it.” She leads me through the maze of small alleyways that wind between meshed-off “fun” areas. To my right, small children bounce on trampolines with reckless abandon. To my left, they throw themselves off a ledge into what I assume must be a foam pit, given that I don’t hear ambulance sirens.

We arrive at the bouncy basketball space, a meshed-off area with a trampoline floor and a hoop at either end. Natalie lifts an orange rubber playground ball with basketball-like stripes from a net pocket hanging on the mesh “wall.”

“They don’t issue helmets for this?” I ask. “Feels like a concussion waiting to happen.”

She raises her eyebrows at me. “Really? You look at this and that’s what you see?”

“What do you see?”

She shakes her head and throws the ball at my chest.

I quickly discover that the physics of tramp basketball are like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. The ball doesn’t necessarily bounce straight back up, depending on where you dribble it, and it goes instantly dead if it hits the walls.

It’s a lot more chaotic than I was expecting, and my long-disused pickup basketball skills are even less helpful than I’d hoped.

But that’s okay because Natalie clearly knows nothing about basketball. She runs with the ball—not even trying to dribble—and she doesn’t seem to have any qualms about wrestling it out of my grasp.

In a few minutes, she’s up by three baskets, and it’s clear that if I’m going to have any chance of winning, I’ll have to play as dirty as she is.

So I do. I twist the ball out of her hands and bounce back down the court.

“Foul!” she cries.

“Oh,nowyou want to call fouls!”

“I call ’em like I see ’em!”

She pursues me to the hoop and, as I go up, makes a sloppy grab for the ball, which bounces away from both of us.

“And that’snota foul?” I demand. “You can’thugthe shooter.”

“I wasn’t hugging you! That was all ball.”

We chase the ball and wrestle for it. She lets go suddenly, and I fall backward onto the soft surface. She tumbles down, too, landing on top of me. The ball scoots away, leaving us laughing and gasping for breath, her face inches from mine. I stare up into her dark eyes, and her smile slips.

Her cheeks are pink, her eyes sparkling. There are a few adorable freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. I can feel her breath—short and quick—against my lips.

Heat sizzles in the air between us, and I become aware of the full length of her, sprawled on me. She pushes up onto her arms, which brings our lower bodies closer together. Her thighs are glorious, soft and cushiony over a core of strength, and blood surges into my groin. A minute more and I’ll be hard as a rock against her.

She rolls off me before that can happen, and I regret it instantly, the loss of the warmth, the end of that moment of possibility.

“Ha!” she says, retrieving the ball.

I slowly find my way to my feet, scolding my still-heavy cock that it needs to STFU, as Natalie bounces on the tramp surface a few times directly in front of me. Nice and slow. Not too high. Just enough to put her pretty tits and her grab-able ass in motion.

That’snot helping.

Her gaze follows the trajectory of mine.

“Eyes up, Hott,” she teases.

“I wasn’t?—”

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