The Perils of Sportfucking
The Perils of Sportfucking stories
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“I used your toothbrush” he told her, coming into the room with a steaming mug of coffee. “That’s not part of the bargain, my new friend. My toothbrush is…my toothbrush. It only brushes *my* teeth” she said, gently prodding his sternum.
By dvmdv8 https://www.reddit.com/r/...

The Perils of Sportfucking

by dvmdv8

“I used your toothbrush” he told her, coming into the room with a steaming mug of coffee.

“That’s not part of the bargain, my new friend. My toothbrush is…my toothbrush. It only brushes *my* teeth” she said, gently prodding his sternum.

“Who said anything about teeth?

So, I can explore every centimeter of your body, every moist crevice,

and I can watch you while you sleep…but ensuring that I don’t succumb to the dreaded gum disease gingivitis isn’t *part of the bargain?*”

“No, nope, nein and nyet.” She said flatly.

They sat on her bed together, rumpled and disheveled sheets piled around them, morning light falling on the scattered clothes on the floor.

She wore his button-down shirt and played with the cuffs.

“You know, you’re quite charming and seductive,” she said, tracing one well-manicured fingernail along the inside of his thigh

“charming and seductive enough, in a perfect stranger sort of way, to hook up after only one date, but you’re not use-my-toothbrush charming and seductive. Not yet, anyway.”

She gestured towards him with her coffee mug and tipped her head a bit. “But, you *were* able to guess how I like my coffee – so, you get bonus points for that.

Maybe even…” She trailed off, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, silently mouthing numbers and ticking them off on her fingers.

“Maybe even enough bonus points for round 4.” She gave him a quick wink.

“Oh, good lord,” He said. “You’re a winker? I hate winkers. Besides, I think it’d be round 5, technically. But who’s counting, anyway?”

“Yes, it all sort of blended together after a bit didn’t it? What did you put in my drink?” She said teasingly. “God, I’m going to be late for work again – it’s nearly nine! I overslept around!”

He looked at her, raised an eyebrow.

“That was a pun,” she said.

“I got it.”

“Be a dear and get me a fill-up, would you?” She asked him.

She held out her nearly empty mug to him. The pink mug read *Here’s a cup of calm the fuck down* in a looping script.

She drew it back to herself after a second, a look of confusion passing briefly over her eyes.

“Hey – how’d you make coffee, grind the beans and all that, without waking up my flatmate? She wakes up when a mouse farts in this tiny place.”

He held his hand out for the mug, bending his fingers up in a “give it to me” gesture. When she handed it to him, he headed out the bedroom door to the kitchen.

As he went down the hall he called out “Oh, I have my ways.”

She thought she heard the front door click shut a moment later. When he didn’t return after a few minutes, she went to the kitchen.

There she found her flatmate, face-down in a puddle of blood and yogurt at the table, the bristle end of a toothbrush jammed deeply into her ear.

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