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The hoopla and commercials and everything else surrounding the game has become larger than the game itself. WARNING! This warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story. All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual creampie content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is fetish permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2019 by The Technician. Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden. This didn’t start with the Super Bowl. Charlotte and Hardcore I have been in each other’s faces since we were hired together six years ago. It’s just that this football season seems to have brought things to a head. We are both section heads for Pearson Consulting, and our names are almost the same– she is Charlotte and I am Charlene– but other than that we don’t seem to have anything in common. I’m from the west coast, LA born and bred– well actually a northern suburb, but once you get out of California, all anyone knows is LA. She’s a New England snob from some high class family that probably came over on the Mayflower. We were hired almost right out of college together as part of a new, specialized consulting company, but we’ve always gotten along like oil and water. And this year’s football season has really made that worse. She is all for the players interracial kneeling in protest of social conditions and I have told her many times that doing protests like that during the national anthem is wrong. I agree with their concerns, it is just the wrong time. Kneel after making a touchdown or something. That would really send a message. According to her, I think the cheerleaders should be paid almost the same as the players, and– as she has told me many times– “any bleach-blonde beach bimbo can do that job.” She knows I’m a natural blonde and I think she knows I was a cheerleader in college. More likely, it is her stupid stereotype of someone from California cumshot and she’s just saying that to get under my skin. We couldn’t even agree on the proposed halftime program for this year. I guess she wanted all singers to refuse to sing. I’m more of a “The show must go on” type of person. To make matter’s worse, she is originally from Boston and is a rabid Patriots fan. I’m a Ram’s fan through and through and have been since I was old enough to look at a TV screen. My parent’s stayed loyal to the Rams when they moved to Saint Louis back in ‘94 and rejoiced when the team saw the light and finally came back to LA three years ago. Rooting for opposing teams and being from such different backgrounds, we definitely hadn’t planned to watch the Super Bowl together. Then Ms Pearson decided that our entire office should have a week-long “bonding experience” together way out west at a retreat center in Colorado. She chose the first weekend in February to begin our experience because “Nobody wants any of our consulting activity the week leading up to the Super Bowl because they are too wrapped up in the game.” She then laughed and added, “And nobody wants anything the week after because they are too hung over.” We all laughed at her joke when she told us about the retreat, but we grumbled later when we were alone. We continued to grumble even after she assured us that it wasn’t going to cost us anything out of pocket because Pearson Enterprises was chartering a jet both ways and the retreat center was actually her ranchhouse with hundreds of acres of ranchland surrounding it. She said, “I consider it to be my personal retreat center. It’s where I go when I need to get away from people and just be me.” A personal retreat center consisting of a private ranch on the edge of the Medicine Bow National Forest sounds almost impossible, but the Pearsons are rich with a capital R. Our company isn’t the only one she owns. I feel like I am always hard.” Jesse said as he rubbed his erection through his shorts. “Just needed some milk, “I said, holding it up. As creampie long as the girls didn’t end up finding the Necronomicon, this place was perfect. She hugged me tight, and then I broke the embrace. And also see to having Richard join them, honouring Katie’s request. And then Chris said, "What would you say, if I told you that I wanted us to suck each other's dicks right now." She even had an amazing-looking pussy, as if she wasn’t already the perfect girl. Hardcore “But next time when you decided to bring girls home you should ask me first.” I said. You can ask Kirk if he would like to let you borrow your shirt.” fetish Billy said. Sue did a quick inspection of the bitch's pussy and asshole. Thursday afternoon, Carole was greeted by three men. Maybe a video game about a sport. I need to come. “Are you all cleaned up?” She reached down into his robe and clutched his hard cock. You will be humiliated and belittled by both the black lovers and your wife, reminding you that your little white cock would interracial never satisfy her again. She feared that any one from the neighborhood would sense the situation and make unnecessary trouble for her desires cumshot to be fulfilled by Kamal. This happened back in April of 2008. “Sit tight. Silvia’s job in a nut shell was: “I-I didn’t know this was going to happen, so I, uh, I haven’t shaved in a while.” She blushed, her pink cheeks making her look so cute to Michael. Just that she is going. This meant that Vicky’s pussy was just below his face and you can guess what happened next. I kept looking up at him pleading my fake apology.