As he thrusts his long, hard meat deep along my sopping love tunnel and the crowd roars, I make a mental note to ask, as soon as I get my breath back, what he calls himself. The crowd roars renewed encouragement and I can’t wait much longer for one football team or another to score, because when they do I know that he is going to thrust with all the force of his bent knees. With my legs wide apart and my bare ass being ground into the hard concrete wall at my back I grip tightly onto his brightly coloured team shirt. “Go, go, go baby, score a goal, make me cum!” I yell, encouraging him to splash my depths with his hot sperm. He responds with guttural grunts as the veins in his face threaten to burst with the effort of shafting the pussy he has desired all season long.Our first meeting had not been too auspicious; a can of a staining carbonated drink carelessly opened two rows behind my seat in the spectator stand at our local soccer stadium; istanbul travesti bad enough that the stream of cold liquid hit me but to ruin a hair-do that only that morning cost me more than I really wanted to pay was just too much. The words that I screamed at him were totally unladylike, but then I am no lady. I am twenty years old and by all accounts I am opinionated, loud-mouthed and feisty. My passion is soccer; watching and playing the game. I will go anywhere to watch or play the game. Having said that I am banned from playing for most teams in the area because, it is claimed, I am too aggressive. It’s more likely that I am too good for the blokes in the teams because I can run rings around most of their players. The wives and girlfriends don’t like me either; they claim that I am after their blokes. Men do find me attractive and teasing them is so easy; just a lift of my team shirt exposing my bare boobs gets istanbul travestileri them staring and rubbing their crotches. No matter how I have tried to join them in the communal bath after a match I am always thwarted by the team coach hauling me out. This bloke is nearly always embarrassed by me struggling enough to ensure that he gets a handful of tit or better still a hand slips between my thighs and up my bum or pussy. Boy friends don’t last long with me; blokes are funny about girls trying to take control, it threatens their manhood or something. But I do have all the sex I want; a come hither look or a hand on the front of a bloke’s jeans is enough to get them begging for it. That’s one reason I am getting shagged at this moment, and it is great!The bloke who sprayed me with drink sought me out after the game was over to apologise but as our team had lost against another local team I wasn’t too receptive and told travesti istanbul him to get lost. My mood was so bad that I went straight home to my flat and pigged out on a “dust-bin-lid” sized pizza, and drunk my self senseless on the crap beer that was all I could find in the supermarket.At the stadium for the next game I saw him outside the pay-gate looking for somebody, so I thought I would play a joke on him. He didn’t spot me until I was right by him so I took him by surprise. Pulling up my shirt I grabbed his hand stuck it up my top and onto my tit. He was surprised but seemed to like the feel of my flesh and held the globe firmly.”Shit!” I yelled. “This perv is groping my tits, help!”I pulled the shirt up to reveal his hand firmly gripping my young, innocent and bare flesh. The officials were called and he was asked to explain his actions. Naturally, I vehemently denied knowing him and asked how ludicrous was it that I would walk up to a complete stranger and put his hand on my bare tit. The officials said that I was very generous not to press charges for assault and asked if he should be ejected from the stadium. I studied his face; it pleaded to be allowed to stay, so I said…