Author note: This is my entry for YAY TEAM: The Sex & Sports Author Organized Challenge 2026

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December 30th, 1982

I wasn’t sure what it was that woke me up, but I was quite a light sleeper at the best of times and it didn’t take much. Realising I was awake, I rolled onto my other side, pulling the thick eiderdown up to my chin and luxuriating in the warmth beneath. I kept my eyes closed, hoping that I would quickly drop off again, but I noticed that my husband wasn’t in bed beside me, his reassuring breathing not lulling me to sleep. Lying in the darkness, listening to the silence instead, I reluctantly decided I was too awake to sleep again.

It was absolutely freezing when I poked my bare foot out of the bed and I quickly withdrew it. It was surely too awful to consider getting out of bed. In my mind’s eye, I began watching sheep going into the pen. One, two, three…

…forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…

It was no use.

Fluffy slippers and my thick dressing gown were the best possible substitute for the eider and I wrapped myself up tightly, deciding to go downstairs and make myself some hot milk to try and settle my stomach. We were still working our way through the Christmas leftovers (I’d bought too much, not wanting to seem cheap in front of the in-laws), and now I was regretting it.

I let our bedroom door close gently, clicking shut, the house silent. The stairs always creaked and the sound of the protesting floorboards sounded loud in the darkness. I hoped against hope that it wouldn’t wake up the kids. Generally they were good sleepers, but it only needed one of them to be disturbed and soon I’d have a houseful of tired children raising hell. The novelty of Christmas presents hadn’t worn off yet and they’d take any excuse they could get.

Downstairs was even colder than upstairs and the slight draught around my ankles was icy. Creeping along, navigating by memory, I passed the door to the living room and heard a low noise coming from inside. Pausing, I listened. It was a voice, talking, but it didn’t sound like my husband or the television. For a moment I felt my brow creasing, puzzled, before the penny dropped.

“What are you doing?” I asked in an accusatory tone as I threw open the door, gripping the door handle tightly to prevent it making any noise as it swung open. The current of air propagated by the door made the Christmas tree rustle, the decorations shimmering slightly in the light of the lamp.

Michael, my husband, was lying across the settee, his head resting on the arm at one end with a loudspeaker inches away. The murmuring voice was coming from that speaker, which he had evidently turned down as low as he possibly could. His eyes met mine, a guilty expression on his face. It took him a second to think of a reply; a second too long.

“Is that the test match?” I hissed at him, recognising the word ‘wicket’.

“It’s nearly over,” he said quickly to try and mollify me.

“It’s gone midnight, Michael.”

“Look, I couldn’t sleep. I thought-“

I snorted derisively. “You have never had any problem sleeping that I can remember, and we’ve been sharing a bed for twelve years.”

He listened intently to something coming out of the speaker, then looked back at me. “Australia only have one wicket left. It will be over any minute.”

“Any minute?” I asked, softening.

“That’s right.”

I let out a deep sigh. “I’m going to get myself a drink.”

Realising he was almost off the hook, he changed tack. “You look beautiful, you know.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m in my dressing gown and slippers, you fool.”

“No, I mean it. You-“

There was another pause as he listened to something on the radio, then his attention came back to me. “You look gorgeous. With all the relatives and the children’s stuff going on, we haven’t really had a chance to spend time together.”

Now I understood. “I know what you have in mind when you say ‘spend time together’,” I replied, my eyes narrowing.

“Can you blame me when you walk in looking like that? That kind of outfit should be illegal.” He grinned.

“Oh give over. Now you’re taking the bloody piss.” But he’d made me smile and it was nice and warm in here with the end of the fire burning. I walked over to where he was lying and patted his leg. “Make room, Romeo.”

He sat up, giving me the other side to sit down on, and then he turned up the volume the tiniest amount so he could still hear it.

“If you wake the house up with your cricket…” I warned him.

He shushed me.

“Another easy single that Border’s turned down, there, Willis has set quite a relaxed field.”

“Who’s winning?” I asked.

“England,” he told me. “More or less. They should win.”

“Is Botham playing?” He was the only one I knew the name of.

“Yes.”

“Is he batting?”

“Sshh!”

“Looked as if that one might just dart back and get an edge, but it’s a good piece of bowling and now Thomson will face the first ball of the new over.”

Michael seemed pleased by this, but I was sick of being shushed.

“I’m getting my drink,” I told him, getting up.

“No, no, wait,” he said, reaching over and taking hold of my hands to stop me. “It really will be finished any minute, and then I’ll take you to bed.”

I lifted my eyebrow. “Will you, now?”

“The moment it’s over.”

It was my turn to grin. “You sure you can resist me that long…?” I asked, sitting down and spinning my dressing gown cord suggestively.

But his attention was back on the radio.

“Solid work there by Thomson and that’s Border back on strike. England are making heavy going of this, it must be said.”

Michael was gazing at the dying embers in the fireplace now, his brow furrowed. I had no real idea what was happening in the game but it didn’t sound very promising.

With his attention away from me, I shrugged my dressing gown off my shoulders. The noise of me pulling my nightie over my head did catch his notice, though, and his eyes went wide as he saw my bare tits in front of him.

“Fuck…” he breathed, letting his hands slide up my thighs to my waist and beyond.

“No no no,” I told him, batting his hands away. “No touching until it’s finished, remember?” I drove home the point by crossing my arms under my breasts, pushing them up and together.

The expression of frustration on his face was extremely satisfying to see. So I went further, slipping off the settee and kneeling with my back to the fire, enjoying the warmth as I put my hands in his lap and undid his belt. He sat back, looking down at me while I pushed aside layers of clothing. He gasped quietly when my fingers finally wrapped around his bare cock, moving up and down the length with a loose grip.

Even this didn’t prove to hold his full attention, though.

“The Australians look quite comfortable at the crease, here, and unless England have a bright idea to dislodge one of them then they could well knock off the rest of this total.”

Michael seemed troubled by this, so I stroked a little more forcefully. He pushed himself into my hands, groaning with pleasure, and I smiled, going faster. His eyes were on me again, his mouth slightly open as he panted for breath, completely under my control. I went slow again, making sure to use every inch of his length, the tip of his cock now wet from his precum.

“Feel good?” I asked in a teasing tone, my whisper only just audible.

“Fuck, yes…”

“Good.” I gave him a little squeeze, getting exactly the reaction I wanted.

“Not many needed, now, as Border says no to yet another easy single. His priority is surely to keep the strike, here, and England are looking like they’re out of ideas to break the partnership.”

His attention was drifting, so I employed the big guns.

“I really want you to cum on my tits,” I told him, using my elbows to push them together again. “Is that okay?”

“Oh, fuck, yes…”

“But not until the radio is finished. After that, though… go crazy.”

The frustration had turned to torture now for him and I giggled, taking a firm hold and stroking him fast. I kept going and going, his cock flexing in my grip, until I could feel he was getting close. Then I let go completely, his cock bouncing on its own, and his fingers dug hard into the cushions.

“It’s only four required for the Australians now as Thomson takes his guard, Botham bowling to him, the fielders surely aware that a single boundary will decide this game.”

Carefully I took hold of his cock again, stroking it slowly from base to tip with one hand, pointing it in the direction of my tits, which were just inches away from him. I could see the desire in his eyes and in his expression. I loved the way it felt to have him under my control like this. It was hard to wait any longer for the incredible feeling of him releasing all over me, showing his appreciation for my hard work. But I wanted to keep him hanging on.

“Did you say it would finish any minute now?” I teased, pausing my stroking and seeing him writhe in response. Clearly he was only a few determined touches away from his orgasm and I knew just how much he wanted it now. It almost felt too cruel so I stroked him again, aiming to keep him exactly there, right on the edge, the perfect place to keep him waiting until I decided-

“He’s edged it! It’s up, no, can he, is that it, yes! Yes! Miller holds onto it and England are celebrating! What a famous victory, snatched at the very last moment!

Michael relaxed, tension flooding from his body as I squeezed the last few drops of cum from his cock, letting them join the hot pool which had formed in my cleavage. There was a huge smile on his face.

“That was fun,” I said with a laugh, letting go of him and holding my tits so I wouldn’t drip everywhere. “We should do it again. When do they play next?”

THE END