Taylor and Sidney

Podcaster Taylor Sakic pissed off Sidney Crosby

Taylor Sakic leaned back in her swivel chair, the glow of her monitors casting sharp shadows across her sharp features. Her podcast studio was her kingdom—a soundproof sanctuary cluttered with microphones, notebooks, and empty energy drink cans. Tonight's episode had been fire: she'd eviscerated Sidney Crosby, the Penguins' captain, piece by piece. 'Sidney's washed up,' she'd sneered into the mic, her voice dripping venom. 'Sloppy passes, lazy defense, ego bigger than his slapshot. Time to retire, old man.' The chat exploded with emojis and arguments, but Taylor reveled in it, her full lips curling into a triumphant grin. She hit 'publish' and stretched, her cropped tank top riding up to flash toned abs, yoga pants hugging her firm ass and thighs.

Across town, Sidney Crosby gripped his steering wheel white-knuckled, Taylor's words blasting from his phone. Practice had ended hours ago, but rage kept him wired. His 6'4" frame tensed, muscles honed from years on the ice bulging under his hoodie. 'Fucking mouthy cunt,' he muttered, cock twitching in his jeans as fury mixed with dark hunger. He'd tracked her studio address from a fan tip. No security, no warnings—just her. He floored the gas, tires screeching toward confrontation.

Taylor sipped water, reviewing comments, when the outer door rattled. She frowned—building maintenance? Then it exploded inward, hinges groaning. Sidney filled the frame, hood up, eyes like black ice, jaw clenched under his scruffy beard. Sweat from his drive beaded on his forehead, broad chest heaving.

"Crosby? What the—get out!" Taylor shot up, chair toppling, snatching her mic stand like a bat.

He kicked the door shut, deadbolt clicking. "You wanna run your trap about me? On fucking air?" His voice was gravel, low and lethal. He advanced, towering over her 5'6" frame.

Taylor swung the stand; he caught it mid-air, wrenching it free and hurling it into the wall. Sparks flew from a shattered lamp. She bolted for her phone, but his arm snaked around her waist, hauling her back against his rock-hard body. "No calls, slut."

She elbowed his ribs; he grunted but tightened his grip, one massive hand clamping her jaw, forcing her head back. His other hand roamed, palming her tit through the tank, thumb flicking the nipple to a peak. Taylor bucked, legs kicking, but he spun her, slamming her chest-first against the mixing board. Buttons mashed under her, lights flashing chaotically.

"Let go, you psycho!" she spat, but her voice cracked as his erection dug into her ass—thick, insistent, straining his jeans.

Sidney ground against her, hips rolling. "Psycho? You're the one begging for this with your big mouth." He yanked her ponytail, arching her neck, and crushed his lips to hers. The kiss was war: teeth clashing, his tongue spearing deep, dominating her mouth. She bit his tongue; he growled, pinching her nipple hard enough to make her yelp.

Blood trickled from his lip—he licked it, eyes feral. "Feisty. Good." Releasing her hair, he ripped her tank top from neckline to hem, fabric shredding. Her C-cup breasts bounced free, pink nipples stiffening in the air-conditioned chill. He mauled them, squeezing roughly, rolling the buds between callused fingers until she whimpered.

Taylor twisted, nails raking his forearm, drawing red lines. "Fuck you!" But her pussy throbbed, juices dampening her crotch.

Sidney laughed darkly, shoving her onto the desk. Equipment clattered—headphones dangling, notebooks sliding. She landed on her back, legs dangling, trying to scramble up. He pinned her thighs wide, knees bracketing her hips, and tore at her yoga pants. The seam split with a rip, exposing her bare mound, lips already puffy and slick.

"No panties? Filthy bitch knew this was coming." He slapped her inner thigh, sting blooming red, then palmed her pussy, fingers sliding through her wetness. Taylor gasped, hips jerking involuntarily as he circled her clit.

"Stop... please..." Her plea was weak, body betraying her.

"Begging already?" Two fingers plunged in knuckle-deep, her walls clenching greedily. He pumped them, scissoring, thumb mashing her clit. Juices squelched, coating his palm. Taylor's hands fisted his hoodie, torn between shoving and clutching.

He leaned down, beard scraping her tits as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing. Fingers curled inside her, hitting that spongy spot relentlessly. Her breath hitched, thighs quivering. "No... oh god..." Orgasm crashed—her pussy spasming, gushing clear fluid over his wrist. She cried out, back arching off the desk.

Sidney withdrew his fingers, slick and shining, and shoved them into her mouth. "Taste your slut juice." She gagged, sucking reflexively as he stripped off his hoodie, revealing a torso carved from granite—pecs etched with fresh bruises, abs rippling, V-lines arrowing to his bulge.

He unbuckled, shoving jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang out: nine veiny inches, girthy as her wrist, head purple and leaking pre-cum. Balls hung heavy, shaved smooth. Taylor stared, mouth dry despite the fingers.

"On your knees." He hauled her off the desk by her hair, forcing her down. Carpet burned her knees as he slapped his dick across her face—wet smacks on cheeks, lips. "Open."

She glared up, defiant. He gripped her jaw, prying it wide, and thrust in. Cock filled her mouth, stretching cheeks, bumping tonsils. Taylor choked, saliva bubbling, but he held her head, fucking her face slow at first—savoring the gurgles, tears streaming her mascara.

"That's it, choke on it. Apologize for your bullshit podcast." Hips snapped faster, balls tapping her chin, glans breaching her throat. She hollowed cheeks, tongue swirling veins despite herself, hands gripping his muscular thighs. Sidney groaned, pace brutal, drool cascading down her chin onto her heaving tits.

He pulled out abruptly, strings of spit linking them. "Not yet." Grabbing her under the arms, he tossed her onto the couch like a ragdoll. She bounced, ass up, pussy dripping down her thighs. Sidney knelt behind, spreading her cheeks. Her pink asshole winked; he spat on it, thumb circling.

"Ever had this raped?" He pressed his thumb in, breaching the ring. Taylor yelped, clenching. "Relax, or it'll hurt more."

"Don't—ahh!" His tongue followed, rimming her hole, lapping flat while fingers returned to her cunt, three now, stretching her. He alternated—tongue in ass, fingers in pussy—building her to another peak. She humped back shamelessly, moans echoing off soundproof walls.

Sidney stood, cock throbbing. He mounted her from behind, rubbing the head along her slit, teasing clit. "Beg for it."

"Fuck... please, Sidney..."

"Louder. Who owns this pussy?"

"You! Fuck me!"

He rammed home, balls-deep in one savage thrust. Taylor screamed, walls fluttering around his girth. He didn't ease in—pounded like a machine, hips colliding with her ass, skin slapping loud. Hands bruised her hips, yanking her back onto each plunge.

"Tight... fuck, gripping like a vice." He spanked her cheeks, alternating sides, welts rising. Leaned over, biting her shoulder, drawing blood. Taylor pushed back, meeting his thrusts, tits swinging.

Sweat poured off them, studio reeking of sex. Sidney flipped her onto her back, legs over his shoulders, folding her in half. Cock speared deeper, hitting cervix. He rubbed her clit, forcing eye contact. "Cum on my dick, podcaster slut."

She shattered, squirting around him, nails carving his back. He roared, but held off, pulling out to slap his wet shaft on her clit.

"Not done." He dragged her to the floor, missionary style, pinning wrists above her head. Slow grinds now—deep, grinding her G-spot. Taylor wrapped legs around him, heels digging his ass. "Harder... breed me..."

Sidney's control snapped. Frenzied pistoning, grunts animalistic. "Gonna flood this womb." Balls tightened; he buried deep, cock pulsing, hot cum jetting in thick spurts—rope after rope painting her insides. Overflow leaked out as he kept thrusting, churning it to cream.

He collapsed atop her, both panting. But his dick hardened again inside her cum-slick channel. "Round two."

Taylor moaned as he rolled her atop him, reverse cowgirl. She rode, ass bouncing, his hands guiding. He thumbed her asshole, dipping in. "Next time, this gets wrecked."

She ground down, clit on his pubes, chasing friction. Fingers found her nipples, twisting. Another orgasm ripped through her; she collapsed forward, but he bucked up, fucking through it.

Sidney sat up, flipping positions to have her straddle facing him. Tits in his face—he sucked, bit, while she bounced. Cum from before lubed everything, squelching. He gripped her ass, spreading, one finger plunging her backdoor.

"Yes... fill me again!" Taylor begged, lost in lust.

He exploded second time, cum erupting up into her, mixing with the first load. She milked every drop, pussy convulsing.

Finally spent, Sidney pulled out, cum gushing from her gaping hole. He jerked the last spurts onto her tits, rubbing it in. Taylor scooped some, sucking her fingers clean, eyes glazed.

"Next podcast... you sing my praises. Or I bring the team." He dressed, smirking at her wrecked form—bruised, cum-drenched, glowing.

Taylor nodded weakly, a new respect—and hunger—in her gaze. The door clicked shut, leaving her plotting her redemption episode... with benefits.