Exclusive Excerpt from the New Rob Gronkowski Erotica

You remember Lacey Noonan, the (pseudonymous) author of the smash Gronkerotica novella "A Gronking To Remember." The second installment in the series, "A Gronking To Remember 2: Chad Goes Deep In The Neutral Zone" has just arrived for sale on Amazon, and it is all any fan of the first—or the NFL, or NFL-related erotica, or the written word—could hope for, and profoundly worth your $2.99. Lacey was kind enough to bless us with an exclusive excerpt. You can buy "A Gronking To Remember 2" right here.

My training now began in earnest. It was a Training Camp in the truest sense of the word. Forget Two-a-Days, this was an All-Day-Every-Day affair.

"It's a crucial play. It's 3-and-1. If the RB hadn't gotten that one yard, they would've had to've punted. I mean, you know what happens next…"

Chad drew the boring-ass play up on a dry erase board. He'd gone out through the door behind me that I couldn't see and wheeled it in with a blast of artic wind that made me shiver in my panties—made me think maybe we weren't in the basement of his McMansion at all, possibly somewhere far out in the woods.

Also, this: My pussy was barking like a mad dog for heavy petting.

"Instead of punting," Chad continued infuriatingly, "the Pats march down the field and score a score to seal the deal. Talk about teamsmanship. Talk about a team. If Gronk hadn't made it across the line to shank the DE in the scrum, oh, oh what a play… The team effort… oh… yes… the team effort… ungh… is what gets me, oh… Talk about a team… oh, oh, dear yes… team effffffff…"

Chad began to hump the air. His taut, delicious buttocks circled as he scribbled on the board. I was near to bursting. All this deep Gronk stuff was turning me out. Darkness moved across my vision as the X's and O's dug into my very psyche. And my brain felt as if it were receding into a basic place. Who I was before my kidnapping was breaking down. It was a do-over, a rebooting. There was a forest, there was mucus. There was a rage of wanting. Animal lusts began to clog the highways of my synapses. I tried to fight it—was I strong enough to defeat it?

"Why are you doing this to me," I moaned. "Please, no more. Oh God, yes, more. I want more. No! Why, why, why?"

This was pure torture.

"Because there's no 'I' in team," Chad said.

A few hours later we switched to another play.

"Now look at this designed counter. It displays what happens when a team works together. There's no showboating here, no Running Back making a flashy cut, no dazzling footwork to make an agent go ka-ching! at the expense of the team. It is all "Do Your Job" and Gronk is what makes it happen. The ball is snapped and Gronk is already in motion. Now, as you can see, the Pats have left the Right Tackle unguarded… here," Chad said, pointing at the TV and then at the dry erase board. "Now, if your nuclear orgasm of a Tight End doesn't make it across the line in time—oh Lord, just look at how my log has lignified thinking about this—or goes deep instead, the play is broken up for a loss and the crowd deflates and the battle is lost and maybe the war. But Gronkowski is a blocking master, he owns the neutral zone, this play is all about football fundamentals, blocking, doing your job, and the game plan against this nickel defense works so… so… oh… mmm… exploits the D… xploits… that… D… No going deep, oh, just going deep, oh… deep in the neutral zone…"

I squirmed in my Barcalounger prison. I had been masturbating for hours now of course, because Chad was focusing all the attention on Gronk, but because there were no touchdowns my delicious touching was coming to nothing. I was rubbing myself absolutely raw. The chains were tight on my wrists, but I had full range to explore myself, sexually. My fingers worked my clit, moved across the line like Gronk in motion to pick up the lead block.

A few hours later we were deep into some other brain-eraser…

"Now, tell me. Should the running back hit the A gap or the B gap?"

"How the hell should I know?"

Chad looked at me coldly. He walked up and took both my nipples in his large, capable hands and twisted. I sunk into the seat, pleasure and pain walloping me, turning me messy and chunky like cottage cheese. "A Gap!" I moaned, "Oh sweet scoundrel, part my two offensive linemen like beef curtains and split my A gap, fleet of foot."

Instead of that, Chad stepped back pressed the remote. The chains holding my ankles pulled tighter and spread my legs even further apart. He looked down at me, licking his lips, "If you want me in there, you need to study tape."