Cumming Up Trumps part 2

Trump looked with astonishment, he knew Manning had more in store for him but he didn’t know what the rest of the night would entail.

“You remind me of Cooky” Manning said, “Who’s Cooky?” Replied Trump. “He is me ex but he shouldn’t be playing one day cricket for England” said Manning with a groan as she swigged from her hip flask. As she gleefully swigged from the flask she was reminded of how she came to be strewn across the chair of the most powerful man in the world.

Her mind wandered back to the days when her and ‘Cooky’ would happily play around Essex Cricket Club. Her bowling and him practising his cover drives. Cooky had moved down after finishing at Bedford School. He was a bright young man and Manning knew he was destined for greatness. Often she would tell him how his batting resembled that of Bradman or Sobers. She knew teasing him would make him horny and she could cop a grope of his cock after nets. One summers afternoon, amidst the start of the first ever T20 season, Manning went down to Chelmsford to watch her beloved Essex Eagles in the T20 cup. Cooky was just making his breakthrough into the Essex team but wasn’t near the T20 squad and Manning bumped into him wandering round the outfield. Manning hadn’t seen him in ages and he looked well for all the batting practise he had done. Cooky had short black hair and had a fine muscular physique. Manning strolled around in her now infamous tracksuit bottoms and top. “Here Cooky” she called out “fancy a net I’ve just pinged Nasser Cobain on helmet”