Her breasts were as fake as her tan, but I wasn’t sure about her ass. It filled out her bikini bottoms nicely, and hard nipples were clearly visible through the top. She had her hands behind her head, and her back arched to throw out her chest, which she was twisting to show off. Her hair was long and dark, and not very organized, but not so disheveled that it was a turn-off. I didn’t think her lips were real.
Ollie shut his locker, so I didn’t get to dissect the pin-up further. No, I was not in the company of a supermodel in a bikini, I was in a locker room with my football team. It was time for practice. There’s nothing like getting through a week of school just to go back Saturday and get slammed around a little more. I yawned and followed the guys into the next room, wondering if Red would keep her promise. At least she couldn’t bother me here. But I couldn’t sleep here either.
The blackboard was full of crosses and lines and circles and football jargon in bad handwriting. I paused in the doorway, and some of the guys jostled past me. He didn’t seriously expect us to sit through another one of these lectures, did he? The coach was a madman. And even more mad if he thought I was going to stay awake through it. I ducked back into the locker room; the coach hadn’t seen me yet. It was starting to look like this might be a practice that I’d be better off to arrive about half an hour late too. Then I could get tackled in peace. Pain I can deal with, but stupidity I enjoy less.
Making sure no one was paying any attention to me, I slipped out and hurried across the lawn. My practice clothes wouldn’t make me stick out. I headed across the grounds to the main buildings. I was thinking of getting something to drink from a vending machine, and finding a nice sunny spot for a quick nap.
I didn’t even make it to the vending machines. Kylie appeared out of nowhere, thrusting a paper at my face as though I was a clown, and the paper was a pie. I avoided it.
“What?” She repeated, and cocked her head. She held up the paper. She wanted me to notice the big A on it.
“Nice job,” I said.
“That’s right. I beat you.”
“You sure did.”
“Anything you can do, I can do better.”
“I believe it.”
She was getting frustrated, but she wouldn’t show it. She waved the paper. “The first of many.”
“I’m sure. Does being competitive with me gain you something I don’t know about? Or do you just do it because it’s fun?” She was wearing her hair loose today; it looked better that way. The usual ponytail was boring to me.
“Fun? Fun? You think anything with you is fun?”
“I don’t know.”
She crumpled up the test and threw it at my feet, then turned and stalked away.
“Don’t you have newspaper stuff to do?” I called after her.
“My damn typesetters are gone!” she shouted back. Though I’d never show it, I had a lot of respect for Kylie. She was one of the school’s best athletes, and she mostly ran the school paper. That’s a lot of responsibility. She probably doesn’t sleep as much as I do. I moseyed on, got a bottle of water, and went out the side door. I passed the greenhouse. It was warm in there, but too many bugs and chemicals and odd smells. The old storage building? The old gym? There had to be plenty of secluded places for me on a Saturday. My phone was going off. Probably someone on the team wondering where I was. I ignored it.
I could hear sprinklers on behind one of the buildings, and I also heard something else. Very quietly I went to the wall and peeked around.
My two friends from the art supply closet the day before were there. I wondered if they weren’t Kylie’s typesetters. They weren’t typesetting.
The redhead was bent at a full ninety degrees, her hands and elbows pressed to the brick wall. Her skirt was hiked up over her waist, and her panties were caught around her knees. Her slender boytoy had his hands on her hips, and was giving her an energetic pumping with that oddly thick member of his. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but his were fixed on her pale buttocks, the flesh of which rippled every time he pushed in.
He hadn’t gone from awkward virgin to pro overnight, but he was making big strides. The redhead’s legs shook and wavered on the especially deep strokes, and I could sometimes hear her grunt over the sound of his pelvis smacking her backside. He was going too fast, though – at this rate he was going to cum before she did. I had a feeling she’d forgive him. He slipped one hand around her front to run his fingers through that thick, red pubic hair, and she bent over deeper with a groan.
The boy put his head back, and his hands found her hips again, and gripped them tighter. His pace sped up, and he abruptly pulled out, wrapping his fingers around his thick shaft, which was slick with her juices. He put his hand on her back and jerked several generous strings of cum onto her rear. Then he pushed his penis into the cleft of her buttocks and hugged her from behind, no doubt shuddering out a few more drops.
The redhead didn’t look disappointed, but she hadn’t made it. She straightened and reached back to rub his head and whisper something to him. The boy looked surprised, but she turned around and dropped to her knees, putting both hands on his softening penis. It stopped softening. She ran her hands up and down the slippery flesh, squeezing and twisting. He let out several gasps, but he couldn’t help but get rock hard again.
I started to wonder if these two were going to have a really serious effect on my sleep schedule.
She could barely fit him in her mouth, so she was just being wet and sloppy in general to make up for it, and that didn’t bother him. His mind was blown as she licked up and down the shaft, suckled, the head, and nipped it with her teeth. His hands were on her head, but rather than controlling her, she was controlling him. She was very good, and he was very turned on, because he was ready to explode again just minutes after his first. The redhead stopped. I approved.
The boy looked stunned as she got up and took a step back to lean against the wall. She pushed her panties to her ankles and stepped out, then spread her legs a little and raised her skirt, exposing everything. Her labia were swollen and glistening, almost as red as her hair, and she used two fingers to part the lips. Here was where being taller than her boyfriend was going to come in handy for her. He stepped forward, kissed her distractedly on the neck, and pushed in without hesitation.
She pulled him deeper, grinding his pubic bone against her clitoris. Her head rested on his shoulder, and one leg hooked itself around his hip, not letting him pull out too far. Her left hand squeezed at his clothed buttock, and her right grasped the back of his head.
I watched her face as the boy got the hang of it, and began to thrust at an angle that put pressure on her clit. She was moaning now, like I’d never heard her moan before.
I had not noticed Edie approaching at all. Now that I did, I grabbed her and put a hand over her mouth before she could see what was going on around the corner. It was easy to hold her that way; she’s very small. For a second she was shocked, then she heard the sounds, and started to struggle. I think she wanted to watch too. I just held her tighter, and she quieted down as the moans got louder. These two never would have gotten away with this on a week day. They still might not; two people had already stumbled across them.
The boy’s hand was clutching desperately under the redhead’s thigh, and his other was groping her breast through her uniform. She just held him tight and moaned and gasped, her face twisting as she started to cum. Her hips bucked and shook more erratically, and the sounds she made got breathier and more ragged. She lost the strength to hold him close, and he slipped out, but her legs clenched together in the throes of her orgasm, trapping him between pale, damp thighs. I watched him cum all over the wall behind her, the semen splashing over the bricks in streams.
They were both going to have bruises from how tightly they were holding each other. I didn’t let Edie go until our two lovebirds had moved on, which was about another ten minutes. When I released her, Edie whirled on me, face red, cheeks puffed out in anger. I yawned, then started to whistle and set off toward the football field. She came after me.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded.
“I’m preserving your innocence.”
“Hey, I am not innocent.”
“Reading my stories doesn’t make you not innocent.”
“Shut up. Aren’t you going to tell me about it?”
“You can read about it.”
I pushed through the door, and she tried to follow. I turned back and cleared my throat, tapping the sign that read Men’s Locker Room. I wiggled my fingers at her and shut the door in her face.
Next: Practice: For Real This Time