A basketball

“You okay?” you asked Larry. You bent over to peer at your companion. Larry lay there clutching at his mouth. Underneath his right hand was an orange ball, the kind that was used to play basketball.

“Of course he is.” a rich baritone answered. You looked up to see Marcus Freeman looking down at you and Larry. Marcus stood six and a half foot and was a solid two hundred twenty pounds. His dark skin and shaved pate made his rugged features seem even more fearsome. Like Cindy, Marcus was dressed in a tight sweater with the school’s symbol on the chest. However, his sweater emphasized his broad shoulders and bulging biceps rather than a buxom bosom. You gave the big man a smile. Despite his size and fearsome appearance, Marcus was a gentle soul. That gentleness was obvious when he returned your smile with a huge grin. He extended a hand which Larry took. He showed no strain in lifting Larry to his feet.

“I don’t know why he shouldn’t be…” Cindy started, “It wasn’t as if I was throwing at him.” Larry stared daggers at her. Marcus held on to Larry’s arm just in case.

“Yeah, but you still hit him in the face.” another voice called out. You turned to see two more people approach. Both wore sweaters that marked them as cheerleaders. Both sported fire engine red hair. The taller, at an inch or two over six feet, was Tom Michaels. Next to him was Shannon O’Hara. Although she stood only a fraction over six feet, the way her wild red hair spread out from her scalp made Shannon nearly Tom’s equal in stature. While Shannon couldn’t match the breadth of Tom’s shoulders, the mammoth melons adorning her chest gave her the advantage there. Both had slender waists. However, Shannon’s hips flared out before tapering back in to the pair of shapely legs that appeared below the bottom of her skirt. Tom’s did not.

“P’rhaps ye cou’d figure a way tae make it up to ‘im.” the tall Irish lass told Cindy in her thick brogue.

“Maybe he’d like to play with us?” Tom suggested. Cindy stared daggers at the redhead.

“Play?” Larry asked.

“Normally we have cheerleading practice at this time.” Marcus started, “However, with finals going on, Coach Henderson canceled practice.”

“Friday, the squad met to celebrate the end of classes.” Tom continued.

“We decided tae meet ‘ere anyway.” Shannon told the two of you, “Least ways those of who did nae ‘ave finals ‘morrow.”

“Since we knew we wouldn’t have everyone here,” Marcus said, “We decided we’d play a game instead.”

“You’re blushing, Marcus.” you observed.

“Well…” Marcus stammered. The big man’s skin darkened even more.

“We were celebrating the end of classes.” Tom said, coming to the big man’s rescue. Shannon pantomimed taking a drink from a mug, just to make sure you had no doubt about what Tom meant. “Anyway, just to make things interesting, we put a few wrinkles on game.”

“Of course, if ye play, ye’ll be agreen’ to abide by the wrinkles as well.” Shannon pointed out.

“What sort of ‘wrinkles’ are we talking about?” Larry asked.

“Do nae worry ‘bout dat.” Shannon said. She put an arm around Larry’s shoulders. “I be sure ye be willin’ tae accept.”

“What about Pat?” Marcus asked.

“Don’t worry,” Cindy interrupted, “I’m sure she’ll agree to play…And under the conditions we’ve all agreed to.” Cindy handed you a water bottle. The light blue liquid looked like Gatorade. You took a long healthy drink from it. You choked when you felt the liquid burn as it slid down your throat to your belly.

“And just what conditions do you think I’m going to blindly accept?” you gasped.

“Just that when your opponents met certain conditions,” Cindy explained, “You have to take off a piece of clothing.”

“Also,” Tom told you, “The losers have to do whatever the winners want.” The way Tom…and Shannon looked at each other left no doubt that what the winners, regardless of gender, would have the losers perform something of a sexual nature. You downed a second shot. The fire in your belly grew. It was joined by a fire in your loins.

“Fine!” you said as you conceded, at least to yourself, that you wanted a good fuck as much as she did, “Just what are we playing?” You turned to face Marcus.