A disappointing Show

Layla’s locker is not directly in sight of the vent. You can see her motion, an arm, her clothing as she pulls it off. You don’t catch sight of her nakedness. It’s tantalising enough to breathe new life into your penis. It’s not clear enough to fulfil your dreams.

When she does step into view of the vent, her flesh is covered by a towel, and all you see is her back.

But there’s another prize now visible. Blair. Her locker is in plain view. She’s in plain view. As she pulls off her top. As she unclasps her sports bra. Her breasts bounce as their released from their confines. They don’t drop a millimetre as they’re released. Fuck, they’re wonderful. They’re full, and they’re meaty, more than a handful, slightly skewed, areola prominent. They’re not the only thing that needs to be released. You have to unzip and pull out your cock, otherwise it would rip a hole in your pants. Released, you have to run your hand along it, bewitched by the beauty it beholds.

Blair is pulling down her lycra shorts. You spy her naked taught ass. You could bounce coins off it. She has thighs that could milk a hundred cocks and not relent. She has smooth, delicious skin you just want to kiss. The only sight your missing is her slit.

The other umpire is returning from the shower, skin gleaming with water. They nod their welcome. The other umpire vanishes out of sight. Not that you notice. You’re entranced by Blair. She picks up her towel, and there’s a brief flash of her snatch. Then she’s heading to the showers. She’s gone. But the memory of what you saw continues to inspire your stroking.

True inspiration comes later. Layla emerges from the shower, her flesh still damp, her towel running across her back, her full nakedness revealed. God, her tits are massive. The way they jiggle as she dries her back with the towel. She’s a short girl and that just makes her breasts even more impressive. You’d guessed as much from her umpire’s outfit but seeing them unleashed really brings it home.

She pauses, and you get to study her naked body. She has two tattoos; a splurge of water lilies on the upper left arm, a scorpion on the right pelvis just above the groin, just above the shaved pussy. Your dick yearns to be in that. Your palm is a poor substitute.

She’s paused because Blair has called her. And Blair is there, naked, wet, on full display, just like Layla. Both are exquisite. Both heavy breasted, smooth skinned, reeking of sex.

The sight of such beauty, coupled with the conversation you heard earlier, coupled with the stimulation of your right hand, is too much. You cum. You close eyes and swallow your groans. You hunch up. Your thigh muscles quiver. Your seed splatters the wall. It leaks onto your fingers.

It takes half a minute before you can open your eyes, look at the mess you made, take breaths deep enough to cover your release.

You put your dick away. You find some paper towels and wipe your hands clean, then wipe the white splatters on the wall. You crumple the towels up, but fear to leave them as a clue to your presence, so squeeze it into a pocket.

Then you carefully leave. Leave the janitor’s closet. Leave the school. Get back home.

And all the time one thought is running through your head. You’ve seen Blair and Layla naked. You’ve heard the hockey team lust after you. You want them. You want all of them. You want to claim them; the same way you’ve claimed Brianna.