Cheerleading practice

It was cheerleading practice, and I was changing into the tight, short shorts which were more like hot pants than shorts, and the loose, semi-translucent shift of a t-shirt that our school said was a sports T-shirt. But this time, in the cubicle, I stuffed my sports bra and thong into my school bag. John was having Football training and I wanted to surprise him after training.

"Hey, Sarah, you aren't wearing a bra!" My friend Ashley squealed.

"Yes, I am! Just that dumb people can't see it!" I laughed. My cheerleading friends giggled, but they were pretty cool with it. You had to look pretty carefully to see that I wasn't wearing any. And with all that movement involved in cheerleading, I felt pretty ok with it. The cotton rubbing against my nipples was betraying me though. I hoped they didn't stand out too much.

And I kind of realized when we did splits, people could see up my shorts. Oops. My bad. As usual, dance practice was always very well attended. Not only the dancers, but also lots of guys usually come check us out when we practise. After all, we were the most popular babes in school, and we liked to flaunt it. We shut out the crowd and the noise and the guys and the stares and the comments, and studying ourselves in the mirror, we began to practise.

As practice ended, I was pretty self-conscious because my tee was soaked and really translucent now. My nipples stuck up proudly and you could basically see every thing. I waited at the canteen for my hero. John finally finished, and he was dirty, muddy, scratched, battered and sweaty and stinky. He stopped in his tracks and stared. Hard. At my hard nipples. And something else of his got hard too. "Give me a minute." He rushed down to the tennis court next to the canteen where the other football players were using a fire hose to hose off themselves. Half-naked guys playing with water in the evening– nice view I had to say.

He came back, a thin sheen of water over him. He shook his head like a dog. "Eww!"

I squealed. He laughed. John took my hand and led me to the guy's toilet – it was still empty, but soon it would be full of guys. It pretty much stank! I held my nose. "You guys are so smelly!" I told him. He led me to the shower cubicle. It wasn't so bad inside the cubicle. He helped me out of my tee, and pulled down my shorts to my knees. We began to French and lick at each other's faces and biting necks and nibbling ears. He pulled down his pants and freed Big John. He held my waist and pushed me against the cubicle wall, my boobs and nipples pressing against the cold walls. I felt his stiffness against my pussy, and he slowly slipped into me.

"Fucking John! Where the fuck is he, man?"

"How the fuck should I know? He just fucking ran off like that."

"Cock-sucking asshole…I told him wait for us to go eat dinner together what…"

"What the fuck! Can you fucking hurry up?"

The toilet was suddenly crowded with guys, and John tensed up. He held me still against the wall, on hand over my mouth. An impatient rugger banged on the door of the cubicle. "Fucking hurry up!" Jack impaled me impatiently and I squeaked a bit. He pressed me into the wall and reached down for my knees, and lifted me. I got the idea and lifted my feet up and wrapped my legs around his waist, my feet crossing behind at the small of his back. He then supported my waist with one hand and cupped my breast with the other. Pushing me against the wall, he slowly, deliberately began to thrust. Him carrying me was really hot. I bit my lip to prevent myself from moaning.

We fucked and fucked in that tiny cubicle. He was so strong and assured of himself. He was so large and thick and I was addicted to friction. I was addicted to him. I began to realize that there was no noise in the toilet at all – maybe the footballers had left already? I sighed with pleasure, and moaned softly underneath my breath as I came, shuddering heavily and shaking, biting my lip so hard until it really hurt. He came just after me, shooting deep into me, shaking hard, too. He breathed out slowly. Felt him slowly shrink in me. I opened my eyes, and looked upwards. About ten faces were staring at us from over the cubicle walls. They looked kind of shocked but also with an "Oh, no big deal I'm just looking" kind of attitude. Their mouths were agape and eyes were really wide. I immediately turned red and tried to cover up my face. They had just seen John carry-fuck me and seen me in such a **** state.

"Hey, never seen people fucking before is it? Some privacy, please?"

Johnfairly snapped at them. All ten heads disappeared. Then, there was a sudden burst of laughter, and the whole toilet began to laugh. Even John was laughing too. I began to smile. Fucking footballers.