Hit the showers

Most of the rest of the class went by relatively without incident, as I spent most of it watching girls do chin ups (and believe me, the appeal of watching a cavalcade of heaving breasts straining against the thin fabric of the gym uniform t-shirts was not lost to me), drinking one of the huge bottles of water from my backpack, and half-heartedly stroking my half-hard member.

Only a couple girls managed to do the full five chin-ups, Kay, in her mesh top, amongst them. Afterwards, she sat down on the bottom bleacher close beside me, not talking, but offering me instead an occasional bemused but also genuinely sympathetic glance. We sat and watched the rest of the girls one by one take their turns on the bar, and I drank the remainder of my second one liter spring water bottle. At some point Kay's allowed her hand to drift onto my bare thigh, and soon she was gently running the back of her her fingernails along it's length in a way more reassuring than romantic. She seemed to be doing this almost unconsciously, so I tried to play it off like I didn't care either, even when she allowed her drifting fingers to find their way onto my testicles, our fingers sometimes touching when her upward caress met my downward stroke. I found my erection returning to full hardness.

With ten minutes left in the class, the last girl finally took her turn, valiantly trying to bring her chin to meet the bar with all her might, but never making it the last third of the way. Ms. Tittle blew her whistle.

"Alright, ladies! ...And erm, John... next up is sit-ups!"

Everyone groaned.

"But, well... There's only ten minutes left in class," she said in seeming acknowledgement of their complaints, "so look forward to that next class! Everybody hit the showers!"

"Wait, what?" I might have been about to say when Kay took me by the hand.

"Come on, John," she said, smiling.

"I'll wash your back if you wash mine," she added, as we walked through the girl's locker room's swinging door.