Try to Steal Panties

The others arrive together chatting amiably, until Layla sees you. She rolls her eyes and holds back, not bothering to insult you, just ignore you. The other three greet you with a hug. Then you head to the court.

You and Krystal sit in the balcony. The women warm up beneath you. Layla picks a spot directly under the balcony, one which you can’t see except if you leaned over. That would be too obvious. You’ve got three other women, whose physiques you can admire. Seeing Layla stretch would just be a bonus.

Then the women pair up; Layla with Anissa, Blair with Spencer. They start with a knock around. Blair is energetic, enthusiastic and a bit too eager. Layla is the most skilled. Anissa and Spencer are far behind. After the knockaround a game begins.

“I do believe Anissa is improving,” Krystal tells you. You can’t tell. Anissa is clearly the least skilled. “Although Blair is showing off, probably trying to catch your eye.” She might well be. There are 4 pairs of breasts, confined within sports bras, but still dominating your attention. With such a pleasant sight, the game goes quickly.

But there’s a bigger prize out there. You can watch 4 pairs of tits bouncing in sports bras or you can intrude into one of those women’s dreams. The latter lures you out. You bid Krystal farewell. You can see the disappointment in her eyes. She was enjoying sitting next to you, enjoying commenting about the women below. You give her a chaste kiss on the cheek and leave. The need to find fuel for the cap of dreams drives you on.

Finding it is not a problem. Getting it is.

The corridors are busier than last week. The people are more vigilant. Have they recruited more staff in a week? Or are the staff just more prominent in the corridors? At the important junction to the women’s changing rooms there’s a female member of staff chatting to some female clients. Can’t sneak past them. Keep on going as if you know where you’re headed. Where you end up is back at the café. You buy a drink of flavoured water, sit and drink it, then try your luck again. This time the corridor is empty.

Down the corridor. To the women’s changing rooms. Carefully peer in. The staff member hasn’t gone. They’re mopping down the floors. Quick step away. Did they see you?

“Hey, is someone there?”

They saw you. You try to walk quickly away, speed and stealth inexpertly combined. Back into the main corridor, still empty. You find a corner and duck behind that. Just in time. You can hear footsteps where you’d been. You feel a presence in the corridor. It doesn’t follow you. But you hear the crackle of a walky-talky.

“Can someone come down to the women’s changing rooms. I think our visitor’s back.”

“Roger that. Coming immediately.”

Shit. You need to get out of here. You don’t know where the corridor you’ve ducked into leads. You follow it anyway, randomly heading down corridors, avoiding crowds, avoiding people exercising. Somehow you find yourself at the entrance. You quickly leave.

That was a close call. You leave empty handed, but at least you leave a free man.