The need for relief

You can physically remove yourself from the hockey match, and Blair’s words, but you can’t mentally. Your dick is straining in your pants. Your mind is filled with all Blair’s allusions.

You can’t go home unfulfilled. You must find some relief. An evil thought crosses your mind.

You’ve studied the building layout when the school sent its bumf, principally to know where your classroom was and where the staff room and canteen were, but in general to understand the school’s layout. Back then you’d noticed something but thought nothing of it.

You do believe there is a route which will allow you to spy on the changing rooms. The idea is wrong, but you can’t help it. You have a key to a side door in the main building. Use that. Enter. Follow the empty corridors of your imagination. Find the janitor’s closet. It’s not locked. And there’s an air vent that overlooks the changing rooms. It doesn’t offer you a vision of the main changing rooms, but of the staff\referee’s changing room. Although it does allow you to overhear loud conversations in the main changing room.

You reorganise the area around the vent. So, you can sit there and wait for the game to finish, then stand and look through it without making any noise. Then you wait.

The arrival of the girls is muffled by the walls, but the walls aren’t thick enough to deaden it completely. Their conversations are incomprehensible until you stand and press your ear against the vent. There’s nothing to see. None of the umpires have turned up yet.

There’s a bubble of conversation, but one stands out. You can’t see who’s talking. You don’t recognise the voices, or maybe you do, it’s hard to tell. It’s hard to even tell how many are in the conversation, at least four, possibly more.

“See you stopped playing once Mr Smith left.”

“We were winning. Coach has always told us to manage our energy.”

“Yes, we saw you. You kept flashing your knickers.”

“So were you.”

“I expected you to find a reason to remove your knickers, so you could flash your pussy at him.”

“I’m not a slut like you.”

“No, you’re bigger.”

“How dare you, I have a boyfriend.”

“But you’d still sleep with Mr Smith if you could.”

“I still can’t believe they let a man like him teach at this school.” A different voice trying to break the tension.

“Yere, the rest are all old codgers.”

“You’re lucky, you’ve got history with him. I wish I’d taken history.”

“You know Brianna lives next door to him.”

“What? She does. Lucky bitch. Maybe we should pay her a visit. See she didn’t come to support us.”

“She’s got a broken hand.”

“Yes, that’s ruining her nighttime activities. Bet he has a big cock. Nata says he has a big cock.”

“How would Nata know?”

“Nata’s an expert on cocks. She’s tried half the town.”

“I wouldn’t trust anything Nata says. Anyway, he’s short.”

“What’s that got to do with anything.”

“Everything’s in proportion. It’s tall guys who have big cocks. He’s probably average.”

“You’d still like to find out.”

“Girls stop chatting and get into the shower.” That last sentence is shouted and is distinctly Blair’s. You can hear grumbling and motion as the girls clearly follow Blair’s instructions.

You twist to look through the vent. You can see motion now. It’s the other umpire. She’s already down to her underwear. She’s soon stripping that off, but you catch snippets of her curves before she grabs her towel and disappears into the showers.

Then again, a bigger prize has just walked into the room. Layla.