In fact, you're going to Captain for the skins

"You know me Ms. Decker, I'd never give up a chance to play," you tell her. "Can I be Captain for the skins?"

Ms. Decker grins. "How could I say no?" she says, approaching you.

She takes the hem of your shirt, and pulls it above your head as you stretch your arms. Ms. Decker makes sure to push her chest against yours as she pulls your shirt off. She then takes the waistband of your sweat pants, and pulls them forward and down to let your erection spring free. She kneels down to pull off your sweats, your cock less than an inch from her face. She sticks her tongue out slightly, as if to lick it, grinning coquettishly at you before standing up. You manage to fish your shoes through your sweatpants.

"Jess, you can be Captain for the shirts. Please select your teams. Skins go first."

You and Jess alternate selecting teammates. As you select yours, they line up for you to undress them, taking off their shoes while they wait. You try to select for a range of body types, knowing from experience that this helps camaraderie and to distract as many members of the opposite team as possible. The new girl is still hanging around after all the others have been picked, so you take her for your team too.

You then go about undressing your team mates. All of them were happy to be selected by the one boy in the class, and are happy to take a few looks at your erect member as you pull off their tops and their shorts. They have a variety of sizes of boob, from A cup with perky nipples, to D cups with inverted nipples, though all the girls are getting nipple erections from watching your hard cock wagging around. Most of them keep their bushes neatly trimmed or shaved, in accordance with the school dress code, though some are less diligent than others.

You undress the new girl last: her breasts are a B-cup, and you experiment cupping them with your hands. She smiles a strangely over-keen smile at you. You smile back in a friendly, I-like-your-tits kind of way, and kneel down to take off her shorts. Her bush is much less trimmed, slightly wild in fact, though strangely enticing.

"I'm going to sit out," she informs you. She turns to Ms. Decker. "The Skins have one extra player, so maybe we can make it so that a player can get back in the game if they bring anyone else who's sitting out to orgasm."

Ms. Decker is idly stroking her prominent nipples through her tank top. "That sounds good," she says.

You bring together the Skins for a quick huddle. It's not that you need to discuss strategy, but the best part of Dodgeball is the team-building through touching each others bodies. You're all excited to play, hyping each other up with cheers and high-fives while slapping each others butts, copping quick feels of each others chests, and slipping hands quickly high up between each others thighs. The shirts are doing a similar ritual, though slightly less charged and with a bit more emphasis on slipping each other some tongue.

With a whoop, you all get into position to play.