You decide to flirt

As your five-some reaches the stairs yiou pull the guys off to the side, into a small ten-by-ten cul-de-sac beside the stairs.

"Wait, I want to be able to see the doors," you tell them, your first intelligent words, even if they do puzzle the boys.

"You waiting for someone?"

After opening your mouth to tell them about your boyfriend you hesitate. Letting them know that someone is coming would be the safer course of action, but would it scare them off, make them lose interest?

Licking your lips sensually you smile, saying "Oh no, I just like this spot. It's like a hidden little world. Just that short ledge separating us from the stairs down, a big bushy plant hiding us from the lobby... So close to being exposed, yet not quite."

With your hands rubbing along the bottom of your top, lifting it ever-so-slightly, combining with your words to promise that something might just happen. The boys stare, and you wink back, feeling in control as you lean backward toward the two old payphones at the end of the 'cul-de-sac', only to find yourself pressed up against over six feet of solid muscle.

"Oh!"

"No problem, girl. Lean back," the boy urges, and for a long moment you do, until you realize that your arms must be pressing right against his crotch and you pull away.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Jenny. Jenny Rainwood."

"I'm..."

"Shh, no names," you wink, delighting in the thought of flirting with nameless strangers while waiting for Jacob.

"Uh, okay," the guy shrugs.

Looking around at the guys you can't help but notice that in addition to being hispanic and black they're also enormous. None of them are less than fifteen inches taller than you and maybe three times your weight.

"Are you athletes? I love athletes," you say with wide eyes, taking in their obvious muscles.

"We sure are. We're on the football team."

"Really? So do you have cheerleaders? With, like, pom-poms and teeny little skirts like this?" you ask, lifting your skirt a little, forgetting that you'd worn the ultra-short one for Jacob with nothing under it.

For a long moment the guys stare down at your bare crotch before you finally let go of the hem, continuing on without a clue. "I bet they love what they do, dancing all game, showing off for the crowd and you."

Thinking about it makes you break into a spontaneous cheer. "Come on Cougars, whose the best? Squish those guys like all the rest. Goooooo Cougars!" you cheer, throwing your legs up, shaking your booty, and finishing with a high kick that shows your bare pussy to them again.

"Ah. Stallions, actually," one corrects, recovering from you flashing them quicker than the rest.

"Really?" you ask, oblivious to what you'd just done - again. "Isn't that a strange name for an inner-city team?"

"Well," he shrugs with a sly smirk, "We're not named for having four legs."

"Hey Jenny, you think you can do the splits?" another asks before you can figure out what the other one meant.

"Splits? Sure. I think. Here?"

"Sure. Go for it."

"Well... okay..." you say with a dubious look at the floor, wondering if it's cleaner than it looks. Still, the urge to show off compels you to lower yourself, and with your arms propping you up you spread your legs.

"That's it, almost there, Jenny," they encourage you, looking down your front where the top has bunched outward a bit, giving them a nice view of your little boobs.

"Did it!" you exclaim, throwing your hands up. "That wasn't so hard."

"Oh yeah? A cheerleader could arch backwards and touch the floor," they challenge.

"No problem," you smirk, and start arching backward, only to lose your balance and flop onto your back. One of the boys steps forward, helpfully planting his feet against either thigh before your legs can start to close.

"Try arching your back til your cunt kisses the floor," he suggests, his tone so reasonable that you bite back the objection to the c-word. Not that you've never used it yourself, but guys tend to use it like a rude word.

"O-okay," you say, putting your hands on the floor and pushing up. Unfortunately, no matter how hard you try to arch your back so your cunt - pussy! you remind yourself - touches the ground, all you seem to do is lift your cunt - pussy! - in the air like you're offering it to them.

The guys admire the view, a bare, bald pussy, slightly agape from your splits, with a slight sheen glinting at them like a winking eye.

"I... I can't do it," you finally huff in disappointment, unclenching your muscles. It takes a moment for you to realize that your butt is still up on the air. It isn't until you look down that you see the guy that was helping you keep the splits has your legs in his hands, his big rough hands hot on you upper thighs. "You can, uh, let go."

"No no, we're gonna see if you can do something else the cheerleaders all do," he says with what seems like a dangerous smile.