1 comments/ 15710 views/ 0 favorites Racquetball By: DaveAM A friend of ours asked us to house-sit his house. Next to his garage was a racquetball court. It took us a few days to get out to the court as we found some 'other' pleasurable things to be do, but eventually we decided to try it out have some fun, and work up a sweat. There are rackets that we can borrow so we go out to the court. We start just hitting it back and forth. While you haven't played in a long time, it's obvious that you've played before and make some nice shots. Eventually you ask if we should play a game. 'What are the stakes?' I ask. 'What would you like?' you ask very sexily. My mind starts to whir and I say the loser - loses his or her shirt. You smile and say 'who knows where it will lead! You're on.' We decide to play to 11. You serve first and your first shot is right down the line and I can't even get my racket on it. Your point. Oh-oh! It's going to be a match. Eventually I get the serve and score a few points and lead 6-3. On my next serve you hit the ball so it bounces about 2 inches off the front wall. You take the next point. 6-4. I then get on a little roll and get the next five points ending the game. You walk up to me kiss me on the lips and say OK take your prize. I pull your shirt over your head and kiss your neck and exposed shoulders, down towards your chest. As I start to reach up towards your bra, you push me away and say that's the next game. You suggest your bra for my tee shirt. I say lets go. The next game is much closer. The lead is going back and forth and I'm having a little trouble concentrating on the game. You look so good in your shorts and bra. At 10-10 I realize that if I win the next point I get to see your naked breasts. While we have just spent the past two days being naked 90% of the time I am still excited by the prospect and bear down and win the final point. I walk over to you and wipe the sweat off your forehead. You say, 'you win again.' 'Now I get to see my Two prizes', I reply! I remove your bra and replace your cups with my hands over your breasts - massaging them. I get erect and have to adjust myself so my prick doesn't break in half. You wrap your arms around me and we hold each other for a while, with our tongues in each other's mouths. When we come up for air, you ask for the next bet. I'm surprised that you want to play another but your really getting into it. I say OK this time it's your shorts for my tee shirt. You agree and start the next game with two points in a row. I get the serve back but don't score a point. You line up for the next serve, and I'm watching your breasts hang down and sway back and forth, your nipple is hard, and the next thing I know is that you've got two more points and lead 4-0. I think OK I've got to get my mind back on the game. I get the serve back and score three points, but then you make a couple of great shots, you talk about getting lucky but I know it's more than that. It's now 7-3. You turn and smile at me and shake your boobies a little and are able to get the next 4 points. You won. I complain, a little, that you distracted me. Well you certainly did but you also played great. You pull off my tee shirt and rub your hands over my chest and then tweak my nipple. You then say shorts for shorts? I agree and we keep going. I realize that I have to concentrate if I want to win. But with your breasts exposed and swaying as you run around the court I'm having a HARD time. The game goes back and forth and I finally put together a run and win 11-8. This time you walk over to me and I kneel down in front of you. I pull your shorts down over your bum and down in front and you are wearing the softest, silkiest, white panties I have ever seen or felt. I start to rub my face on the front and you grab my head and hold it tight to you. My hands are massaging your butt and as I slide them under your panties, you pull away and say OK let's go shorts for panties. I'm getting tired but your still rearing to go. We start again and I know that if I win this game it's over and we can go back to the house. Since you'll already be naked we'll find something interesting to do. I take the first 5 points and think I'm on my way. On the next point – your on the right side of the court and hit it down the right side. I go charging over and run right into you. I have to grab onto you to keep from knocking you over. Our sweaty bodies collide and I feel your damp breasts on my chest. I hold on to you and ask if your OK. You are, and you rub your chest against mine and say 'I'm fine' but hold on for another minute. It's incredible how good our sweaty bodies feel together. By the time we separate I have an erection. We play the point over and you win it, as I'm not able to run like I should. You give me a little smirk and then take the next seven points in a row. I finally get a point and then we go back and forth each taking a point until it's 10-9. It's your serve and you look back at me and smile. You put the serve right down the line and win the game. You tell me to come over. You slide my shorts down to my ankles, taking care to avoid my erect penis. You reach up grab my dick and give it a playful squeeze. Now it's obviously the last game - undies for undies. You kiss me and say 'lets finish this'. You start well taking the first two points. I then come back and get the next four. You seem to be having as much trouble concentrating as I am. I bend over to make the next serve and my erection falls out of my boxers. You make a nice return but I had no chance as I was fumbling with my penis trying to get it back inside my shorts. Your laughing as you and 'my point' and serve. You get the next three points and lead 6-4. I finally get a point but lose the next one. You now lead 7-5. After you win the next point and lead 8-5 I bear down. During the next volley I get the ball in the center of the court and hit it hard, trying to get it by you. Unfortunately it hits you squarely on your left butt cheek. You grab your butt. It obviously stings. I come over and ask if your OK. You smile a little and say you'll be fine. I rub it a little and you moan and say it feels better already. I pull your panties down a little and can see a big red circle where it hit you. I rub directly on the spot, and you say 'kiss my ass' - so I bend over and lovingly kiss it. I'm ready to call it quits but you say no way. So we continue. I get the next three points and the game is tied. We smile at each other knowing that it's almost over and we are both now HOT and tired. I get two more points in a row and lead 10-8. You get the next point before I FINALLY get the last point and win the last game and your panties. I walk over to you and tell you that I've never played a more enjoyable match. And that's the truth!!! 'Now pay up'! I put my hands on the waist of your panties and slowly pull them down. I bring then to my face and inhale deeply. Wow your hot, sweaty, scent is intoxicating. (You may never get those panties back again) I put my hand between your legs and stroke up and down your lips. You are obviously wet and not just sweaty from the workout. I insert two fingers into your vagina and they just slide right in. I lean you against the wall and press my body against yours. Ohhhhhhh I love the feel of your skin against mine. I have my lips kissing yours and our tongues are being sucked into each other's mouths. I take my fingers from your pussy and bring them to my lips. I lick them dry. You taste wonderful. I bend down and slide my penis across your opening. Gently I slide in until I am fully embedded in you. I lift you up and you wrap your legs around me. Using the wall for support you begin to bounce up and down on my penis. I'm holding you up with my hands on your ass – squeezing and massaging as I keep bouncing you up and down on my rock hard dick. I don't know if its all the sexual tension from the long workout, the different surroundings, or the new position, but neither of us last long and we both CUM with loud explosive orgasms within a minute of each other and then collapse on the floor. As we lay on the hard wood floor, you ask who won, and I say I think we both did! It was an incredible morning. Racquetball Bet Even though I don't have any kids young enough to attend high school, I still go to a lot of the athletic games at the school that's near my home. About the only people that go to all the games are the players parents. During the past few years I have become friendly with not only lots of kids, but their families as well. Last month as I was leaving our local YMCA, I saw one of these families standing at the front desk joining our local facility. The wife and mother, Lori is her name, is a slim five feet eight-inch tall bleached blonde. "Is that a racquetball racket?" Lori asked as she spotted a handle sticking out the end of my gym bag. "Racquetball is my favorite sport. I played all the time when I was in college and while I was working. Now that I'm a stay at home mom I don't play at all and I'm getting fat and lazy." "I've been playing racquetball forever," I respond. "I always have a hard time finding people who can play during the day. Would you like to hit around sometime?" "How about Monday morning about ten," Lori said. Leaning across the reception desk counter, I asked John, the front desk supervisor; "You have an empty court Monday at ten?" "Sure do Mr. 'G', I'll put you and the lady down for an hour, OK?" Lori nodded, and I said, "Great." We played that Monday and again on Wednesday and Friday. We agreed that we would try to play every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, at least until summer. Monday of this week we had our first accident. She was in front of me, and I tried to smash a forehand past her into the corner. She was bending over and the ball hit her dead center of her right ass cheek. It was a stinger, and I knew it as soon as it hit her. "Oh damn..." she cried as she dropped to her knees. "That hurts like hell. I'm going to have one nasty bruise." "I'm sorry Lori...I didn't mean to hit you...I was trying to hit it past you." "I know hon...," she said as she stood and rubbed the spot with her hand. "It just stings a little...It'll go away," and than she flashed me her million dollar smile. We continue to play, and we both laughed about it later. Tuesday evening she called. "Can you pick me up tomorrow morning? My husband needs to drive tomorrow, and Jimmy asked to use one of our cars." Jimmy is her seventeen-year-old son. "Sure, no problem." "Come around nine and I'll make coffee. I'll even have a homemade muffin for you." When I pulled into her driveway the next morning, she came to the window and waved me in. She handed me a cup of coffee and I took it and sat at the table. There was a plate of fresh baked muffins already on the table. Lori stood by the sink drinking her coffee. "My bottom is so sore I can hardly sit on a chair without a cushion." She informed me. "Is it badly bruised?" "Yea... do you want to see it?" "Sure." She turned her back to me and pulled down her sweat pants and panties and showed me her ass. The right cheek had a nasty black, blue, green, yellow and red, two-inch circle right in the middle. "I bet I can make that better," I said. "How?" She said, looking back at me over her right shoulder. She had a surprised look on her face as I bent down and planted a kiss right on her bruise. "There, all better? I've kissed your boo-boo away." She quickly pulled her panties and pants up and said; "You're going to pay for that. I'll beat your pants off today." "Likely story," I said. "Would you like to place a small wager on that?" We bickered back and forth about what the bet would be until we got on the court. As luck would have it, we were assigned to one of the old courts that do not nave a glass wall or viewing balcony. "I said earlier I'd beat your pants off today," Lori stated. "Let's play strip racquetball. After all I've already shown you my butt, and when I win I'll get to see yours." "In your dreams baby, let's play!" We agreed that we would play games to ten points for our one hour. The winner of each game could demand the removal of an article of clothing that the loser was wearing. I think that we were both just kidding, but what the hell, you never know. Now I usually win the first couple of games, and then because she's in better shape than I am, on top of being twenty years younger, she starts to win. She figured that she had me in a sucker bet. We started playing and I won game number one. "Give me one of your shoes." I said. "I can't play without shoes!" She screamed. "Tough luck. The bet was that I could demand any piece of your clothing, and I'm asking for one of your shoes." She stood there staring at me, but took off a shoe. It didn't take but a couple of points for her to realize that she would be better off without shoes than with one on and one off. Than when I was leading eight to four she figured she'd be better off in bare feet. She tried but I was to far ahead and I won the second game. "You can have my other shoe." She said, pointing to the corner where both her shoes and socks were stacked. "The bet was that I could have any article of clothing that you're ...wearing. You're not wearing ... your shoes or socks, I'll take your shirt." I figured that I had her at this point, and it would not be long before she called the bet off. I would than have bragging rights for a long time. She surprised me by looking me right in the eyes, and very deliberately removing her shirt. Then without hardly any pause at all, she pulled off her sports bra, slid down her shorts and panties, and just stood there bare-ass naked. "Let's play." She won the next four games. I didn't even win a point. I could not take my eyes off of her. The way her tits moved, just like they had minds of there own, and the way she would bend over and stick her ass out at me had me completely discombobulated. I couldn't think about playing racquetball, all I could think about was her tremendous body. It is really difficult to play racquetball with a hard-on. We still had twenty minutes of court time left when we were both naked. We used that to the best of our advantage. We didn't make love we had sex. Pure unadulterated sex. Lori is every bit as good at fucking as she is at racquetball. She knows all the moves. I think that we got just as good a workout in the last twenty minutes as we normally do in the whole hour. "Maybe on Friday we ought to do this part of our exercise someplace other then on a wooden floor." She said as she leaned over me. Swaying her tits back and forth over my face, she let her sweat drip off and drip into my mouth. "I liked this, but it's awful hard on the knees." I'll tell you this; I'm really looking forward to Friday. Racquetball Dyke From as early as fourth grade it was obvious that sports and I did not get along. I was either too slow or not coordinated enough. Team after team would either cut me, or only allow me to play the minimum amount of time that was required. When teams were picked in gym class, I was almost always chosen last. My uncle observed my frustration, and took it upon himself to help. He was concern about the long-term effect of my low self-esteem, so he introduced me to the world of racquetball. When my Uncle was younger he played on his college team, and had won several tournaments. Today his bookshelves are lined with trophies has proof of his accomplishments. But it wasn't his trophies that made him special to me, it was his ears. When I was just a little girl, I learned that he could wiggle his ears, and ever since then he has been my favorite Uncle, and I was honored that he wanted to share his time with me. So with only a few exceptions-we played racquetball three times a week until I went to college. I started off slow, learning the rules and just trying to enjoy myself. It was several months before I was even able to return the ball with any regularity. But I was still too slow. I can remember my Uncle saying, "Don't worry about speed, that will come with time. Just be deliberate in your moves. Remember, it's better to take one slow step in the right direction then to take a fast one in the wrong direction". Although I doubted his words at the time, I later found them to be true. Years past and I got better, good enough to enter local tournaments, capturing a few trophies of my own. During the summer of my senior year, before going to college, I was good enough to beat my uncle about 50% of the times. I was so proud of myself. Although this was a big accomplishment for me, I needed to remind myself that I was an 18-year-old girl in her physical prime, playing against a 53-year-old man. But it really wasn't about winning or loosing, it was about life. Not only had I learn to focus my mind, but I had grown strong and fast, and most importantly, I had learned to be confident. My Uncle gave me all this, just by sharing some of his time-I will never be able to thank him enough. In college I joined a racquetball club and played in the women's league. One of the girls I met was Linda. Linda was half African-American and half Italian, about 5'10" weighing around 130 pounds. A wonderful by-product of her parent's love. The only odd thing about her was that none of the girls in the league seemed to care for her. No one talked to her, or wanted to play with her-she was an outcast. Because Linda was one of the few non-white members, I wondered if her forced isolation was due to racism. Personally I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't play with Linda, so I did, and we quickly became friends. It wasn't till later that I learned why the other girls kept their distance. A few weeks after I started playing racquetball with Linda, a redhead named Lilly told me during Physic class that I had better watch my ass around Linda. "What?" I asked, knowing I couldn't have heard Lilly correct. "I said you had better watch your ass around Linda", Lilly told me again. "She's a dyke-a lesbian-a rug-muncher. Do I need to draw you a the picture?" "But..., but..." I stutter. "She's always hitting on the girls at the club. She's hit on me several times. She's even hit on that fat cow Penny." Lilly informed me. "That can't be". I said in denial. "Mark my words, she is only being nice to get into your panties. Watch yourself, unless that's what you are looking for." Lilly warned me with a snarl. I would like to say that Lilly's words hadn't bothered me, but they did. I had felt the hands of a woman before and I had liked it. I liked it so much that I didn't trust myself. I was in college to become great, a source of pride and joy for my family, not to become a dyke. I grew up in a Catholic family where homosexuality was wrong, and the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint them. So for these reasons I made myself believe that I shouldn't play with Linda any more. We were schedule to play again tonight, and I desperately wanted to cancel. So with a strong conviction in my mind and the phone in my hand I dialed Linda's number. I was ready to give her some phony excuse about too much schoolwork. With each unanswered ring, my heart beat a little faster, and my breathing became more labored. Lying was never easy for me and I was dreading the discussion I was about to have. For better or worst, no one answered the phone. Thus, not wanting to be rude, I was destine to play one more game with Linda. But I was determined that it was going to be the last game we ever played. Have you ever been in the position where someone says, "Don't look down!", or "Don't look now, but...", and you then can't help but to look? That is how I felt. Lilly told me Linda was a lesbian and I couldn't stop myself from staring. It has always been difficult for me to keep my eyes to myself around women, and this latest bit of news didn't help. While changing out of my street clothes, I found myself stealing glances of Linda. Her back was to me has she faced her locker. She was wearing nothing but a pair of white cotton panties that beautifully contrast her dark olive skin, and a white "scrunchy" that held her long, dark, curly hair. Linda had large breasts, so large that when she raised her arms to slip on her sports bra, they spilled to her sides for me to see. Seeing Linda in this new light captivated me, and my thoughts began to wander. I imagine that I had the courage to walk up behind her and cup both of her breasts while grinding myself into her. I could almost feel the softness of her panties, and warmth of her back on my chest. My eyes lingered a little too long, for when I snapped out of my trance I noticed that Linda's reflection was smiling at me through the mirror in her locker. I was so embarrassed. I felt like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. After this incident, the last thing I wanted to do was lead her on any more then I might have already done. So I deliberately dressed down. I wore a plain white T-shirt in stead of my normal sport top and I traded in my soccer shorts that hung close to my thighs for a pair of baggy blue shorts which weren't the least bit flattering. Linda came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder and asked, "Are you about ready? The court is ours in a few minutes... We should get going?" "Sure, just let me fill my water bottle." I struggled to say why trying to act normal. Playing racquetball with Linda was now different. It wasn't her fault, it was mine. Linda had done nothing wrong. It was my perception of her that had changed. A short conversation with Lilly had made me thinking that every move or jester made by Linda had a sexual undertone. I felt like a "Homo-Phobe", and I hated it. Needless to say it was difficult for me to concentrate. My greatest asset had become my speed, which I'm sure is due to my 5'2" frame, which only has to carry about 105 pounds. Normally I fly around the court, but not tonight. My moves were sluggish and non-decisive. Clearly my mind was not the game. While Linda prepared to serve, I watched the pendulum motion for her hips instead of the ball. I took note of every gesture she made, whether it was to rub a sore muscle or to wipe the sweat from her brow. I felt Linda was flirting with me, and every move was for my benefit. Linda's asset to the game was her shear size and strength. Her serves were strong enough to leave echoes in the court for several seconds. But any player will tell you that you need more then strength to win, you also have to have speed and accuracy. Through precision ball handling I can normally run her ragged around the court. In the past she had never been a real challenge for me. Our matches were little more then a warm-up or an opportunity for me to experiment. But not tonight. My lack of concentration had allowed Linda to get within a point of winning her first game. I would like to say that I handle losing gracefully but that would be a lie. I needed five straight points to win and I was bound and determine to get them. I felt like I had almost driven off the rode while daydreaming-but now I was fully awake, and ready to do battle. I snapped off four serves that landed beautifully in the corner, causing Linda to do little else but watch. In less than a minute I was once again in control of the game. I only needed one more point to win. Linda's hope of finally winning a game was quickly evaporating. Has I stood in the serve box, bouncing the blue ball, preparing for my last serve, I let the "cocky" side of me out, and I did something that I still regret. Without even looking at the ball, I turned my head and winked at Linda while hitting the ball. Because of my cockiness I had allowed Linda to get a hold of the blue ball, and she attacked like an animal. I had lost my chance for a quick victory, and would now have to work for it. After a few volleys I was desperately trying to find a way to get back in control, but Linda wanted the game has much as I did-maybe even more. Sweat violently flew off her body has she crushed the ball with her racquet. But instead of hitting the target wall-she hit me. Time froze has the room filled with the noise of Linda's impact. In slow motion I saw my hand betray me and drop my racquet to the floor. I knew I had been hit, but I felt no pain. The pain was delayed just long enough for me to realize that I had won the game-but at what cost? When the pain arrived, it hit with a vengeance. Collapsing on the wooden court, I grasped my right calf just below the knee. Tears spilled from my tightly closed eyes, has I tried to muffle my cries. Linda repeatedly told me how sorry she was and how she didn't mean to hit me. She desperately wanted to make the pain go away, but didn't know what to do. She wrapped me in her strong arms, rocking me like a child, until my tears went away. If I wasn't in such agony, I'm sure I would have enjoyed her attention. After several minutes I was able to stand, and even though my leg didn't require medical attention, I did have a large purple bruise shaped like a racquetball. The mark remained for several weeks. With hopes of relieving the throbbing sensation caused by Linda's hit, I lowered my naked body into the hot tub. The locker-room was mostly deserted, for the club had already closed, giving stragglers like myself time to change while they went about their closing duties. Linda walked to the hot tub, wearing a pink towel wrapped around her waist, fully exposing her lovely brown chest. It has been my observation that athletic woman typically do not have large breasts-at least not natural ones. But just to prove me wrong, their they were. They had to be at least 38D, and I started to feel inadequate, for I was only a 32B. Has Linda removed her towel, and hung it next to mines, my eyes stared desperately, trying to take in has much as possible. Linda knew she was turning me on, and she loved it. Instead of sitting in the tub where she entered, she purposely crossed over me, momentarily pausing with her legs straddled over mine. For a brief moment, her belly button stared at me, has my eyes followed a trail of dark hair that ran from her navel to the top of her dark wet pussy. Her pussy was neatly groomed to fit her bikini, and was still dripping from her recent shower. If I was able to breath I think I could of smelled her sweet aroma. It was all I could do not to wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her lean stomach. Our thighs touched has she sat to my right. Linda started the jets, causing the water to churn, making it impossible for me to see anything under the surface. Next to Linda I felt like a little girl, for while my chest was fully submerged, Linda was tall enough for her "caramel" colored nipples to ride the waves cause by the jets. "I really am sorry for hitting you. I didn't mean to hurt you." Linda apologized again. "I know. Accidents happen." I conceded. Hidden by the clouds of bubbles, I felt Linda's hand on the bruise she caused. "Does it hurt much?" She whispered, while staring at me with eyes that told me something wonderful was about to happen. "Not any more." I managed to say. With that she hugged me, and our necks fell on each other. She rubbed my back while gently kissing the spot behind my ear, causing the hairs on my neck to stand on end and chills to run through my body. I held her close, enjoy the warmth of her chest. With big pouting lips, Linda kissed me deeply, tasting me with her tongue. If I had ever held the notion of resisting her advances, they were quickly gone. Linda was releasing desires in me that I had hoped were gone. I spread my legs open has I felt Linda wedging her hand between my thighs. With long nails, Linda knitted my pussy hairs, like a cat fluffing a pillow. Still sitting besides me, Linda lifted my right leg and swung it over her left thigh, spreading me even wider, giving her full access to my defenseless pussy. Still sucking my neck, Linda cupped my pussy with her hand and squeezed. Has she flexed the palm of her hand she caused a wonderful riptide to pulsate about my groin. My toes curled with delight has Linda alternated between rubbing my clit and causing streams of water to rush about my pussy lips. My left leg started to shake has my stomach hardened. Has the impending climax built inside of me, I grasped for air, desperately trying to dampen my cries, hoping not to attract any attention. While tracing my jaw line her tongue, Linda inserted two fingers knuckle deep inside of me and began to rub my clit with her thumb. Unable to withstand Linda's assault any longer I climaxed, while muffling my delights into Linda's neck. Linda gently stroked my over sensitive pussy while I attempted to regain my breath. Linda grabbed my hand and placed it on top of her pussy. Has I was enjoying the feel of her short pubic hairs; I heard the locker-room door open. Quickly trying to compose myself, I removed my hand from Linda's crotch and swung my leg off her thigh and placed it back where it belonged. "Hi ya' girls?" Margo the Receptionist said wearing a white terry cloth robe that danced in swirls about her ankles. "I hope you two don't mind me joining you?" she stated more then she asked. "Hop on in, the water's warm." Linda offered with a wave of her hand. "Nothing beat a relaxing dip in the tub after a long day," Margo added. Instead of sitting on the tub and then swinging her legs around, Margo placed one leg in and spun the other around. Giving me a brief shot of pinkness that peaked out between her finely trimmed bush. Margo temporally lost her balance and almost landed in my lap. Apologizing for her clumsiness Margo finally seated herself opposite of us, giving me a clear view of her over-sized-silicon boobs. "Did you see Andrew tonight? He is so hot. I would love to get a hold of that." Margo offered as a topic of conversation. Not being in the mood for small talk, Linda saved me by saying, "Was he the guy wearing the orange short?" "Oh heavens no. That's Greg. Andrew was wearing red. Andrew always wears red." Margo went on, has I felt Linda's hand sneak its way back to my legs. I shot Linda a nasty look, but she never turned to meet my glaze, instead she focused on Margo, pretending to be interested in her story. "Don't get me wrong, I think Greg is nice and all. He's got money and doesn't mind showing a girl a good time, it is just that, well-he's got a short weenie," Linda enlightened us by holding both index fingers, about 2 inches apart. Meanwhile I'm squeezing my legs as tight as I could, desperately trying to deny Linda access. But with the combination of Linda's strong arms and my tired legs, Linda managed to wedge her hand up against my crotch. Both of my arms were resting along the tub, and although I wanted to move them under the all-concealing-water with the hope of stopping her, I feared that I would draw Margo's attention, and she would figure out what was going on. "I don't know about you two, but I like my cocks big." Margo frankly stated with a nod of her head. "The bigger the better. I hate it when people say size isn't important. Believe me it is. Now I haven't seen Andrew's equipment-yet-but it has got to be big. Have you noticed that package of his?" Margo earnestly asked. "Nope. But I'll make it a point to check it out. How big do you think it is?" Linda asked while rolling her thumb across my over-sensitive clit. "Oh God, I don't know. I would have to say at least 8 inches." Margo whispered while Linda continued to strum me like a guitar. "I say that because Kevin, my last boyfriend, was about 6 inches or so, and I can tell Andrew looks much bigger. He might even be 9 or 10 inches. I wonder how thick it is? Any way I got a nice warm place for Andrew's cock." And with that Margo pointed her finger towards her submerged crotch. My stomach started to tighten, both of my legs were now shaking, my teeth were clenched and I was finding it difficult to breathe. I was only moments away from climaxing in front of the Club Receptionist and didn't know what to do. Has a last desperate measure I calmly, but still appearing to be interested in Margo's penis fixation, put both of my arms in the water and tried to pry Linda's hand away. But it was not to be moved. "Do you think bigger cocks cum more?," Linda asked Margo the "Sexpert". "Well-I don't know. Maybe? I never thought of that. It probably has more to do with the size of the balls. I know I hate it when the stuff gets in my hair". Margo rationalized while running her fingers though her hair. My moment was here. Time had run out. What was I to do? Has the first wave hit me I naturally bent over. My nose was touching the water has water bubbles popped in my face. My wet hair hung in front of me, mercifully concealing my face. I managed to muffle my cries through gritted teeth. After a few seconds of what must of looked like a seizer of sorts, Margo asked if I was okay. "I accidentally hit her during our match today. She's in a lot of pain", Linda offered has an excuse. "Oh yes I heard about that. That was a hard hit. If you aren't careful you could end up with those "very-close-veins". You ought to see a Doctor," Margo advised. I was fed up. It was bad enough that a girl I hardly knew was treating me like her personal slut, and I certainly didn't need a half-wit giving me medical advice. Enough was enough. As soon as I was able to catch my breath, I simply stood up. I no longer cared if Linda's hand stayed embedded in my crotch. I was leaving. Thankfully when my pussy hairs broke the water line, Linda's hand wasn't there. That certainly would of given Margo something to gossip about. Wrapping my towel around my neck, I could feel two sets of eyes watching my every move has my juices trickled down my inner thighs. A trail of, "not-just" water, followed me has I padded barefoot back towards my locker. "Hey your suppose to dry off after you get out of the tub." Margo said reminding me of the club rules, while Linda chuckled to herself. Without breaking a stride, or turning around, I emotionally gave them both the "finger".