2 comments/ 38161 views/ 3 favorites Blue Tents By: Alex Finch It was in the second year of my collegiate sports career that I met Sandra. She was a freshman runner for Davidson Bible College, based among the scenic leaves and caterpillars of southern Virginia. My previous year of experience amidst the co-ed cross-country racing circuit had been unsurprising; indeed, it seemed terribly similar to the high school scene, only with less class-work to catch up on after one’s return. I’d regularly survey the field of competition when I was meant to be warming up; teams would set up little patches of tents, and runners would frequently enter and exit, though sometimes you’d catch one student not emerging for several minutes, or not at all. It was totally beyond my already jangled sense of logic as to what purpose these tents could serve. If you’re tired, lay in the grass! If you need to change into uniform, there’s always a lavatory around. But there the tents sat, transforming the field into a brightly-colored base camp for some surrealist university war campaign, involving countless nations, the troops having lost their armaments and resorted to chasing each other around in flimsy shorts. But I met Sandra by one of her tents, the azure hue matching the deep blue warm-up gear of jacket and wind pants she wore, and she smirked after telling me her name, and asked if I wanted to have a cigarette before the race, and I heartily agreed. Perhaps smoking tobacco (and countless additives) before a 3.1 mile run is not the most sensible course of action to take, but I had never been excessively sensible as a runner. I have no sense of pace. I can’t burst into a sprint for those glorious final meters. I had only begun running in high school because I’d had a crush on the senior captain of the team. My attentions were drawn to other girls before long, but I continued to run; I’ve never quite pieced together why. Perhaps it looked nice to have a sport on my college applications? Perhaps I liked following behind girls in small shorts? Perhaps I rather liked wearing small shorts myself, and had only subconsciously embraced the fact? Irregardless, I got my varsity letter and signed up again in those halls of higher learning and excessive consumption. There were pretty senior captains on this team too. But Sandra, all churlish grin and freckles, was something else. “Um, I think I left my purse on the bus,” she said, the lie obvious to both of us, crouched between cars in the parking lot, “Could you loan me one?” I only had one cigarette left. I smiled and pointed the filter toward her mouth, and she darted forward to grasp it between her lips. I lit it and she inhaled and smiled to me. “Here, I’m not taking your last one. Not all of it anyway.” She handed the cigarette back to me, and I inhaled as well. Her lip gloss was strawberry on the filter. I handed it back to her, and we shared the cigarette, staring at the sneakers and feet of runners and coaches passing through the lot. I look to her, smoking, and noticed that she wore the same kind of sneakers that I did. “Yeah,” she giggled, “They’re boy shoes. I didn’t even notice until I’d raced in them, like, twice.” We snorted and laughed, for very little reason. She took the last puff and tossed the butt down, stamping it under that white sole, those black laces. A whistle blew, and the ground burbled with countless runners thundering toward the starting line. “Uh oh. We’d better go over.” We emerged from our shadowed parking space, and jogged over toward the crowd. She unzipped her jacket and flung it over her shoulder. She wore the standard runner’s tank top, also blue, with a dark purple sports bra visible where the uniform cut off above her ribs. Freckles were on her shoulders, dotting her creamy white skin, pale as milk, nourishing to behold. Her hair was a lovely cinnamon, down to her shoulder-blades, and her ears occasionally poked above the canopy. She was not a bad runner, having just enjoyed half a smoke. I could pace myself beside her without too much calamity. She appeared to have the same thoughts: “Hey, try to stay with me in the race,” she said, her grin very toothy and very cute, “I want to show you something.” My curiosity, as you can guess, was piqued. We arrived at the shuddering mass of competition, several hundred strong (this being a larger meet), and fortunately encountered nobody possessed of sufficient authority to shout at us. Sandra quickly unzipped the sides of her wind pants, her legs peeping out of the gap, and swiftly pulled them down over her shoes. I did the same. As is often the case with runners, her legs were quite strong, very firm, if a little skinny. Only the occasional freckle. Mostly a long mass of white, silky muscle extending from the tips of her raspberry-colored socks (so adorable in the context of a sports event) and vanishing into her tiny blue running shorts, well above her knees. Men’s shorts are the same size, actually, and I wore longer spandex shorts under my regulation apparel. She did not turn away from me as she tucked her top into her pants, generously (accidentally?) giving me a look at her belly, but not enough to form any opinion. There was no need for such information, though, as Sandra was a beautiful girl, and I was certain then that each part of her body could only top the last in delicacy and warmth before my eyes. We found our teams and lined up beside them; Davidson Bible was three teams down from my own school, Benjamin Point College, so I lost track of her for a second. I smiled and nodded to a teammate beside me, who grimaced and continued his rigorous stretches. I decided that staring forward into the haze would be more beneficial. Within the minute, the gun was fired. It’s chaos, absolute anarchy in the first few seconds of a big race. The ground beneath you churns and there’s hundreds of bodies flinging themselves past you, and every law of decent peaceful living is suspended. Between the thrashings and hammerings of the crowd, I saw her hair flying, whipping in the wind off to my right. She looked awesome in action, her face not one of grimacing determination, but a gritted smirk, an air of amusement at this mad trial, at this physical torture circus. Her eyes are blue as her school colors, but glowing, not dead and wrinkly like the uniform so blessed to contain her body. I was not trampled as I rushed over to her side, and she huffed: “Wait… one minute… we’re in the woods and… stay with me…” The crowd thinned after the initial explosion, and the race was divided into informal castes, each runner’s spot at the finish nearly pre-determined, save for the occasional burst of sprinting power, foreign to me. By the time we entered the narrow trail through the trees, there were few competitors surrounding us. She looked at me, and grasped my arm, and dragged me whooping through an obscured passage off of the track. We could hear the thundering of the few runners who were somewhere behind us stamping across, as we delved deeper into the woods. Soon we came to a clearing, and sat down on the grass. The rumblings of the race were still audible in the distance, but suddenly inconsequential, no more vexing than a flock of sparrows swooping across the sky. Sandra kicked off her boy shoes and groaned. She stretched forward to rub her toes through her socks. I smiled; the deep red cotton embracing her feet looked so odd, so silly contrasted with the blue utilitarianism of her uniform. She leaned back and pulled a brown bag from behind a tree. She removed a thermos from the bag, and rolled over onto her side to beam at me. “Me and my friend Liz, you see, we do this at every race. We find a spot in the woods and hide some stuff. Then we sneak off during the race, and head back for the finish. We’re always dead last, almost, so nobody bothers to check. Liz got sick today, and you’re pretty cool, so here.” I popped open the thermos and took a whiff. Peppermint schnapps. Very nice. I took a drink, and handed it back to her. “All the good runners won’t be done for, like, sixteen minutes or something,” she said, between large gulps, “And I think the woods’ll take us back to near the finish.” She flopped down onto her back, her hair spread out across the green. I took another drink and laid back too. She took her next swig from her prone position, and sniggered as a small stream of booze dribbled down her cheeks, watering the grass. I did the same, and the liquor was spent within five minutes. Both of us were quite buzzed. She lifted her foot, her socks a bit stained by the grass, and rested it on my naked leg. I smiled deeply as I absorbed her heat, and we said nothing for a while. “Yeah,” she murmured, the liquor having taken hold, “This is a good spot. Our team comes here, like, every year. This one girl, Kathy, she told me this story, about this senior last year. Her name was Stacy. I met her once, I remember, when I visited the school last year to check out the team and all. I’ve always been running, like, and I wanted to see what it was about. She was really hot, really meaty and shit, like she had some meat on her bones, and big tits. Like my tits aren’t too big, but hers were always bunched up in her shirt all trying to pop out and stuff. Really long blonde hair, too. A little taller than me, so not too tall, y’know? Well she had this crush, this huge fucking crush on this Steve guy. He was a senior too, like 6’1 and real muscled, real sweet. And Kathy told me that Stacy really wanted to hook up with him, but he wouldn’t try anything and all. So she got this idea and Kathy could not fucking believe she’d try it but they did it right here, like in this clearing.” She rubbed her foot up and down my leg, below my knee. I closed my eyes and listened to her voice. I had a huge erection, and made no attempt to hide it. “Heh. Y’wanna here the story? It’s really dirty.” I said that I would, my eyes glazing behind my eyelids. “So the race is going on, and they get to where we just went through the path, and she’s been keeping up with him because she’s really fast and stuff, so they get here and she pulls him through the clearing. And he’s kinda mad but he’s, like, curious because she’s not even looking back at him, and I bet he wanted to follow her ass all bouncing around in her shorts anyway, cause he’s a horny guy no matter what he says, so anyway they run and run and reach this little area here. And he’s about to ask her what’s up and she spins around and kisses him really hard. I mean, he’s kinda struggling and she’s just on her tippy-toes to reach his face and she’s really working her tongue and stuff. She knows she’s gotta go quick because he’s gonna be real weird about it so she pulls up his shirt and starts licking him and shit. Like, just rolling her tongue across his belly and he’s all groaning and shit now, so she pulls his shorts right down to his knees and his cock’s rock solid already. All the girls had been talking about how he had the biggest dick on the team, y’know, and she told them he was, like, eight or nine inches, like really fucking big.” She giggled and nuzzled her nose up against my face. I smelled her breath, sweet with mint and liquor, as she purred. “Such a huge dick. So she starts sucking the head, cause it barely fits in her mouth and she can’t get much farther down, so she sucks on it really hard and he’s totally pre-cumming. So she pulls him out of her mouth and starts licking the whole thing from the bottom of his shaft right up to his head. And he’s all pulling on his pants, trying to get them back up, all while he’s moaning and stuff, and she’s pulling right back down on them while she’s licking at his dick, just teasing it with her tongue and his pre-cum’s all over her face, like her cheeks and shit are all sticky and she’s laughing. So finally he gives up and his pants are right off his legs. So she grabs his dick and rubs it all over her face like a honeycomb and licks it really hard and fast and sucks on it really slowly. Like, Stacy’s pretty promiscuous, she’s fucked a ton of guys at parties, and she knows how to suck really awesome dick. So he’s going crazy and he pulls her hair-tie out and whips his top over his head and it’s such a crazy scene, trying to picture it, like him standing right here ass-naked except for his sneakers and this short little big-titted blond girl blowing him in a full track suit, her hair all over and his pre-cum dripping off her chin, like there’s SO fucking much of it. And he’s rubbing her head and neck, and he, like picks her up, like pulls her off his dick and kisses her right on the mouth, and his own sticky stuff is getting all over his face but he’s slapping his tongue all around her mouth like he totally digs the taste, or just doesn’t care. And then he drops her and she starts sucking his dick again, and they do this, like, five or six more times until he’s gonna cum, so he pulls out of her mouth and pulls her tank-top up, cause she’s always wearing a t-shirt under it when she runs to keep her boobs in place, and he just soaks her t-shirt with jizz, just cums all over it. Kathy told me Stacy said that she’d never seen a guy cum so much in her life. Then when he’s done she takes his cock and rubs it all over her t-shirt, and they rub their faces off on it, and then she takes it off and tosses it right into the woods. Then she puts her tank-top back on over her sports bra while he’s getting his clothes back on. And, like, the whole team sees them jogging to the finish, her t-shirt totally missing and her tits bouncing everywhere and the biggest smile on her face.” She sat up and stretched. I ask her what happened to them. “Oh, not much. They didn’t talk for a while, cause he was kinda freaked, but then on the weekend he called her cell and told her, like…” She started giggling uncontrollably and couldn’t stop for at least a minute. “…like he couldn’t stop jerking off over her all week! So she told him to sneak into her dorm, and security’s shit there anyway, and he did and she said they didn’t stop fucking till, like, class on Monday. They never really went out or anything. She definitely had sex with him at parties all year, and at, like, every race too. Like they’d sneak away and toss their clothes off and sixty-nine in just their sneakers. They’re both engaged now, to different people, but Kathy just heard from her, like, last week, and she said she saw him at a club and they said ’hi’ and, like, couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and they went back to her apartment and fucked a lot. She’s totally, totally in love with her fiancée, but she said she felt so fucking good after that sex and she‘s gonna fuck him every time she runs into him no matter what, even at her fucking wedding, and like, her big goal now is to get him and her fiancée into bed with her at the same time… she’s weird, y’know. But she’s real happy, I‘ve never seen a girl so fucking happy ever.” She slumped back down onto the grass. “Yeah… yeah, she’d not weird. Aw man… man the whole team knew about those two fucking around during the races by the end. Shit… people really liked it. Everyone really liked it. We made some changes, you know? Changes. That‘s why I‘m on the fucking team now, those changes… yeah.” Must have been the booze. Such reverie cannot be eternal, and we heard the rumblings approach again from the other side of the woods. We struggled to our feet (no longer an easy task), and she slipped her shoes back on. She must have noticed my erection, but she said nothing. We hustled down to the edge of the woods; it took several minutes, and few runners were left by the time we snaked back into the flow. We were side by side, running surprisingly hard for the last half-mile or so, and we were very sweaty and exhausted as we crossed the finish line. “Hey, c’mon to our tent!” she merrily huffed. As we began to walk, she kicked her boy shoes off without undoing the laces, and peeled away her socks. She had bright green polish on her toenails, matching the grass we trudged though. Her breath came in deep puffs, and sweat dripped from her rusty bangs. We quickly came upon one of the four large tents that Davidson Bible had erected. Cradling her shoes and socks in her arms, she nodded me in. It didn’t look very roomy from the outside, but there was quite a lot of space in the tent. A tarp had been laid out on the grass, blotting out the final intrusions of nature into the solid blue cocoon. There were foldout chairs and book bags laid all over, and several mats spread on the ground. Sandra tossed her shoes and socks into the corner. “I’m really hot. I’m gonna lie down. Is that ok with you?” I told her that it was certainly fine with me, and began to inquire as to exactly what purpose these tents could serve, when she silenced me with a grin, and pulled her tank top out of her pants, and right over her head, disheveling her hair in the process. She tossed it atop of her shoes and socks. I barely had time to muse that her sports bra was on awfully tight (as it should be), when she undid the snap in the back, which sent her snowy breasts bouncing free, her dark nipples like cherries atop vanilla ice cream. She bent down to unruffled her hair, and I was amazed at how muscular her belly was, so firm and lean. Her breasts were a counterpoint; springy and perfectly round, the softest part of her by far, with the exception of her lips, curved into a wider grin than ever as she straitened her hair. I wish I didn’t seem like such a letch staring at her nudity, but her chest was soaked with sweat, and tiny droplets formed on her nipples and dripped to the tarp below, and I’d never really noticed the unique way in which perspiration can work. She straightened up and stretched, arms above her head, her back cracking in relief, her breasts seemingly inflating and reaching toward me. I was taken aback, and she chided me. “Well? What did you think tents are for? They’re for cooling off.” I tried to make some witty (or at least semi-coherent) response, but she checked my attempt by whipping her shorts to the ground, and swiftly stripping away her panties, cruelly robbing me of their pale yellow hue. She unceremoniously tossed them onto her pile, and stood before me, not moving. “Oh, c’mon. You’ve seen a naked girl before, right?” My eyes were sadly trapped on her newly revealed areas; it was possible now to appreciate how her whole body was moist from running, her chest pumping steadily with breath still in need of replacement. Droplets collected on her deep red pubic hair, a small, trimmed forest. She giggled madly. “You never seen a girl’s butt either?” She spun around and wiggled her rear at me, her cheeks small and round and jiggling with her movement. Her shorts had never left much of her legs to the imagination, but seeing them melt right into her cheeks was magic enough, and as she turned around, I admired how those same legs so smoothly curved up into her hips and belly. I had indeed seen naked girls before (who does not these days?), but never in this manner, with the stampings of hundreds just outside the flimsy walls, with no effort to hide or dim the lights or slip under the covers or anything. “What?” she asked, sitting down on a mat, her legs crossed, her tummy scrunching a bit, “I’m hot. I have to cool off. I want to take a rest.” Her smile never faded. I stammered and asked her if it bothered her that all these people were around. “Why? This is the girls’ tent. It says outside the flap. We all do this. Every girl on the team. They’ll be here soon, actually, and I dunno if they’ll like you here…” Another fit of giggles. “…but maybe they will. I like you here. I mean, look. Your face is sooooo cute. You’re cuter than you were when I saw you before the race. That’s cool… that’s a… a feat. Yeah.” Blue Tents She flopped onto her back, among her hair, and tossed her legs into the air, waving them around as she pulled something out of her purse (which now quite plainly was not on the bus, in case you were keeping track). She kept her legs in the air as she scribbled something out onto paper, and my jaw continued to lower at her inverted thighs sinking majestically into her butt. Her legs crashed down and she sat up and handed me the paper. “My cell,” she said, “Gimme a ring tonight or something. We’re only, like, forty minutes away. Parties on Fridays.” I thanked her, and turned to leave. “Y’know… you’re right,” she called to me, “There’s no point to this tent. I’d like to just rest outside, lay in the grass, huh? Butt naked, on a mat. The whole team oughta do that, right in front of everyone. I mean, that’d be cool. Every team should do that, y’know?” I’m not sure if it was her drink talking, but I liked the idea, and agreed, and promised her I’d call. I exited the tent, and narrowly avoided three Davidson Bible runners, all female, two shortish dirty blondes (one of them tanned within an inch of her life), and a taller girl, the scent of wildflower perfume drifting from her black skin, all three sweating and gasping as they howled out greetings to Sandra within. I wondered about that blonde girl’s tan lines, and stared at the closed flap, imagining the doffing of racing gear within, the vulgar and wonderful rest inside, the soaring comfort in flesh. I looked around the field again, as I had before meeting Sandra, and looked at the tents, dotting the land, and soon to be gone. Did all of them hold such secrets? And how wonderful it would be to cast them all up from the ground, and let everyone share in their bodies, this Garden of Eden! Sandra’s wish. Yeah. I was certain that I was going mad. It was as if I could stare right through the thin colors of every tent. Every girl I’d seen in the race; I imagined them reclining, whispering to each other about the boys they had paced themselves behind. I could hear movement from the Davidson tent behind me. I felt so hot, hotter than during the race, or even directly after, when your blood slows down, and the adrenaline boils your pores. I bent down and untied the laces on my shoes, identical to Sandra’s. I could swear I was hearing shorts sliding down wet legs, bras slipping off hard, juicy nipples. I pulled my shoes and socks off. I was gasping. All the girls on my team, the giddy 18-year old freshmen, ready to slurp down cheap beers and dance woozily and fool around all night, every weekend. The 22-year old seniors, some of them with jobs, temps, interns, secretaries. All their smiles, their laughs, their brains; you talk and you like them and they like you and they want you and you want them and you strip and chortle and fuck and it’s awkward or its great but it’s all ok, and you lie in bed or on the floor on the beanbag next to her kitchen and you talk for hours more. I threw my shirt up over my head, and stood there sweltering. My penis was going to tear through the spandex under my regulation shorts. All those girls, relaxing behind me, all of them walking round me. Hundreds, thousands. I slid my shorts down to my feet and kicked them onto the growing pile of my former uniform. I licked my lips. Two more Davidson runners passed me by. A very compact Asian girl with a black ponytail, and a petite brunette, her hair very short; there was no way she could weigh more than 95 pounds. The ponytail girl looked at me for a second, standing in my spandex shorts, my penis quite clearly not camouflaged. She smirked, bared her white teeth a bit, and maybe winked, and was already pulling her shirt out of her shorts, revealing a butterfly tattoo sinking down towards her butt, as they entered the tent. I gulped, and smiled, and knew I couldn’t just stare at the tents any more. I pulled the rim of my spandex out a little, looked around a bit, and swiftly pulled them right down around my hips, and stepped out of them, wearing nothing but my navy-blue briefs. I’m sure a few passing runners caught a glimpse of me, but I didn’t care, as I’d never felt such a swelling in my stomach before, and my dick had never felt so good, throbbing against the soft cotton as I threw up the flap of the girls’ tent and walked right in. Those six achingly beautiful girls; they were, at that second, the most gorgeous creatures in all of mortal sight. I was correct in what I thought I had heard before. One of the blondes, the tanned one, was totally naked and reclined on the floor. She had no tan lines at all, and was fully shaved, her pussy standing temptingly out from her almond skin. The girl with the wildflower scent was in only blue panties, and the second blonde had already begun to dress, zipping up her capris between her black bra and white ankle socks. The ponytail girl was just pulling her shorts off around her shoes, her own bra and panties a matching peach. The tiny brunette was still fully dressed, about to untie her shoes. And Sandra, Sandra, still lying around, naked as the day she was born. Every mouth was dropping open, and my penis grew even harder, and buzzed with pleasure. “Oh…” Sandra said, stunned, unable to control her grin, “Hey…” And then, silence again. Not knowing what to do, but certain that I should do something, I turned to the brunette, her eyes fixed on my briefs, and asked her if she needed any help with her shoes, which she was still reaching to touch. She nodded, her mouth curving into a slight smile, and I bent down, and lifted her leg up, and gently unlaced the sneaker, and pulled it off. Her foot was bare. Her toes descended to the tarp, and she lifted the other leg up, and I uncovered that foot as well. “…um… thank you…” she whispered. And Sandra shattered the quiet by roaring with laughter and kicking her legs. “That… was… SO… CUTE!!!” she shouted, “OH MY GOD… look at you! You are the CUTEST fucking guy EVER!” All the girls were smiling now. “So, who is he?” the tanned blonde asked, rubbing Sandra’s shoulder. “This…” she proudly said, “…is my best… friend who is a boy!” “Awesome!!!” said the wildflower girl, who Sandra would later introduce as Kimmy. I walked forward, intending to embrace Sandra, who was beginning to stand. I suddenly felt warm hands on my hips, as Emma, the ponytail girl, and Sam, the half-dressed blonde, each grasped one side of my briefs. “No clothes allowed unless you’re going to get dressed,” chirped Emma, as she and Sam pulled my briefs right down to the tarp, my penis breathing the musky tent air, and pre-cum already soaking it. I was certain my cock had never been so hard before, my seven inches maybe a half-inch bigger than usual; I almost came right there, standing nude before all of those women, but I managed to stay in control. The tanned blonde, Mary, puckered her lips. I embraced Sandra, her pubic hair still wet with sweat, cold and prickly on my organ. She pulled me down to lay with her and Mary. “C’mon! Make my boyfriend feel comfy!” she smirked. Kimmy instantly slipped her panties off and scrunched behind Sandra, her big breasts squished against her freckled back, her totally unshaven sex scratching at Sandra’s thighs. All three of them ran the tips of their fingers up and down my chest as I groaned in joy and stared at the other girls, who were still standing. Sam pulled her pants right off, revealing a matching black thong, as Emma pulled off her sneakers. Their underwear fell upon my legs as I gazed on their bodies: Emma’s breasts small and pert, Sam lusciously stocky, no doubt from countless keg parties, her untanned boobs sagging. Both greedily pressed their hot bodies against my legs, their hair brushing my penis. Sandra, now near the bottom of the pile, squeezed her arms around me and softly began to smooch my forehead. “Now you’ve gotta make my friends comfy too, kay honey?” she said, as Mary began to softly nip at my cheek. I turned to Mary and kissed her lips very gently, as I extended my arms to embrace her, Sandra, and Kimmy, scrunching them even closer to me, their feet resting on Emma and Sam’s naked backs and behinds. Sandra looked up. “Brooke?” she said to the tiny brunette, “ You coming over?” “I dunno,” she said, an innocent look across her cheeks, “He only took off my shoes, then left me standing around. Very rude.” The five of them cooed and pushed me to my feet. I nearly tripped on all of the abandoned clothing littering the floor. Brooke’s face remained perturbed, her lips curved in mock disappointment. I lifted her up under her arms, very easy to do, until she was at eye level with me, and I gently smooched her nose. Her legs began to sway and swing in the air as I kissed her over and over again, until her countenance broke and she began to laugh. “You ARE cute…” she purred, as she darted forward to peck my lips. I set her down, and she remained on her tip-toes as I bent down to kiss her again, a softer, romantic kiss on the lips. Quick as a whip, I pulled her top up over her head, and tugged at her shorts, sending them tumbling to her toes. She was short enough that she did not look unhealthily thin; indeed, her body was a wonderfully compact mass of muscle. She was still rather sweaty, so her brown sports bra stuck a bit to her nipples as I pulled it off. Her breasts were very small, but her nipples were pert and eager for attention. I couldn’t resist pressing my lips against one and sucking very gently, the skin around her nipples was very soft compared to the rest of her muscular build. She cooed as I popped her breast out of my mouth and brought my lips down to her navel, kissing it quickly, then to her yellow panties, which I slowly pulled off, the material sticking to her pussy lips for a whole second, then snapping free. She grabbed the panties out of my hands and I stood up, taking her whole body in. I decided she must be a freshman. I asked her. “Well, actually, I switched majors a few times. I’m 24,” she grinned, “Good thing they still let me run, huh?” I turned to look at my audience, but received an unpleasant surprise. All of them were on their feet, putting on their street clothes. Sandra had just slithered into a sweet, bright sundress, and chunky sandals. Mary was buttoning the back. Sandra smiled at me. “Hey, we’ve got a team meeting to go to before we hit the bus.” I hurried over to the dressing girls, pleading with them to stay and rest more. The girls laughed and whistled. Emma, sliding up a pair of loose jeans, stuck her tongue out at me. Not missing a beat, I devoured it in a kiss, sucking mercilessly as I let her jeans drop back down. She hummed in approval as I reached underneath her panties to massage her behind. “Hey,” Kimmy said, clad now in tasty pink sweatpants and a white tank-top, “C’mon. We’ve gotta go. Emma pulled away from me. “You’re right,” she said, “But he ought to come.” “Oh, yeah,” chirped Sandra, “I was about to tell him. You come with us. It’ll be neat.” Sandra hopped over to me and embraced my naked back, her dress warm from her body. “Kimmy looks like your size. She’s got extra pants for you. That’s all you need. I promise.” Kimmy grinned and tossed me a pair of wind pants. I collected my briefs from the floor, put them on, and donned Kimmy’s wind pants. They smelled of Kimmy’s perfume, and I only grew more aroused feeling this girl’s clothing hugging my hips. Brooke was not even bothering with underwear; she stuffed her naked ass into a pair of gym shorts, and tugged an old t-shirt over her tiny breasts. The rest were already hurrying out of the tent. Sandra held my hand, and we walked out together, her in her sunny dress and sandals, and I in my fragrant girl pants and nothing else. I never thought to ask Sandra or the others exactly why the team meeting was being held so deep in the woods. I suppose my tolerance for odd situations had increased a lot in the last hour. Finally, we made our way to a large clearing. Two figures stood in the center of the cleared circle. A middle aged man, maybe not forty, was dressed in only a pair of tight cotton under-shorts. His muscular chest was pressed against the back of a woman, about forty-five, very beautiful, dressed in a crisp business ensemble, a pearl colored blouse with the top button undone, and a red skirt. Her hair was wild and free, though, and she looked more prepared for fun, judging from her expression. Her high-heels lay abandoned to one side, and her legs and feet were bare. The man’s muscular arms were wrapped around her belly, as he kissed her neck. She bent over a bit to stimulate his groin with her rear; he was quite well equipped, we all could tell. “See,” Brooke pouted, “We’re the first ones here.” Sandra turned to me as we all walked into the clearing, and she kicked her sandals off, just like she had kicked her boy shoes off before. “Well, the team meeting is started.” She kissed me full on, and I enjoyed her totally. She backed away, and gingerly pulled down my girl pants. She turned around and I slowly undid her dress, and it fell off. We kissed again in our underwear, our hands unable to resist exploring each other in every spot. We turned around and the older couple in the center were enjoying themselves more thoroughly. The man was kissing violently, and plucking at the buttons on the woman’s blouse, several falling off entirely. Her skirt now lay in the grass, and the man grabbed at her naked thighs as she grinned and gulped in air. I enquired as to who the pair was. “Oh, that’s Coach. And the Dean of Students. She comes to watch our races.” Sandra fell to her knees. Each of the girls, so hurried to get dressed only minutes ago, began to disrobe. The other man in the field was far too involved in his own affair to pay attention, so it was a private show for only me. I felt hot breath on my penis, as Sandra began to slowly, deeply kiss through my briefs. Brooke’s hastily assembled wardrobe was quickly off, her tiny body nude, as I decided it should always be. Kimmy’s sweats gave way to panties, as did Sam’s capris. A boiling wet sensation: Sandra was licking the cotton of my briefs. Emma’s jeans were mercifully off, and her panties straight away. Mary’s tanned flesh wiggled out of her own dress. My penis felt air again, then Sandra’s lips, as she kissed my shaft gently, and pulled my briefs down. Emma’s breasts were free, and she was nude. Sam, Kimmy, Mary; their bodies became unveiled again, Sandra popping my penis into her mouth as the final stitch fell away. I yelped in pleasure, and she sucked hard and fast, taking my rod deep into her mouth, then almost totally out. Everything seems so vivid when you’re getting a blow-job, and this was by far the best I’d ever had. I turned to one side and the older woman was biting her lip and grinning, now down to only her lacy black panties. She had saggy breasts, with big nipples, which I found to be terribly hot. Sandra sucked harder and harder as the man slid his fingers into those black panties, exploring the woman’s dearest place. I felt a hand physically turn my head away, and Mary kissed me. I grabbed her side and pressed her body against mine. As our kiss intensified, Sandra removed my penis from her mouth and began to lick, all the way from my testicles to the tip of my head. Kimmy wandered over and pulled me right off of Amy and began to kiss me. Mary leaned forward, and I kissed them both at the same time, both of their tongues stuffed into my mouth, as Sandra ferociously began to suck me off again, the pressure in my dick becoming unbelievable. Sweat was pouring off of all of our bodies. Mary stopped kissing me just in time for Sam to push her away, and her tongue happily joined with Kimmy’s. I reached out to massage their naked asses, so drenched with perspiration already. Kimmy stopped her kiss and spun around, her back to my side, and she guided my hand into her pussy, so hot and prickly from her pubic hair. Sam did the same, letting me mercifully gasp in some air, as she drew my fingers right between her jiggly legs. I was very eager to please, and found their clits quite easily. I heard them moan on each side of me as I teased their erect buttons, and explored their pussies. Glancing down, I noticed that Emma and Mary were working on Sandra, who looked up to me with a smirk as she resumed her lapping on my cock. Emma unhooked Sandra’s bra, and let it fall. Mary pulled her panties right off. Then Emma straddled Sandra’s back, her pussy pressed right up against Sandra’s flesh, and she kissed me. I could no longer see, but I could hear Kimmy and Sam’s moaning intensify as I continued to pleasure them, as Sandra pleasured me. I was awash in these four girls, their mouths all over me, my hands inside them. I heard Mary squeal. I was very cold, suddenly, as all four of my girls stopped attending to me and rose to face the rest of their team. They had quite a squad this year: fifteen men and an additional seventeen girls. All were clad in casual wear. The Dean of Students snapped out of her ecstasy, the Coach’s fingers around the elastic band of her panties, which were bunching low on her hips, her pubic hair spilling out from the top. “Hello team,” she slurred, “You may join the meeting.” Sandra squeezed my back as our five naked companions ran to the rest of the team, who were throwing their clothes off with not any lack of abandon. Given the context, I really didn’t mind all the naked guys at all; perhaps I was jealous, or intimidated a bit, as many of them had more muscular bodies, and several were far more gifted biologically than I. Sandra squeezed me again. The girls were all stunning there in the woods. A stringy haired girl who kept her glasses on, her teeth a little buckish in front: she looked superb. Girls with zits, with braces, their bodies beginning to glow with pleasure, as masculine hands cared for their lonely needs, as juices rose to quench their thirsts. Sandra. She had zits too, now that I really looked at her. Her nose was a little big, maybe. She’s ok on her own, without boys around. So are all these girls. They’re ok. They have lives, right? Of course. They sit on the couch and watch television, right? Yeah. So do the guys, you know. But their bodies reacted against one another, their eyes shone, staring at one another, the warmth of hands, and other parts, the moment’s isolation and the languishment of said isolation, a self-fulfilling prophecy. Hey Sandra, I almost had something there, the blue sky like the canvass of your tent, and I’m already not recalling it. I kissed Sandra, as the moans from the crowd grew louder, as the Dean and the Coach fucked energetically in the doggy style, as a frail boy popped Kimmy’s toes into his mouth, as a totally shaven lad nibbled on Mary’s lip, as Emma felt a long tongue enter her pussy, as Sam’s boyfriend of six years spanked her jiggly butt to her delight, as Brooke sucked mightily on a milky hippy girl’s large breasts while a well-hung boy smooched her ass-cheeks. Sandra dragged me to the grass, and climbed atop my belly. She pressed her breasts into my face and I licked all over. She rested her lips atop mine, and we lay there, breathing each other’s air. She reached down and located my cock, and she climbed atop it. My blood was acid, and she was scalding inside. She rode my dick with skill, grinding down on my legs, pulling every inch inside of her. I then thought to help, and I grabbed her butt, and we fucked in unison for a while. She’d lean down to kiss me every so often, then lean back up so I could admire her bouncing breasts and her adorable spasm smiles. I sat up, her still atop me, and she wrapped her legs around my sides like a vice, and I bounced her atop my dick over and over. She gurgled, throwing herself down, thrusting my cock deeper into her body as we fucked vigorously. I could hear sexual noise all around, filthy language and giddy squeals. My body was sticking to Sandra’s from the heat and sweat, and the power racing through my penis was up to my belly, my chest. She humped my cock harder and harder, and my body swirled with heat as I finally let go, cumming deep into her body for a good half-minute. She sensed my finish, and climbed off, and sat beside me on the grass. We nuzzled our cheeks together, and I asked her if she finished. Blue Tents “Shit… I came, like, over a minute ago.” We nuzzled again. The meeting was wrapping up. Many of the couples and threesomes were snuggling or laying around, enjoying their afterglow, their bodies loafing in the sun. “So…” she said, “You still coming to campus on Friday? A hundred kids in the house. Kegs and wine. Then strip poker. Then spin the bottle.” I asked her what came next. “Then… you pay attention to your fucking date!” She pulled me down, and rested her foot atop my leg again, like during the race. I didn’t consider that maybe I had missed my bus home. Copyright 2004, Alex Finch. All rights reserved.