A WINNING STRATEGY
I'm a leggy girl and a good gymnast, which was why I was part of the cheerleader squad at school, and that carried over to my college years. What I am going to tell you, happened in my second year at college, but first I have to explain a bit.
The whole idea of a cheerleader is to get the adrenalin going in the parties of the second part, your own team in the case of a match. It was also discovered years ago that a good flow of testosterone triggers the secretion of adrenalin, therefore you do not dress your cheerleaders in long flowing gowns which sweep the floor - or the grass, for that matter. No, the dress must be provocative. The more leg it shows, the more abundant is the secretion of testosterone. There are different ways of accomplishing this. You could simply have the girls parade around naked and have it done with. Society frowns on this, and dress designers would object that we are taking the bread out of their mouths by simply showing the cookie with the cookie jar ajar. The truth is that the male eye likes to be teased. That is the whole idea behind a striptease. She peels it off layer by layer. A ripple here and a nipple there, a belly grind and a wiggle behind; she peels off a stocking and it becomes a stareway to paradise! She removes her bra and suddenly she becomes a two-star general! She unhooks a stocking from the suspender belt and slowly rolls it down the shapely leg, and the male eye runs up and down that limb like woodpecker looking for grubs. She repeats with the second leg, lifting it high so that gravity will pull the eye down to her pussy, which is still encased in shiny silk. Then she s-m-o-o-t-h-s down her panties and lo, she is wearing a G-string underneath! Now the guys are ready to commit murder and adultery, as well as arson and rape, as she peels that off, leaving her with a champagne cork in the quim, twirls that last little garment around her little finger and flings it into the crowd, then disappears into the depths of her dressing room, where the cork is popped by the stage manager.
Some colleges opt for hotpants. It is the what-you-see-is-what-you-get approach. You know you're not going to see
more
of her legs and would count yourself lucky if you so much as glimpse a cameltoe when little missy comes to the end of the parade and the moisture has settled in her crotch.
Our college was wiser. It went for short dresses, and I mean
short
. Now the high kicks become exciting! There's a glimpse of panties now and then! 'Jeez, did you see that? I'm sure she's not wearing anything under that skimpy garment!' To further the intoxication, there are frills on the back of the knickers, the midriff is bare, and the halter tops are so tight that the boobs are squeezed out on all sides. The boobs and bellybutton button up the male eye and draw it to the chalice of unchastity. The knickers are the only real barrier, a thin cotton barrier which a crafty girl can easily pull to one side to
really
get the rods rising and the horns humping.
We performed at intervarsity competitions, and we were bloody good, if I have to say so myself. You see those boys on the grandstand as you pass back and forth, and when you stop in the middle and go through your routine, there are ten thousand grandstands on the grandstand and some of them are getting a hand.
In July of my second year we had a rugby rally with the first teams of different varsities competing for top honours. It was decided - I think wisely - that a performance by the local cheerleaders would give our teams an edge, a blunt and wet edge, to be sure, but an edge, nevertheless. Winter in Stellenbosch can be wet and windy, both of which can be highly uncomfortable to a girl in a micro-mini. The solution is the old favourite, pantyhose, which provides warmth without obscuring the view, and body stockings, equally transparent. Thus fortified against the elements, we all prayed for sunshine.
The playoffs happened over the space of a fortnight and our team, Maties, and Tukkies (the University of Pretoria) came out tops and would play in the final on the Saturday, with the two runners-up playing a curtain raiser. We were to perform at the start of each game and also during the ten minute breaks between game halves.
There was a lot of wind that day, because everyone of the four couches had to blow his team's trumpet. Mother Nature took all this lying down and our first performance was in a rather frigid atmosphere, which necessitated things like pantyhose and body stockings. We handled that well and took out seats on the side-line, waiting for the next spin of the wheel. That was when Mother Nature, who can be quite a bitch at times, decided to give us a surprise by springing Christmas on us. If she had given prior notice of her intention, I would have removed at least the body stocking. Halfway through the next sequence I started sweating and when we finished with a final flourish of the baton, I was sticky.
