I lay on my back. The cold metal of the small locker room bench presses into my spine, but I do not feel it. Outside, the football game rages, the shouts, cheers and occasional boos creating a constant roar. But I don't hear it. The locker room-even if it is the girls-carries an aroma of sweat, exhaustion, and the faintest hint of soap. These smells are lost to me. Even the flickering lights, the few flies flitting in and out the open door cannot pull my eyes away. Away...from her.
She is above me, more specifically, my face. Her legs on either side of my head, her entire body writhing in pleasure as I gently support her with my hands on her hips. They urge me to move onward, craving to feel every inch of her, as if they have a mind of their own. But if I move them she may fall, and this moment would be over. I wouldn't trade it for the world right now. Her hands on my thighs, providing herself some support, back arched at an almost impossible angle, eyes unfocused, as if she's seeing into another world. One where the only feeling: is ecstasy. Her skirt is hiked up just enough to keep from getting in the way., and her skin tight cheerleader outfit is straining against her bodies erratic movement.
She breathes in differing-sometimes aggressive-ways. Taking small, shallow breaths while small happy sounds find their way out of her. Then long, hard, oxygen deprived drags sometimes periodically marked by long moans, and punctuated with, "Oh shit" or "Fuck yeah."
