ELLIE:
This is part two, might be rest to read part one first (this is a little shorter).
I had netball practice after uni. This was something I loved doing, it was something I could do with my best friends and we had a great team. Sure, we might not win many matches but we all had a great bond and enjoyed the training together, as well as the real matches.
Growing up, my mum had always encouraged me to play as much sport as possible since a young age, rather than obsess over books like my little brother, Ewan, appeared to. I say 'little' brother, he was only just over a year younger than me and had caught up with my height pretty quickly so we currently saw eye-to-eye. Literally.
As well as the enjoyment I got from sports (I also played football and was part of the running team), I knew that it kept me fit and healthy. I was quite tall for my age, slim and lean. There wasn't really any "meat on my bones" as one of my uncles always used to remark whenever he saw us at Christmas. I was actually proud of this. Sure, it helped by having good genes - my brother, Ewan, had a very similar physique even though he didn't do as much exercise as me (just swimming and a bit of football with his mates) but I made sure that I did all I could to tone up, loving the athletic body that I had achieved so far. I was still growing as I matured and wanted to hone my physique as much as possible but to still look like a woman, sexy to me, not threatening.
I loved the feel of my legs and arms as I would rub body lotion over myself after showering. They didn't look sinewy or even particularly muscley, still feminine limbs but when I tensed them, I could feel the strength there. Likewise, I didn't have a six pack to look at but when I did sit-ups or stomach crunches in P.E. I was aware of the hardness as my muscles contracted. This was covered by a thin layer of puppy fat, typical for my age, though still flat.
I knew that I looked good in my sports gear. The university's netball uniform with its pleated skirt that came half way down my thighs had tight shorts built into it (to preserve the girls' modesty according to the teachers) so we could move around without flashing the parents that came to watch us. We usually had to have bibs on over the t-shirts so not really the sport for attracting boys.
The football kit was tighter, not like the boy's ones that were loose but more fitted for girls. Ours consisted of reasonably snug fitting tops in the campus colours (yellow and burgundy) and looser shorts, but very short (again, not like the boys'). I did look good in this kit as it showed how slim my figure was and the shape of my legs, but it wasn't exactly sexy. Especially with the thick socks, shinpads hiding the bottom of my pins and muddy boots to top it off.
The running kit though, that is where I excelled. This was tight - it didn't really need to cater for the larger girls as most kids who ran seemed lean. Usually, we all wore the running vests as they were cooler than the long-sleeved training ones. We were not allowed to show off our midriffs like they do in professional events (again, to stop the pervy parents leering all over us) but they were figure-hugging nevertheless.
With my top (again, yellow with burgundy strips down the sides) you could basically make out every curve and muscle of me. We all wore sports bras or crop tops under them for support but with some of the girls, all this seemed to do was make their breasts look massive. You could see these large mounds protruding from the chest, stretching the shiny material to the extreme before cutting back in over their stomachs. Coupled with the tight running shorts, they often had the appearance of a stick with tits. Myself, I was a modest B-cup so when these were constrained, there was barely a bump to show that I had anything at all.
But it was the shorts that really loved me; they showed off my legs perfectly, sitting high up at the sides and cradling my firm butt. They had a tendency to ride up into my crack as my legs pumped and I was aware that this showed off my ass even more. I often left them like this after a race just in case any of the dads or coaches wanted to check me out (exercise could sometimes bring out the latent exhibitionist in me). The thought of anyone looking at me like that kept the adrenaline up for longer.
Finally, just a pair of simple white running shoes with trainer socks that were cut below the ankle, to show as much flesh of my legs as possible. As I ran, I knew that you could see the muscles in my thighs and calves working hard, a real athlete.
And I was fast.
Anyway, as I was saying before I side-tracked myself, I had netball practice that overran so I was late leaving, not even time for a shower there. Not a problem as I thought I would be home in 15 minutes and could wash off all the sweat from the hard session there and then just relax in my pyjamas, and watch TV with my mum as usual (I needed to relax after the day I had had).
This was not going to be the case though.
I walked in through our front door to be told that mum was going away for a few nights. Very odd as my mum never went anywhere. She had to take one of our neighbours, a lady called Debbie, to visit her mother for some reason. My brother and I were going to have to stay in her house to keep an eye on her daughter whilst they were gone. Even worse than this upheaval, they were leaving almost straight away so there was no time for a shower or to even get changed. I just had time to grab a toothbrush and school books and we were out of the door. At least my brother had packed some things for us I thought. Ewan and I said goodbye to mum and then we were off to Debbie's house.
Debbie's daughter, Alex, let us in and showed us to "our rooms" for the duration of our stay. As soon as I clocked the ensuite bathroom in the room I was in, all I could think about was that hot shower that I knew was waiting there for me, to make me feel human again. I hurried Alex and Ewan out of the room. The second they were out, I rushed to the shower, shedding my clothes along the way.
There was no door to the ensuite but as I had closed the one to the bedroom, I thought that no-one would disturb me in there so it would be fine. As I peeled off my bra and then knickers, dropping them on the tiled floor, I stepped behind the clear glass wall, into the large shower area behind it. This was nothing like our crappy shower over the bath at home: it was grand, open on one side and could easily hold two people, probably even more (although why you would need more than two, I could only imagine).