The same red paper had been slipped inside my locker. The same flawless handwriting with the same “cutie,” and the same innuendo with the word “unbrace” italicized.
I glanced up at the locker room still full of players getting ready for today’s gym session and again; no one seemed to care about me and my special letter. I inhaled deeply and shook myself.
She knew what I’d done last time. Wasn’t everyone gone by the time I went on my little shower joyride? Was she still there? Did she hear me above the sound of the water? No, there was no way. She probably just calculated that I’d been the last one in, and thus out, since I took care of the equipment. She was just assuming I obeyed her instructions. So the only way she’d know that for sure would be if I followed today’s dare. I had the upper hand now.
I smiled and stowed the paper away in my gym bag, all the while wondering if winning a naughty dare required doing it or not doing it. In my case, the lines blurred so much I couldn’t tell. Oh shit, the voice of reason sounded in my head again. I was trying to rationalize doing what she asked. No way. This wasn’t happening again.
I headed to the changing room to get dressed and physically slapped myself the moment the door closed behind me. “No, Jess, no, you wouldn’t go train without a bra on. First, because it’s uncomfortable. Second, because you’re not a creep. And third, because you’re not giving her that satisfaction,” the logical part of my brain shouted.
Alright, I agreed internally, and started taking off my work clothes. I got my gym gear on, with the bra, and was about to open the door when I suddenly stopped, took off my t-shirt and bra, stuffed the latter in my gym bag, and put the former back on. By itself. With a smirk on my face, I headed back to the locker room and threw my bag in my assigned locker.
Only a few players remained, all shuffling to get ready, and I wondered if she was among them. Would she notice my erect nipples? Would she get a kick out of it? I practically pranced around, emboldened by my take-charge attitude, and shouted at the remaining girls to get their asses up to the gym.
“That’s some serious enthusiasm, you heard the newbie, girls!” Number 20 replied and dashed after me, smacked me on my behind, and slowed down to let me catch up. After a double take on my chest, she whistled and nudged me. “Whoa, you’re stacked!” I feigned incomprehension and she laughed heartily. “Those are some damn fine titties, you should let them go free more often.”
“I forgot my sports bra at home,” I shrugged. That was the most logical excuse.
“Then you should forget your sports bra at home more often.” She winked and laughed again. I joined her. Her cheerfulness was contagious and I thought for a moment that if she was my naughty instigator, I wouldn’t mind her doing unspeakable things to me, as long as she brought that perky attitude along.
Walking into the gym, I was hit by a waft of cold air from the AC and the smell of musky sweat that had accumulated over years of intense training. I was also hit by the realization of what I’d just done. Two hours with glistening flesh around me while my nipples brushed freely against my shirt sounded just as good as prospective torture.
And torture they were. I caught some sideway glances the first few minutes as every team member seemed to notice my clothing situation, but nothing out of the ordinary. I kept a tally in my head of every person and their reaction, trying to determine which one was the most telling. None jumped at me. There were those who did a double take, those who required a triple one, those who looked once and lingered a little bit to take it all in, and those who looked once and then tried to not look again for a while until their eyes inevitably landed back on my chest for one more check. Whoever my naughty instigator was, she was good at not making herself very obvious.
After some warm-up cardio on the elliptical, where my upper arms brushed way too often against my shirt and my chest bounced more freely than I’d ever felt, I moved to the weight lifting area where most of the players were. Alex was guiding Bree and Number 15, our two goalkeepers, but coach Terry was supervising everyone else. She raised her eyebrows when she noticed my wardrobe situation and glared at me. I felt myself both shrink from embarrassment and, oddly, tingle from excitement.
“50 weighted bench crunches, Jess!” She shouted and moved closely toward an empty inclined bench. What was it about a coach that made you feel like a shy little girl again, even though you were an adult capable of making criminals shudder in court? I rushed to grab a weighted plate and came back to the bench. In my head, I was rehearsing the exercise and calculating how uncomfortable and indiscreet it was going to be. The answer: a lot. I chastised myself several times and promised not to fall for such silly shenanigans again. Who in their right mind would train without a bra when they have D-sized breasts to account for?
I situated myself on the (very) inclined bench and dropped back to grab the plate. Gravity did its due and I felt an added weight pressing against my upper chest. This was going to be fun! Coach Terry stood behind me, staring with a weird look that I couldn’t exactly decipher from my upside-down position. I started on my crunches and closed my eyes to avoid any further embarrassment as my entire upper body bounced with every rep. I could still feel her eyes on me, though, and it took all my will to not say, “Like what you see?” That’s how some porn movies start, don’t they?
When my crunches were done and I sat back up on the bench, she shouted again, “1 minute rest, then 50 more.” I turned back and I swear I caught her smirk. Goodness, I was going to pay for this. She walked away to another player, and I tried catching my breath. My eyes wandered on the mirror facing me and landed on Brooke who was spotting another player, two benches away. She nodded toward the coach, smiled, and mouthed the words, “she likes you.” I felt myself turn even more crimson red.
“Again, Jess!” I heard coach shout as she came back toward me, this time positioning herself to my side rather than behind me. I dropped back reluctantly, grabbed the plate, and started again. I kept my eyes open this time though, catching Terry’s eyes repeatedly as I dropped back and came up. A mix of anger and something more carnal filled her face, but she kept it professional, not once looking down at my jiggling chest. “26, 27,” I mouthed and heaved under her eyes, with sweat pouring out of me and other liquids seeping from a different place.
I slowly realized that as much as I was sure now that Terry was a lesbian, I was also certain she wasn’t my naughty instigator. This wasn’t the kind of woman who would mix business with pleasure, no matter how much she’d want to, nor was she the kind who’d hide behind subtle letters and playful dares. If she was interested, she’d come at you full-speed and tell you how she felt. I’d be lying though if I didn’t admit the thought of her coming at me wasn’t particularly enticing. Umph.
A brief image of her ordering me to lick her to orgasm while doing push-ups on top of her fleeted through my brain and I shuddered. The prospect of another shower “session” after this training was becoming inevitable. I was too aroused to wait until I got home.
I finished my reps under Terry’s glare, caught my breath, and got off the bench on her side. “Pack a backup, always,” she whispered when I tried to pass her. I nodded and dropped my eyes to the ground.
“Triceps press, 3 sets of 50,” she said louder, and moved away to another player.
I hurried in the dictated direction, happy about this temporary reprieve. Number 20 was finishing up on the machine and she smiled when she saw me approach. “That was fun to watch,” she said discreetly. I blushed. Had the entire team noticed what happened earlier? Shit.
“We need more interesting training sessions like these,” she laughed and got up. I started wondering if she wasn’t too happy about this whole situation, but her lack of interest in me for the remainder of the time made me question that theory.
The rest of the session went on in discomfort but without any notable incident beside me realizing I was looking and lingering too much. Not at any woman in particular, but all of them. Say what you will about the porn industry, but it really nailed it when it comes to girls in spandex flexing muscles and making their bodies move in weird angles and shapes. It is very sexy and when you have over a dozen of them in one confined space, well, you can’t help but stare and fantasize. Younger, older, married, single, butch, femme, it didn’t matter. Every one of them was attractive in her own way and it occurred to me that I wouldn’t mind pinching any of these girls’ nipples. One week ago, the thought would have surprised me, but I was on a slowly progressing journey, and nipples seemed like a great, but safe, place to park my fantasies at.
In the last five minutes of training, Number 13 (I should really start learning their names!) spotted me on the barbell bench press and I stared at her crotch a little longer than necessary several times. When it was my turn to help her, the thought that she could smell me while I leaned my free-hanging chest above her made me even wetter, and I nearly ran back to the locker room afterwards. I usually finished my training with a bit of light cardio, but I knew I couldn’t handle the slickness between my folds if I moved one more minute.
I grabbed my gym bag and rushed toward the shower, but I bumped chest-first into a half-naked Brooke. “Oh sorry, I tit not see you there!” She winked and moved past me. Whether it was my brain playing games with me or the entire universe conspiring against my sanity, I didn’t know and didn’t care anymore. I needed to clear my head and the only way to do that was to get it out of my system. Which I did, in the shower.
As I shuddered against the wall with the image of my hands squeezing Brooke’s chest burning in my brain, I started to wonder whether I wasn’t maybe bi curious after all. Straight girls don’t fantasize about licking their female coaches, do they?
“Wow. That surpassed my wildest imagination! You have the sexiest chest and the most delicious set of hard nipples. I laughed, I stared, I was jealous, I stared again, and I laughed some more.
Can you slip me a little something to remind me of you, cutie? I’ll look above the fourth towel from the bottom, after practice. I dare you ;)”