The Locer Room

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."

I just lay there, all my senses in bliss. Sight, sound, touch, smell. And taste. Oh my gosh the taste! I had almost forgotten. How could I? It is the fountain of youth, the elixir of life, perfection dancing on my taste buds as they stretch and scream at me for more. I eagerly do my best to appease them, delving as deep as I possibly can inside of her. If I go any further I will find my airways blocked and be unable to breathe.

I am contemplating how much air is really worth to me right now when somehow I am pulled out of my reverie by the sound of the announcer saying, "Two-minute warning!" I entertain the idea that he can see us, knows what is going on, and is trying to warn me that our time is almost up. I thank him telepathically, then breathe in deeply. To do this I must stop my work, and my presence is immediately missed. She relaxes, and her face begins to sadden with disappointment. It doesn't last long.

When I begin anew I take no prisoners, show no mercy, and she feels it. One long moan leaves her body, expressing everything she is feeling in only a few notes. I delve deep, finding that little place on the roof of her pussy, the g-spot. I flick it with my tongue periodically, and every time I do she jolts, stiffens, and her mouth opens a bit wider. She's close, I can feel it.

Trying something that occurred to me some time ago I wrap my tongue around her clit and wriggle the tip of my tongue as much as I can. She trembles, visibly attempting to survive this experience. I am happy my trick has worked. Continuing like this I flick her g-spot one last time, and it happens. She cums, her orgasm a tsunami of pleasure crashing down upon her. Her juices flood my mouth, the taste better than anything I've ever had. Outside the announcer screams, "Touchdowwwwnnnnn!!" The obvious attempt at irony from the universe amuses me to no end. Her orgasm does not stop for almost a full minute. She shakes, she stiffens, she tries to breathe through the pleasure assaulting her body, until it finally dies down and she collapses forward. I narrowly keep her from falling to the floor, and she falls asleep in my arms almost immediately.

I smile. Not wanting to wake her I gently slide myself from underneath her sweat soaked body and lay her on the bench, making sure she will not fall after I leave. Before I leave I allow myself one small pleasure and kiss her on the lips. She smiles widely, either because of me, or perhaps she enjoys her own taste as much as I do.

"Sleep well beautiful," I whisper in her ear. The other cheerleaders will be here soon. I know many of them, and at least one will take her home. She had clearly had more than enough to drink that night, and they would never permit her to drive herself home.

As I step outside into the cool night's breeze I direct my ears to the field ahead. From the sound of it we won. And so did I.