Kimmy's College Adventures - The Locker room
This is the first in what will be an intermittent series about a female college track star. I plan to add other adventures in the future, but have no specific time table at the moment.
This is a fictional story. Any similarities to real people or places is merely a coincidence. All characters depicted are 18-years or older.
Kimmy's College Adventures - The Locker room
My experience as a Division I student athlete at a major university in my home state was incredible. I had great coaches, made true friends, learned a lot, and had many fun times. However, one experience that will stand out against them all happened during the spring track season my freshman year.
I had just finished practice and was starving. The dining hall was less than 100-yards away. The last thing I wanted to do was turn around and make the 10-minute walk across campus back to the locker room. But, I knew I had to because I had forgotten my book bag there and it contained the material needed to study for a statistics test I had the following day.
The clock on my phone told me I had enough time to get to the athletic complex, pick up my bag and return to the dining hall before dinner ended. I was still wearing my practice gear, although I'd changed into a fresh tee-shirt. So, holding my gym bag full of my street clothes in one arm I began to jog back to the locker room. My legs already ached and I was pretty tired from the eight-mile run the women's distance team and I had done that afternoon. Despite that, I found myself back at the facility before I knew it.
I was determined to get my bag fast and head back to the dining hall. I swiped my ID across the scanner and heard the door to the women's locker room unlock. I grabbed the handle quickly, opened the door, and hurried into what I presumed was a deserted locker room since all the spring sport practices were over for the day.
The women's facility is constructed into two rooms of about eight rows of lockers with about a dozen lockers in each row; one in front for the underclassmen and one in back for the juniors and seniors. I quickly found my bag where I left it, sitting on the bench between the third and fourth sets of lockers in the first room. I grabbed my bag and was turning to leave when I suddenly heard a few grunts and groans.
Because of the way sound echoed off the walls and lockers I wasn't sure exactly what I was hearing or where it was coming from precisely. So, I cautiously headed towards the upperclassmen locker room to investigate.
As I got closer the sounds became louder and more clear. By the third or forth grunt I was pretty certain what types of sounds I was hearing. SEX! I only had two boyfriends in high school, but I had enough sex with my last one to know what it feels like and sounds like to get fucked. Quite honestly I like sex and started masturbating when I was in middle school. I often start and end my day playing with my pussy.
My curiosity was piqued and I had to see who was making the lustful noises. So, I quietly put my bags down on the last bench in the underclassmen locker room and tiptoed to the entrance to the back room. My heart rate began to quicken and my cheeks became flushed.
No sooner did I peak through the doorway then I saw LaShawna Dawson, one of our team captains and an Olympic hopeful in the sprints laying on her back, ass at the closer end of the bench, toned legs splayed in the air. Down on his knees, pumping away at her bald pussy was J.T. Dixon, one of our grad-student coaches. Even though he was kneeling he was tall enough and the bench was low enough that his cock was right at cunt level. They couldn't have been more than twenty-feet away from me.
I stifled a gasp and ducked back behind the corner of the entrance way to the adjoining locker room. My tiny A-cup tits heaved up and down on my chest as I tried to control my breathing. Had they seen me? Heard me? From the sounds of it I hadn't disturbed them. I wondered if I should leave quietly and give them their privacy, or stay and enjoy the show. I'm embarrassed to admit but it didn't take long for the pervert in me to decide that I would stay.
Decision made, I gradually positioned myself so I could see them clearly but stay out of their view. With about half the banks of florescent lights still on I had a pretty good sight of the beautiful fucking couple but was in the shadows enough that they probably couldn't see me.
LaShawna looks basically the opposite of me. At 5'7", I'm a relatively tall, skinny, flat chested light skinned caucasian with blonde hair. Stereotypical distance runners build. She's about three-inches shorter gorgeous mixed race woman with more curves, powerful thighs, and shoulder length wiry black hair.
J.T. specializes in the jumping field events and as such has about 225-pounds of lean muscle sculpted on a 6'6" frame. He had his hair in dreads and a neat goatee on his face. Most of the women's team got wet just looking at the bulge barely hidden inside his shorts.
I gazed lustfully at the couple for several minutes. I watched LaShawna C-cup tits flail back and forth as he pounded her. Squelching and squishing sounds could be heard over the moans each time J.T. thrust into LaShawna's cunt. The audio-visual stimulus was too much for me and I soon found my left hand in my panties and my right hand under my bra. I began pleasuring myself while I continued to watch the hot action in front of me.
"That's it J.T.," I heard LaShawna pant. "Don't stop. Keep fucking me with that big black cock."
"I love your juicy tight pussy girl," J.T. responded. "And those fucking tits are driving me crazy." He reached out with one hand and began pulling on a boob.
"Getting close," he continued a minute later. " Not much longer!"
With that, the gorgeous, hung man picked up the pace and gave her about a dozen more powerful stabs before jabbing one last thrust as deep as he could.
"Aaahhhuugg!"
They let out a simultaneous guttural grunt signifying their shared release.
By the time the couple was building to their climax, I had lowered my shorts and panties to my ankles and was thrusting my middle and ring fingers from my left hand into my cunt hole while strumming my clit with my right hand. Just about the moment J.T. collapsed on top of LaShawna, I felt my legs shake as my climax overtook my body. Somehow I kept my balance.
Like I said, I've been masturbating for awhile now and had a lot of practice cumming quietly, but I guess I didn't do a very good job. My pussy was probably squishing too loudly because, when I finally opened my eyes after my climax I was looking at J.T. standing a foot away from me. His body was glistening with sweat and his unbelievably big cock was smeared in a mixture of LaShawna's pussy juice and his own cum.
"What do we have here?", he asked as he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the back locker room to within about ten-feet of LaShawna. I stumbled awkwardly over my shorts and underwear that were still around my ankles. With a chuckle he said, "Hey La-La, looks like we have a peeping Thomasita."
I guess he thought he was clever instead of saying peeping Tom.
By the way, La-La is LaShawna's nick-name that all her friends called her.
I wanted to shrivel up and disappear from embarrassment. I'd never been formally introduced to her and couldn't believe that I was meeting the team captain and future Olympian under these circumstances.
"Kimmy Anderson, right?", La La asked moving to a sitting position on the bench giving me a view of her recently fucked pussy. "Your the freshman phenom distance runner."
Oh my god she knew of me? She knew I was the high school cross-country state champion? I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised but the upper class-men don't usually hang out with the underclassmen, especially if they don't run the same events.
