With the end of the volleyball season fast approaching, not to mention the end of high school, Melanie was a little bummed. Sure she was excited for the adventure known as "real life," but this had been her world for the last four years, and she was going to miss sports, her friends, and some of her teachers. Andrea Jensen, her English teacher, was one such person. Her senior year her parents hired Andrea to tutor and mentor Melanie and help her with scholarships and college admissions.
All of their after school hard work really paid off as letters of acceptance and approval continued to pour in. She'd received tons of grants and scholarships and had been accepted to her choice of top universities.
Melanie had developed, through the events they promised never to talk about, a unique but close relationship with both Andrea and her husband James. They'd been through a lot these last few months, but that is a story for another time.
Never one to brag, Melanie did her best to stay humble and modest, but post-graduation plans were the talk among seniors and eventually her successes came out. Nearly all of the girls on the team were sincerely happy for her and able to share their own exciting plans; however, Beth was not.
Beth had become a sour puss—leering in Melanie's direction whenever she saw her. She was dumber, poorer, less popular, and less attractive—she knew it and so did everyone else. Since she never excelled in school, Beth would be lucky to even make it at a community college. This jealousy and resentment began to fester, finally culminating in a plan to "knock her (Melanie) off her high horse."
They did share at least one thing: their love of volleyball. Melanie was the middle blocker because she could read the opponent's setter like a book and was quick enough to get from one end of the court to the other to deflect the ball. It was her athletically tone body and smarts that enabled her to hit quick sets and keep the other team's defense off balance.
On the other hand, Beth was the outside hitter, her stout body allowed her to be a solid hitter and blocker. But, she was never the star of the team and never had her moment in the limelight. The need to lash back at these perceived injustices became paramount.
To make matters worse, it was a small rural school, so rumors spread fast and were a destructive force. Since they were out in the country, the school was a little less accepting and progressive than the big city liberal schools, so the rumors about Beth being a "dyke" further ostracized her from her peers.
Not that she should have to, but she couldn't produce any proof against the accusations. She'd never had a boyfriend, she didn't wear makeup or girly-girl clothes, and her lingering ogles in the shower stalls basically confirmed it in her teammates' eyes.
Before she could head over to the Jensen's for her nightly study session, Melanie had to meet with the school counselor "immediately after practice" to get some forms and paper work. Since she hated showing up sweaty and stinky, and there was still a little time before James was supposed to pick her up, she decided to run back to the locker room and catch that shower she skipped. Melanie use to just walk over to their place, but after what had happened, they were being a lot more careful.
Since it was late, she basically had the school to herself. Students, teachers, and staff had all gone home and the custodial crew wouldn't start until much later that evening. Luckily, the school had installed self-closing doors that automatically locked when anyone left leaving no risk the last person out would leave it open and unsecure, so she felt pretty safe showering alone. Quickly stripping down, leaving her clothes in a pile on the bench, she pitter pattered over to the showers.
The hot water beading down her body, running over her chest and nipples before funneling between her legs and through her narrow slit caused an unexpected arousal. She could feel her lil' nub become hard and her lips became puffy. Her wet hair clinging to her back created rivulets of water sneaking through her crack, tickling her ass.
These simple pleasure sensations caused her day dreaming about college life to quickly wander back to her memories of those forbidden events from a few months earlier. That was when she'd lost her virginity—an extreme story to say the least.
In fact, she'd done a lot of things she'd be mortified to have known; however, she couldn't deny most included a heady dose of pleasure. It was those aspects causing her to be wet not just on the outside but also springing from the inside. Without any reason not to, she found one hand caressing a breast while the other began exploring her crevasse.
She needed a quickie so she wouldn't be late. Her hand's manipulation of her breasts became aggressive—twisting and tweaking, grabbing and squeezing before pinching and pulling her nipples as her whole hand rubbed up and over. Down below she was equally insistent, swirling her palm over her whole clitoris while allowing two fingers to dive inside and fuck as far as they could.
Right before she crested that glorious hill, she heard a familiar voice mockingly say, "You couldn't even wait 'til you got home? What a slut." she froze in her tracks, ashamed to be caught in such a private act. "Oh, don't stop on our account."
"Beth?!" exclaimed Melanie glad to see it was at least someone she knew as she pulled her arms to her sides trying to play it off, "You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here? I thought I was all alone."
Beth, looking at each arm now firmly placed across her chest, obscuring her breasts with her biceps, while saving her hands to hide her slit, in a way admitting she was caught wet handed rubbing one out, coldly commented, "Obviously." Then as it finally dawned on her, Melanie asked the important question, "Wait, what do you mean 'our' account?"
"You can join us now," called Beth behind her. It was then that her motley crew of carpet munching minions came out from behind the lockers. There was "Nobody's Choosin' Susan," the chubby girl who got the nickname back in elementary school when she was always the last picked to be on the team, Keisha, the skinny stoner gothic chick who was always being caught smoking behind the bleachers, and Mandy, the lanky nerd who could pass for much younger as she incessantly talked about anime and role play.
It was one thing for Beth to be in the locker room after practice; there could be any number of legitimate reasons: "I forgot something in my locker, I stayed after for study hall" (or more likely detention), or "I was going to use the fitness room."
"But why her whole crew?" pondered Melanie to herself, "I don't think any of them even have P.E. this semester." As one who assumes the best in people, Melanie's mind was not noticing the potential for danger this situation presented quickly enough.
