The lady was standing in front of the mirror, wearing the green underwear, in the “emergency masturbation position” that most girls know about when there’s nowhere to sit or lie, ie, legs slightly apart, knees bent slightly, hips thrust forward, back curved forward and head bent forward for a closer look. She had one hand rubbing and pinching her tits which had been pulled out over the top of the lacy green bra whilst the other hand was inside the lacy green panties, rubbing furiously. She was gasping and her buttocks clenched in time as she thrust her hips forward in time with her jilling.My hand was also up my skirt and in my soaking pants as I rubbed my clit in time with her. Her thrustings were getting faster and faster and I followed suit. She came with a stifled yelp and, as her hips twitched violently, my orgasm hit me too and I too had to stifle a cry out.Not wanting to get caught, I hurried back to the counter as quietly as possible and a few minutes later the woman. I've seen you looking at me before. I should've known better!" I wiped at my eyes and started pushing my pedals again, but Lance grabbed my handle bars, stopping me."No, look we didn't do what you think, okay? What's the matter with you?"I slapped his hand and left them staring after me, and that was the problem. I didn't know what was wrong with me! It was football; they were supposed to touch me, even my boobs and butt. Why did I get all bothered about it? I worried that I'd been imagining things, making a lot more out of nothing than it really was. I rode home trying to remember every time somebody had tackled me, or I'd tackled them..."Brian Hades," I muttered to myself. It was his fault, because I knew he'd been feeling my boobs after I'd tackled him. I knew it for a fact. I'd been a little dizzy, but I remember him saying how good they felt and the way his handsome face grinned at me behind his face mask. After that I just assumed every guy out there was doing it. That must be.
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