A Winning Strategy

A WINNING STRATEGY

I'm a leggy girl and a good gymnast, which was why I was part of the cheerleader squad at school, and that carried over to my college years. What I am going to tell you, happened in my second year at college, but first I have to explain a bit.

The whole idea of a cheerleader is to get the adrenalin going in the parties of the second part, your own team in the case of a match. It was also discovered years ago that a good flow of testosterone triggers the secretion of adrenalin, therefore you do not dress your cheerleaders in long flowing gowns which sweep the floor - or the grass, for that matter. No, the dress must be provocative. The more leg it shows, the more abundant is the secretion of testosterone. There are different ways of accomplishing this. You could simply have the girls parade around naked and have it done with. Society frowns on this, and dress designers would object that we are taking the bread out of their mouths by simply showing the cookie with the cookie jar ajar. The truth is that the male eye likes to be teased. That is the whole idea behind a striptease. She peels it off layer by layer. A ripple here and a nipple there, a belly grind and a wiggle behind; she peels off a stocking and it becomes a stareway to paradise! She removes her bra and suddenly she becomes a two-star general! She unhooks a stocking from the suspender belt and slowly rolls it down the shapely leg, and the male eye runs up and down that limb like woodpecker looking for grubs. She repeats with the second leg, lifting it high so that gravity will pull the eye down to her pussy, which is still encased in shiny silk. Then she s-m-o-o-t-h-s down her panties and lo, she is wearing a G-string underneath! Now the guys are ready to commit murder and adultery, as well as arson and rape, as she peels that off, leaving her with a champagne cork in the quim, twirls that last little garment around her little finger and flings it into the crowd, then disappears into the depths of her dressing room, where the cork is popped by the stage manager.

Some colleges opt for hotpants. It is the what-you-see-is-what-you-get approach. You know you're not going to see more of her legs and would count yourself lucky if you so much as glimpse a cameltoe when little missy comes to the end of the parade and the moisture has settled in her crotch.

Our college was wiser. It went for short dresses, and I mean short. Now the high kicks become exciting! There's a glimpse of panties now and then! 'Jeez, did you see that? I'm sure she's not wearing anything under that skimpy garment!' To further the intoxication, there are frills on the back of the knickers, the midriff is bare, and the halter tops are so tight that the boobs are squeezed out on all sides. The boobs and bellybutton button up the male eye and draw it to the chalice of unchastity. The knickers are the only real barrier, a thin cotton barrier which a crafty girl can easily pull to one side to really get the rods rising and the horns humping.

We performed at intervarsity competitions, and we were bloody good, if I have to say so myself. You see those boys on the grandstand as you pass back and forth, and when you stop in the middle and go through your routine, there are ten thousand grandstands on the grandstand and some of them are getting a hand.

In July of my second year we had a rugby rally with the first teams of different varsities competing for top honours. It was decided - I think wisely - that a performance by the local cheerleaders would give our teams an edge, a blunt and wet edge, to be sure, but an edge, nevertheless. Winter in Stellenbosch can be wet and windy, both of which can be highly uncomfortable to a girl in a micro-mini. The solution is the old favourite, pantyhose, which provides warmth without obscuring the view, and body stockings, equally transparent. Thus fortified against the elements, we all prayed for sunshine.

The playoffs happened over the space of a fortnight and our team, Maties, and Tukkies (the University of Pretoria) came out tops and would play in the final on the Saturday, with the two runners-up playing a curtain raiser. We were to perform at the start of each game and also during the ten minute breaks between game halves.

There was a lot of wind that day, because everyone of the four couches had to blow his team's trumpet. Mother Nature took all this lying down and our first performance was in a rather frigid atmosphere, which necessitated things like pantyhose and body stockings. We handled that well and took out seats on the side-line, waiting for the next spin of the wheel. That was when Mother Nature, who can be quite a bitch at times, decided to give us a surprise by springing Christmas on us. If she had given prior notice of her intention, I would have removed at least the body stocking. Halfway through the next sequence I started sweating and when we finished with a final flourish of the baton, I was sticky.

The cheeries all made for the girl's room under the grandstand and queued up to pee. My need was different: I peeled off my costume, including the body stocking and the pantyhose, and jumped in the shower. I didn't have a towel, but thought I'd use the body stocking to dry myself as I wasn't planning to put it on again, and while the last ten girls were jumping up and down so as not to piss their knickers, I relieved myself in the shower.

Well, the last girl left and I finished showering and was drying myself when five Tukkies players came waltzing in. The foremost guy was their fly-half and captain, who froze in his tracks when he saw me, and let out a low whistle.

'Fuck it, boys, look at that!' he said, without taking his eyes off me. I saw five tongues hanging out in unbelief and five tents springing up in their pants, panting.

I do not suffer from false modesty, so I did not try to cover up any of my charms. Instead, I waved the body stocking around and said, 'I guess you guys are all blind tossers.'

'What do you mean?' the cap asked, rather upset. 'We're not blind!' He didn't deny the tossing, mind you!

'You must be, because there is a female figure on the door and a big LADIES above it. I don't expect you morons to be able to read, but the sign should be intelligible enough.'

They looked at one another, but briefly, because they could not take their eyes off me. I had displayed enough of my boobs and bum and legs previously, but now all the covers had been stripped away.

'I'm sorry!' the cap said, but took a step closer. 'I'm really sorry. But, Jeez, you are so fuckin' sexy!'

I can be very devious on occasions, and this was one of them. I smiled and said, 'No offence, but as you have now seen me naked, how about showing me what you have. I want to see if all of you think I'm fucking sexy.'

This was an invitation they could not decline! They looked at one another, then pulled down their track suit pants, the rugby pants and the briefs to the top of their legs. They were not wearing jockstraps as yet, so I was now facing five sturdy cocks.

I beckoned them to come closer and they joined me under the shower, which was not running any longer. There was a lock forward of 6'7" with a cock of about ten inches, while the captain's was about eight, two others had sevens and the fifth guy was the other lock, a black guy with a glory of thirteen inches. I went from one to the other, first just looking and tapping each one briefly.

Now you must visualise the scene: six of us in a space a little bigger than a telephone booth, five young cocks pointing at my pussy and two tits swinging like pendulums before them. They started touching me, hesitantly at first, then more daring.

'Any of you guys have an F.L.?' I enquired, but they shook their heads.

'Okay, then we can't fuck, but I can toss and blow you guys, because you're all randy-dandy dudes.'

That opened the sex ball: I soon had hands all over me. I went down on my haunches and 'serviced' the captain first by giving him a blowjob which had him panting; at the same time I was tossing two guys and the other two were jacking off furiously. It was tremendous fun!

I knew we had about an hour till the game started, so we had a second round. Tikani was the guy with the monster. I said to him, 'Move in here behind me and shove that dick of yours between my thighs from behind and imagine you're fucking me.' He did that, and I had the most glorious orgasm as a result. I blew the two tossers and jerked the other two, who now squirted cum all over me. God, it made me horny too, guys jerking off over me!

Well, I milked those five guys repeatedly over the space of almost an hour, then I sent them away, because I had to shower again to get all the spunk off my body.

At the end of the last game we had another short cheerleader performance, then the trophies were handed over. Behind the grandstand they had set up tables and chairs for the dignitaries, but there was ample room in the parking lot for the rest of us to rock a cock and roll a ball. Halfway through the darkness I was in a tête-â-tête with our own under-19 captain, Brendan, who commented on the fact that their opposition had appeared so lacklustre during the game.

'I mean, look at that Tikani guy! He's half a head taller than Simon, but today he couldn't get his feet off the ground in the lineouts, and he was positively pooped in the scrums. And the flyhalf, Roelf, who's played for the Blue Bulls already, missed that easy penalty goal kick right in front of the posts! I still can't understand it.'

'Well,' I replied, 'it's better to do your fucking after the match rather than before it.' Then I smiled, because I knew he had three foreign letters in his pocket. I bent over because the man was hard-up and I was slimy wet...