Gym Ball

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Young woman learns how not to use a gym ball.
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Ashson
Ashson
8,501 Followers

School! A loathsome place at times. Your school days are the best time of your life, they say. Anyone who thinks that must have a pretty miserable time being an adult. That's another thing about school. They don't treat you like an adult.

OK. It's fair enough when you first start school. You are a child, after all. But as you progress through school you age, you mature, you damned well grow up. I'm a senior. I'm eighteen. I can smoke, drink, drive, vote, do anything I want (provided it's legal), unless I'm at school.

As soon as I walk through the school gate I'm considered a child again, hedged about with a host of school rules, most of which don't make sense when applied to an adult. Who invents these rules? The school board. Who is on the school board? Those people who love controlling others and making them obey silly little rules. They always have reasons for the rules; it's just that the reasons rarely make sense to anyone except the school board.

Ever notice how the older female teachers try to enforce their idea of proper clothing on the students? If I want to dress like a fifty year old woman then I'm quite happy to wait until I'm fifty to do so. I have no intention of doing so now.

Would you believe Mrs Frothingham had a go at my current outfit? Did I really think it was an appropriate outfit to wear to school? Well, yes. That's why I'm wearing it. Just because her taste favours tweed jackets and a yashmak for young girls it doesn't mean that mine does.

Actually, that's why I scored detention today. I pointed out that my yashmak was at the cleaners and she wasn't amused. A detention for insolence. Totally not fair. She was insolent first.

At least the detention was over and done with and I was making my escape. One small step, from one side of the gate to the other and lo, I am an adult. You make sense of it. I can't.

I was strolling past the gym and the gym doors were open. Unusual as the place is normally locked after the last class. Someone must have forgotten. Glancing through the open door as I passed I spotted a couple of those giant gym balls and I stopped. I've seen some of those gifs and videos on the internet of people using those balls. Usually they're of people having accidents but there have been some showing people doing some interesting stunts with the balls.

Now I'm a cheerleader and we're always looking for new material. I started thinking about how we might work some of those balls into a couple of our routines. How hard could it be, I wondered, to bounce on a giant ball?

The thought was father to the deed. I wandered into the gym to look the balls over. Up to this point I'm pretty sure that I wasn't breaking any rules. You're not supposed to use the gym equipment unsupervised in case there's an accident and the school could get sued, but I wasn't using the balls. I was just looking at them, testing their bounciness.

I moved on to trying to bounce on the balls. I'd seen a few simple tricks that I thought I could do and it wasn't as though I was going to be hurling myself at the balls. Just sitting and bouncing a little. Technically against the rules, but there again, even being in the gym without wearing gym clothes is technically against the rules. I decided to give it a go.

Those stupid balls are a lot harder to balance on than you would think. They're so big that when you get on one your feet aren't on the ground so you have no support. One wrong move and the ball tips you off. Using these could be trickier than I thought.

"You're doing it wrong," said a voice, and I jerked my head around to see who was there. That was a wrong move, by the way. I promptly fell off the ball again.

"You know you're not supposed to use the gym without supervision?" the gym instructor said softly as he strolled over to where I was sitting on the floor.

"Um, I'm not actually using the equipment," I hastily explained. "I was just getting a feel for the balls because I thought we could possibly include them in a couple of our cheerleader routines."

"Ah, my mistake. I thought I saw you sitting on one of the balls but I guess that was my imagination."

He had the blandest look on his face as he looked at me, and I knew my face was red. Still he was letting it go so I didn't say anything.

"Why don't you take the ball and put it against the wall. You'll find the wall will help steady the ball while you sit on it. Once you have a bit of skill you can try the more free form ball exercises."

I did as he suggested, carrying a ball over to the wall and then climbing on it. It was still wobbly but I found that I could sit comfortably and catch my balance. OK, so we would need instructions on how to use the balls. That could be arranged.

"Now try lying on the ball," I was told.

That should be simple enough, I thought, launching myself onto the ball and rolling off the other side, with a squeal.

"No. Do it towards the wall as it can't tilt you in that direction."

The instructor, Mike, I think his name is, came over and placed his hand on my back, pressing and getting me to bounce a little.

"Bounce a little," he said. "Get a feel for the movement of the ball. Think of what direction you want it to move and tilt it."

So there I was, lying across the ball, bouncing on it and getting a feel for it. That's when I remembered that little rule about gym clothes when using gym equipment. Our gym clothes include, along with the skirt, modesty shorts so that we're not flashing our panties at everyone. The skirt that I was wearing was every bit as short as my normal gym skirt, but I wasn't flashing my panties at Mike.

How did I know? Because I was flashing my bottom at him, my panties having made a sudden trip south.

I squealed and try to stand up but Mike's hand was holding me firmly against the ball.

"Be quiet," he said firmly, slapping my bottom quite hard.

Worse than that he didn't lift his hand back off my bottom. He just slid it around, following the curves until he found curves more to his liking. You guessed it. He latched onto my love mound, squeezing and rubbing.

"You stop that," I hissed at him. (Quietly. I didn't want another spank.) "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Dumb question, isn't it?" he replied. "What does it feel like I'm doing?"

"You're groping me and I want you to stop," I stated firmly.

"I see. Not such a dumb question, after all. I am not groping you. I am conducting a little foreplay prior to fucking you. There's a difference."

Um, he had a point there. There was a decided difference between getting groped and getting raped. It wasn't really a difference I wanted to experience.

"You leave me alone. If you don't get your hands off me I'll scream."

"If you scream I doubt anyone will hear you. School finished ages ago. Only an occasional straggler is about and they're shaking the dust of the school ground from their feet as fast as they can. Also, one spank per scream. You can scream if you like. It's your bottom."

I opened my mouth to scream and instead gave a yelp as he gave me another spank.

"What was that for?" I wailed. "I didn't scream."

"You were going to. Like I said, it's your bottom."

"That wasn't my bottom."

"Oops. My error. Let me kiss it better."

I was like, say, what? Before I could take in just what he said his face was between my legs, kissing it better. That was the point at which I should have screamed but all I could do was go, "Ah, ah, ah, oh my god, what are you doinggggg?"

I could feel his teeth rasping against my lips and his tongue darting between them. If you think a man's hand can stir you up down there, wait until you feel what his mouth can do. And I couldn't do anything about it. I was stuck on that stupid ball and he was stopping it rolling and I couldn't get off and he was doing things to me and oh, my, god, I didn't know what to do.

He stood up again but he was still leaning heavily over me, holding me steady. Then I felt something slap against my bottom, and it wasn't his hand. I squealed, saying something along the lines of, "No, no, no. Don't you dare."

Big effect that had. I could feel him dragging his erection (deliberately dragging it, too) across my bottom, drawing it down between my cheeks and I knew where it was going. Knowing didn't mean I could do anything about it. The damn thing felt huge and it was now pressing against my lips. It also felt awfully hard and my lips seemed to be all soft and yielding.

What happened next was strange. He started pushing against me, wanting in. I naturally tried to pull away, not wanting it in. The ball was yielding under me, helping me to move away, but his cock just kept on coming. It reached a point where the ball couldn't give anymore and when he kept coming my lips gave way and he was sliding into me.

He just kept coming and coming, ignoring my protests, and I could feel him inside me, filling me, drilling deep into me, pinning me to that ball like a skewered butterfly. When he finally had me nailed he gave a grunt of triumph, telling me that now the fun would start.

The fun started, alright. He started pulling back and the ball felt the lessening of pressure. It pushed me up against him, holding me onto his cock. He had to pull back quite a way before he could start withdrawing. He started back in and the ball sank under his weight, leaving his cock chasing my pussy again as he tried to sink into me.

He started using some bad language. He was finding it a major effort to drill into me and it was just as hard to pull back. The whole thing not helped by my giggling. I know I should have been weeping and wailing and saying, "Oh, no. How could you," but the whole thing struck me as comical. I bet he'll never try to bounce another woman on one of these balls.

He gave up in the end. Not the rape. He was quite willing to continue with that. Just bouncing me off the stupid ball. He stood up, holding me around the waist, cock inside me and kicked the ball. Then he sank back down to the floor, landing me on my hands and knees while he was kneeling behind me.

"Laugh at this, blast you," he grumbled, and finally started to screw me.

The whole thing with the ball had been so farcical that I'd completely relaxed. With no resistance he started to give me a fine time, driving in hard, filling me with himself, pleasuring me again when he dragged his cock slowly back for another exciting thrust.

It was all pretty much standard after that. He just kept driving in, and I must say he seemed just as intent on giving me pleasure as he was in taking it. He might have chosen rape, but he wasn't being a selfish rapist, if you get what I mean. I have to admit that I was responding, pushing hard to meet him when he drove home. Why not? It might not have been by choice, but I was enjoying it.

I'd have loved it if he'd pushed my top and bra aside and played with my breasts, but I had to go without that. It wasn't something that I, the victim, could reasonably suggest. He should have thought of it himself.

He brought me to the final point quite nicely, although I could sense a touch of desperation towards the end. He was afraid that he was going to blow without making me climax and he didn't want that. I, naturally, did my best to hinder him, doing what I could to delay my own climax, smirking as I listened to him work. I couldn't delay it long. Not with that hard, hot, hose hammering me. I finally relaxed, letting the whole thing just wash over me.

Afterwards I didn't say a word to him. I just pulled up my panties and headed for the door. Would you believe I ran into Mrs Frothingham just as I was leaving?

"What were you doing in the gym?" she demanded. "You know you're not allowed in there unsupervised."

"Oh, I wasn't alone," I said, pushing the door open and indicating Mike who was tidying the Gym. "Mike was there. He was demonstrating the fine art of balling."

Geez. I thought she was going to have kittens or a stroke.

"I was thinking we might be able to incorporate the gym balls into our cheerleader routines," I said, all innocence. "Mike showed me a trick that I'm sure will be a wow if I can get the girls to do it on the field."

She looked at me suspiciously, no doubt wondering if I was being insolent again. I hastily excused myself and bolted.

Ashson
Ashson
8,501 Followers
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2 Comments
phoenix23ninjaphoenix23ninjaover 8 years ago
Lol

Literally wtf

funny though

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago

Funny. Should have been in "Humor and Satire" rather than "Non Consent" Not very erotic. Actually worth the read

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