Strip Basketball, Not-So-Nice Girls

Why do they call this spring 'break"? Give me a break.

"Oh! Mr. Pearson!" My, the traffic is heavy, in here. I am about to dry myself and slip on my yukky, sweaty halter and short-shorts, head for my bedroom to get my bathing suit, when he walks in. Oh well, he's seen it all. Except, my tits are a little stiffer than they were outside, now that I've watched Janie and Ricky. Hope Mr. Pearson doesn't notice.

"Ellen, you're not upset about our local cats?"

He means the cat that tried to scratch off my tits. Oh, shucks, no! Now, if you will step aside... But all I say is "Oh, I'm all right, Mr. Pearson." And smile.

"Going to the pool?"

You know, I may as well. Why get a bathing suit? Anything anyone out there hasn't seen, yet? I say: "Yeah, I may as well skinny dip, at this point..."

"We mostly all do!" he says, with a guffaw. He steps aside.

As I step out the door, I call back: "Shower is occupied, Mr. Pearson."

Ah, here is Christy. Only one still covered up? "Shower is crowded," I tell her.

"Oh, Dad is in there, isn't he?"

"Janie and Ricky."

"Oh," says Christy. "Is he fucking her?"

I nod, ask her: "She's away at college, too?"

"Yup."

"And he's here?"

"Well, he isn't her boyfriend or anything," says Christy.

"Oh..."

"I guess he just wanted to fuck her."

"Well, I'm headed for the pool," I say, sort of sighing. "Everything is already off, I'll go this way."

"Are you comfortable, Ellen?"

"It's nice and warm."

"Not that kind of comfortable..."

"I'm adjusting. Not basically modest or anything. Usually stick to close friends, though. Not so much parents and families and all that."

I am not giving away any reassuring smiles, just now. Got to draw the line.

"Can I do anything?"

"Yeah, toss your shit in the shower room and come with me."

She frowns. "I wasn't going to..."

"Modest?"

"Oh, okay, I guess." In a few seconds, she bounces out of the shower entrance. Nothing new. We shower at school all the time. She takes my hand and we walk toward the pool.

Well, at last my day is complete! Just coming up the pool ladder is Mrs. Pearson. Try not to stare. She's smiling and waving. Each of her breasts is a long stretch of hanging flesh that ends in a plump, nicely rounded mound about like a soccer ball sliced in half. You have to see these things to believe them. Plastered in the exact center of each one is a light orange nipple like a good-sized coaster. Water is pouring off both boobs, now, and the slight chill has lifted a crinkled bud on each. Oops, here are her hips and belly. Shaved. In all that flesh, her slit is a deep black fold.

She trundles over holding the bottom of each boob in one hand. I guess once they start swinging, you're out of luck. She comes to a halt before us, still holding them like cantaloupes.

"Ellen," she exclaims, after checking me out, "you're such a perfect little thing!"

Thanks, Mrs. Pearson, feeling fairly little, right now.