Just then, the cheerleading coach called them out to the gym for practice.
As Rick and Jim followed the cheerleaders out of the locker room, Jim whispered to Rick, “What the hell are we doing? I don’t know the first thing about cheerleading!”
“Just try to do what all the others are doing. If we’re lucky, they won’t try any complicated routines,” Rick said. The cheerleaders formed up in a line along one side of the basketball court, Rick and Jim at the end nearest the locker room.
“Why can’t we just leave?” Jim whispered, pointedly.
“You can leave right now if you want to; I’m going to stick around for a while.” Rick was staring speculatively at the bustlines of several of the cheerleaders.
“JAMIE! RACHEL! NO TALKING!” the coach shouted. The two of them snapped to attention, which made the other girls giggle.
The coach took the cheerleaders through some standard routines. Fortunately, the words were familiar to Rick and Jim from the many games they’d been to, but their movements were always a few seconds behind those of the rest of the group. Rick at least managed to put some enthusiasm into her moves, but Jim was much more tentative -- in part because every time she jumped or turned, her big breasts swung all over the place, even with her bra restraining them. Jim had the rare experience of having her boobs hit her in the face on a couple of the jumps. Jim just couldn’t get used to the sensation, nor was her sense of balance quite up to the job.
After the second time Jim fell over, the coach gave them a good chewing-out, then sent them over to the bleachers while the practice continued. “I’ll see you both after school for some extra practice,” she said menacingly. Jim didn’t like the sound of that.
The two of them sat on the bleachers. Jim buried her face in her hands, moaning “God, how humiliating. We can’t even be good at cheerleading.” As she lowered her face to her knees, she was distracted by two sensations -- her long hair falling past her face, and her large breasts resting on her upper thighs.
“I guess cheerleading must be tougher than it looks,” Rick said, lounging back against the risers. She looked contemplatively at the still-practicing group. “What say we make it a little tougher?”
Jim looked up. Just then:
Sun Feb 7 02:11:04 1999