Katie Jones

were playing basketball on the left side of the gym, while we were on the right side running football drills. Essentially, a series of suicide sprints involving the catching and throwing of a football. Fuck, I hate gym. There was one thing that made coming to gym tolerable. She was five foot-six inches, with such a body that when she arched her back plump contours of her heart shaped ass were fully realized in the cotton short-shorts the girls wore. And the sports bra beneath her white t-shirt with the name James Madison High School printed on the front just puffed out her chest like two perfect globes. They didn’t bounce too much, but damn were they firm and palm fitting. I ran up her slender, shaved thighs that glistened with the reflections of overhead lighting after