Sundara - Part 1 - Sex Stories

Sundara - Part 1

... year. Do you remember No Panties Tuesday?” I was smiling with the recollection. Trish had dared Belinda to go sans panties all day at school in a game of Truth or Dare, but Belinda had grown out of her school dress over Christmas and it barely covered her pussy. She spent the whole day sitting with her laptop bag on her knees and ended up getting a yellow card to visit the Headmistress. “Remember it? It’s burned into my psyche, from embarrassment though, not hotness!” “Oh, it was hot all right,” I laughed. “You were so nervous and red faced; you just drew more attention to yourself. Every time you twisted in your seat to see who was watching, that tiny dress would ride up. I saw your pussy three times.” “Oh, you dirty perv!” she cried, elbowing me gently in the stomach, the poorly veiled glee in her voice betraying her words. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” “We were just roommates then,” I said. “And afterwards it never came up. I still think about it when you’re not around though.” “OK then,” she said. “In that case, Number Two is you playing netball without your shorts.” From the sound of her voice, I could tell she was smiling in the dark; pleased to turn the tables on me. I was selected for the school’s First Seven netball team at the start of the year and didn’t realise that there was an unlisted item of uniform. The official uniform is a pleated netball skirt worn over the school gymnastics leotard with a netball bib. The leotard is very high cut and – for gymnasts at ...

... least – is designed to be worn with opaque tights so that it is athletic rather than sexy. What I didn’t know is that all of the girls buy black athletic shorts to wear under their skirts so they don’t have to shave their bikini line before each game. “Fair enough,” I smiled. “I think the boys appreciated it more than you, though. I’ve never seen the front row of the bleachers so full!” If I’m truthful, I kind of enjoyed the attention and did a bit more jumping and pivoting to make the skirt flare out than was probably necessary. “I’ve got my Number Three,” she said. “But you won’t like it.” “I thought that you were the Queen of Hot,” I teased. “Do you think something’s hot that’s not?” I expected some sassy response like I wasn’t refined enough to know it was hot, but she didn’t. “Writing,” she whispered. It sounded like she was a bit ashamed, which is strange because she’s never backwards about sharing sexy thoughts with me. “What? Like Christmas Cards?” I asked, trying to lighten the nervousness I heard in her voice. “No. Erotica,” she replied. I gave her a moment but she didn’t continue. “So like pornos for blind people,” I asked, trying not to giggle. “You’re not taking me seriously,” she pouted; I didn’t need to see the pout, I could hear it. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” I said. “Do you write pornos?” “Erotica!” she corrected me. She sounded less annoyed now; I think she worked out that I was teasing her. “You know that bedtime story I told you a few weeks ago?” “The one about ...