Gym Shorts Part 1
by Inkling

copyright 2003 by Inkling, all rights reserved

youliketowatch@yahoo.com

* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY.  It contains
explicit  depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If
you are not of  a legal age in your locality to view such
material or if such  material does not appeal to you, do not
read further, and do not  save this story.
* * * * *


The eighth grade of Clive Staples Middle School had a very
rigid social structure, and every student understood it. 
The boys rarely talked to the girls, and the girls rarely
talked to the boys.

Among the boys, Peter was the kingmaker.  If Peter said you
were "in," every boy wanted to be your friend; if Peter said
you were "out," you would be sitting alone at lunch.  On the
girls' side, it was Susan.  The day after Susan cut her hair
short, thirty girls went in for haircuts.

The focus of the social day was not recess, which was
closely monitored by teachers.  It was the half hour that
the kids spent in the playground after school, waiting for
the bus to arrive.  This was a much less supervised time. 
So one Friday, when Peter and Susan spent the entire half
hour *together* behind the old Elm tree, the other kids did
not play--they did not tell jokes--they did nothing except
whisper and murmur about the only question that mattered. 
What could Peter and Susan possibly be talking about?  The
two did not come out of seclusion until just a few minutes
before the bus arrived, and then they would not say anything
about their discussion.  But Susan pulled aside one girl: a
shy, skinny girl named Betsy, with long dark hair and
freckles, who always seemed to be watching Susan longingly
through her glasses.

"Betsy," said Susan, "I need you to do a favor for me on
Monday."

"What's that?"  Betsy tried to sound casual, but she was
thrilled.  A favor for Susan was the ticket to a social
position that Betsy had only dreamed of.

"I need you to wear a T-shirt and gym shorts.  You know the
kind, with the elastic band?"

"It's October, Susan, it's getting cold for shorts, isn't
it?"  Susan didn't answer at all, and immediately Betsy
regretted asking the question.  Susan just walked away and
got onto the school bus.  On Monday, Betsy arrived in gym
shorts.

Betsy felt painfully conspicuous all that day, with her
skinny bare legs surrounded by the jeans and long skirts
that all the other students were wearing.  Her slightly
chilly legs kept tensing up, and the feeling of being stared
at made her feel more uncomfortable than flattered.  She
fought the urge to cover her legs with a sweater, suspecting
that Susan would not approve.  Her sacrifice paid off when
she was invited to sit at Susan's table at the lunch room. 
Betsy sat in awe, not saying anything, but just listening to
the conversation of all the coolest, prettiest girls in the
school.  Inside her head, she was saying a prayer: please
don't let me blow this.  Let me do this right.

As the kids gathered in the playground after school that
afternoon, Peter gathered all the boys around him.  He
seemed to be explaining something to them in great detail
that none of the girls could hear.  The girls played and
chatted in their usual way.  When Susan approached, Betsy
didn't wait to be asked.  "What can I do for you, Susan?  Is
there something else you would like me to wear tomorrow?"

"No," replied Susan, "But I do need something right now, and
this is very important.  Go stand behind the Elm tree, where
Peter and I were on Friday.  Just stand there.  The rest of
us will make sure no teachers come around to your side. 
When a boy shows up, ignore him--don't talk, don't even move
if you can help it.  Just stand there."

"OK, Susan.  I won't mess it up, I promise."  Betsy wondered
if all of Susan's friends had to undergo this barrage of
strange requests.  But she certainly wasn't going to argue a
second time.  She walked behind the tree and waited.  Very
shortly, Peter walked behind the tree with her.  Susan was
suddenly terrified.  Was he going to make fun of her?  Play
tricks on her?  Was he going to...kiss her?  Was that what
this was all about?

Peter did not say a word.  He reached out and very casually,
as if it were the most natural thing in the world, grabbed
the front of her gym shorts.  Then he pulled them--not down,
but out toward him--and looked down them at Betsy's simple
white panties.  Betsy gasped.  She was not ready for this,
and she had no idea what to do.  Should she run?  Slap him? 
No, Susan had said not to do anything.  She closed her eyes
and waited for him to stop.  A moment later, his hand came
back, his knuckles gently brushing her stomach.  Then he
pulled back again, this time taking her panties with the
shorts, and stared down at her...at her...Betsy stifled an
involuntary scream.  He was staring straight down at her
small patch of hair.  He just sat there, shorts in hand,
looking down for a minute or two.  Then he released the
shorts--gradually, not snapping them painfully back--and
walked away.

Betsy wanted to faint, to run, to tell a teacher.  On second
thought, she did not want to tell anybody.  She wanted to
run onto the bus and go home, but the bus would not come for
another twenty minutes.  What should she do?  Just as she
was trying to decide, another boy walked around to her side
of the tree.  This was Ed, one of Peter's best friends, and
the sight of him reminded Betsy of her promise.  Maybe Ed
was coming to tell her that she had passed some sort of
test, that she could come out now.  She waited...but Ed did
not say a word.  Like Peter, he walked up, grabbed her
shorts and panties, and pulled out.  As he looked down into
them, he broke into a sweat, as if he were terrified that
Betsy would do something, or that he would be caught.  But
Betsy did nothing, while Ed bent down and leered into her
shorts.  And then he let go suddenly and ran back around the
tree.

For the first time, Betsy realized what was happening.  Her
most secret place had been offered up to all of the boys. 
She dashed back around the tree, not even knowing what she
was going to do, and ran smack into Susan.  Fervently, but
very quietly so as not to be overheard, she began to sob. 
"Oh Susan, please don't make me do this.  Please, I'm
begging you.  Two boys have already seen me, isn't that
enough, please don't let all of them do it."

Susan looked almost kind as she leaned down.  "Betsy, I know
this is hard for you.  But I've already made a promise to
Peter, and he's promised all the other boys.  You don't want
to make us both liars, do you?  Now, I need you to get back
behind the tree.  The bus is coming in only fifteen minutes,
it will all be over then."  Betsy looked around wildly and
realized there was no escape.  The boys were pretending to
be engrossed in trading Magic cards, but they were all
eyeing the tree, waiting for their turn.  Slowly, almost
numbly, she walked back around the tree.

The next boy in turn was Al.  As he approached, Betsy closed
her eyes, determined to ignore him and hoping it would go
quickly.  She heard his footsteps approaching, and then he
leaned down and whispered in her ear.  "Turn around."

"What?" she gasped, and realized she had been holding her
breath.

"Turn around.  I want to see the back."  Betsy's hands were
shaking as she turned around slowly to face the tree.  Had
this been part of the promise?  Or was Al just making it up? 
She had no way of finding out.  When she was facing the
tree, Al pulled back her shorts and stared lustfully at her
ass.  As he pulled the elastic band slowly back into place,
his fingers brushed down into her crack.  Betsy shivered
from the strange, almost-tickling sensation.  But before she
could say anything, Al was gone, and she turned around
again, ready for the next humiliation, desperately trying
not to cry.

To distract her mind from the unthinkable reality, Betsy
started counting boys.  Frank.  Don.  Sam.  7, 8, 9...18,
19, 20...finally, the last boy came and went.  Betsy thought
she was going to collapse onto the ground.  She started to
walk back around the tree, desperately trying to keep her
composure and look as if nothing at all had happened, when
Peter came back around to "her" side.  She stared at him
with a look of horror.  "Peter, what are you doing?  You've
already had your turn!"

"I get one more turn," Peter said simply.  "That was the
last part of the deal.  Back up to the tree so we make sure
no teacher can see."

Betsy was surprisingly calm as she acceded to the request. 
One more would just not change anything, and anyway, Peter
had already seen it all anyway.  Peter pulled out the shorts
with his left hand, just as before.  And then suddenly he
took his right hand and put them *into* her shorts, only an
inch away from her skin...and didn't touch her.  Betsy's
body was suddenly filled with an agony of conflicting
feelings.  She was terrified that Peter would touch her, and
she also, in some way that she didn't understand, wanted to
feel the touch.  He stayed this way for agonizing moments,
his left hand holding the shorts out, his right hand down in
her panties.  Then slowly, slowly, he reached out and put
his finger into her slit: not deeply, just barely touching. 
Betsy bit her lip to keep from screaming.

Peter sat there for another interminable period of time, not
moving, finger inserted only to the first knuckle.  Then,
still very slowly, he began to move his finger up and down
her slit.  Betsy started writhing.  She clutched the tree
behind her, praying that it would stop and praying that he
would go deeper and praying for anything at all to change,
but Peter just moved up and down, up and down, up and down. 
He pushed in just a tiny bit deeper.

Betsy had read the word "orgasm" only in secretly shared
books, but she knew it when it hit.  Her whole body
convulsed, her muscles stiffened, her eyes opened wide, all
the sensations she had been feeling seemed to come together
in a swirl around Peter's barely felt finger.  It was
ecstatic, and it was unfamiliar, and it was utterly and
totally humiliating to swoon so totally in front of Peter,
on the playground, just a few feet away from where all the
other students were pretending to play.

For just a moment, she saw Peter's eyes watching her with a
strange combination of sympathy and amusement.  Then he
pulled his hand away, gently released her shorts, and
whispered "You're done now."

The two of them walked together back around the tree, and
onto the playground.  Betsy could not stand to look at
anyone.  She knew that whenever the boys looked at her now,
they would see her naked.  The girls would be more
contemptuous of her than they had ever been.  She would be
stupid and skinny and exposed forever.  But why?  She was
not surprised that Susan would betray and humiliate her to
get what she wanted--that was in character.  But what was in
it for Susan?

Betsy watched silently as all the other kids got on the bus. 
She got on almost last.  Behind her in line, waiting until
everyone else had gone, were Peter and Al.  As Betsy walked
onto the bus, she was the only one who saw Peter putting his
arm confidentally around Al's shoulders.  "I need you to do
me a favor, buddy.  Tomorrow, when you come to school, I
need you to wear gym shorts."