Katie Calls the Shots, Part One

The mere sight of Katie’s cheesy smile brought such stirrings to the front of my underwear as to make me light-headed. I couldn’t help it. It was the first time I’d seen her since that afternoon at her house, more than a week ago. Then when she drew near and the smell of her hit, I knew I’d be stiff for all to see in the space of seconds. She was more like fruit cocktail than ever, and the slightest sniff brought back every memory of what we’d shared in her room.

Desperate, I clasped both hands together on my boy-skirt at once. There was going to be no hiding that bulge though!

“Hey,” breathed Katie, and I’d never heard the single syllable sound so intimate.

“Um,” was my reply. I flushed and squirmed

“Coming to the café with us, then?” Katie went on. It was only just sinking in that she was with her big sister, which made my embarrassment twice as bad, because it was hard to forget how I’d secretly enjoyed the sight of her sunbathing that same day.

“Just in case you feel like sitting down, or something,” added Katie in an innocent voice.

Her smugness was as infuriating as ever, but it wasn’t like she was wrong, and I heaved a huge silent sigh of relief to slip my shame out of sight beneath the surface of the table. The sisters meanwhile sat down side-by-side, facing me.

“Sis is buying,” Katie sang out, in triumphant tones. “She lost!”

It hadn’t passed me by that both girls were wearing their tennis whites and carrying racquets. Now Katie’s big sister turned rather pink.

“Don’t get used to it,” she told Katie very pettishly.

“Why not?” demanded the insolent one. “Your massive butt slows you down, and it’s not like that’s about to change!”

The big sister went positively red at this. I couldn’t help it. I loved watching girls fight, and anyway I was dizzy with the thrill of seeing Katie again. Safe beneath the tablecloth, I slipped one hand up my hemline and began to dig into the elasticated cotton of my pants, clutching and releasing in the manner I loved as female hormones continued to bubble before me.

“You’re just showing off in front of your boyfriend,” Katie’s sister accused her. “And if you ask me he’s much too old for you. Maybe I’d better tell Mum!”

“Tell Mum and I’ll whip your fusty skirt up in front of boys you like,” retorted Katie hotly. As I was already caressing my length, such words could only excite me more! I rubbed away with greater and greater fervour, trying to keep my shoulder still, but very mobile about the forearm and wrist.

I could see, though her big sister couldn’t, that Katie with one forefinger and thumb had discreetly unclipped the tennis club pin from the strap of her sports bag.

“You’d never even get close enough to flip my skirt,” declared the big sister haughtily.

Katie’s reply was quick and decisive. I didn’t see all of it, but I could picture what had happened! For the hand holding the pin made a very swift movement below my line of sight, at which Katie’s sister voiced an “Ooh!” which made heads turn all throughout the café, then in an instant had jumped to her feet with a scrape of chair-legs and a clatter of tea-things.

Under the table I grasped and grasped, almost panting at the sight of that well-built older girl clasping the fat thigh where she’d been jabbed.

She really did have a big butt.

I wanted to grip down hard and finish there and then, just from looking at the absurd shortness of her tiny white tennis skirt.

Then Katie flicked out a hand again and threw those white pleats high.

END OF PART ONE