“Why, me?” Ashley asked, as though under a spell. “Well, like all good things it started with our rapport on the court. You passed me the ball in spots I liked, and we always talked before and after games and practice. It’s how I know you like your coffee with sugar, not sweeteners. It’s how I know that basketball is also a way for you to escape peer pressure and how you always want to be liked by everybody. But you know, you don’t have to be liked by everyone and you don’t need that pressure on yourself. All it takes is that one person, and I want to be that person for you.” Ashley was positively stunned, the romantic words coming out of the mouth of her senior center was too much for her to process, as she became moist under her pants hearing those words as she leaned in and kissed Emily on the lips, softly at first before their tongues began dancing in a lustful celebration. “I’ve always been straight up until now,” Ashley admitted meekly. “But, I know I want this, I want you.”. She seemed reluctant, like I was impinging on her space, but said yes as long as I didn’t pester her. I dutily promised I’d be good, and spent the following weeks aching for the time to come, turning myself on with thoughts of being able to spy on her.I had had a fairly regular routine for several months at home. She would sleep in a long t-shirt (there were several she rotated) which finished just above her knees, and a pair of knickers. I’d gotten to know them very well. Each morning when I heard her get up I’d hope mum and dad weren’t around and wait by my door, listening. She’d walk to the bathroom, close the door and a few seconds later I’d hear the shower go. After washing herself, always with the radio blaring pop music, she’d wrap a towel round her damp body and one round her hair and head back to her room clutching her t-shirt in her hand. When she closed her bedroom door to dress, I’d rush to the laundry basket in the bathroom, pick up the panties she’d slept in, press them.
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