WHO: Chanel, and hopefully Rex!!!! Maybe a chick, too!
WHAT: Watching the boy's team practice.
WHEN: Friday Afternoon.
WHERE: The bleachers.
WHY: Because watching hot, sweaty boys run around in uniforms is not only entertaining, but such a turn on!
RATING: TBA.
The heat pounding against the bodies in the field, only added to the hope of a good per spirant. The concern wasn't so much for Chanel. Walking alone to the bleachers, she scouted out a good place to watch the men at. Dead center, seven rows up from the bottom. It was perfect. The only figure lingering about, clad in the brightest pink you could ever feast your eyes upon. The sea of metallic gray also helped, when spotting the sore thumb. But, isn't that what Chanel wanted? To be caught dead center, wishing to have her body feast upon by starving eyes. It was so ... erotic, in a clothes-on kind of way.
It would be a long afternoon, so the only next logical thing to do was get comfortable. Opening her one strapped book bag, Chanel removed a few magazines, some fruit, and even her iPod. She got completely relaxed, resting her upper body on the next bleacher row above hers. Placing her elbows on the warm metal, she supported the upper half of her body to watch the team. Things were kept entertaining by her music, and chanting along with the words, but by making faces to every male that had their gaze wander. Usually, she greeted eager oculars with a teasing wave, and a wink. Only a few she presented with a blown kiss. Namely the boy named Rex, and some of the males she had been acquainted with, through him.
She wasn't bothered by all the attention, and before you knew it, it gave her reason to do different things. One minute she was mouthing lyrics to her favourite Katy Perry song -- and the next, she was coiling a lock of her soft brown hair against her index finger. Things only became interesting when Chanel opened the Tupperware container she had with her, containing seven or eight wedges from a canned peach. She attacked them without hesitation. Using her index and her thumb as the weapon of choice, she applied tactic and strategy in order to pick up a sliced wedge, without pinching it and causing to to break.
It was a nice, healthy snack for this hot afternoon. Well, it was very much hot, in all aspects of the word. Opening her book bag by her torso, she felt around for another magazine to glance over. Resting it again her bosom, she pressed the spine of the book against one of her breasts, using it to help "prop it up."
"Oh, that's cute." Chanel said, removing her grip from one of the sides to press her fingers against the model wearing the clothing.
With one large blow into the whistle, Chanel's attention was directed back to the men in the field. Was practice over all ready?
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