The locker room turned into one slow, heavy-breathing creature.
Clothes lay everywhere like shed skin: jerseys twisted in puddles, bras hanging off locker handles, panties crumpled and forgotten.
The floor was a warm, sticky lake that caught the pink lights and threw them back in soft, wet glimmers.
Nash never really stopped; he just changed rhythms.
Kai first.
He bent her over the bench, hands on her hips even while he drove in hard.
She started cocky, "Come on, is that all?", but three strokes later her voice cracked into little shocked squeaks.
"Wait! fuck... too deep!! wait!!!"
Her thighs shook, pussy squirting in messy splashes every time he bottomed out.
When she came the first time her knees buckled; Nash caught her, kissed the back of her sweaty neck, whispered "good girl" against her ear, and kept going until her eyes rolled and she went limp, drooling softly on the padding.
