On The Court Part 1

**moanalo** · April 3rd, 2022, 03:33 PM

On The Court Part 1

by moanalo

~~~~ Minding my own Business ~~~~

Standing in only my flip-flops I slowly move the hairbrush, while the
open-air dries off my body. You see, I like to let the water naturally
air-dry, as much as possible, before using a towel for that final effort.
Sweeping the brush through my long blonde hair in slow, even strokes is a
common ritual for me after a relaxing hot shower.

Now my eyes are lullabying into a nice zone of calm while roaming up and
down my nude reflection. With the privacy of everyone almost gone for the
day, I allow myself time to indulge in admiring my God given body of female
excellence, and yes, years of hard athletic work.

The results?

My body is chiseled perfection from head to toe, and I make sure to keep it
that way. Staying in the best shape possible; I lift weights, cross-train,
and play soccer, softball and basketball. Of course not all at the same
time, but over the years and whenever time allows. From the diamond
hardness of my calves, that then runs up to my long muscular thighs,
leading up to my ass that is sculpted as the rest of me. Round and tight.
Even when fully relaxed my buns looked like I am lightly squeezing them,
giving a hint of a curve on the sides that men love. Around front a finely
trimmed blonde strip showed from between my legs. My torso always looks
like I am flexing a powerful six pack, with a hint of an eight pack if I
really do flex. But it was my breasts that always got the attention, large
double D breasts that sat up so firm and high I had arguments with people
who swore they are fake, and my denials were lies. Alternating the brushing
from left to right hands my forearms and biceps curl, again no effort at
flexing here, they would just swell with little effort. My cold blue eyes
just keep staring straight ahead. My nose, cheeks all perfectly straight
and angular. My chin had just the faintest hint of a dimple. I have even
rejected modeling offers for years, not interested, sports would always be
my focus in life, among other things.

But like I said, I never talk openly about it, nor flaunt it, I mean
that...Yes...yes...I know, I just did a lot of bragging in the above
paragraphs, but that is really the extent of it...truly...I swear!

Basketball season is just getting in full swing, although I never was
really interested in the game. But at 5’ 11” from an early age, and already
athletic, the pressure was intense. I was one of the tallest girls in the
school, and the second best player on the basketball team. The sport came
naturally to me so it all worked out. (As for the best player? Well, I will
get to her in a moment.)

So, this routine of brushing my hair and air-drying is time for me to
unwind, a form of mediation of sorts. And yes, as I just admitted, a moment
of self-admiration. But seriously, what is wrong with a little
self-admiration? I wasn’t showing off my body to anyone but me.

But that is not good enough. A lot of the girls on the team are still
annoyed, such petty jealousy. They think I perform this ritual for the sole
purpose of flaunting my body. And so what if I am? So what! I am the only
audience. Very irritating. This is ‘my’ one moment to myself. Outside of
this locker room I make a concerted effort to suppress my arrogance, but I
guess those efforts are not enough. Maybe I am putting out subliminal
messages in other ways?

Anyway, I’ve stopped combing my hair, my hand is still hovering over the
top with some strands caught in the brush. I have become so annoyed by what
other people might think of me that I have lost my train-of-thought, and my
rhythm. I take a deep breath and try to ‘zone out’, close my eyes and
another deep breath, and then open them again. I am slow at doing things, I
only move fast when it comes to athletics, meaning I am usually the last to
leave the locker room because I enjoy a long hot shower, putting
moisturizer all over my body at a leisurely pace. Taking time to blow-dry
and comb out my hair, every process has a very soothing effect when done
right.

Besides, it is the end of the day and I have no where to be but home, so I
was in no rush. Just take my time and relax.

You might recall that I previously mentioned that I am the second best
basketball player on our High School team. Well, the number one player is
now walking up to the same counter where I am standing. So much for a
relaxing moment. Let me stop right here and point out an interesting fact
about the layout our locker-room. There are multiple stations staggered
next to the rows of lockers. Each station has a mirror with electrical
outlets, dual sinks, and enough common space for two people to lay out
other essentials, like makeup bags and such. But of course... ...of all the
stations available...she picks the one I am standing at.

And I know all the other stations are empty, because I know what time it
is, and the near dead silence in the locker room means we are probably the
last two here. Maybe she just wants to be social? Highly unlikely! Wow, do
I have a bad attitude.

I really don’t mind that she is coming over to where I am, not at all, we
get along well enough. Is there a competitive vibe between us? Of course,
we are athletes. Even though we play on the same team, we are always
competing against one another, pushing the other, being #1 and #2 (me). But
we have never been friends, nor even exchange text messages or hang-out
outside of school. We make just enough effort to be cordial towards one
another. Well, now I have to admit something else, and this sounds so
petty. But there is another competition between us as well. Just as intense
as when we are on the basketball court, maybe even more intense because of
how we girl’s can be. And it all comes down to our looks and our bodies. We
are the two most attractive and fit girls in the school, probably the whole
district, maybe even the whole damn state. So add that into the mix and it
feels like we are in a constant state of rivalry. So now you get the
picture? You have sports, beauty, and brawn. Being two Alpha
female’s...things can get very tense at any moment. Amazingly we have
managed to navigate those many minefields without a serious problem. How is
that possible? Glad you ask. I believe the primary reason we have not had
any ‘bad’ confrontations is because I am usually the one who backs down
first. Pick and choose your battles, as they say.

~~~~ The Queen and The Challenge ~~~~

And here she is...The queen herself. Striding towards the counter to my
right, a white towel draped over her left forearm, and a bag of personal
belongs in her right hand. Her flip-flops slapping along with every step.
She is not only the best player on our team, she is probably the tallest
girl in the school, but she only has me beat by an inch, coming in at 6’
even. But she is still growing! Soon she will be towing over me.

I still catch my breath sometimes, she appears like some Nubian goddess,
walking out from deepest parts of the Deserts in Kush near Nubia, where
their skin is black as a starless sky. Shoulders always back, head held
high, she is regal in every way. Especially now; Naked from head to toe
with a powerful body that is almost as muscular and powerful as my own. If
she lifted weights as hard as I do, well...I don’t want to even think about
that! Our breasts compete equally for the exact space on our chests and our
nipples large and firm.

“Hello Monique.” I give a half-friendly, half-forced smile.

“Hello Annika.” She gives a half-friendly, half-forced smile, right back.

From how elegantly she moves you would never guess she is a monster on the
basketball court, so am I, but as I said before - ‘pick and choose your
battles.’ I made a calculated decision to concede the space and position of
dominance to her. Why? Because Monique has a future in basketball and I do
not, or I should say I do not want one. So, as a team member I want to help
build up our star player. That decision wasn’t mine alone, the coach pulled
me aside and ‘in so many words’ told me to make sure I ‘did my part’ to
elevate our team star. Okay. Go-Team-Go!

The end results? The scholarship offers are already pouring in. I’ve had
some as well, but again, that is not where I am going in life.

Whispers continue to circulate off-and-on over which one of us is truly the
best, which annoys Monique to no end. But I have other sports in the school
that I dominate and rule over. Basketball she can have, since it is the
only one she participates in, so why not let her have it? If that sounds
arrogant and conceited, well it is not, I have to work my ass off to keep
up with Monique on the court, and if I ever try and surpass her it requires
every ounce of skill and athletic power I can muster. There have only been
a handful of times that I outscored, or out performed her on the court, and
that only happens when my competitive drive got the better of me.
Unfortunately, when I have out performed her, she had a hard time keeping
her temper in check. It was hard to tell if she was angry with herself, at
me, or both? For the sake of peace, I would immediately reign in my efforts
while still excelling, so she could recapture the spotlight.

But I have to be careful, sometimes pulling your punches can be more
damning to someones ego than beating them with all you have. If someone
thinks you are ‘letting them win’ then that just stokes the fires of
resentment. At this moment, I truly believe she feels superior to me in
every way, so we have peace.

“Good practice today.” She says, but I can’t tell if it is genuine or
forced small talk. We girls agonize over petty stuff like that.

“It was very good. I managed to get through the entire practice without
tripping over my own two feet.” Which elicits a slight chuckle from
Monique. I can’t help but admire her powerful broad shoulders moving when
she laughs, and her large breasts, they barely move, so firm and perfectly
large like my own. Also, did you see what I did there? My comment was a
little self-effacing. Which is key in conveying modesty. It was an
opportunity to let Monique know I do not think I am her equal, or God
forbid, her superior.

“You did fine. We should breeze past the next game and then onto the State
Championships.” She says while paying more attention to her long black hair
now. Well good, our relationship at this moment feels in a good place. And
maybe she has long forgotten about what happened two weeks ago during
practice. I cringe when I think about it.

But I’ll share it anyway... The coach always puts Monique and I on opposite
teams when he runs practice games. Naturally! The number 1 and number 2
players will coach opposite teams when we scrimmage against one another.
But then, I got on a roll, and then I went into Alpha mode, and then my big
fat ego took over. Essentially, I fucked up. I blocked Monique’s shots not
once, not twice, but three times! Like in-your-face blocks, and one time
even dribbled around her like she was a confused newbie. The icing on the
cake? My team won! Monique blew a gasket. It was a shit-show of a meltdown.
She tore off her jersey, threw it across the gym, slammed the ball down,
and got into a heated argument with the coach in-front of the whole team.
To make matters worse, the whole team and coach heaped praise on me.
Grinding salt into Moniques open wounds. In her defense, she was having an
off day. Very off.

So that makes me the bad person now? A part of me did feel bad. Another
part of me was raging angry for throttling back my efforts in the past.
‘You can play like that EVERY-FUCKING-TIME!’ My subconscious would scream.
But no, I have to let this girl standing next to me be the
Fucking-Big-Shot.

Let me back up and give Monique some deserving credit, when the girl is
on-fire she is truly a super star. I’ve even been starstruck by some of the
moves she can perform, defying gravity at times that makes my jaw drop. But
still, I hate playing second fiddle, and I’ve been doing it for so long now
I have begun to doubt myself. I used to believe that if I was playing my
A-Game, and she was playing her A-Game, that I could definitely win. But I
just don’t know anymore.

Wow. How long have I been standing here reminiscing? When I suddenly snap
out of my daydream it feels like we are entering one of those prolonged
uneasy moments of silence between two people.

I need a good icebreaker moment. Oh, I know! The school year is coming to
an end, and being seniors, it is unlikely we will ever see one another
again, so I am contemplating some kind comment when...

“You know, we’ve never had a chance to play one-on-one.” Monique surprises
me with that zinger. And there it is. I can read between the lines. She
hasn’t forgotten anything. Her Alpha ego has carried around every block,
comment, dunk, and any other move I might have pulled ‘On The Court’ that
might have made her look bad.

“Really?” I play dumb, even pausing mid-whatever-the-fuck-I-am-doing as I
give fake concern, tilting my head.

“I think it would be nice.” She says.

“Uhm. Sure.” Nice? Really? For whom? She has some agenda other than ‘nice’.

She abruptly turns and walks over to a bench, of course I can’t help but
admire her magnificent shoulders, long legs, and a perfectly powerful ass
that is packed with so much muscle, God only knows how much she can squat
or deadlift. She returns, palming the basketball with her big left hand,
raising her arm so she is holding it out near my face.

“Right now?” I ask.

“Sure, why not? And, we should also make things interesting.”

I lean back and give her a suspicious look...and she looks amused by that.
She knew what I was thinking... And what was I thinking? It was the “make
things interesting” part of her sentence.

Amongst almost all of sports there exists, to-varying-degrees, a subset of
groups which engage in (as Monique put it) private-practice sessions with
rule-alterations to make things more ‘interesting’. Pick a team, men’s or
women’s; gymnastics, basketball, soccer, wrestling...etc... Usually a very
small group would get together and run practice drills. And as I said,
private, usually by invitation only. The person(s) that fall behind during
practice have to perform some humiliating/degrading act, usually servicing
the winner(s). Something as benign as cleaning up, or washing laundry, or
wearing something ridiculous around school. But sometimes it goes ‘too
far’, but that was part of the excitement and fun, I guess, if you are into
that stuff. The ‘too far’ stuff are things like crawling around and making
animals noises, or being forced to ‘strip down’ some bit of clothing every
time you fall behind in points, until you are totally naked. The more
extreme punishment can include forcing guys and girls to perform sex acts
on other team members. Maybe not forced, but they signed up for the
challenge and while strongly protesting the punishment, they would perform
the degrading act anyway. There are more disgusting forms of punishment
these deviant participants think up, but I don’t want to know, or block out
the information after being told. Although I have been invited to these
‘private practices’, I have never participated, which only adds to the
snotty-superior attitude everyone thinks that I have. My other theory? Some
people participate because they truly love the excitement of the challenge,
some of the more light-hearted challenges they claim are team-building,
bonding moments. Yeah, whatever! (Eye roll). But some people, I think, like
to be humbled, embarrassed, and humiliated. Even subservient. It is a
turn-on for them.

“So, just how interesting?” My eyebrow raised to a significant degree since
I want her to know my suspicions and that I am highly reluctant to respond
favorably. Her long, muscular arm slowly lowers the ball from near my face
while her smirk grows into a mischievous grin. She is just loving this.
Dragging it out.

“Something playful, harmless.”

My look of suspicion turns into a sideways glare.

Then, she does something I hate. She fake tosses me the ball. With her long
reach, lightening quick reflexes, for a second I thought she really was
throwing the ball at me, only to snatch it back at the last second. I
flinch and reach for it. Damn it! My cheeks blush red. I fell for it!

“Got ya! You never flinch! I finally made you flinch!” Monique was so
pleased with herself she laughs out loud, tilting her head back to
exaggerate the pleasure. She was right, I pride myself on nerves of steel.
When her moment of self-pleasure has passed I proceed to collect my stuff,
slip on my sweat pants and quickly pull my sweat shirt down over my naked
torso. Forgoing the drying off and my underwear, I just wanted to get the
hell out of here.

“You leaving?” She freezes and looks surprised. I have her full attention
now.

(F.Y.I. - Monique is one of those that has run some of ‘those’ practice
drills that makes the other girls do embarrassing punishments. And because
she is the team Captain, and the best player, well...she always wins and
the other girls have to perform tasks for her. Nothing too extreme I hear.
But it usually entails making a girl strip down to underwear and run laps
around the court, or keep doing drills.)

I grab my gym bag and sling it over my shoulder. I am fed up.

“You scared? Never thought you would be one to chicken out.”

“Just the two of us?” I suddenly ask, surprising myself. But, I am getting
pissed at the way she keeps needling me, and my ego is starting to swell,
then my mouth just starts moving. Getting me into trouble.

“Just the two us? Hmmm.” Monique ponders the question as she spins the ball
on the tip of her finger, it seems to float in air while she continues to
contemplate the question. “If that is the only way you will agree, then
sure.”

“Why wouldn’t it be the only way? This is just between you and me. You said
one-on-one, right?” Now she is changing her mind? Or pulling a bait and
switch on me. Getting me to agree only to keep pulling me into some more
devious plan. Or. Am I just being paranoid?

“I understand,” She sighs. “You don’t want me to embarrass you in front of
the team.”

My jaw line clenches, because I am very angry now, and because she is
partly right. Playing Monique in front of our team, there are a lot of
people who would love to see me lose and humiliated. Same for Monique too I
guess, but I wonder if a part of her would enjoy it, no matter the outcome.
Sometimes I think she even enjoys the attention when throwing one of her
‘loser fits’. Some people love attention...negative or positive.

“When?” But my throat is suddenly dry, and my voice wavers.

“You said no audience, and since we are alone...so how about now!” She
stops spinning the ball and tucks it under her left arm. Looking excited
and happy.

“No. We just had practice and I am tried, hungry and it’s late.”

“I’m tried and hungry too...”

“Then forget the whole thing.” I snap. My tone and posture clearly conveys
that I am about to bail on the whole idea, she quickly changes her tone....

“Fine, this weekend. Sunday morning? Unless you will be in Church or
something, singing in the choir maybe?”

“Sunday, 10am.” I say. No other response to her sarcastic jab.

I was not looking forward to this. For years I have been playing
second-fiddle to this girl and now I was supposed to be able to pull some
1st Place performance out of thin air? Because if I don’t, she will grind
the loss in my face with no mercy. I knew she was going to bring her ‘A’
game, which means that this was going to toughest challenge of my life.