American Blue by Penny Birch Page A

minute. We were well ahead, twenty-nine to twenty-two, when we reached half-time, and I was now glancing at Maria Guerrero and wondering how it would feel to slide my dildo between the cheeks of her full, golden bottom while the crowd cheered and yelled for more.
    It was only then that I realised how aroused the tension of the game and the prospect of what would come afterwards were making me, and perhaps also the display of female flesh in front of me, which might have been smutty but was also beautiful. I was wet, and my nipples were stiff, making little bumps in the pink fur of my bra top, while my bottom felt full and sensitive.
    I pulled my attention back to the game as the scoreboard chimed to record yet another goal for Roberta and the Tails, giving us a ten-point lead. Hudson had cheered every one, and now so did I with equal enthusiasm, my normal shyness and embarrassment gone in the excitement.
    We scored again a moment later, and I was imagining an easy victory when Melody and Felicita slammed into Bobby from either side, bringing her down. She hit the floor with a bone-jarring thump but bounced back immediately, glaring at Mel as she spat something I didn’t catch. Mel just laughed, but Shana was close, and responded by spitting at Bobby, the blob of phlegm catching her between her breasts.
    Bobby responded instantly, lashing out to catch Shana across the face with an open slap. Shana reacted with a scream of rage and the two of them went down together, scratching and wrenching at each other’s clothes and hair. Bobby’s bra top had been pulled down in an instant, baring her tiny breasts, and she was obviously going to lose, with Shana firmly on top and indifferent to the display she was making of her bottom.
    The crowd were anything but indifferent, whooping with joy at the show. Shana’s miniskirt was right up on her back, showing the full spread of her cheeks, the tight black dimple of her anus and a wet pink cunt between her long thighs, while her breasts were right in the desperately struggling Bobby’s face. The referee was laughing his head off, and when the crowd began to yell for Bobby to be stripped, Shana obliged, catching hold of the furry pink shorts and yanking them away with a single tug.
    Bobby’s cunt came bare to yells of encouragement, and as she threw herself on to Shana in blind rage the crowd began to chant ‘Bitch fight! Bitch fight!’ ever louder. The girls were soon in a tangle of arms and legs and hair, bums and tits and flaunted pussies, and two of the cameramen had come right on to the court. The other girls had clustered close too, and it looked as if the entire match was going to end in mayhem when the referee finally stepped in.
    He was a big man, and simply picked the girls up by their hair, pulling them apart and holding them at arm’s length. They were still spitting and cursing at each other, but quietened down after a moment, with the referee trying not to laugh as he spoke.
    ‘Off, both of you. Go and sit on your benches and cool your tails.’
    Shana made to protest, but Bobby gave in straight-away, red-faced with anger and embarrassment as she hastily gathered up her torn costume and ran to us, whereupon Hudson put his coat around her shoulders. I gave her a kiss and would have cuddled up to her but for Hudson jerking a thumb towards the court.
    ‘Come on, Penny, you’re up!’
    It was less than a minute since Bobby had been knocked over, and the implications hadn’t sunk in. Now they did, and I found myself staring numbly at the court, where Maria had already joined the Brooklyn Bitches and they were getting ready to restart. I had no choice but to step forward, to the position Bobby had been in, only for Tiffany to tell me sharply to move back as she motioned Jemima forward. Other than the vague outlines I’d picked up in training, and I hadn’t bothered to listen most of the time, all I knew was that the ball was supposed to go through the net at the far end