Her dark gray tight sweatpants are ripped so much that they now just dangle bunched up mostly around her calves. I reach down and pull them completely...off, but leaving her cute little blue socks on. I grab one of her feet, feeling the fuzzy, warm cloth. Then my hand slides up her now completely bare legs. Such smooth perfect skin. She must shave and use lotion often, so well-kept, so soft, a sweet vanilla smell. I'm rock solid.I pause to admire the rest of her, all the mess I've been making of. Then squeezed. Then relaxed. “Hey Spencer,” Clarence called to our star reciever, “Go get Tommy while my boy Rubber Chicken takes care of business. Alright guys, go on three. One. Two. Three.”I didn’t move. Neither did Becky. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Should I beat her? Could I beat her? Should I just give up and try to play it off like she suggested? I sat motionless until Becky spoke up. “You have to pull,” she whined.So I did. Just a little bit. And her arm didn’t move. “Pull. More

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