Nancy rolled her hips, bumped her ass, and the swirl of her round rump was a joyous sight to the boys and men in the stands.

Nancy squatted down lewdly with the gorgeous girls, bumping her ass, hands on her knees, skirt flying, head turned back, chin on her shoulder, and a delicious new thrill zinged through her incredible body.

She got hot.

She saw the stares of the men in the crowd, how they gawked longingly at her fine frame. She loved the way they stared at her.

She turned, in time with the other girls, and faced the stands. She kicked her leg high, showed her crotch, then danced hop-scotch to the right, then to the left, bent over, wiggled her upper body, rolled her head, ponytail circling.

Her pants got wet.

Good grief! Nancy thought. I'm gooshin' my bloomers!

A seeping hot spritz slicked against the shiny white tights.

The band brought the pep song to an abrupt end, and Nancy rushed to the sidelines with the other girls, still tingling and buzzing with this new rush of excitement.

Chrissie Madison, one of the cheerleaders, leaned over toward Nancy. "Jeez, those guys up there were really givin' you some hot looks."

"I know," Nancy whispered back.

"Well, give 'em a good show."

"Huh?" Nancy gave Chris a puzzled look.

"Hey, half the people in the bleachers don't give a shit about football, touchdowns, first downs, all that dumb shit. They're here to see us wiggle our ass and bounce our tits."

"Really?"

"You're damn right. See that guy up there – no, don't look now, dummy – the one on the last row next to the press booth… the one with the binoculars and camera?"

Nancy waited a moment, then turned and saw the man. "Yeah, I see him."

"He hasn't missed a game since I've been a cheerleader. He's a rich bachelor. I checked him out. He's constantly checking out my body."