Fun with Nerdy Girls 24

As much as their visit had been fun, the departure of the girls had a nice perk. It allowed me to focus on my exercise schedule in a way I couldn’t have done if they stayed here, their innocent sexiness and a misplaced sense of competition distracting me continuously. 

And as a quarterback that was about to join a competitive college team, I didn’t have the luxury of skipping practice. Not if I actually wanted to play.

I prepared myself for a long, grueling day filled with monotone exercise — especially difficult since I had no teammates to help me push through the boredom and exhaustion when things turned bleak. Blasting some rock music at maximum helped, but only to a point. 

I started with a light, warming three-mile run, preparing to move to some footwork exercises after finishing. But when I stopped for a little break, I reached for my phone to change the song, I found a message awaiting me on my phone.  

From Carrie. 

“Huh,” I murmured as I opened the message, wondering if it was anything important. Only for that to turn into surprise as I processed the message. Or more accurately, the picture attached. 

A view of her in the mirror, wearing an extremely small cheerleader outfit that looked ready to burst and disintegrate at a sharp move. ‘To make sure you’re motivated,’ read the message. 

‘Oh, I’m motivated,’ I answered as I pulled my shirt off, sending a sweaty, half-naked shot back.

 She first responded with a few suggestive emojis, then a message. ‘Keep up the training, and I’ll make sure you’re motivated. Maybe even a true reward if you can finish all your program in time.’

Which was definitely something I needed help with. I had offhandedly mentioned that I was having trouble completing my training program without delays during the last night, while catching our breath between our fun repeats after Sarah had gone to bed. I certainly didn’t expect her to remember that.

And certainly didn’t expect her to take action to help, not in such a delicious way. 

So, when I moved to my footwork training, I had a smile on my face, one that renewed whenever I took a break, only to find a new photo waiting for me. She wasn’t wearing any special costume for the other ones, instead of sending them from a large table she was sharing with Sarah while they worked on their homework. 

Still, a carefully positioned camera and a few strategically popped buttons worked wonders to turn a moment of studying into a sexy premiere of an erotic movie. 

It helped that I knew exactly what lay underneath those clothes, the memories fresh in my mind. 

I responded with another shirtless one, much to her pleasure, which turned into a fun thing to distract me from the exercise. Doing painful repeats with ever-increasing weights was much more pleasant with the knowledge of another surprise pose was waiting for me. 

They were not always sexy — well, they were not always fully focused on sexiness. Soon, some of them started including Sarah on the background, looking from the doorway or from the end of the corridor, giving Carrie the stink eye.

Sarah was always in the distance, enough to make her think that Carrie might have missed her presence. 

Carrie’s wink suggested otherwise. 

So, around the third hour into the training, when I checked the phone and saw messages from two different senders, I wasn’t surprised. 

But I was certainly excited. 

My excitement was rewarded when I clicked Sarah’s one, only to receive a picture from her, her shirt absent, showing off her sexy underwear. The wardrobe was open, suggesting that she had just changed into them. 

Smart, I thought with a smirk even as I enjoyed the photo. Extensively. She was clearly leveraging the fact that they were in her house, allowing her access to her wardrobe, unlike Carrie who was limited to her bag.

That revealed she had brought that cheerleader costume with her to the last night, but we didn’t have the opportunity to try it on. 

It would have been a great tragedy… If the replacement events hadn’t eclipsed a little sexy costume many times. 

I had no complaints about Carrie’s sense of priority. 

‘Oh, definitely not. Two is always better than one,’ I wrote to Sarah. And since I didn’t want to be unfair, I attached a new picture of my naked torso. Endless exercising was exhausting, but the effect my muscles had on ladies was always a nice bonus, enough to make the pain a worthwhile sacrifice.

‘Excellent,’ Sarah wrote back, sending a winking picture in response. And if in that picture, her bra slipped a bit, enough to give a delicious glimpse of her nipple.

Well, it must be completely accidental, right? 

Only after that, I checked Carrie’s message, which showed another cleavage shot, but with a big smirk on her pouty lips. ‘How did you like this time?’ her message read, and considering her pose wasn’t particularly more impressive than her previous one, there was no doubt about what she was talking about. 

‘Amazing, but you might need to work a bit harder,’ I said, and attached Sarah’s photo along with mine. 

The response came in seconds, her shirt removed, her bra on full display. And while her current underwear was considerably less sexy than Sarah’s, her incredible bosom and the deliciously thick body were more than enough to close the distance. 

‘Send that to her and see what she thinks,’ she wrote, though the mischievousness of her statement made the following string of devil emojis rather redundant. 

Considering the amount of skin Carrie had already displayed to Sarah, sending an underwear picture was hardly something scandalous, though I was still amused by the way Carrie was using me as a medium. 

Not that I was complaining, of course. There were worse fates than sending some sexy pictures to another sexy girl, goading her to send even sexier ones. 

‘You might need to work harder,’ I wrote to Sarah along with the picture. 

At this point, her fancy retaliation was expected, which came in the form of another photo. And since she realized even her fancy sexy bra was unable to match Carrie’s very impressive bosom, she had got rid of her bra completely, replacing it with one arm. 

‘Sexy,’ I answered, responding with another picture of my own, lifting a heavy kettlebell to accentuate my muscles even more. 

Sarah’s picture marked a new level of escalation. When I stopped for another break, I received a similar one from Carrie, her bra discarded, relying on her arm to cover her bosom. However, this time, I didn’t even need to send that to Sarah to push her, because her picture was not only absent of a bra — or any kind of clothing for her top — but she also limited herself into lacy red panties, a skirt short enough to reveal her underwear selection, and thigh-high boots to display her toned legs in the best light.

For a pair of nerds, they really knew how to push their best assets forward to get an advantage against the competition. 

Even if the said competition was intentionally developed in Carrie’s case, asking me to share her sexy photos with her friend as well. Weirdly, she enjoyed pushing Sarah more and more, but never to a point of allowing Sarah to actually defeat her. Whenever Sarah managed to capture a particularly sexy picture, Carrie answered with a great escalation. 

And she had assets to support such an escalation.

However, as much as their pictures made my exercise more entertaining, that didn’t change its physically demanding nature. As I entered the last hour of my program, Carrie sent another message. ‘How’s the schedule?’ she asked.

‘Still on track, but the last part is literal torture,’ I answered. ‘And I was just thinking to give you a real reward if you can complete it.’

‘Well, if there’s a reward in the end, I’m sure I will be able to finish it on time,’ I said.

‘Promise?’

‘As long as you promise the reward will be worthwhile,’ I sent back. 

‘Oh, believe me, you’ll find it worthwhile…’ she wrote back, but when I asked her to clarify, she just sent mysterious emojis. No more pictures, no more words. 

And just like that, my exhaustion lost its significance. 

The promise of a reward from Carrie carried a lot of weight. Especially after the events of the previous night — not to mention the fun breakfast — as a benchmark. With her confidence about the impressiveness of her gift, along with her ridiculous talent for escalation, I was expecting a lot of fun things. 

I have sent updates to her about the progress of my training. Just as I finished, and prepared for the last part, the extended stretching session to cool down and make sure my muscles stayed reasonably elastic, the door rang. 

I moved there, appreciating the opportunity for a breather even as I got ready to greet Carrie, wondering whether she would bring Sarah along, or come alone. But when I opened the door, Sarah was not there. 

Nor Carrie was there.

However, while their absence confused me slightly, it wasn’t followed by disappointment. The reason?

My surprise guest was Naomi, one of the other girls from Carrie’s little band of nerds. A sexy brunette with an excessive interest in yoga and related stuff, with a cloudy light brown skin that implied some mixed ancestry, just enough to add some exotic flavor to her already amazing beauty. 

The fact that she was loose sweatpants and an equally loose large t-shirt might have reduced my enthusiasm if it wasn’t for the delicious life lessons I had learned from Carrie. 

Though, her beauty was not an answer to why she was in front of my door. Well, considering Carrie’s latest message, the general idea was not that hard to decipher, but not the specifics. I decided to act safely. 

“Hi, Naomi, how can I help you?” 

“Um,” she murmured, blushing. She wasn’t that shy when I met with her during lunch earlier, but considering I was still half-naked and sweaty, I decided to give her a break. “Carrie told me she had talked with you,” she murmured, blushing. 

As much as I wanted to ask the obvious and sexy question, I decided it might not be the best idea. “She probably sent a message but I didn’t see, why don’t you tell me instead,” I said with a big smile. 

“She said you needed help with stretching, maybe with some yoga,” she said hesitantly, her social inexperience evidenced by not even bothering to ask for my number. 

Not that it was a big problem, if Carrie and Sarah were any evidence. Even slightly. 

“Oh, yes, that I mentioned her. You’re so kind, actually coming here to help me. Please come in,” I said, glad that she couldn’t read the subtext of my growing smile. 

Just as I closed the door, my phone buzzed. On the way back, I grabbed it, reading a message from Carrie. 

‘Have fun.’