As a trainer, he used to make us strip naked for stretching exercise. By ‘us’, I mean me and two other athletes Geet and Vicky.“There’s no nee... to be shy,” he used to say while removing my hand to see my breasts. “This is the first step to becoming a good athlete.”He would gently cup my boob while feeling my erect nipple. This would usually follow with hard pinches that would make me scream with pleasure.Remembering that time, I slipped my hand inside my dress to pinch my breast just the way he. I’d hit him again and again with my drumsticks – I could make a rhythm of it, like the monster was a drum that I was playing to the war music in my head (I was going to have a soundtrack, of course). Fighting, I would spin-hit-kick-hit-step-hit-hit. It would look like I was dancing while I defeated the beast. The whole scene was choreographed in my head – it was going to look beautiful, amazing. My friends would be awe-struck as they watched the battle go down. Yeah, that’d be awesome. Then,. More

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