Sexy Legs

Sexy Legs. That's what we called him for a short while, until another one came on the scene and the two were dubbed Sexy Legs I and Sexy Legs II. We quickly shortened their designations to SLI and SLII, both for convenience and discretion. Then there were more, each with a secret nickname known only to the two of us. We whispered about them, passed notes encoded with the secret names.

We weren't the type of girls to gawk at boys' bodies. We were smart. More than smart. We were above all that girly giggling and physical lust. We needed maturity and intelligence to turn us on. But these boys were an exception; they weren't dumb jocks, they were athletes. They were runners. The members of the cross-country team were thin, but strong. They were subtle; their muscles didn't bulge ostentatiously. They were competitive, but often competed against themselves, trying to beat their own best times. They didn't grunt and push and pat each other's asses to make themselves a "team." They were a team of individuals. Smart, strong, healthy individuals.
And they had legs. The best of the best legs in school.

We were the smartest girls around. We didn't stoop to childish behavior. But those legs, who could resist those legs? After all, sometimes girls just have to be girls.