Stripball
by Sandra Alek
Copyright© 2026 by Sandra Alek
Erotica Sex Story: In an empty basketball gym after practice, confident redheaded coach Casey challenges towering rival coach Leonard to a high-stakes shooting contest: every miss costs a piece of clothing—or a favor.A playful strip-game turns into passionate, athletic sex, complete with a mid-thrust phone call from her husband and a cheeky promise to share the footage later.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Sports Cheating Exhibitionism Voyeurism AI Generated .
The basketball gym had long since emptied. The echoes of the last players’ shouts had faded into the high rafters, and the overhead lights had dimmed to a soft, almost intimate glow. Casey stood at the three-point line, casually spinning the ball on her index finger. Her long red hair, slightly damp from practice, fell past her shoulders; her green eyes sparkled with challenge. Tall, with a long neck and a flexible back, she seemed built for movement—her athletic shorts hugged her hips, her sports top accentuated her chest. Sneakers still laced tight on her feet—for now.
Across from her towered Leonard, a true giant, easily a head taller. Short black hair, brown eyes smoldering with restrained excitement. His tank top stretched across broad shoulders, shorts riding low on his hips. He stood relaxed, sneakers still on—for now.
“You really think your shooting form is better than mine?” Casey tilted her head, lips curving into an ironic smirk. “It’s cute when big boys overestimate themselves.”
Leonard gave a low chuckle, taking the ball from her hands—their fingers brushed for a moment, and she felt the warmth of his skin.
“Talk is over. Let’s settle it with a contest. Farthest make wins.”
Casey narrowed her eyes, stepping closer until she was almost brushing his chest.
“With stakes, big guy. Miss a shot—you lose one piece of clothing. Or do whatever the winner wants. Scared of losing to a girl?”
He looked down at her, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile.
“I’m more worried you won’t be able to keep up.”
Three-point line. Leonard went first—the ball arced perfectly, swishing through the net. Clean. He turned to her, one eyebrow raised: your move.
Casey took the ball, slowly running her palm over its surface as if caressing it. She arched her back, long legs tensing, red hair swaying. Shot—swish. She winked.
“Tied. For now.”
They stepped back one pace. Leonard aimed, released—the ball clanged off the rim and bounced away. Miss.
Casey laughed softly, almost purring:
“Aw. Sneakers off, champ.”
Leonard shrugged, bent down slowly, untying his laces. His back muscles flexed under the tank top, and Casey’s gaze followed the line of them without shame.
Her turn—smooth, effortless release. Swish. She spun on her heel, hair whipping around.
Another step back. Leonard made it—confident, no wasted motion. Casey missed; the ball thudded off the backboard.
“Well,” she sighed theatrically, “guess the shoes have to go.”
She slipped them off one at a time, balancing on one long leg to show off the toned muscle. Leonard watched silently, but something warm flickered in his brown eyes.
Another step. Leonard—swish. Casey—miss. She grinned, fingers hooking under the hem of her top.
“Don’t get too excited yet,” she teased. “There’s still plenty to see.”
She pulled the top over her head slowly, red hair tumbling back down over her shoulders. Now in just her black sports bra and shorts. Her chest rose with a deep breath. Leonard swallowed—barely noticeable.
“Like the view?” she asked, voice dripping irony.
“Not complaining,” he answered, voice a little rougher.
Another step. Both made it. Tension rising.
One more step back. Leonard—clean. Casey—miss. She shook her head, smiling.
“Fine. Shorts aren’t forever.”
She slid them down in one fluid motion, stepping out gracefully. Now in just her bra and panties. Her long legs glistened faintly with sweat, her flexible back arched as she bent to pick up the discarded clothes. Leonard’s gaze lingered, then flicked away—only to return.
His turn—miss. He peeled off his tank top in one smooth pull. Torso powerful, defined, dark skin smooth. Casey bit her lip.
“Not bad, big guy. Not bad at all.”
Casey’s shot—miss. She paused, reaching behind her back for the bra clasp, when she suddenly noticed the security camera in the corner. The little red light blinked steadily—recording.
She froze for a heartbeat. Then she turned fully toward the lens, smiled wide, stuck out her tongue playfully—almost affectionately—and unhooked her bra. The fabric slipped away; her breasts freed, nipples tightening in the cool air and under Leonard’s stare.
He exhaled slowly, eyes darkening.
Another step back. Casey stepped closer to him, nearly touching.
“So tell me, big boy ... which one do you like better—left or right?”
She leaned forward slightly, red hair falling over one shoulder.
Leonard looked for a long moment, then answered low:
“Both. Perfectly both.”
He shot—rim out. Miss. He slid his shorts off. Now just in his boxer briefs, the fabric clearly strained.
Casey made hers. Victory smile.
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