On a wing and a prayer, Cheyenne stopped at the home of Mr. Wilcox, the prestigious high school musical director on Saturday afternoon. She’d been stressing over the key her solo was in, and since the play was the following weekend she didn’t want to wait until Monday to see if they could somehow change it. The fact that at fourteen years old she was the first freshman to ever get a solo only packed on the pressure and wasn’t making her any friends. In fact it was almost as though she was the most hated girl in school, at least by all the upper classmen. The past week's practice hadn't gone so well, and her fragile psyche was almost ready to shatter. But singing was her life, and high school wouldn't last forever. She had a huge future ahead of her and the only person she needed approval from at the moment was Mr. Wilcox. It was the only thing that would give her the courage to knock. She checked herself in the reflection of his glass front door. The pretty purple skirt and matching tube top were cute. Since her boobs were small she didn't wear a bra, but the thickness of the top more than concealed that fact. She approved. Mr. Wilcox, a man in his late forties, rather thin and geeky, slightly balding. At first glance a wimp, but the moment he spoke you knew who was in control. And Mr. Wilcox was never out of control. He was intimidating to say the least. He let her in with a kind and concerned smile. Before she even got into the whole key change thing, Mr. Wilcox interrupted. "Cheyenne, before you say anything else, I was going to get in touch with you this weekend. I'm already planning to give Sheila MaCree the solo. It's evident that this is far too much pressure for you to handle." Cheyenne stood speechless. Sheila MaCree? A senior. She felt the blood leave her face. "It's why I never pick freshman for solo's. I'm sure next year you'll be ready." To her horror, she had never expected to hear these words. She wasn't sure what was worse, losing the part, or everyone teasing her for losing the part. "Please Mr. Wilcox. I know I can do it. It's the key. If we can just try the song in C." Cheyenne continued to plead her case and he finally relented. The two spent the next hour at his piano working on the solo. It was obvious that Cheyenne was unable to relax. She began to panic and cry. "I don't know what's the matter. I'm sorry, I'm never like this." The fact that Cheyenne was undeniably pretty with a sweet little body and currently in about as vulnerable a position she could be did not elude Mr. Wilcox. More than a few times in his career had a pitiful young face looked upon him, and he never failed to take full advantage of that. He knew his lie about replacing her was pure gold. Despite that young Ms. Sheila MaCree could suck some mean cock, her singing could never hold a light to this young talent. And with his wife out of town, he could not have planned it better. The truth was, he'd been mentally undressing Cheyenne since the moment he first saw her at auditions. That she could sing like a bird was a bonus. He tried to calm the young girl. "Cheyenne, all you need to do is relax. Come out on the back porch with me." As instructed Cheyenne sat with him on the back porch and reluctantly drank the wine cooler he offered as a last resort to relax her. She had never tasted alcohol before, but the sweetness of the cooler made it seem more like Hawaiian Punch. She listened as he talked about his own career and all the contacts in the business he had. Cheyenne was mesmerized. By the time she was halfway through her second bottle she was mellow as jello, a gentle buzz tingled throughout her young body. "You ready to try again?" he asked. She smiled and nodded. Back inside she felt free as a bird as she tried her solo again, this time without accompaniment and with him standing behind her. "Just ignore me. I'm just going to help guide your breathing and diaphragm control." he whispered in her ear. It seemed a little awkward at first, with him tucked in so tight behind her, his arms wrapped around, hands just below her breastbone. But it worked. Again he whispered, that she was doing wonderful and should continue to let herself go. And she did, for a time. "You know," he whispered once more, "that I could make you a star." But Cheyenne stopped singing when his hands moved to her breasts and his lips to her neck. "What you do next could make all the difference in the world." The perfect moment a second earlier suddenly morphed into a ball of fiery confusion. To this point, her sex life consisted of one clumsy kiss after her first movie date a few weeks ago. Her life had been too filled with singing and dancing lessons to think of boys or sex. It was all about making her future. This school, this musical, this solo, this man, was all part of that future. What this was, was a life defining moment. "By not leaving, it will mean you're staying." he added. Cheyenne wanted to leave, run home, cry, but her feet were like stone. She could barely feel his hands squeezing her breasts as her entire body was fuzzy like a TV channel of snow. As he continued to kiss her bare shoulders and grope her young tits he still wasn't sure of the outcome here. The next thirty seconds would tell. Still, he thought he should make the choice for her. "You made the right choice Cheyenne." He slid his ands under her tube top. Bare teen breasts. She didn't leave. She couldn't even move. In a surreal haze, she felt this man undressing her, pulling her top up over her head. Instinctively she covered her breasts. "Oh Mr. Wilcox, I don't know. Maybe I should go." But he didn't respond, just kissed down the bare of her back. On his knees, he untied her skirt and it fell to the floor. He smiled at her Hello Kitty panties. Still on his knees her turned her around to face him. He could see the mix of embarrassment and fear on her face, like the proverbial deer in the headlights. It's what he counted on. He slowly grasped her hands and pulled them down away from her breasts. He admired her sweet body, from her cute face with tiny upturned nose, to her petite breasts, creamy skin, to the obvious outline of her slit though her very tight panties. "Cheyenne, don't be shy, you're a fucking gorgeous girl." Shocked and powerless, she let him lead her to the couch. As she lay back he pulled her knees apart. She closed her eyes and could feel her face burn red as Mr. Wilcox, a man she admired, began kissing the inside of her thighs. When he slid his hands under and started to remove her panties she started to panic. "Please Mr. Wilcox, I don't want to have sex. I just can't." she pleaded. "Calm down, I'm not going to fuck you." Somehow those words were hardly reassuring to her. Mr. Wilcox wasn't going to fuck her, at least not today, but he knew those words basically gave him free reign to do what he wanted. He removed her panties and tossed them on the floor. Again, as he had done when her removed her top, he had to move her hands from guarding her pussy. As he expected, her pussy was perfect as well. She didn't shave so she had a nice small bush, but not thick or hairy jungle, but a light brown patch that you could see through. And young teen pussy lips, virgin he was sure of. A few moments later he buried his face between her legs, his tongue dancing inside her. There is nothing in the world quite as good as young pussy. The taste, the slight muskiness, the tightness, plus the fact that like the great explorers of the world, he was the first man to be here. For Cheyenne, it was like a dream, things happening to you but you can't stop them. She couldn't look down at the man between her legs. She held her hands, in balled little fists, tightly against her chest. His tongue felt odd inside her, and mostly she felt nothing as he swished it around inside her. But occasionally he'd hit a spot and it would make her quiver. She looked up at the ceiling, fixated on a discolored water spot and waited for him to finish. Cheyenne could only watch when he finally stood and stripped naked, his large stiff penis bouncing slightly as he moved. Once more she was frightened. Had he lied? Was he going to try and have sex with her? Could she even stop him? Would he rape her? He caught her looking at his cock and he smiled, "You like what you see?" She thought she was going to pass out. She wanted to die. He imagined how fucking great it would be to fuck this little minx, and maybe when spring concert rolled around he'd get that chance. It was hardly unprecedented. He moved to the middle of the room. "Come over here Cheyenne." he instructed, "It'll be fine, we're almost done. I promise." She got off the couch and moved in front of him, then down to all fours as directed, like she was a dog. Again, as if in a dream she was helpless as he rubbed his penis over her face. At first the smell was overpowering and she almost gagged, and his balls were hairy and hung low. A most disturbing sight. She knew in a matter of moments he was going to want her to give him a blowjob. Something she heard all too often about in school and thinking that these girls were just sluts. Putting a boy's penis in your mouth was just, yes, slutty. And yet she was faced with doing this very thing. A thing she had no idea how or what to do. And this was no boy, it was a man older than her dad. "Cheyenne, look at this. Have you ever seen this?" She opened her eyes and saw his finger touching the end of his penis. On the end there was a large drop of clear sticky liquid. He pulled his finger away and a gooey string remained between the tip and his finger. He then swiped his finger back over the tip, gathering the whole drop and then wiped it on her lips. instinctively she licked her lips. "See how sweet that is? It's all good. It's like nectar." he said, knowing full well that the sweet taste of pre-cum would be nothing like rancid spunk that would soon fill her mouth. Cheyenne wondered if that was it. Did he orgasm? Was that all there was? But it wasn't. "Now open your mouth." he instructed, or rather, ordered. And with seemingly no other choice, she took him in. She really didn't have to do much of anything as he moved himself in and out of her mouth. She tried not to let her tongue touch him but it really couldn't be avoided. And no teeth he had yelled, making her jump. She wasn't sure what a penis would taste like, in fact had never even thought about it before up until this very moment, but was surprised that it tasted like nothing, almost rubbery. It didn’t take long before she heard him moaning loudly. She looked up into his eyes and his down to hers. He then grabbed the back of her head, held it still, grunted once, and began spasming jets of warm fluid into her mouth. What flooded her mouth was nothing like what he had put on her lips. It was thick and tasted awful, yet as he had his penis so far back in her mouth she had no choice but to swallow most of it. Finally he had pulled back slightly and he put her tongue against the tip of his penis to stop it from shooting so far back in her mouth. She could feel the spurts on her tongue but now let it all run out of her mouth. She could feel it running down her chin and neck to her chest, eventually to the floor in a white puddle. Mr. Wilcox pulled his cock out of the girls mouth when he finished. One of the best cums he had in weeks. Sure this girl had a lot to learn about sucking cock, but it's pretty much why he became a teacher in the first place. "I've got to shower, you can let yourself out." he said casually as he headed down the hall, "I'll see you Monday for practice, we still have work to do." And by that he meant another private session before next weekend. Just before he disappeared she saw him hold up and wave her Hello Kitty panties. "You don't mind if I keep these?" he called, "I didn't think so" answering his own question. As she slowly walked home, his taste souring in her mouth, a defeated Cheyenne cursed herself for allowing what just happened. She could have said no, she could have left. She couldn't imagine what she had been thinking, apparently she hadn't been thinking. She cringed at the thought of his face between her legs. She wondered if she even wanted the part anymore. She thought of his orgasm, now in her stomach. She pulled her hand to her belly and felt sick. She feel to her knees and puked. Cheyenne wasn't sure if she even wanted to live. She picked off something crusty from her chest. It was him.

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