Message-ID: <7367eli$9803301423@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com
Subject: {deirdre}JDR"Cheerleader"( mm MF )[1/1]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Note: This message was posted by a secure email service. Please report MISUSE OR ABUSE of this automated secure email service to <abuse@anon.nymserver.com>.
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <6fn9ua$n34$1@sparky.wolfe.net>
JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. Caveat lector; you read at your own
risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes some of the thinking behind the pattern of the
reposts, as well as the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked
the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a
comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories
itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
to encourage them to continue entertaining you.
The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this
posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in
any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright
below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as
well.
=====================
This is one of seven new stories I'm posting for Spring, 1996: Ball,
Cheerleader, Date, Denial, Four, Mall, and Witch. Enjoy. -- deirdre
Disclaimer: my stories, like the private sex fantasies of many people, often
depict "breaking some rules". Do not read this story if you believe fantasy
stories should never depict situations undesirable in real life. Be warned
that you may not be comfortable with the sexual situations. Do not read this
story if you are less than 18 years of age.
Permission granted to repost, to make available online, and to publish in
low-cost CD-ROM archives of alt groups if attributed to deirdre. Permission
granted to publish in periodicals and anthologies of this type of material if
attributed to deirdre and an author's payment is sent to AIDS research in the
name of deirdre. -- deirdre
=====================
Cheerleader
by deirdre
3/29/96
"Hi, Joe." I jumped, I think. I'd been standing around, casually watching
the action--well at least I *hoped* I looked casual. It was Jenny, my
next-door neighbor. "Great dance," she said, referring to the evening's
event. She smiled.
"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound, well, *with it*. I really liked Jenny,
and knew I didn't *really* have to put on an act for her. No, I don't mean
I liked her *that* way, but we'd always gotten along well, having done
stuff together when we were kids. The girl I *really* liked, well, the
girl I *dreamed* about was Charlotte.
"Wanna dance?"
"OK," I replied and followed her out onto the floor. She smiled as we
danced.
I was actually grateful--I seldom, or rather never, get up the nerve to go
ask girls to dance.
Afterwards she said "Thank you," and moved on--I saw her meet her friend
Betty, and they glanced back at me once before moving off. And I was left
there, once again, trying my best to look casual. But what I was *really*
doing was watching Charlotte.
She was out there dancing, first with one guy, then with another, between
talking and laughing with all the popular girls. But that was Charlotte:
captain of the cheerleaders and homecoming queen. She danced a lot with
the quarterback of the football team but also with some of his friends and
some of her friends' boyfriends.
There was *no way* I was going to ever ask Charlotte to dance. It was
simply impossible. All I could do was watch. Without being noticed.
I shouldn't be just watching Charlotte--it was stupid. I should have a
girlfriend. I should be walking over and nonchalantly asking one of the
girls to dance: the girls my own age. No, not Jenny, though she would.
Maybe I *should* ask her, just to practice getting up my nerve. Betty?
No, not her either. Mary or Gail or one of their friends: I'd have to
think about which of them was most likely to accept such an invitation from
*me*.
But it was impossible--I'd be too tongue-tied, standing in front of one of
those girls, who I just about *never* talked to during school--they'd be
wondering why I suddenly decided to act like I knew them, was friends with
them or something. It was stupid--it was just stupid, my life was. I had
to do *something* to break out of the rut. I watched as Charlotte walked
onto the dance floor with yet another guy.
It was too much. I had to leave. And get a hold of myself. I headed for
the door and walked, down the hall. I found the rest room and stopped,
then continued on down the hall, away from the dance. I reached the end,
and stared out a window for a little while. The hall was somewhat dark and
was empty except people at the opposite end walking in and out of the gym,
where the dance was. The music was distant-sounding, growing louder for a
few seconds whenever anyone pushed one of the gym doors open. I leaned
against the wall, wondering what was next in my life.
Well, I couldn't just stand there feeling sorry for myself forever. I
started back. I didn't hurry or anything, just sort of strolled back.
Would someone see me coming back from nowhere? Had anyone seen me going?
It was comfortable being alone, in a way, even though it was hell. Along
the way, I came to the cafeteria entrance, and seeing that it was dark and
empty, turned in. I headed over to the window where you could see the
front sidewalk, and sat on a table watching people from the dance walk by.
I should watch them, the way they walk, the way they talk to each other.
If I watched them, I could learn how to do it myself.
"Hiding?" It was a voice behind me, by the door where I'd entered earlier.
Once again, it scared me nearly out of my wits since in my reverie I hadn't
noticed anyone approaching.
"Uh, sort of," I mumbled. In the shadows, I couldn't see who it was, but
she was coming closer.
"You shouldn't be in here--I saw you go in." I didn't answer. I realized
that it looked like Charlotte. It *was* Charlotte! She giggled and spoke
again: "No answer? Shy? *I* see you watching me, you pervert." I could
see a little smile now, to tell me she was just teasing, I guess, but it
*did* still look just a little malicious. She was approaching.
"What?" I answered stupidly. This was all happening too fast for me.
"You think I'm going to be interested in you?" She was close, now. I
could see her more clearly now, but I still didn't quite like her smile.
Then she was right in front of me, and she put up her hand, and sort of
idly started fingering my shirt!
Suddenly I hated her. She was... I didn't know *what* she was doing, but
it was just to amuse herself. I angrily pushed her arm away from me.
She laughed again: "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings?" Then: "You
*do* like me, don't you?" I didn't answer. "You think I'm beautiful?
Sexy?"
"Uh, sure..."
And she giggled again, and once again took hold of my shirt, lightly in her
fingers. "You *do* like me," she said, finality in her voice. Then she
whispered: "Take your shirt off."
She was unbuttoning my shirt! I stared at her. This was impossible--
absolutely impossible--but it was happening! I stood without thinking.
She finished the buttons, and was pushing it over my shoulders. Then she
slipped her hands under my tee shirt and ran them up my chest.
*Charlotte's hands running up and down my chest*. She just continued,
pushing my tee shirt up. Her hands: all over my chest. "Take it off," she
whispered again, smiling.
Then she was undoing my belt. I hadn't taken the tee shirt off yet. She
had the buckle undone, and was undoing my pants! "Come on!" she said,
looking sort of gleeful. She pulled my pants down and my underpants,
leaving me uncovered between my tee shirt and my knees. Then her hand was
on my cock, fingering it. "I can *see* you like me," she said softly, and
giggled again.
"Turn around," she said. I might have turned a little, but she more or
less slipped behind me, and then was reaching around my right hip, holding
my cock in her hand, squeezing with her fingers, making it hard. Her other
hand reached around the other side of me, holding my hip. "You *like* me,
don't you?" When I didn't answer, she said again: "Don't you?"
"Yes!" I finally said.
"Lean over the table." Then she was pushing on my back, and I found myself
half-lying face-down on the table, my feet still on the floor. She ran a
hand over my rear as I lay there, briefly finding my cock between my legs.
Then she ran her hand up my back again, over my tee shirt, then she lay
next to me in the same position. We were looking at each other.
I realized that someone else was in the room, a little behind us! "Now,
you be good for me," she said, as she lay there. She put a hand on my
cheek. "Now, you're going to cooperate, aren't you?"
It was the quarterback! He was doing something, standing right behind us.
"Now, you cooperate," she repeated. The guy had his cock out and was
getting it hard!
"Hey!" I said, though not too loudly--some automatic sense of self-
preservation probably didn't really want to attract other people to see any
of this.
"Now be good. You're a good boy," she said, in a soothing voice. "Just
*go along* with it." The guy had taken hold of my hips! I felt his cock
pressed against my rear! "Now, *relax* and this'll go fine," she said.
"No big deal."
"No!" My voice was weak. I felt weak. How could this be happening?
"Relax," she said again. It was pressing. Harder. "Come on, I *want* you
to let him in." I did what she wanted.
He slid in. To the hilt. Then out, then in. He was doing it to me. I
was lying there, Charlotte making me do it. Being fucked by a guy.
"That's a good boy," she said, still in her soothing voice. He picked up
speed. She said it again. I felt his cock start to spasm. Then he was
coming. He pounded into me. The whole time, she just kept cooing "That's
a good boy."
Then he was out. She giggled. "You were cute, you know? You liked that?"
"Uh, no."
"You don't like me?" She stood and pulled my shoulders away from the
table. I didn't have my balance though, and sort of slid, ending up
sitting on the floor. Then she was kneeling, straddling me. She put her
hand on my cock and felt it. "You *do* like me, don't you? Or you liked
*it*. Jim's cock in you. You were *cute*." And she giggled again. And
fondled my cock. I didn't see Jim, the quarterback. He must have slipped
out. Suddenly she leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, hard, holding my
head with both hands.
She withdrew, and giggled. "Like that? Hey, that wasn't bad!"
Then she just stared at me a little. And I suddenly didn't know *what* she
was thinking. She leaned over and kissed me hard again. A little longer.
Then she knelt some more, still just looking at me.
And for a minute, that's all she did: stare at me below her. Then she
leaned down and kissed me again.
That was nine years ago. Last night, as I got home from work, my front
door opened as I reached for it.
It was like I was back at that dance. I stood there staring. There was
Charlotte, standing right inside the doorway! She looked exactly the way I
remembered her, that very night. She smiled--the same smile from that
night in the cafeteria: "Remember me?" She grabbed me by the belt and
pulled me in, pulling the door shut behind me. She was immediately undoing
my belt. "Ready for Jim?" she added. She seemed to be in a hurry: she got
my pants undone and was pulling them down along with my underpants. I felt
frozen, staring at her, remembering what she'd gotten me to do that night.
Suddenly I awoke out of my reverie, and it was like I'd lost control of
what I was doing. I grabbed her and wrestled her to the floor in a second.
I got her face-down on the carpet, lifted her skirt, and pulled down her
underpants.
I was out of control. I plunged into her rear. I lay, my body on top of
hers, my head beside hers. She turned her head toward me and we ended up
looking at each other's faces. "Kiss me, *now*!" she said, suddenly.
And I did. Just like we do every evening.
=====================
Cheerleader
by deirdre
-30-
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |