Message-ID: <6958eli$9801032155@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/6958.txt>
From: charl32@hotmail.com (Charlie)
X-Good-Line-Length: yes
Subject: rp:deirdre - Cheerleader
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
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: <charl32-0201981809050001@slctnt146.inquo.net>



I am not the author - this is merely a repost



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.

-- 
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/><http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>