Bionic Stud: When Lance Met Sandra

NOTE: For those of you joining us for the first time, this story is a vignette from Rubirosa's series "C*ck Star." The chronicle focuses upon the private life of a public figure.

As the most accomplished porn star of modern times, SAMSON lives out popular male sex fantasies on a daily basis. This story focuses on our hero's youthful exploits as an everyday high school gigolo and championship bodybuilder by the name of LANCE LEO.

Lance has just turned 18. Like many seniors at Peoria Tech, he plays football, smokes pot, and dates cheerleaders. He listens to hip-hop but prefers heavy metal bands. He scored in the 38

th

percentile on his SAT's. His GPA hovers just below a 2.3. Lance wears Magnum XL condoms and is able to sleep with any woman he desires.

Only one female can tame him. High school valedictorian and martial arts enthusiast SANDRA KONG will stop at nothing to win his heart.

This is their story.

"4.0 GPA. A near perfect SAT score," the guidance counselor mumbled to himself as he reviewed Sandra's file. "What about your extra-curriculars? Did you try out for the cheerleading team this year?"

Sandra gave him a very nasty look that answered his question. "Ballet," she began in a voice best described as 'controlled rage.' "And Judo."

"Judo?"

"Black Belt Third Degree."

"Would this interest have anything to do with your disciplinary record?"

"I believe in self-defense."

"You sent our varsity wrestling captain to the hospital."

"He was asking for it," she countered defensively.

Sandra tried to muster a smile. She had dealt with dipshits like Mr. Brown all her life. Her blunt manner threatened them. But a smile sometimes could defuse an awkward situation.

"Be that as it may, Ms. Kong, this incident hobbles an otherwise stellar academic record."

"Hopefully, the admissions committee at Stanford will feel otherwise."

"I hope so too. But have you applied to a state school? What is your Plan B?"

"A job."

"In what field?"

"Stripping."

Her answer threw Mr. Brown for a loop. To fuck with him further, Sandra gave a loud yawn and stretched her arms behind her back. The guidance counselor tried not to stare at her rack as her F-cups thrust forward. The top buttons of her blouse popped open from the strain.

"I can make a lot more at a club than, say, a guidance counselor," Sandra told him mockingly. "Have a nice day."

Before he could respond, she stood up and left.

Fourth period classes had just let out at Peoria Tech. Sandra had two minutes to get to AP Physics. She prepped all night for the mid-term but the hard sciences always challenged her. Sandra picked up the pace to a brisk jog. Thankfully, the straight-A vixen wore flats today. But just as she turned the corner, Sandra bumped right into Steve Knight and literally knocked the senior on his ass.

She offered a hand to help him get up from the floor but he pushed it away with a contemptuous glance. The douche wore a letterman jacket just like the asshole jock she saw in teen comedy films from the 80s. Two upperclassmen had seen the literal run-in. With onlookers, Steve would need to do more than walk away.

Sandra gathered her books off the floor. She had 30 seconds left to get to her class. "Fuckin' lesbo," Steve snarled under his breath. The buxom black belt froze. She saw red. An instant later, Sandra felled Steve with a roundhouse kick to the solar plexus. It happened so fast that both of them were stunned. Knowing the consequences of another disciplinary incident on her school record, she spun around and headed to her class as if nothing happened.

______

"Did you hear that?" Lance asked Morgan. The two of them had been making out in a dark janitor's closet amongst the pails and brooms. The commotion in the hallway grew louder. Lance cracked open the door and caught a brief glimpse of Sandra flying past. He kept a pretty close eye on the female population of Peoria Tech but that babe had eluded his leer until now.

"Who was that?" he asked Morgan.

"Sandra? Oh, right... She just came back to classes this week. The school suspended her for two months after she went postal on the captain of the wrestling team."

"She's hot."

"Be careful. She's also a fucking psycho."

"But that body..."

"We once found one of her bras on the floor of the locker room. The label read '32DDD.' I didn't even know they came in that size! I heard that she saw a doctor about getting breast

reduction

surgery. Lucky bitch!"

"A girl like that doesn't need to change a thing."

The buxom blonde felt up his crotch. Damn, he was big. Unfortunately, his excitement had little to do with her and everything to do with Sandra. Since they first hooked up, the head cheerleader learned that Lance had an insatiable appetite for variety. And the Don Juan found no shortage of girls eager to experience his intimate talents. Equipped with a ten-and-a-half inch penis, he proved such a formidable lover that his partners tolerated his rakish ways.

The school bell rang.

"Hey, babe," he apologized, slipping out of her grasp. "We don't want to be late for classes."

Yeah, right...

__

School ended a couple hours ago but Lance had football practice. Marla waited for him in the parking lot. She paced back and forth in her fuck-me pumps next to his '74 Harley Sportster. Lance definitely wasn't leaving today without her.

As usual, Lance arrived late. Her date casually approached in a tank top that showed off his 24-inch pythons. The XL shirt was still a size too small and the mesh fabric molded his massive pecs and corrugated abs like a second skin. Not missing a beat, Lance gave the hourglass redhead a scorching kiss that immediately put her at ease. He mounted his bike and kick-started the motor. Without a word, Marla hopped on the bitch seat.

Lance and Marla zoomed past on his Harley. Neither saw her. Sandra had parked her windowless van in a remote corner of the high school parking lot. She gave the pair a thirty-second head start before firing up the ignition of her vehicle.

The foxy senior had been tailing Lance for about a week. Her motives remained obscure even to herself. Sandra told herself she would stop. She could not go on like this. Sandra pulled over. The motorcycle vanished over a hill. She pulled out her phone. The GPS device on his bike tracked his exact movements. She floored the van to catch up.

Lance turned left into a subdivision of middle-class homes. Sandra eased up on the gas. There would be no traffic to disguise her van on a side street. Lance parked his Harley at a discrete distance from Marla's place. She lived in a non-descript single-story bungalow. There were no cars in the driveway. That meant her parents weren't home. That meant he could fuck Marla in her own bedroom. Or maybe her parents' bedroom if she had a wild side...

Lance removed his helmet and shook out his long hair. His eyes narrowed at a van down the street.

"What are you looking at, hon?" asked Marla.

"Did you ever feel like someone was watching you?"

Sandra gunned the engine. The tires squealed through a sharp U-turn. Fuck. He probably made her. Stalking him would be harder now. Yes, that's what it was -- 'stalking him.' Sandra knew how bad that phrase sounded to most people. But she did not care either.

Sandra took a mental inventory. Lance hooked up with seven women in 48 hours. Eight if you included Jane. He might be fucking his stepmother too. She pulled out her smartphone. Her fingers hovered over the keypad on the touchscreen. Sandra got Lance's phone number from Bev Johnson. She braced the gym teacher yesterday for information. Sandra knew enough about the cougar to get her fired.

Bev spilled. Lance had a key to the girls' locker room. He banged cheerleaders in the communal shower at night. Bev shared photos of him on a phone she confiscated from a student. Several images displayed his tool lined side-by-side with a woman's forearm. His erection compared favorably in length and girth.

Sandra drove into the gravel parking lot of the local forest preserve. She had scouted the location previously. The hikers left by dusk. After shutting off the motor, Sandra slipped between the bucket seats into the back. A queen-sized mattress occupied the entire storage space. The large vehicle allowed her to hook up without any risk of getting caught. It definitely beat the backseat of her old Camaro.

The dark vixen kicked off her shoes. She shimmied out of her skinny jeans. Her panties were a soaking mess. Thank goodness she kept an extra pair in the glove compartment. Sandra slid her hand beneath the passenger seat and pulled out her new dildo. Its weight was formidable. She ran her fingers over the rubber veins and fat knob. The toy had been modeled after porn star Lexington Steele and measured nine inches.

Sandra planted the suction cup base on the mattress so it stood upright. She liked to ride 'Lex' cowgirl. Sandra gripped the balls to stabilize it, crouched above the tip, and slowly lowered her hips towards the mattress. The busty black belt did at least 200 jump squats every day so the strain did not bother her.

Getting filled by 'Lex' was Sandra's favorite part of the day. She could forget about the outside world and just focus on her pleasure. Sure, the fox could have seduced any guy at the school but girly dick bored her. And she hated the small talk after her partner blew his wad.

Sandra enjoyed the burn of her vaginal muscles stretching over the thick shaft. However, today did not feel as intense as yesterday. And yesterday did not feel as good last week. Sandra had thought of upgrading to a larger dildo but the size enthusiast knew a few more inches wouldn't fill the void in her heart. "The void in her heart..." Damn, that sounded cheesy.

But Sandra had to take a cold, hard look at her life. She had driven to a vacant lot so that she could fuck herself with a large dildo in the back of her windowless van on a chilly November evening. 'Sad!' as the president might tweet. Sandra reached for her smartphone. She swiped through Lance's photos to her favorite one. That ruler did not lie. He literally had a ten-and-a-half inch cock.

Sandra had a feeling that it might be time to break up with Lex. They had enjoyed some good times together but she needed more of a human touch. Sandra studied Lance's ripped physique in her photostream. Bev told him the bodybuilding Lothario worked out in the weight room every afternoon. Girls that wanted to hook up with him cruised the gym after school. In fact, Bev fucked him on a weight bench only two days ago.

Sandra ruled out that option. She didn't want to be another one of Lance's gym groupies. So the calculating jezebel had stalked her prey while hatching a plan. She wanted to catch him at just the right moment to make an approach. But since he probably spotted her, she either would have to act now... or never.

______

Sandra arrived bright and early. The GPS device had led her to an apartment complex on the outskirts of town. Lance hadn't spent last night at home with Jane. The teen stud shacked up with someone in Apartment #201. Or, at least, Sandra assumed he did because a steady stream of moans and groans poured out of an open window from that unit.

"Oh, Lance," cried a high-pitched female voice. "It's so fucking deep!"

"Do I get an A, teach?" answered a jocular baritone. "Did I make you come hard enough?"

Both of them laughed. Sandra sensed their familiarity. They definitely had hooked up before. The sound of the creaking bed grew louder and louder. So did the woman. She simply went berserk: "Ahhh. Unnnnghhhh! UH! UH! Oh Goddddddddddd! YES! YES! YYYYYESSS!" Lance was right. He definitely would be getting an A+ in orgasms from whatever teacher he was banging in there...

Sandra scanned the parking lot. It had emptied by 8:00am. There had been a few cars when she arrived but most people left for work by 7:30. If she got out of the van, no one would see her. So she did. The building looked like a renovated Motel 6 from the 1960s. The studio apartments all had exterior entrances and windows that faced the courtyard. She could get really close to the action. Sandra quietly crept up the staircase to the second floor. She slid along the wall and stopped just short of the open casement window by the door to #201. Sandra wanted to look inside but didn't. Too risky! They might see her. Instead, she just listened...

The stranger's voice cried out even louder than before. Sandra could tell she would come soon. The voyeuristic vixen was aggressively bisexual and slept with numerous women. Not as many as Lance, probably, but enough that she intuited an impending orgasm. An eerie silence ensued from within. Without a doubt, the female in #201 was climaxing big time. She came too hard to speak or breathe.

"I'm comin', babe," thundered Lance. "FUCK YEAH!" Sandra flinched. His voice startled her. She thought of the word 'stentorian.' Not just loud but

powerful

. She would obey a voice like that. Its presence felt commanding. The manbeast grunted and growled his way through a seemingly endless crescendo. He sounded different than other guys when they came. They squealed and whimpered pathetically. On the other hand, Lance roared with a triumphant air. He betrayed no weakness, even in heat.

Finally, the bed creaked. She heard footsteps. A closet door opened.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To where you should be right now. School."

"Aw, c'mon. Let's cut first period."

She didn't answer.

"Babe, you're going to leave me high and dry," he pleaded.

"No, you're going to learn self-control."

"C'mon. You know I gotta come at least three times in the morning."

"Lance, we need to be more careful. What would it look like if we both missed first period? Someone will notice that," explained the woman. "In fact, you should stay here for a bit after I leave. We can't arrive to school at the same time."

The voices moved to the back of the apartment. Sandra snuck downstairs and jumped inside the van. A few minutes later, a blonde cougar rushed down the steps. It was Miss Tracey. She taught French. Sandra ducked beneath the dashboard as the tardy teacher ran toward her cherry red convertible. The Mazda tore out of the lot like a bat out of hell.

Sandra watched #201 like a hawk. Lance emerged a few minutes later. He shut the door, tested the knob to make sure it was locked, and headed downstairs. Lance paused at the bottom of the stairs. He grinned. Busted! Her van stood out like a sore thumb in the empty lot.

Lance mounted his Harley. He lifted his ass off the seat and tried to kick start the vintage bike. The engine didn't turn over. He tried again. No dice. Three times was not the charm either... Sandra saw her opening. Now or never! She fired up her van and drove towards him.

"Hey, looks like your bike needs a new carburetor." she began lamely. "Do you need a ride to school?"

Sandra regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. She knew nothing about motorbikes, let alone carburetors. But mentioning 'school' sounded even worse. Her question exhibited a stalker's awareness of her target's destination. Lance kick started the bike again and the motor started up just fine.

But he didn't leave just yet.

"You live around here, Sandra?" Lance smiled knowingly. He knew her name already.

"Apartment #103," she replied smoothly.

"Would you like to give me a tour?" he asked seductively.

"I need to get to school," she lied.

Lance cut off the engine.

"Maybe, I'll take you up on that ride after all."

Without asking, Lance opened the passenger door and hopped in the cab. Sandra sped off. An awkward silence ensued. Both understood what the other wanted but neither knew how to obtain it gracefully. Sandra hung a left into the forest preserve.

"Is this a shortcut to school?" asked Lance, knowing the answer already. Lance had taken dates to the forest preserve before. It was a good spot. No one came there in November, especially on weekdays. The gravel road got bumpy.

"You're not a serial killer, are you?" he joked. "After all, I'm hitching a ride with a stranger who drives a windowless van."

Sandra raised a finger in the air. She placed it on his lip. "Shut up," whispered the vixen.

For once in his life, Lance didn't offer backtalk. Truth be told, Sandra mesmerized him. He had seduced many 9's at Peoria Tech but never scored the elusive perfect 10. Moreover, she possessed an exotic look that drove him wild.

Peoria had turned out pretty whitebread for his sexual tastes. Sure, the student body had tons of cute blondes and redheads to bang. Lance also hooked up with a lot of black chicks from the North side of town as well as a few Korean and Chinese babes. But Sandra looked bi-racial, Afro-Asian to be precise. Lance craved variety. As his body count of seductions skyrocketed, the ladykiller developed a taste for foreign trim. The connoisseur constantly sought new experiences between a woman's thighs.

But some things never changed. Wild horses could not drag his eyes away from her succulent 32F rack. Sandra had the biggest jugs at Peoria Tech as sure as Lance had the biggest dick. Lance marked her as the shy type of woman that walked with a hunch to conceal her bountiful assets. The girl wore oversized sweatshirts that fooled no one. Like it or not, fate has destined her to be a fox.

Lance knew himself to be a 'tit man.' He felt no shame in his desire but understood its consequences. For instance, Lance accepted a ride from the school psycho and let her drive him into a dark, uninhabited wood because he liked staring at her tits. His decision was utterly irrational yet unavoidable.

Unknown to her passenger, a similar thought occurred to Sandra. She knew little to nothing about Lance aside from those photos of his cock. He exhibited a room temperature IQ that made a football jock look like a brain surgeon. But Sandra didn't care. She wanted him like all the other girls.

The road terminated in a gravel lot. Sandra parked. "Get out," she told him. Lance obeyed. Snow flurries fell to the ground. His breath misted in the cold air. Sandra walked to the back of the van. She opened up the double doors. Lance admired the bed that lined the floor. The sheets had been made with hospital corners. Psycho or no, the girl seemed tidy.

"Nice," smiled Lance. "I guess you're not a serial killer."

Sandra didn't answer but just motioned for him to get inside. Lance climbed into the back. Sandra followed and shut the door behind her. It was dark. But she felt so close that he almost could taste her pussy. Sandra clicked on the overhead light. Lance took off his leather jacket. He only wore a AC/DC tank top underneath. Sandra noted his big guns. The stud was hung

and

ripped.

For an instant, Sandra seemed unsure of herself. She didn't issue any more orders. Lance put her at ease.

"Do you want to see it?"

She didn't answer.

"It's OK. We don't have to do anything. Some girls just want to look at it."

Sandra nodded. However, the gesture left matters ambiguous. It may have been a nod of understanding as in, "Yes, I appreciate that you have no expectations of sex." But it may also have meant, "Yes, I would like to see it."

"I'll show my junk to you on one condition," he continued. "You'll need to take it out." Lance liked making a girl work a little for his cock. Playing hard-to-get could be fun. Sandra needed a moment to process his statement. Wasn't the guy supposed to be the aggressor?

"Lie down," she told him finally. Lance complied. He lay back on a stack of pillows at the head of the makeshift bed. Lance smelled freshly laundered sheets. It almost felt cozy. Sandra crawled over to him. The pillows elevated his view so he could watch her. Sandra wasted no time. She nimbly undid the front of his jeans.