"Do you have your old uniform?" I asked. I did my best to make it sound like an idle question, rather than something I'd been building up to for a while.
Krissy and I were in her bedroom. Weirdly for us, we were still clothed. I was lying back in her pink bed, surrounded by stuffies, and staring up at the ceiling. Krissy lazed across from me in the other direction, her adorable, lime-green-nailed feet up on the pillow by my head.
It had been a strange day already. I'd spent a distracted morning at work, my brain so focused on the night before that I could barely pay attention to what I was doing. Obsessing over what my parents had said (Jewish guilt is a thing, donchaknow). Then I'd raced home to intercept Krissy at the front door of my house.
My parents hadn't forbidden me from having her over. They hadn't explicitly mentioned anything about Krissy at all. Frankly, I was 20 years old, there wasn't much they could forbid, anyway.
And even if they had expressly said I couldn't have Krissy over, they were both at work all day. The only way they'd know was if my sister, Jessica, told them. And I knew that wasn't a concern. Jessica wasn't the tattling type. There was nothing to stop me from staying on the same track as before and railing my girlfriend in my bedroom.
But something (the aforementioned Jewish guilt, probably) kept me from doing it. Whether I was actually breaking a rule or not, it seemed like a bad idea to have Krissy over the very next day. So, I told Krissy that my house was going to be out of bounds. At least for a little bit. I kept things simple and told her I was having problems with my parents. That was a thing she understood quite easily.
But it left us with a dilemma. If I'd learned anything from the day before, it was that the backseat of my sedan was not a viable solution. I knew Krissy wasn't going to do it in a park or a movie theater. And we weren't going to stop having sex -- don't be ridiculous.
That left us with one option, returning to the scene of our original sin: Krissy's house. Admittedly, this was like jumping out of the thornbush to land in the poison ivy, but, in the moment, it felt like the best choice.
We'd tiptoed through Krissy's front door. Distant, we heard the screams of a vacuum strangling itself on the carpet. Her mom was nowhere to be seen. So, we raced up the stairs to Krissy's room. We closed the door behind us, one last transgression, and settled onto the bed. But though we'd escaped to sanctuary (sort of) it still felt dangerous to simply get down to it.
So, we lazed around, fully clothed, and had awkward conversations. That led to my eyes wandering around the pink bedroom, past the Care Bears and the NKOTB poster. To where Krissy's closet was cracked slightly open. And the thought bloomed in my brain.
Did Krissy still have her uniform?
"You know your cheerleading outfit," I said, "Do you have it?
It had been a bit of a trick question. I was pretty positive I saw it in there -- the green-and-gold striped skirt and sleeveless top was stuffed next to a frilly, pink prom dress and a bunch of other random, dusty outfits.
Krissy cocked her eyebrow at me. I smiled back at her.
"It's probably in there somewhere," she said, dismissively. The fact that she was confused, rather than concerned, was cute. And telling.
"You maybe want to try it on?" I asked.
"What for?" Krissy asked.
"You know what for," I said, waggling my eyebrows.
Finally, Krissy understood. Her eyes narrowed.
Boys
. Somehow, I could always tell when she was thinking it. I knew further thoughts were building, as well. Excuses. Rationalizations. But Krissy was a realist, thankfully, and she wasn't going to deny her own urges. It was something I'd learned to rely on. She'd suffer through quite a bit if it meant she'd reach her own ends. It was kind of admirable, if you think about it.
"Turn around so I can get changed," Krissy said.
I almost argued with her, but I let it go. If that's how Krissy made peace with this, I was more than willing to sign the treaty. But I did set one stipulation.
"No underwear," I said.
"Duh," Krissy retorted. I didn't need to look to know she was sticking her sexy tongue out at me.
I lay back, eyes closed. I heard the rustling of clothing. Krissy's cute little grunts as she stuffed herself back into her high school outfit. A moment later, she let out a deep sigh.
"OK," Krissy said.
I blinked my eyes open. I'm not sure what I was expecting. A cute girl in a cheerleading uniform, obviously. But this was so much more than that.
Yes, the colors weren't flattering for Krissy (she'd have done better if our school colors were ruby instead of emerald). And the material of the costume was heavy and stiff, more the sort of thing they were sewing in the 1950s.
But honestly? Who fucking cared. Because standing in front of me was an absolutely gorgeous, buxom blonde cheerleader who was down to fuck. It was every heterosexual high school boy's dream come true. When Krissy saw my jaw drop, I think that made it all worthwhile for her.
She grinned shyly, straightening her arms and twisting her shoulders in a way that was meant to be modest but only amped up her sexual energy.
"Does it look OK?" Krissy asked, already well aware of the answer. "It still fits, right?"
Fuck me
.
Krissy must have taken that as a command because she climbed onto the bed and shoved my pants to my knees. Ordinarily, we went right to the good stuff. But this time, Krissy must have been feeling the energy of it because she lowered her head and took my impossibly stiff member into her mouth.
Oh my God it was beyond perfect. Seeing her in that uniform, her innocent mouth contorted around my cock. Golden hair tucked behind her ear. Blue eyes big and supplicant, staring upwards.
It'd been a long time since I had such a hair trigger. Krissy's lips had barely slid up and down my shaft and already I hit my endpoint. The cute blonde coughed and sputtered as I sent my seed. Seeing the white fluid drip onto that pristine uniform only added to the picture.
"Sorry," I said, "Came so quick. Couldn't warn you."
Krissy, however, was smiling. Her cheeks pink. I think she realized the power she had over me in that costume. I know she enjoyed it.
"That's OK," Krissy said, licking my spend from her lips. She gulped, audibly. "I liked it. It was hot."
She looked down at my dick, slowly retreating against my thigh. She made a little pouty face.
"Don't worry, I can get him back," I said. And I knew just the way, too.
I quickly flipped Krissy over. She was so surprised, she cried out. But before she could react further I shot my hand under her pleated skirt and began stroking. My fingers in that most private place solved both my problems. Krissy stiffened as I stroked her, and my own dick began to bounce back, as well.
"Jacob," Krissy said my name like a little prayer. A wish for something more. And, fortunately, I was able to give it to her.
I teased my revitalized hardness at her entrance. Then I realized I wanted something different.
"Turn over," I told her.
Krissy nodded, compliant. I lay on my back and gestured for Krissy to climb aboard. She slipped my hard dick under that skirt (my GOD) and lowered herself down. Her face that intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain.
"Fuck that's big," she said. I figured she'd get used to it by now. But I still hadn't gotten over her saying it, so why should I expect any different?
Krissy began to slowly inch herself up and down on my dick. Her mouth quirked.
"Should I be, like, doing a cheer or something?" she asked. I could tell the whole setup had her feeling awkward again.
"I'm OK without," I said..
Krissy redoubled her efforts on me. She lost her sense of herself, finally, and began humping with abandon. Her thin thighs slapping against mine.
