DISCLAIMER - All people and events described in this story are fictional, and any similarity to real people living or dead is entirely coincidental. Any characters involved in sexual situations and voyeurism are 18-years-old and over. I intend to write most of my stories in the past, and this one takes place in 1993. I hope you enjoy it.
*****
STEVE COLLINS and his friend Paul Tyler were among the many senior students who were grateful to escape from Chemistry when Monday's classes ended on a sunny April afternoon.
Steve had only attended this high school during his senior year, with his family moving from Illinois to Missouri during the summer, but while he was initially nervous about the change, it had gone far better than he could have imagined.
For all of his 18-years, Steve had longed to be good at sports. Unfortunately, his lanky frame had never allowed this wish. Steve could run until he was utterly worn out, and he would not make the athletics team. He could swim until he clung to the side of the pool, gasping for breath and his name would appear on the cut list for swim team. He could train for football until he was on the point of unconsciousness, run the length of the basketball court dribbling the ball perfectly or hit and throw a baseball, but still his best wasn't good enough.
This had been a major problem at his old school, where athletes and cheerleaders were considered aristocracy and those without sporting talent peasants. However, at this school the teachers were encouraging of all students in sports, and when a coach had seen Steve shyly observing the football team train, and invited him to join in some of the training, and help out during games. Now Steve was much fitter, and had made friends with some of the players who appreciated the effort he put in. Only one thing was missing, and that was a girlfriend, but with the class of 1993 to graduate in just two months, this appeared unlikely.
Paul, a handsome, blonde athletic young man had become a good friend of Steve, as had Will, a talented, good-natured young African-American man, and Robbie, a six-foot-six red-haired football star.
Robbie and Will approached Steve and Paul on their way out of school.
"I was nearly asleep by the end of that class," said Will.
"Me too," said Robbie. "I had to pinch myself to stay awake."
"It doesn't end there," said Steve. "Remember, we still have the group assignment to finish."
"Oh yeah," said Paul. "Are Wednesday and Thursday nights still okay? We can go to the library in town."
"Why not your place like we arranged?" asked Will. "Your parents are still out of town for two weeks, right? You have the house to yourself, you lucky dog."
"Yes, they flew out to New York today," said Paul, "but ..."
The sound of a car horn made the four guys jump, and they turned around to see a small blue car approaching. "Oh no," said Paul under his breath, when the car came to a halt, and a pretty, young blonde woman leaned out of the car window.
"Hey Paul you loser, get your ass in the car," called the blonde. She got out of the car and stood with the driver's door ajar.
"That's my older sister Stacy, she's come home from college to stay for two weeks while Mom and Dad are away," Paul explained to Steve.
Steve nodded silently, unable to keep his eyes from Stacy. A tall, slim girl, with long, blonde, fringed hair, she definitely had the classic Midwestern look. She wore a white tee-shirt which accentuated around her large, D-cup breasts, with a short denim skirt and a matching sleeveless denim jacket. Her feet were clad in pristine white sneakers and white ankle socks. Steve had to fight hard to prevent himself from staring, while all the while thinking "Wow!"
Paul had spoken about his sister Stacy, who at 21 was three years older than her brother, mainly in unfavorable terms. Steve had visited Paul's house quite a few times, and had seen family photographs that Mr. & Mrs. Tyler had put up, such as Paul and Stacy at various ages when they were kids, but never close-up, and it seemed rude to just wander over and look at them without invitation.
"Paul, I have to spend hours on the road commuting to class rather than a five minute walk from the dorms thanks to babysitting you," called Stacy, her voice loud enough for other students to hear and look over, and achieving her aim of embarrassing her brother. "Now get in the car!"
"Well, I'd better go before she has a real bitch fit," said Paul, reluctantly walking over to his sister's car.
"Hey Paul, whose your friend? I haven't seen him before? He's cute." Stacy pointed at Steve.
"This is Steve Collins. He moved here last summer," said Paul.
"Well, nice to meet you Steve," called Stacy. "Don't let my little brother let his bad habits rub off on you."
"Hi." Steve managed to stammer to monosyllabic answer, and smile shyly. Paul got into his sister's car and Stacy drove away.
For the rest of the afternoon and evening, Steve couldn't get the image of Stacy out of his mind. The thoughts multiplied many times when he climbed into bed; Stacy in the clothes she was wearing today, Stacy in a bra and panties, Stacy in a bikini, Stacy topless, Stacy completely naked. He fantasized about her naked young breasts and firm buttocks, her long legs and her bare feet and whether the hair that covered her pubic mound would be blonde like that on her head. Under the blankets, Steve could feel himself getting harder and harder, and knew he would get no sleep in this condition, and pulled down his boxers.
Taking his penis, stiffer and straighter than the Washington monument, in his left hand, Steve began to rub himself back and forth. He knew his parents and younger sister were asleep down the hall, so he had to be quiet. Waves of excitement ran through his body, and with his right hand he stroked his balls to double the pleasure. He imagined his hand was Stacy's hand, then her mouth and finally, her soft, moist vagina.
In just five minutes, Steve felt his orgasm approaching, and his cock exploded, producing enough sticky white fluid to impregnate ten women at a fertility clinic. Taking a tissue, Steve cleaned himself, then rolled over and fell asleep in under a minute. Predictably, Stacy entered his dreams many times that night, and when morning arrived, Steve's REM sleep was interrupted right when he was licking the area between Stacy's vulva and anus. His bedclothes resembled a tent, and he had to think about sad movies, his fat, 65-year-old English teacher and chemistry for 15 minutes before his latest erection finally subsided.
******
On Tuesday evenings, Steve worked a shift at the local grocery store, and tonight he was hard at work re-stocking the sodas.
"Hey Steve," came Paul's voice behind him, and he turned around to see his friend approaching, carrying a tube of toothpaste, a bottle of mouthwash and some shampoo.
"Hey Paul, how's it going," said Steve. He put some cans on the top shelf.
"I can't complain, but then Stacy never listens anyway," said Paul. He looked up the aisle and saw his sister turning the corner, today wearing tight jeans and a purple shirt, with sandals. Her bra strap was visible on her right shoulder. "Speak of the devil," he complained.
"Hi it's Steve, isn't it?" confirmed Stacy. "You look good in your store uniform." She turned to her brother, and looked at the items in his hand. "Paul, where are the sanitary pads I asked you to get for me?" she asked, her voice carrying through the small supermarket.
Paul went the color of a cooked lobster, and Steve looked at the floor, catching a glimpse of Stacy's toes as he did so.
"Um Stacy, maybe you should get those some other time," said Paul. "It's not as though you need them now."
