The Book Of David Ch 01

WARNING: The complete story is LONG. I've written some long ones, but this one is much, much longer...

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-- PROLOGUE --

***

She was gorgeous. Her black hair was straight and smooth and hung like a silk curtain over her shoulders. Her face was a work of art, with high cheekbones and luminous eyes. Her light skin was soft and unblemished. Even her name was uniquely gorgeous... "Cherys" (pronounced Sheh-REESE, her parents were hippies or something).

She was nineteen, in the full flower of youth with her best years still ahead of her. And despite her young age, I couldn't help but think of her already as a woman. She had full curves perched around the tightness only a teenager possesses. Hers was a body that would be the envy of any model in the nude magazines my best friend swiped from his dad. I imagine that her body was the perfection that Adam first witnessed when God created Eve.

Her tits were so big, so round, and so indescribably magnetic. Her ass was buoyant and tight as a drum. Her irises flickered and changed color depending on the light, from green to blue to violet, each hue more beautiful than the last. Even her hands were delicate and utterly lovely. I was so in love.

Too bad she was taken... by my sister.

Yes, I did say 'sister'.

Oh, what cruel fate that such a creature of perfection should be forever beyond my reach, in more ways than one? Cherys was held before me as the embodiment of absolute temptation, and yet I had no hope. To be dating a family member automatically made her off-limits according to The Code. The fact that she was a lesbian dashed any ideas of attempting to steal her, even if I wanted to break The Code.

If that wasn't bad enough, Cherys practically lived at our house. Her parents, while tendering reluctant acceptance of her sexual orientation, didn't want to see it personally in their home. So my sister and Cherys spent all their "together" time at our place. Thus, I frequently saw Cherys in various states of undress up and down the halls. And to make matters worse (for my hormones) I was forced to listen to her having sex with my sister through the thin wall between our bedrooms.

I was an eighteen-year-old boy, and suffice to say that Cherys was the star of many of my fantasies.

Just don't tell my girlfriend that.

Oh yeah, did I mention I had a girlfriend?

Ours was the storybook High School romance. We'd met the first week of our freshman year, getting funneled in from different Middle Schools. I went out for the football team. Monica auditioned to be a cheerleader. Various team hazing rituals brought us together more than once and after several group dates I asked her to go steady with me. She'd been pursued by a Varsity upperclassman but chose me instead. Now, a few years later, I'm the Varsity jock and Monica is the head cheerleader.

No, I'm a wide receiver, not the quarterback. We're not THAT cliché.

But anyways, as far as the student body was concerned, Monica and I were the model couple. We'd been together for years, we looked good together, and we were both in rather popular social circles. We had the perfect relationship, at least as far as the student body knew.

As far as I knew? Well, I was DYING to get laid.

You see, Monica had this mixed-up idea of saving herself for marriage. She was upfront about it from the beginning and I'd agreed not to push her. When you're a freshman trying to win a cute redhead from an upperclassman jerk, you'll agree to anything. Years later, that agreement was the invisible crack in our relationship just waiting for a chance to become the next great earthquake.

I mean, come on! Monica was built for sex. She was a curvaceous, gorgeous redhead with tits too big for her slender frame. Only 5'4", her compact body exuded power and energy best directed into the wildest, sexual, rabbit-fucking frenzy imaginable. Coupled with her social butterfly personality, she was the perfect cheerleader.

And she was mine.

But she wouldn't have sex with me.

To be fair, we did just about everything else: handjobs, oral sex, titfucks. Monica was as hot and horny as I was. After every single ballgame, she would get so revved up from hundreds of men ogling her in her tight cheerleader uniform that she would practically assault me to get into a sixty-nine in the backseat of my car.

Quite often she would simply open up my fly and devour my dick while I was driving her home from a date. There was something so unimaginably sexy about her plump, red lips wrapped around my shaft as her head went up and down, racing to get me to blow into the back of her throat before I got her home.

For the most part, it was enough. I mean, it's hard to complain when I've got Monica's firm, young, titflesh wrapped around my deflating pecker while streaks of hot jism slowly cool on her pretty face.

But vaginal penetration was off-limits. Hell, I'd take anal instead if she would offer it. In retrospect, maybe it wasn't fair. After all, I really think I loved her in every other way, at least as well as a teenaged boy is capable of love. But a teenaged boy is a teenaged boy, and the constant knowledge of the one thing I couldn't have was a black cancer eating away at my love for her.

Still, I couldn't cheat on her. For all the hormones coursing through my veins, I knew cheating would be wrong and I wouldn't do it. I was able to remain steadfast in this idea, despite the offers from other beautiful classmates. I stood 6'1", was considered handsome, and I was a popular starter on the football team. More than one pretty girl promised she could keep an affair secret from my girlfriend, and more than once I was sorely tempted.

But I didn't. I gave myself a mental out: the only woman I could EVER cheat on Monica with was Cherys. She was the only woman worth it. And since Cherys would never sleep with me (or any male) in a million years, I was off the hook. Besides, she and my sister had graduated and gone off to college. Out of sight, away from temptation. It was my perfect mental solution, satisfying my lustful, animal desires as well as my sense of loyalty.

Only one person knew the emotional struggles I was going through, my best friend Nate. He sat on the floor next to me in kindergarten and his football locker was next to mine today. He was the quarterback of our league-leading team and I was his top receiver. There were no secrets between us.

Zero secrets. Not even that he had a bit of a crush on my girlfriend. That revelation came a few months back. We'd had a few beers and were tossing the cans into the river just to kill time on a lazy evening. I was in my usual bitch mode about still being the only popular jock virgin in the history of popular jocks and he was dutifully sympathetic and feeling sorry for me. He had to be, given that he'd bagged three of the prettiest girls in school by now.

"I really, really like her, man..." I mourned forlornly and then chugged the remainder of my beer and chucked the empty can in a high arc off the bridge. "But sometimes I think she's a cocktease who isn't really worth it. I mean, she's just a girl, right? There are plenty of fish in the sea, right?"

Nate's expression was unreadable for a few moments. Then he sipped at his beer can, a quietly deliberate movement for him. His eyes were downcast as he said softly, "No. Monica is more than that."

I was startled by the weight in his voice. I froze, halfway to popping the top of another can.

When he looked up, he was staring off into space, a layer of liquid in his eyes making them shimmer in the moonlight. "You don't know how good you've got it, man. Monica is perfect. You don't fuck this up."

"Wait... What?"

He turned to me, his lips pressed tightly together and he actually snarled, "You make her happy or I will." With that, he finished his beer and tossed it backhand over the railing. He was already circling around to the driver's seat of his car.

I skipped opening the last can and instead just climbed into the passenger seat. Neither of us spoke about it again. He dropped me off at home and the next day my relationship with my girlfriend radically changed... for the better.

The 'no pressure' approach seemed to work wonders. I thought long and hard about how happy Monica made me and how lucky I was to have her. Whether subconsciously or not, I'd been mentally pressuring her into having sex almost every time I saw her. And once I stopped, our relationship seemed to just get so much easier. And when the tension was gone, you'd be surprised how much progress we made.

First, Monica talked about having to be sure she was with "the one". And so her vow to remain a virgin until marriage became a vow until she got engaged. I was almost ready to propose on the spot.

Three weeks later, after a particularly intense climax (her fifth, while I remained eating her out until my lips had been rubbed raw), Monica declared we would have sex on Prom night.

I couldn't wait.

No, really... I couldn't wait.

***

-- CHAPTER 1: Teenage Fidelity --

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FIRST SEMESTER, SENIOR YEAR (September 1997)

"David? Is that you?"

"Yeah, mom," I answered in a flat monotone. Inside, I was jumping up and down for joy. What? You think I'd let my mom know how I really felt inside? C'mon, I'm still a teenager.

Without another word, I passed through the kitchen and continued to the stairs. My mother had long stopped trying to ask me about my day. But this day? With a little more effort, she might have actually gotten me to crack some emotion.

It was the very Thursday night that Monica had told me she would have sex with me on Prom night. I was totally on Cloud 9 and almost whistling to myself as I imagined what positions we would try and in what order I would remove Monica's prom dress and lingerie. I practically floated up to my bedroom.

"What's got you in such a good mood?"

I froze in my tracks. The voice was sultry, smokily seductive and oh-so-perfect. It was a voice I had memorized in my mind, and I almost sprouted wood just from hearing it. My head alone rotated to the left before my eyes went wide.

Comfortably casual in her near-nudity, Cherys stood in the hallway wearing nothing but a white towel. Her still damp hair hung back and clung to her scalp, her trademark wry grin on her lips as she cocked her head to the side and looked at me. I couldn't help but notice how the cloth was tied-off between her breasts and barely extended low enough to cover her pussy.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen her like this, and it wouldn't be the last. I knew from past experience that the towel would not completely cover her ass, and if she turned around I would be treated to the smiley-face lower curves of each cheek.

"You got a tongue or you just going to stare at me?" There was a tease in her voice now.

I picked my jaw up off the floor and then realized my goofy grin had not gone away. Sheepishly, I stared at the floor and muttered an, "Aw, nothing."

I could feel my ears turning red. Only one woman could ever affect me this way, and she was standing right in front of me. I was a good-looking kid with a lot of confidence, and around school I strutted as if I owned the place. No high school 'girl' could ever break my poised demeanor. But one look and a teasing word from this goddess and I just melted. For some reason I felt like I was only four feet tall.

Cherys smiled knowingly and then strode across the hall and into my sister's bedroom.

I let out a long sigh and let my shoulders sag. Monica had swallowed my load only twenty minutes ago. But I was hard again and a fresh encounter with my dream girl was about to cause a sticky mess and require a new box of tissues.

I was just about to go into my bedroom when the bathroom door popped open again. Automatically, I paused to look and then out came Danielle, my sister. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have paid her any mind and just continued to my room to unwind and jerk off to my latest Cherys-fantasy.

But right now I was primed to blow, my body saturated with hormonal excitement, and the sight of another half-naked girl was enough to arrest my attention. Just two inches shorter than my 6'1", Danielle was a very pretty girl in her own right, a green-eyed dirty blonde with a wonderfully toned body. Her tits pushed out the towel just right and her willowy figure turned heads up and down the streets.

A part of my mind reared up and began flashing warning signs into the back of my brain: **She's your fucking SISTER! Look away! Look away! Danger! Danger!**

For the first 30 seconds or so, my eyes and my jaw refused to acknowledge the signals. I drank in every curve, hidden by the terrycloth and yet revealed with conscious knowledge that bare flesh lay along a parallel path only millimeters beneath the surface. I followed the traces of her long, bare legs upwards (and up... and up...) until they disappeared into that hateful fabric.

But then her voice cut in and the illusion of 'beautiful girl' was shattered in favor of the 'big sister' reality. "Hey!" Danielle reached out and snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Wake up!"

I came to my senses, but still stood there silently with a dazed expression on my face. A giggle floated across the hall from my sister's bedroom. Danielle turned and then sighed, "Cherys has been messing with you again, hasn't she?"

Like a robot, I nodded automatically.

With a wonderfully understanding and loving expression, she smiled and then reached up with one arm to wrap it around my shoulder and give me a quick hug. "Don't worry," she said quietly into my ear. "You'll get yours someday, little brother. Everything works out alright in the end."

It sounds trite and impossible, but I believed her. I always believed her. She was only a year older than me, but for most of our lives she felt more like a second mother. Most kids go through either a jealous or aggressive phase towards their younger siblings, often both. Danielle was never anything but a wonderful big sister. We had a relationship built on sibling trust, and I easily fell into our old family patterns.

Despite the close proximity of a barely-clothed female, I felt my arousal dimming as she hugged me comfortably. My erection softened and I wrapped her up in my arms. "Thanks, Dani."

"Mmm..." she just hummed, enjoying the loving feeling as she snuggled tighter into me. "You haven't hugged me in MONTHS. I forgot how nice this feels."

The 'months' comment percolated in my brain. I stepped back and held her at arms length. "Oh, hey! That's right, it's a Thursday! What are you guys doing here?" Danielle and Cherys were freshman at the in-state University that was a good hour-and-a-half drive away.

She shrugged. "It's a mid-term break. Yeah, I know, it's a random coupla days in the fall. The school has a strange schedule. But we were a little homesick and mom promised to make Lasagna. So we came back for the long weekend and don't have class again 'til Tuesday!"

Danielle gripped my forearms and sharpened her gaze on me. "Now you have to help me tonight. Mom's been dropping hints that she's going to resurrect the whole poor-me-I'll-never-have-grandchildren conversation."

I smirked. It was an annoying, if understandable fear of our mother's. She'd harped on it so much while we were growing up that Danielle was afraid to come out for a long time. I was the first person she'd told when she started dating Cherys, and I'm very proud of the trust she put in me. And now with Danielle out of the closet and me vocally waffling on whether or not I ever wanted to have kids, our mother was constantly badgering us about grandchildren. She accepted Danielle's lesbianism easily, but she wouldn't accept a lack of grandkids.

"Done," I answered confidently, happy to support my sister. "But then you've got to remind Cherys that if she ever tires of you and needs a good, strong man-"

"Hey!" she interrupted.

I laughed. "Just... try to keep it down tonight. Some people here might actually be trying to sleep."

Danielle laughed and agreed. But then sometime close to midnight, she and Cherys failed miserably at keeping quiet.

After ten minutes of listening to their moans, I realized I'd never get any sleep as long as my cock kept twitching. So grabbing a tissue, I closed my eyes and listened to the ecstatic sounds floating through the wall. My mind was filled with visions of Cherys in all her nude splendid glory, contorted into erotic positions that would make a Greek sculptor blush in embarrassment. Once I'd gotten my rocks off, slumber came with relative ease.

***

Game Night. There's nothing else quite like it: the brisk air, crackling with energy; the hum of a thousand local fans rattling the bleachers; the Friday night lights illuminating our stage. And the pinnacle of all game nights is Rivalry Night. We were on our home field, with our cross-town rivals ready to bash our teeth in. Whatever 'it' is, I could feel 'it' in the air.

"Hey there, hunk..." A perky, raven-haired Senior cheerleader was waiting by the curb as I pulled up. She was dressed like a dirty old man's wet dream: full cheer outfit with her hair in pigtails with blue and yellow colored ribbons, her makeup sparkling with sexy-innocent allure, and her top a little too tight and short enough to reveal a wide expanse of her flat belly with every movement. The white uniform with blue and yellow trim showed off her gorgeous body to perfection.

"Back off you little cocktease," Monica growled as she stepped out of the passenger seat of my car, careful to keep her own cheerleading uniform neat. The words were biting but the smile on Monica's face muted any heat. The two best friends did their little clapping and jumping and giggling thing together.

"I'll see you after the game," I called out through the open window, then put the car into gear.

"Don't forget to watch me, big boy!" The dark-haired girl turned away from me and gave a little wiggle of her short-skirted ass in my direction. I suppressed the shudder of arousal threatening to work its way down my spine. My world was full of temptations, and out of all the young pussy at school, this hot little vixen could possibly be THE worst one.

Clearly, the biggest crack in my monogamous loyalty was Cherys, the angel of my dreams. But she was unattainable and therefore extremely unlikely to actually cause any damage. Hell, Monica even had some idea that I lusted after my sister's girlfriend, but she didn't really fear Cherys.

So the second biggest threat to my loyalty was Cherys' hot vixen of a little sister, Elemis. Same iridescent eyes, same cheekbones, same sparkling personality. And to further tempt me, Elemis was built like a Russian tennis starlet. Her legs went on forever and she had a habit of wearing REALLY short skirts that just barely covered her butt cheeks. To top it all off, she looked just enough like her older sister to ruffle my feathers any time she wanted, which was pretty often. And she was the one shaking her tight ass at me right now.

As if in retaliation, my girlfriend actually reached out and spanked her best friend's ass... *hard*. "Ellie!" Monica scolded.

"Oww!" Now Ellie was hopping up and down, squeezing her asscheeks together with both hands clamped over the pained flesh. In her skimpy cheerleader outfit, the sight wasn't much better for reducing my erection.

"Stop flirting with my boyfriend!"

"Oh, I always flirt with your boyfriend," Ellie grinned at me, a carbon copy of Cherys' trademark grin. It was enough to make my knees buckle for a moment. What she'd said was true. She had been flirting with me forever. You'd think I would have gotten used to her after all these years. But I never did.

Still, I rarely lost my composure around Ellie the way I did around Cherys. And while Ellie teased me constantly, she never actually made a move on me. Good thing too, or Monica may have been forced to choose between her boyfriend and her best friend.