Leasa's Big Hoorah!

NOTE: This fantasy, an exponential exaggeration of a true story from my youth, has dominated my thoughts ever since I came in contact with LeasaJ, the sexiest woman on earth.

“Curse that damned phone. Who the fuck would be calling me at midnight? I need my rest. People don’t care that I have a business to run every morning.”

I still was grumbling to myself when I picked up the receiver.

“Hello,” I growled, cranky that I had been wakened from my slumber.

“Sorry to wake you, Mr. McCallister,” said the girlish voice on the other end.

“Leasa?!”

“Dammit,” I thought to myself.

“My parents are away for a couple of days. He’s working. She’s at my Aunt Liz’s,” Leasa said in a rush.

We both were silent. We both knew what was next.

“Can I come over?” she said. It was more like a plea.

“Look Leasa, stop calling me like I’m your boyfriend or something. I’m not. I fucked you. It never should have happened. But it did, and it’s over now,” I said.

As I spoke, I stood in my boxers facing my full-length mirror across from my empty bed scratching the top of my head. I was proud of the physique in my reflection, hardly any paunch and lots of muscle. If it wasn’t for the gray hair, my out-of-date Jheri curl might have looked good, too.

I had to remember to get the barbershop Saturday to get it shorn. Getting rid of this horny teen might be a more difficult task.

I was thinking that she wasn’t that bad a kid. These days, 1988, society might even be a bit tolerant of a 44-year-old man boinking a girl a month older than my 18-year-old son. I didn’t like the appearance though, a black, middle-aged divorcee from the ‘hood preying on a girl from the other end of the rainbow, the place where the gold is kept.

I thought I heard a sniffle on her end of the line. Maybe I could let her down gently.

“Leasa, stop crying now. It won’t get you anywhere,” I said sternly. “I know I took advantage of you, but you’ve got to get over it, girl,” I added matter-of-factly, trying to sound parental. It was asinine to think I could now be authoritative with a teen-aged taboo temptress I had met only after fucking her in a crowded stadium just a week earlier.

I should’ve known better. I knew she would be addicted to my big, fat dick.

“Please Mr. McCallister. I won’t stay. I just need someone to talk to,” she persisted. “Please?”

“Leasa, you’ve got to stop calling me. I’m older than your father, you know,” I said. I didn’t convince myself. I knew I wasn’t dissuading her.

“I told you I’d let you know if and when I’d wanna fuck you again,” I said, trying to sound indignant. If only my 9 ½-inch dick didn’t so easily get hard all the time.

I first saw her when I went to see my son play his last high school football game. He was quite a player on a championship bound squad, a lot like his old man was more than 25 years earlier. The community came out in droves to see the Trojans play, then and now.

Like last week, when the rich little white kids from Central came in for the season finale.

There I was, wearing a light trench coat to ward off the predicted Seattle rain that never came on this warm afternoon, and bored to death because the Trojans already were up by four touchdowns and it wasn’t even halftime.

I was distracted by my surroundings, and I found myself ogling Central’s young cheerleaders with their hard bodies and skimpy outfits. I was immune to any guilt as long as I kept my thoughts to myself, as long as my pants didn’t start to swell.

When I first saw her, she was doing cartwheels along the sideline. Her slender, athletic frame was counterbalanced by a disproportionately large set of tits squeezed into her midriff top. Among her team, hers were the only excited nipples that were apparent. Except for the long, thickly braided blonde truss down her back, Leasa looked like a woman among girls, like so many other MTV video diva wanna-bees that year.

She ended her tumbles with a split that left her tiny skirt flipped above her butt, exposing the bright white cheer pants that had bunched near her crack. It left one side of her small but plump ass exposed to the throng of more than 10,000 who had come to the game.

Leasa’s kind didn’t make it to this side of town too often.

I was so involved in my thoughts that I’d forgotten about my routine at these events. Usually I would have headed for the refreshment stand by now, before the halftime horn, to beat the rush. As I looked around, hundreds of people already were headed for the restrooms and food at the four undermanned stations near the corners of the field.

The intermission came just in time to keep me from getting a hard one where I stood. I made my ritualistic migration toward the concession stand like the rest of the sheep.

I could see as I approached that the hungry pack already was informally arranged in six or seven lines, jammed about 10 deep, elbow-to-hip, trying to get served by about three clerks. Experience told me that the wait would be about 20 minutes. I was accustomed to that. It was worth it for the best burgers sold at any high school stadium in the region.

I hardly paid any attention to the two gabby cheerleaders who converged on the spot I had chosen. Though I got there an instant before them, the taller of the two, focused on her conversation with her friend, roughly brushed into me with her proud breasts leading the way.

I politely gave way and was smiling down at them as the taller girl’s scowling face glared up at me. Her eyes were burning with anger. Her cheeks were flushed, her teeth clenched like a grill.

“Watch what you’re doing, mister,” she snapped. She slung her head around, her ponytail whipping my chest.

She didn’t acknowledge that I already was stepping aside as I said, “You two go ahead.”

Her friend blinked and smiled, and she turned back to the taller sassy one’s story, something about their upcoming graduations and college plans.

I was no longer thinking about her rude reaction as a sudden rush of late comers crunched us all even closer together. Just below my nose was the top of the now familiar blonde head. That meant she was about 5-foot-7. It was closed quarters and she instinctively jabbed me with an elbow in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure from behind.

If I could have moved I would have. When she pushed back with her butt a second later I had no control over my dick’s reaction. It started to thicken in my boxer shorts. As it became erect it left an impression pointing to my right hip pocket.

I stuffed my hand into my coat pocket to adjust my stiffness upwards where it might be less noticeable. I loosened my belt a couple of notches and let the head slip under the rim of my sweatshirt. With a gap of only inches between my boner and her butt, my rod now was snug against my abdomen, but sniffing out some possible action.

The lines inched forward. There couldn’t have been more than a dozen customers ahead of us, as far as I could tell from our squiggly line formation. That gave me plenty of time to carry out the plan formulating in my lust driven head as I sought out contact with those tight cheerleader buns.

It would serve her aloof, ungrateful ass right to get dry-humped for a few minutes by a horny old, well hung black dude before she returned to her twirling and tumbling on the sidelines.

Now she was sandwiched between the fat lady in front of her and the full front of my body. She twisted her shoulder into my chest trying to stake out some room. But we both were surrounded and could not move.

“Do you mind?” she said out of the side of her mouth.

I could have held my ground and used my nearly 6-foot, 200-pound body to shield the two cheerleaders from the crowd crush. I might have done so had she not been so disrespectful.

“Excuse me. How old are you, missy?” I said, touching her arm.

Her attitude changed a bit, but she was determined to remain defiant.

“I’m 18, as if it’s any business of yours,” she said, snatching her shoulder away.

“You need to learn some respect for your elders little girl,” I said, more determined now than ever to teach her a quick lesson.

I felt her buns pushing into my groin. I was smiling to myself as I pushed into her with equal force this time. It took several seconds of our give-and take contact before I felt her suddenly freeze in her place.

She felt it, the large, and long lump seated between her cheeks, and she tried to turn her hips away. With little room and my free hand on her hip she kind of shifted from side to side. She realized far too late that her movement only added to the friction against whatever she thought was wedging her skirt and panties into her crack. Again, her motion instantly stopped.

I picked up where she left off. It was a clear signal to her that it was precisely what she feared. I began slowly and rhythmically jamming the underside of my johnson, still in my pants, along her crease.

Leasa’s head turned to glance at her friend, perhaps to see whether she noticed the near rape in progress. Her friend was fighting a battle of her own maintaining space. The shorter girl’s discomfort was harmless and bearable, like most of the rest of us in line.

I decided to make my intentions unmistakable. From inside my trench coat, I adjusted my boner to point to the front as much as my loose Dockers would allow. If not for my pants, her skirt and panties, my dick head would have forced its way into her ass hole.

She jerked her hips forward, bouncing off the fat girl in front her and back into me. I gave her ass an exaggerated slow grind. Again, she looked side to side. Her eyes were bugging with fear. Her face registered anger. Her lips slightly parted.

I knew she couldn’t afford to make any accusations because I had not done anything, not yet, anyway. And to cause such a stir in hostile territory would be a dangerous thing for her. Maybe she knew that and resigned herself to her fate.

I felt a hand snaking up the front of my thigh, the back of her legs. I could tell that the hand was hers by the way her shoulder contorted. The hand dislodged me from her, softly pushing me away. But my response was to push forward until her fingers closed over my pants and the end of my dick.

If her eyes could speak, they would have screamed, “Oh shit!” That was her expression as she learned, first-hand, something about what she was up against.

I tried to hump into her hand. In a defensive move, her long fingers gently squeezed my bulbous head and held it. Her intent may have been to obstruct my grinding, but I had pumped her hand a half dozen quick strokes before she realized she was jacking me off. Then she jerked her hand away.

That moment, along with the notion of getting away with something like this so publicly, had my balls tightening. With such a high probability that I could cum under these circumstances, I decided to loose the monster. From the slit inside my trench coat pocket, I reached through to my pants and unzipped my fly.

I had to give Leasa a little room while I pulled it out like a tree limb. I pushed downward as I freed myself just as the crowd behind be pushed forward again. She took a half step forward. Mine was a whole step putting me against her again.

My hand released my dick at the same time and it sprang upwards with the head now neatly tucked in the gap at the tops of her thighs under her ass and under her short skirt.

My coat was flapped open and draped at her hips, shielding our junction from both sides. Her skirt covered us from the top.

I stooped just a little, making the angle of my rail more horizontal as I forced the head between her flexing, trembling thighs. If she stayed that way I surely would fuck that warm flesh until I came. She seemed to recognize her dilemma and relaxed her legs momentarily.

That allowed me to push farther forward and she enclosed me again. I was captured with the head of my dick against her panty covered pussy lips. She alternately squeezed and relaxed her thighs as I eased back and forth about an inch at a time, about 20 strokes a minute.

Any pretense on either of our parts now was beyond consideration. The only thing that stopped us from fucking was the thin material of her panties. And they were beginning to get damp, either from perspiration or her getting turned on, against the topside of my dick.

The longer my movement droned on, the more she moistened and relaxed, holding her ground to keep me in position. Now it was I who faced a crossroads, whether to do it or get out of the line. The quick decision was to pull out and zip up. However, before I could act, I felt her fingers under the front of her skirt drumming on my head.

We both were surreptitiously glancing around for prying eyes. There were none.

I reached through my coat and under her skirt to rub one side of her smooth ass. I put my other hand in my pocket and did the same thing on the other side.

We were about two customers away from the front of the line. I thought we’d have to quit before either of us got any satisfaction. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than two young black boys bumped Leasa from the side.

Her reaction was the opposite of how she handled our initial collision.

This time, she gave a half smile, pressed back into me and allowed the two boys to step between her and the fat lady. All the while, she gently gripped the head of my cock. Her thumb was rotating on my pee hole now lubricated with my own secretions while her other hand was used as cover. It looked as though her hands were folded in front of her.

I made my next, all-or-nothing move without thinking. I stretched her panties to the side and felt my dick against her hot, wet pussy lips. With no hair there, my hardness was sliding freely along her gash.

I slipped a finger inside her and she jumped, a near silent gasp escaped her mouth.

I slipped a second finger in and fucked her with my hand for about a minute. She was dripping wet with my digits inserted nearly to the knuckles. Then I felt a small spasm as twitches, indiscernible to anyone who wasn’t inside her, gripped every muscle in her body. My hand was becoming drenched with her fluids.

I pulled back a bit and spread her juice over my tip and placed at her tight entrance. I felt her brace herself, signifying that she was cooperating.

I pushed, but I made no headway. I pushed again and felt the crowd behind me give more impetus. I thought I felt hands on my ass. Looking over my shoulder, my eyes met those of the seductively smiling face of the other cheerleader. At least one other person knew what was going on at that overcrowded concession stand.

To this point, we had been in line about 10 minutes of what turned out to be intense foreplay, bringing me to a boiling point and I wasn’t even inside her, yet.

The push from behind helped get my head into the tunnel. I literally lost my breath as her heat overcame me. My rod throbbed in synchronization with her clutching pussy walls as I inched deeper and deeper.

Because of our respective positions and the snugness of her tender cunt, I could get only about six inches inside of her. She was the one who began to move.

We were at the metal counter now with no one in front of us. She was leaning on the counter with her hands, languidly humping back onto my now slick peter. She looked back at me, biting her bottom lip as her eyes slowly closed to slits.

She was coming, allowing her pussy to freely slide and saw along my cock. Behind me, those little fingers continued to knead my ass, egging me on.

My burst came by surprise and a grunt escaped my lips before I could stop it. My cum burst from me like bullets. My tube swelled with each gush. And her back arched. The only way to disguise my convulsions was to hold onto her hips and stand as still as I could manage.

Her gyrations became slower and smoother as her orgasm subsided. I was still as hard as a ham bone and her pussy nibbled on it like a satisfied bitch. Her hand came back to where our organs locked. She gingerly touched the remaining inches of my shaft, and then wrapped her tiny fingers around it.

She swept her head around and looked up at me in awe.

“That’s not …” She snapped her head to the other side and quickly scanned the disinterested crowd. Turning her head again and speaking softer, she said, “I thought I took all of it.”

She stroked me a few times, easing herself off me and, still with her back to me, sliding her hand along my stem, gathering some of our juices.

“Can I help you,” the pimply kid behind the counter said, smirking. He was addressing Leasa. She didn’t hear him, so I spoke.

“I’ll take a burger,” I said with a polite smile. “And a hot sausage… Make that two sausages and three cokes,” I added, glancing behind me.

While the kid busied himself, I took Leasa’s hand off my dick and put it away, all under the cover of my coat.

Leasa turned around to face me. As she stepped aside, she reached between her legs and scooped dribbles of cum off her leg.

“Thanks, mister,” she said, grinning as she licked and sucked her fingers. I wasn’t sure which sausage she was more thankful for.

“Don’t mention it,” I said. I paid for our food and gave the kid a tip.

I handed the girls their sandwiches and drinks and we walked back towards the spectators’ area with some of the rest of the crowd.

“I’m Leasa,” she said. As we walked, she began stuffing the sandwich – bun, dressing and all – about three inches into her mouth. Without taking a bite, she removed it from her lips and smiled teasingly at me.

“Thanks for the sausages, uh …”

“McCallister, Jim McCallister,” I offered.

“Well, the sausage is delicious,” she said, licking the sauces across the top of her link. “I might have to get some more.”

She was sucking on the end of the sausage now, and my dick was agreeing with her, having lost hardly any stiffness at all.

“I don’t know if you can handle much more, sweet cheeks.” I was smug. “You seem kinda full already. I’ll let you know when you can have seconds, young lady.”

It slipped out like an unintentional challenge. It turned into my next big mistake that day.

“Hmmm, McCallister,” she said to herself, about to make the connection. “Oh, yeah! McCallister! You run that little cigar shop across from where the Sonics play.”

She looked proud of herself, and rightfully so. I thought she would realize that it was my son was running all over her team. She knew more about me than I figured on.

“That’s right,” I said, not showing my worried hand. “You know the place?”

“Of course, silly. We met there a while back when I was touring the building with my daddy,” she said. “His company owns that whole block.”

The meeting was reminiscent, although her school uniform that day didn’t translate in my mind into the hottie I had just fucked.

By now I had reached the front row of the bleachers, but that’s not why I stopped walking. My immediate strategy was that I might have to just fuck her into submission, because she had the look of a woman itching for more.

“See ya ‘round,” she said, smiling at me as she tossed her sandwich into a nearby garbage can.

“I’m April,” the other cheerleader mumbled as she departed. “Dank oo,” she said, her mouth full of the last bite of her sandwich.

Now she’s on the phone in the middle of the night wanting that second helping.

“Alright, you can come over, but just for a little while,” I relented. I’ll leave the garage open around back.” I decided I’d give her what she asked for, which likely would be more than her nubile ass could handle. I’d take her last bit of innocence, that virgin corn hole. By the time I got done reaming her out, she’d need the entire carpet from the floor of the Astrodome to wipe her ass the next time she took a shit.