*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Disclaimers: Yes I need an editor. No, I do not want an editor. If that this fact bothers you that much, kindly quit reading now.
Yes, it jumps around too much, yes there's too many people to keep track of, yes it's too long, yes it's too short, yes it's in the wrong category, yes it is stupid shit, and yes, I am a horrible writer, barely legible, hardly literate.
For those of you that have not hit the backspace key, I hope you enjoy this little tale.
*.*.*.*.*
The bell rang and less than three minutes later, students spilled out of the doors into the late September heat. Ten minutes after the bell had rung, the three buses pulled away, bringing another school day to a close.
Tara Derkelager was nearly out of the school before she remembered, she had a report due on Tuesday. She doubled back and dashed to the library of Sacred Ascension High School.
The school was an all-girl Catholic school, located in Oakleaf, Texas. Their brother school was St. Peter and Paul Catholic High School, an all-boy Catholic High School also located in Oakleaf.
Inside of the library, Tara undid the rubber strap that cinched around her books, found her Social Studies book and flipped it open. She located the scrap of paper Ms. Davidson had scrawled her assignment onto, then walked over to the Dewey Decimal card files.
Sister Agnes frowned at the stragglers that loitered. They were in school from 8:15 until 3:15, all day long. And yet, it seemed, they always waited until the last possible moment to frantically search for this book or that.
"Three? Three references? Why I need three references?" Tara grumbled to herself as she flipped hurriedly through the cards.
She located the row numbers she would need and scurried to that shelf, her saddle oxfords making a squeaking sound as the pink rubber soles skittered across the tile floor.
"No running, Miss Derkelager," Sister Agnes barked.
"Yes Sister," Tara said dutifully.
She located the two books, then scanned the shelves for that elusive third book. She located one and grabbed it, simply because she liked the title. Then she walked to where Sister Agnes sat, permanent scowl on her wrinkled old face.
The woman wrote down the title of each book, made Tara sign each withdrawal slip, then turned her attention to the next student in line.
"Hey Tara, congratulations," another student called out.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, thanks," Tara shrugged, grabbed all of her books, struggled to reattach the rubber strap, then scampered out of the library again.
Tara had not been surprised, but she had been somewhat disappointed when she'd been elected as the Homecoming Queen for the Sacred Ascension/St. Peter and Paul Homecoming Court. The eighteen year old girl knew she was pretty, with her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, large green eyes, and pouting lips. Being blessed, or cursed with a 35DD chest, a 28 inch waist, and a 32 inch bubble butt didn't hurt her chances either.
She was also a straight 'A' student and that swayed the election in her favor. It was a well-known secret that the good Sisters of Sacred Ascension often meddled in the election results. No one had believed that Pam Honeycutt had been voted in as Homecoming Queen last year. Pam was pretty enough, but everyone had voted for Debra Shields. Debra was stunningly beautiful, with long blonde curls, big brown eyes, nearly a carbon copy of the popular Barbie doll.
But Pam Honeycutt was a straight 'A' student and Debra was always one bad mark away from failing altogether.
Tara ran to her 1964 Volkswagen Bus. The van had belonged to Adam Derkelager, her holder brother. He had taken several cans of different colored paints and had painted different colored geometric shapes on the previously white exterior of the shapeless automobile. On the front, and on the sides, Adam had painted large peace symbols in an odd Army green color.
Shortly after completing the paint job, Adam had driven from Oakleaf, Texas, to San Francisco, California. It was the place to be in 1969.
Adam had been arrested, along with several others for the manufacture of LSD. The judge, a no-nonsense, hard-nosed man of the law gave Adam two choices. Join the military or do ten years hard labor.
"Pretty boy like you?" the man had sneered, looking at Adam's long hair and baby face. "They'll love you in them showers."
Adam had decided on the military and had died in a rice paddy in Vietnam. His beloved van had been located outside of a commune in South Dakota. The stoned hippy that had hot-wired it claimed that 'the Universe gave it to me, man. You got no right take it, man.'
Tara had initially wanted to sand and scrape the outlandish paint scheme, but it was a link to a brother she would never see again, so she left it as is. Her only contribution was to sew together some lace curtains for the windows.
Tara rolled down the two front windows, whistling as her hand touched the hot handles of the windows. The van had been sitting in the hot Texas sun all day and was sweltering inside.
She started the motor, whistled again as her hand touched the hot gear shift, and put it into reverse. She looked both ways, then backed into the street. She then put it into first gear and began to drive away from Sacred Ascension High School.
She turned on the radio, the AM radio that had come standard with the bus and hoped there was enough of a cloud cover. If there was a cloud cover, she could catch KPHH out of Houston, Texas. If not, she'd only be able to tune in KNIY out of Lowridge and KNIY played only Christian music.
"Yay!" she laughed as KPHH came in.
True, it was sporadic, but the antennae held the station well enough that Tara could sing along with the radio. She drove north on Highway 41, singing along with 'Rock Me gently.'
Then she slowed. There was a figure walking along the highway. The figure was wearing the plaid skirt and white blouse of Sacred Ascension. Tara recognized the silhouette; she'd know Renee Mills figure anywhere.
The black girl's figure was nearly a mirror image of her own, except for a few more inches around her luscious hips. Her breasts were also capped with beautiful dark brown, almost purple areolae that were the size of silver dollars and thick nipples. Her pubic mound was covered by a thick profusion of dark curls that completely covered her slit from view.
But Tara would have recognized Renee merely by Renee's large Afro hairstyle. From eight grade through to the eleventh grade, Renee Mills had pulled her thick black hair straight, it reached to just below her shoulder blades.
But when Renee walked into their homeroom on the first day of their senior year, her hair had been allowed to grow wild. She now sported a large Afro surrounding her beautiful round face.
Tara had taken one look at Renee Mills' new hairstyle, her large soulful brown eyes and light chocolate brown skin and felt her pussy spasm. Tara felt her nipples grow to hard pebbles as she looked at the wild bush that Renee proudly sported.
Now, on Highway 41, Tara Derkelager slowed her van, coasted just past the solitary figure, then pulled to the side of the road.
"Hey Renee, come on," she called through the open window.
Renee Mills had stopped walking when she saw the vehicle pull over. She'd been accosted twice already as she walked the lonely blacktop. Once by a creepy old man in a Cadillac convertible, the other a group of boys in a pickup truck. Both vehicles had offered her a ride for some pussy.
Renee burst into tears of relief as she recognized the vehicle and the voice of Tara Derkelager, a schoolmate.
"Oh, no, no, oh Renee, don't cry!" Tara pleaded and pulled her classmate in for a tight hug.
"I can't help it," Renee wailed.
