She was 5'5" in sneakers and had legs for miles. Creamy white skin dotted with freckles stretched over a small frame and topped with flaming red hair, she was every boy's wet dream. And on Fridays, when she wore that cheerleader's uniform, she was half the girls' wet dream, too.
Oh sure, most folks would never look at us and say we would ever be friends, much less do some of the things we've done together. But then, looks are deceiving, aren't they? And when the game was over on Friday nights, she didn't go home and study like everyone thought she did. And she didn't go out and celebrate like her parents thought she did. Nope. She met me in the storage shed down by the old softball field. That's where little Miss Perfect turned into little Miss Lesbian.
There were a few things I'd always done well at. Turns out, fucking chicks is one of them. Oh yeah, I'm a stereotype. I played softball, hated wearing dresses, and talked really lewdly. But that also meant I had strong arms, looked good in jeans, and had a mouth meant for doing dirty shit. And if you think you're surprised she wanted me, imagine how I felt when she approached me for the first time!
I'd been tasked with putting away the softball gear, again, in the rain. Cursing a storm and drenched, I threw open the door to the storage shed and damn near pissed myself when I saw her inside, "What the fuck?" I took a step inside and eyed her suspiciously, "What the hell are you doing in here?"
She arched an eyebrow, crossed an arm in front of her and puffed the cigarette she held in her other hand, "None of your damn business."
"Oh, watch out," I mocked her, "Jesus doesn't like it when good girls cuss."
"As if I give one fuck about Jesus and what He wants."
Putting the bats and bags down with a huff, I reached out my hand, "Can I have a drag?"
She looked me up and down, "I don't know. Don't you have cooties or something?"
"Why?" I smirked, "You jealous you didn't get a taste of me first?"
"If I wanted a taste of you, I'd get a taste of you," she quipped, passing me the cigarette.
"You think so, huh?" I took a long drag and handed it back to her, "Thanks." I took a minute to look her over. She was damn pretty. I started thinking of all the things I could do to her. All the things I'd make her do to me. I must have been staring because she ended up punching me on the shoulder, "What?"
"You were staring at me so hard I thought my clothes were going to melt off."
Too tough to be caught off guard, I shot back, "If I have to melt your clothes off, you don't want me bad enough." I turned to stack the baskets of softballs when she gave me chills with her reply.
"I never said you'd have to, I just said you were. All you'd really have to do is ask."
I don't think the word "shocked" quite fits the feeling that came over me. Like little scenes of a movie, a porno to be exact, I saw her in every conceivable position I could get her in... naked and begging me not to stop. Slowly, I turned to her, "Just ask, huh?"
She eyed me and flicked the cigarette butt out the door and into the rain, "Yeah. I bet you've never fucked a cheerleader."
That's when I felt it. That burn in my gut she created simmered there for the first time and I haven't been able to put it out since, "Not yet." I looked her up and down, licking my lips, and asked, "So, are you hoping to be my first?"
"Do you promise to call me a slut and not stop 'til I'm screaming?" When I hesitated, she scoffed, "We're both eighteen and of age. Neither of us is jail bait."
Honesty has always been a policy of mine, so I gave her an honest answer, "I'll call you whatever the fuck you want me to call you as long as you let me do what I want with you." I took a step toward her, thinking she'd move away but she didn't. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and smiled.
"Then it looks like you're gonna get to fuck your first cheerleader."
The distance between us was cleared with another step from me and then her lips, soft and tasting like nicotine, were on mine. She kissed me like she'd never kissed another human being and when I slipped my tongue into her mouth, she sucked it hard, making me wet faster than anyone I'd ever known.
I pushed her against the wall of the shed as her hands pulled my tank top off. Using my body against her, I pinned her and slid my hands around both breasts. When I squeezed gently, she moaned and I could feel her nipples pressing against the fabric. I reached around her and unzipped the top to peel it off. Once it was gone, I realized she didn't have a bra on. Her breasts were perfect. I couldn't get enough of them. Her nipples reached for me and fuck, I ate them up. She moaned and groaned, buried her hands in my hair, and hissed, "Bite them." That's when I realized she didn't want me to gentle with her. She wanted me to leave a mark on more than her memory.
Her ass, round, soft, and perfect, was a magnet to my hands. I reached around her and grabbed it firmly, pulling her hard against me. Then I slid my hands into the bloomers she was required to wear under that flirty little skirt and found that she had no underwear on, "Oh you're a nasty little bitch." I couldn't help but smile, "Do you always wear nothing under here?"
Nodding and gasping she answered me, "Every Friday."
"Good," I replied as my fingers slid into her pussy, "that means I can fuck you this easily every Friday." She was wet. God almighty she was soaking fucking wet and as I pumped my fingers into her, it made the sexiest, sweetest smacking sound. She'd closed her eyes and let her head fall back. I kissed her throat and started talking to her, "Shit, baby. I thought you were a horny girl, but you're just a little slut, aren't you?" She grunted when I flicked her clit with my thumb. I smiled and kept talking, "I wonder what those boys would think of you if they saw you right now. Here you are, your legs spread open, topless, and getting fingered by another girl. Not to mention you're fucking loving it! You've thought about this for a while, haven't you?"
"Yes," she answered. "I've wanted you to fuck me for a very long time. But you never looked at me."
"Oh baby," I smiled, "I looked. Trust me. I thought about bending you over several times." She shivered and groaned, making me smile, "Oh you like that idea, huh?"
"Fuck yeah," she whispered. "Where would you bend me over?"
My fingers were buried deep and she felt amazing. I could tell that the more I talked, the wetter she was getting. So I thought I'd give her a little more, "How about in the library? We could be discreet. You could bend over a table. Then I could come up behind you wearing a little strap I have at home." I could feel her starting to throb and the powerful feeling that gave me was intoxicating, "I wouldn't be able to move much so you'd have to work your pussy up and down on it. But I bet you'd do it, wouldn't you?" She could only nod, "You'd fuck that fake cock really good, wouldn't you?"
Grunting and grinding on my fingers, she'd finally managed to find enough of a voice to answer, "Fuck yeah. But you'd have to hold me down."
That sent a little shiver through me, "Oh, and I would. I'd push your face down on the table and make you take the whole thing deep. Is that what you'd want me to do? Fuck you hard like a nasty whore?"
"Oh God, yes," she moaned.
I could feel her starting to drip and knew she was close, "Come on, baby. You know what I want. Give it to me."