Cherry Lane figured out early on that she was bisexual. It started when she was sitting in class and thinking about boys, wishing someone would show interest in her. She began having sexual fantasies, at first innocent as a kiss, and soon passionate and invigorating. Then one day, in the middle of a daydream, her math teacher bent over to pick up a pencil and gave a clear view down her shirt. She was added to the daydream in an instant.
In high school, Cherry came into her body overnight. She grew a cup size while losing baby fat, which gave her a slender figure with voluptuous curves. She joined the theater program, and took up dancing on her weekends, letting her ass tighten up and fill out perfectly. It was firm, and a cheek fit in one hand just right. She was a tiny girl in the end, and proportionate to the last detail.
Her real name was Charlotte Lann, but when her nectarine hair began to darken, her father commented on just how cherry red it became. Since then he called her Cherry Lane, and the name caught on quick with teachers and friends. When the boys at school saw the tits she started carrying, they adopted the name as well.
The years came and went, and Cherry lost and found herself time and time again. When at last she turned eighteen, she was in another cycle of loss. She didn't know what she wanted with her life, what her worth in the world was. She wasn't a good enough singer to get to Broadway and she was too small to dance professionally. At a perfect 5' 1", her legs were too short to make the jumps needed for ballet, the control needed for tap, and the deftness required of jazz.
What she did know were three key things. First, that she found the human mind exceedingly fascinating. Second, that she loved her boyfriend, Andy. Third, she needed to masturbate at least twice a day, and she felt no guilt over it.
It was 1983 when she turned eighteen, and in that same year she found herself again. But this time, it would last quite some time.
Cherry loved to sneak out and visit Andy in the middle of the night. He needed no warning at this point, he always left his window unlocked for her. The first time she did it, they were still in their junior year, and she caught him by surprise.
"Shouldn't I be the one doing that sort of thing?"
"Doesn't matter who does it," she said. "We fuck either way."
Now that she was eighteen, she didn't need to worry about being caught out past curfew. She had her license, and the curfew no longer applied to her. It was her parents who needed to be kept at ease, but they were too tired at night to check on her.
Andy had short, wavy hair that would turn into curls if he let it grow too long. She liked getting her fingers tangled up in it, but he found it too much to maintain. Instead, he would lock his fingers into her luscious locks, curving and twisting like a red river.
Cherry's sexual exploration began with masturbation, in which she came to love her body so much that she would watch herself masturbate in the mirror. She liked seeing how her cheeks would flush, how her fingers shone when they were in the light, and most of all how much more pale her tits looked with her hair draped over them. When Andy came into her life, she didn't stop this self obsession. He came to enjoy it himself, as it made her more energetic in bed.
Andy was sort of sheepish all things considered, or so Cherry thought. She had often stolen her father's Playboy magazines that he thought were secret. After three months, he would throw them out to keep things fresh and to make the collection look only experimental if he were ever caught. Here, Cherry learned everything she ever wanted to know about sex.
Andy was satisfactory, but never quite what Cherry wanted. He was so much thicker without condoms, but for obvious reasons they were completely necessary. He'd heard a bogus rumor that birth control pills made girls' tits smaller, and they were ineffective. So he asked her not to use them in favor of the rubber prison.
But he could get the job done. She rode his cock with enthusiasm, feeling how it would move ever so slightly when she gyrated her hips. It was wonderful feeling the control over their mutual pleasure, having the power to deny both of them at a moment's notice. But she never did, and soon he was pulsing inside her.
"I really wish we could try it without that," Cherry said, dismounting him and laying next to him on the bed.
"Maybe someday," he said, probably lying. "I've got to get some sleep. I've got a test tomorrow."
"Can't we snuggle a little bit?"
"You'll fall asleep if we do."
She left feeling disgruntled and unappreciated and masturbated twice once she was back in her own bed.
-----
The cheerleaders at Lyndon Johnson High School decided to collectively hate Cherry Lane for no apparent reason besides her perfect figure. Andy always told her it was because she was a theater geek, but those were never the taunts she received when pressed up against a locker.
"You think your tits will do everything for you?" Said Steph Kerry, the flat chested bitch.
"You couldn't do what we do with little legs like yours," said an acne-ridden girl named Alicia Marquess.
Cherry made the mistake of answering, "At least they look good."
Steph pressed her head against the cold metal locker harder. "What did you say?"
"I said at least I don't spread my legs in front of a hundred people who are more interested in basketball than you."
Cherry regretted keeping so little in her locker. If it had been more occupied, there might not have been the opportunity to shove her inside like she'd seen the football players do to the freshmen boys. She never thought she'd be such a victim, but she was certainly small enough. The first bitch pushed her inside so hard that Cherry's head slammed against the back. In one moment, she was locked inside, and in two she was unconscious.
