Author's Note: This story is a continuation of and conclusion to Cheerleader Betrayed. I recommend reading Cheerleader Betrayed before Cheerleader Crushed.
*
ROSCOE -- Finished
Roscoe strolled into the house, a strong sense of satisfaction coursing through his veins. He pulled the big sliding door closed, heard and felt it "whump" shut.
"Big place," he muttered, looking around the spacious confines of Jenny Thompson's home. Laughter and soft music to his left guided him in that direction. He stepped through a hallway and out, into a large open room that had a red-felted pool table right in the middle and a dartboard in the corner, with a garishly taped line that he rightly assumed was where you stood to pitch. Nodding in approval he continued walking through the game room and into the den, where he found everyone lounging variously on a black leather sofa, loveseat, and a trio of matching recliners.
Several empty beer cans were strewn on the coffee and end tables, which no doubt fueled the low roar that had met his ears upon entry into the room. It was like they were all talking at once—and then immediately stopped when he stepped across the threshold.
"Roscoe! What the fuck, bro?" Stone Moore asked, his hand draped casually over Anna's shoulder. The two of them were sandwiched into one of the recliners, she nestled comfortably into his lap.
Roscoe smiled sheepishly, unsure how to respond. Stone had told him Ella wanted it, that she was all about hooking up with the football players; but in the pool, when he made his move, she had been kind of standoffish. That didn't stop him of course—she was toned, her body was supple and lithe, topped with an impressive rack he just couldn't take his eyes off of, all of it practically begging him to come 'play ball.' So no, he didn't stop, and didn't remember her asking him to; well, maybe halfheartedly, but she pretty much just took it, let him drive that big old horse cock right up in there—
Starting to get excited again, he returned his attention to the question at hand. He racked his little brain for a response, a reply that seemed appropriate; this proved to be very difficult. He was searching for just the right words, the straight path to Stone's approval. He wanted very much to come to Key Biscayne JC, a top-notch JC program, because he knew that would make jumping up to the next level that much easier. Frustrated, he again mentally cursed his non-qualifying ACT score and low GPA.
Stone sensed his hesitation, the slowness that must accompany anything this brute had to actually think to do, and quickly threw him a bone.
"Hey, it's ok Roscoe, you don't have to tell us any of the details," Stone said. His eyes narrowed: "But, was it good?" Stone laughed suddenly, a throaty sound that filled the room. "I mean, she's fucking hot, right? It had to be good!" Everyone laughed, including Roscoe who by then had plopped down on one end of the sofa.
"Yeah, she was good Stone, jus' like you said." Roscoe took a big swig of beer. " I like her."
"Good, good. Very good," Stone commented, turning his attention to Dave.
"What do you say, Dave?" Stu piped up, jealous as hell. "You gonna go get you some now?" He still wanted a piece of Ella for himself, was a little irked Stone had made this big production out of saving her for these two recruits. Granted, they were top notch, two of the highest rated recruits in the state, but all Stu had from the little whore up to this point was a blowjob for crying out loud—he was fucking due, by his calculation. 'All in good time,' he reasoned.
Dave looked around, sensing the approval and encouragement building...
"She's willing, bro," Stone said, lifting his beer as if to toast Dave on his way.
"Yeah, she plays shy and bashful and shit, but she'll take it, just give it to her," Ricky chimed in. Like Stu, he still had some unfinished business with one Ella Sanders, so the sooner these two recruits were done, the better. 'Bitch'll probably transfer after we get done with her,' Ricky thought, nodding to himself.
Dave, most of a six-pack in the tank already, felt the liquid courage boiling within. He stood, pounded his chest like Tarzan, and headed back out the way Roscoe had come in.
"Atta boy," Anna called, clapping.
"Get her, Tiger!" Jenny screamed enthusiastically. 'Take that bitch down one more peg,' she thought, 'she's got a lot to learn about what her fucking place is.' Jenny was determined that Ella would get her comeuppance, one way or the other.
DAVE -- Begins
Dave stood at the wide glass door, taking in the meticulously landscaped backyard. Flowers, bushes, timbers, rocks, all were placed strategically to give the area a depth and texture one normally expected to find at only the finest of country clubs. He absorbed it all, letting his gaze wander seamlessly over every detail until he found himself looking at the chrome bar by the stairway of the oblong swimming pool, at Ella floating in the water...
'Sweet Jesus,' he thought, 'look at that shit.' He watched as Ella drifted away from the steps, head tilted back, arms spread weightlessly at her sides. Her full breasts bobbed at the surface of the water, hard nipples straining their way through the silky, flimsy bikini that tried unsuccessfully to restrain them. The lines of her jaw were subtle yet strong, framing a face that exuded absolute innocence. She looked for all the world like his sister's best friend, the one who was almost a '10' but carried herself around as though she were merely a '5.'
Ella Sanders was one of the most incredible looking pieces of tail he had ever seen.
Dave still remembered the phone call—Stone Moore, quarterback and captain of the football team, had told him, 'Wait until you see this one, she's smokin' hot. She's gonna give you a good time while you're in town,' he had promised. 'She'll give it up. Trust me.' Remembering the conversation, his excitement about coming to town for this recruiting visit, he felt almost giddy.
