Seduction of a Cheerleader

SCOTT'S STORY

It was unseasonably cold. In fact it was fucking freezing and I was beginning to wish I hadn't bothered coming. I shivered as I turned in my car seat and looked around the parking lot. From what I could see there were plenty of spaces. Mind you it was ridiculously large for the size of stadium it served. Maybe the locals knew that the weather was going to deteriorate further and had wisely stayed at home. Either that or it was because this season was already a bust. I'd already been reliably informed by more than one disgruntled local fan that the hometown team stunk. Even the girl at the ticket office in town had seemed surprised when I asked her for a ticket in the best seats. This was semi pro football at it's finest.

I exited my car and shivered again as the sun finally disappeared behind the main stand and what little warmth it had provided went with it. It was a short walk to the arena but as a cold, icy blast of wind hit me, I hunkered down lower into my jacket, wishing I'd brought my winter coat and a hat with me.

I got inside and took my seat. This was not looking good, not good at all. I pursed my lips and reflected on what effect this would have on the evening's entertainment. With a less than full house, would the cheerleaders be motivated enough to go through their entire routine?

The PA suddenly crackled into life making me jump, loud music blasting from the speakers as the stadium announcer implored the crowd to welcome the hometown cheerleaders onto the field. I straightened myself up in my seat, my interest piqued. This was the reason I was here. I wasn't the remotest bit interested in the game that was about to be played. For me it was all about selecting my latest victim.

You see, the thing is, I have a hobby. I know that's not unusual, a lot of people have hobbies. They play sports or collect stamps or coins or even beer coasters. But my hobby is slightly different.

I collect cheerleaders!

Yeah, I know! I'm a pervert, some may even call me a stalker, but before you start rolling your eyes, let me explain.

My life changing epiphany happened because of a television program. I was at a loose end romantically, no steady girlfriend, not even a friend with benefits to fall back on. I was in a rut when it came to members of the opposite sex. It was probably because I was still damaged emotionally from my short lived relationship with a high maintenance girl from Boston.

The show was a sort of funny, spoof documentary about a particular NFL team. It was only a short film, no more than ten or fifteen minutes long, the host being a well known national newspaper columnist who occasionally would wander over into the visual media.

I can't remember much about the show but what caught my attention was when the camera ran down a long line of the team cheerleaders as they waited in the tunnel to go out onto the field. I saw her immediately. Even though the camera only lingered on her for the briefest of moments it was enough to set my pulse rate soaring.

She was simply stunning. Long black hair, a flash of blue eyes, full red lips and a beautiful smile. Oh ... and a killer rack as well. But what struck me the most was the look on her face. She looked so shy and vulnerable, almost as if she felt she had no right to be there. Her smile had that hint of nervousness about it. I was smitten. I had to find her.

After a night spent scouring the internet, I knew her name and roughly where she lived. The next day I boarded a flight to St Louis.

It took me a while to seduce her. After all it wasn't as if I was in a rush. She wasn't married but she did have a steady boyfriend, so I did get a sense of satisfaction when I finally fucked her. She was pretty good in the sack, so I did hang around for a few days after. But it was never going to lead anywhere. For one thing I didn't want it to, and secondly she wasn't blessed with a whole lot of intelligence, which made our post coital discussions a bit one sided.

The shy, vulnerable, nervousness she exhibited in front of the TV cameras was because she was pretty much bewildered all of the time by everything that was going on around her. I left her to try and patch things up with her boyfriend.

However, my success in nailing this beautiful creature, and the way the whole crazy thing had come about gave me much food for thought. Perhaps this was what I needed to get me out of my funk. I really got a buzz out of the chase, from the initial investigation into her background all the way through to my seduction. And for future reference, I discovered there were multiple layers in between that I could veer off into if needed, which could serve to make the whole thing immensely satisfying.

After a couple of days thinking about the possibilities on offer and formulating and then mulling over my strategy, I made out a long list of sports teams that had cheerleaders and made my first selection. My new hobby had begun.

It started off slow to begin with. I was understandably nervous as I developed my tactics but with each success so my confidence grew. Each seduction was different, so I invested my time to make sure it was as perfect as I could make it.

I became very good at it and the hobby became somewhat of an obsession over the next two to three years. I spent my time drifting from town to town or city to city selecting cheerleaders from the NFL and the NCAA. The ultimate goal was simple enough. I'd seduce them, fuck them and then leave town. Nothing wrong with that I suppose. They're just women after all and a large percentage of them were single.

As an aside, that line about them just being women? I just threw that in as a joke! I'm not a misogynist, I love women.

The trouble was it then began to get boring. Without wishing to brag, I'm a pretty good looking guy; or so I've been told; and the single girls, especially the college girls, became all too easy to pick up. It wasn't long before I realised I needed a bigger challenge.

My solution was simple. I decided to focus on those cheerleaders that were either in a relationship or better still, married. Straight away this limited my choices and added to my problems. I was already incredibly picky. I have standards and a strict criteria that must be met, so my selection process was quite vigorous.

So it was because of these standards that I had now run out of NFL teams to troll. The NCAA had proved to be a waste of time, so I was now left scouring the semi pro league. Once that was exhausted, I'd have to find some other sports. Basketball is an obvious one but I don't particularly like the game. Maybe the grid girls from motor-sport might be an interesting avenue to explore?

Anyway, back to tonight. I focused on the cheerleaders in front of me as the crowd in the stand stamped their feet and shouted some quite ribald, borderline sexist, terms of endearment to them as they took their positions in the first formation for the pre-game warm up. Despite the cold they were wearing some pretty skimpy clothes, especially their shorts, which were borderline pornographic given how high they rode up into their butt cracks, exposing most of their ass cheeks. Not that I was complaining of course.

I reached into my coat pocket and extricated a small pair of binoculars. Bringing them to my eyes I scanned the line of women who stood waiting patiently in the middle of the arena to begin their routine. Each one had one leg cocked at the knee, their arms held so that their pompoms rested on their hips.

I began to work my way down the line, looking for a likely candidate.

"No... No... Ugh christ no... No... Definitely not!" It didn't take me long to discount them one by one as I panned from right to left. Told you I was picky!

My method of selection was fairly straightforward. First I would look at their face and hair. Obviously they were all reasonably attractive or they wouldn't be cheer-leaders to start with but I wasn't interested in anyone that looked like they had a permanent smile etched on their face by plastic surgery. I craved natural. You see what I mean. Strict criteria.

"Hello, possibility..." I muttered to myself. "Oh no, I guess not."

My second criteria was big breasts. I love big breasts, the bigger the better but they had to be a full, round shape, and perky, not saggy. Luckily for her, the cheerleader with the nice face and smile seemed to have no boobs to speak of. I moved my binoculars onto the next girl.

"Mmmm... not bad... extremely pretty... oohh... nice tits!" I scanned lower. "Oh dear... mmmm... she's really skinny. I'm betting the boobs are fake." I watched her for a few minutes when the routine started. At the end of it I was convinced by the way her tits moved they had to be fake, and I most certainly don't like silicone enhanced breasts.

I lowered my binoculars. It was a bit disappointing because she really was quite pretty. I put her down on my first reserve list. Although I thought her boobs were fake, there was still that small possibility that they might be real.

Fuck, that was a waste of time. I shook my head. A busted night and it hadn't been cheap to get in. Even for a team that sucked they still charged top dollar. As I began to stand up from my seat to leave, the second routine started and something caught my eye. Lining up for the second routine had revealed a couple of cheerleaders that I'd not seen. Sitting back down I lifted my binoculars. I quickly discounted the first girl and turned to the one next to her.

"Oh my!" I exclaimed as I readjusted the focus to improve my vision.

She was clearly older than the other girls, probably in her early thirties but she sure was attractive. High cheekbones, wide smiling mouth with sparkling white teeth, pouty lips and a mass of honey blonde hair that cascaded down past her shoulders.

I moved lower. "Oh my... oh my... oh my ... fuck me ..."

I breathed deeply as I saw her breasts. Even from this distance I could tell she had large natural breasts. Her bra was clearly not giving her enough support judging by the way her top was moving about as she performed the routine.

I was starting to get excited as my view dropped to her legs.

"OH YES!" I almost punched the air with my fist as I took in the shape and size of her perfectly curved thighs.

"Jackpot...we have a winner!" I exclaimed as my cock pulsed. I scrabbled to get my mobile phone out of my pocket. I was definitely excited now.

I managed to follow the group of cheerleaders around the arena during the course of the game as they performed their routine and by the time the game was over and they had trotted off the field my cock was straining uncomfortably inside my trousers. I'd always had a healthy libido.

Reaching a toilet cubicle just in time, I masturbated myself to relief whilst watching the video of the cheerleader that I had managed to record on my cell.

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BREANN'S STORY

After the game ended; with yet another defeat; we showered and changed in the cheerleader's locker room. The girls were huddled in small groups chatting animatedly about our routines; we had little interest in the game. At least we had pride in how we performed, unlike our team of losers.

I was just pulling on my jeans when my friend and fellow cheerleader Jasmine sidled up to me. "Hey Breann, did you see that guy with the binoculars?"

"No, what guy?" I queried in reply.

"You mean you didn't see him? I'm amazed," Jasmine said, "he followed us around all night."

"Yeah... so?" I replied disinterestedly, as I started to brush out my hair.

"Nothing really. As I said, it's just that he had binoculars and I'm pretty sure he was watching you the entire game; that's all!" Jasmine said, finishing off with a wicked smile.

"You're kidding... right... ohh... you're not... ohh... creepy!" I could feel my cheeks flush.

Jasmine laughed at me. "Don't stress it girl," she said, "We all get scoped at some point. You be no different."

I looked at her sideways. Sometimes my friend could really yank my chain!

As I got my stuff together getting ready to leave, my thoughts drifted to what had led me to cheerleading. It certainly hadn't been something I'd ever planned on doing. I'd not been a cheerleader at high school and I never went to college. I was only here because of Jasmine. Perhaps I should explain.

I had been a late bloomer. I met my husband; Pete McGregor; at high school and even though he was nearly three years older then me, he asked me out and we dated until he went to college. And I waited for him; not that anyone else asked me out during that time. As I stated earlier I didn't attend college as my parents couldn't afford for me to go.

But I wasn't bothered. Looking back I realized I was a quiet, introverted girl who suffered from a lack of self confidence. This wasn't helped by Pete, who I now recognize as a control freak who took every opportunity to belittle me. And still does.

I knew I was not unattractive, but at that time I didn't have many friends and certainly didn't know how to make the best of my appearance. I was also fairly flat chested, which for some reason tended to put off most high school boys, except for Pete.

When Pete left college he returned home. It was always his plan to come back, and at my mother's insistence I married him shortly afterwards. Within a year I was pregnant with our first child and a year after his birth I had our second child, a girl. So, at only 21 years of age I was married with two children.

After the first birth I piled on the weight, unable to shift it before child number two arrived. My boobs grew along with everything else. Pete was less than impressed with my new body shape. In no uncertain terms he told me to lose weight, calling me lardass, fat bitch and other horrible names. I guess he preferred a skinny bodied, small breasted type of woman. Certainly his interest in me seemed to wane quite quickly and along with it, our love life.

One day though, in a brief show of support, he encouraged me to join the local slimming group and fitness gym, and it was here that I first met Jasmine.

It turned out that Jasmine was a cheerleader for the local team and they were always short of new recruits. Apparently she had taken one look at my body and decided that I had what it took to be a cheerleader. She told me later that all she had to do was convince me.

It took her a while.

In fact it was several months of her getting to know me before I let her talk me into a try out for the cheerleader squad. And when she finally did it was obvious she would have to work extra hard to keep me there and also to get me to perform to the acceptable standard. I found it incredibly hard work and told her so. She just laughed at me. She tended to do that a lot.

Amazingly Pete encouraged me in the early days although he seemed to be less enamoured as time passed by. He became extremely grouchy every time I went off to cheerleading practise or the gym, and this soon escalated into outright derision as he accused me of not losing any weight. He also told me that as far as he was concerned I was spending far too much time in training and not enough time looking after him, the house and the kids.

But for me, I had never been happier. Jasmine had, without me realizing, brought me out of my shell. She taught me more about makeup and how to apply it properly. She showed me the new fashions and what to buy to a budget, and how to wear them and most importantly, how to appear confident at all times.

I blossomed under her expert guidance. I lost the weight gain from my pregnancies although I kept my boobs. Yes I now had boobs! I had enviable measurements of 38D-25-34. My legs were sculpted especially my thighs which were toned and curvy and my ass was round and full.

However I was still unaware of my blossoming sexuality, and would probably have been horrified to know that I had become the object of many a man's fantasies, especially when wearing the skimpy, tight fitting cheerleaders uniform.

I left the stadium with Jasmine, waiting with her until Leroy, her husband arrived to pick her up. As I walked over to my car I began to mull over in my mind what Jasmine had said about the man who had been watching me during the game. It hit me suddenly, an uneasy feeling that I was being watched right now.

I quickened my step, reaching my car and getting into it as fast as I could. I locked the doors and felt relieved.

"What am I doing?" I laughed nervously, as I started the car and pulled out of the car park.

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SCOTT'S STORY

Now I had selected my victim, all I had to do was plan my strategy of seduction, the ultimate objective of course, being to get inside her panties. I was hoping she was married, but I had already decided that even if she wasn't I'd still have a crack at her.

After relieving my throbbing need in the toilets. I exited the arena, walking around the outside until I reached the player and staff entrances. With this located I hurried back to retrieve my car from the parking lot and drove around to take up a position from where I could see everyone leave.

I left the engine running. I needed the heater on full blast to warm me up. As I waited I took stock of how I had wound up here, outside an arena, waiting for a cheerleader to appear.

Let me just get this out the way first. I am an extremely wealthy young man. Both my parents died when I was very young, and with no other close relatives I had been brought up by guardians who had been appointed to look after me in my father's will.

They tried their best but they weren't my parents. I wasn't rebellious or anything like that, but as I got older I was determined to enjoy life to the full. But I didn't neglect my education. The condition of my inheritance was that I had to go to college and get a degree. The subject didn't matter, I guess my parents just wanted me to experience as normal a life as possible. I decided that political science sort of appealed to me.

The problem was the day I went to enrol, I clapped eyes on an extremely attractive forty odd year old woman who was a professor on the psychology course. She was stunning. Tall with black hair, voluptuous curves, and very married. I immediately enrolled on her course instead. It took me a while, but it was so worth it when she eventually fell for my charms, and my large cock. What I didn't know at the time was that the thrill of the chase for her pussy sowed the seeds for my future behaviour.

When I finished college, that triggered the release of my trust fund. I was now able to obtain my inheritance and I instantly became a multi millionaire. My friends used to comment that Scott Morrison was a lucky man. I didn't see it that way. I missed my parents and still do to this day. Nothing can compensate for not having a family.

After college I travelled extensively around the world. This gave me ample opportunity to read. And I did. Not just fiction but a lot of non fiction too. Through this I developed an appreciation for the arts and became an avid museum goer. I learned to appreciate the different art forms in painting. And it was through this that I met Bianca Jessop.

We met in an art gallery. It was the opening night of an exhibition for a young up and coming artist. I really liked his work and was staring at a particular abstract when I became aware that someone had come to stand alongside me. Her perfume was very alluring. She smelled great.

I glanced across at her as she engaged me in conversation. She was beautiful. Flaming red hair, piercing green eyes and full, pouty red lips topped off a body that was nothing short of sensational.

She flirted with me from the off. I think I held my own but it was hard to know as her eyes had me mesmerized. Within an hour she'd persuaded me to go for a drink at a little place she knew. It was very select. We had a great time but I should have known it was doomed from the start. It was too good to be true. She was a WASP. One of Boston's elite. Old money. Privileged. You know the sort.