Kelly and I met in our freshman composition class, two eighteen-year-olds sitting in the back of the room trying not to fall asleep together and cutting jokes about our professor as he talked about how his class was an important foundation for our collegiate success, would help us in life, etc., etc. All the same shit that high school teachers tried to tell me. She was a cheerleader with a body that I did my best not to scan from top to bottom every time we'd hang out in my dorm room drinking together (i.e. most nights). She had this chin-length blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, and these long, toned legs, no doubt the products of endless workouts. I could never decide which I wanted more: that hair bobbing up and down over my cock or those legs wrapped around my hips. Actually, that's not true; I knew what I wanted the most: that tight little ass of hers that she always had wrapped up tight in mini-skirts and waving in my face as she danced drunk in my room.
But I had a girlfriend back home, so I couldn't do anything with Kelly. After all, Sara and I had been dating for a couple of years, and I really loved her. No matter how much my cock begged me to bury it in her, no matter how much Kelly flirted with me, I knew I didn't want to ruin what Sara and I had for a drunken fuck. Besides, Kelly flirted with most guys. In our first month of college, she had dated three different guys on my floor. I never asked how many she'd slept with. Let's just say the girl got what she wanted. So we'd just hang out drinking and watching movies together. I'd go watch her at the football games; then we'd go out to eat before cleaning up and hitting the Saturday night parties.
It was all great for the first couple months of the semester, but then came the night where I passed out in my bed watching Braveheart with Kelly. Normally, if I passed out, Kelly would just head on back to her room, or find some guy on the floor to fuck, but, at least according to her, she wanted to finish watching the movie, so she just lay there watching the film, with my sleeping head in her lap. Truth be told, I'll probably never know exactly what happened that night, just what I've pieced together from Kelly and Sara. Apparently, Sara called while I was passed out, and Kelly answered the phone, something she should have known better than to do, since she had long ago come to recognize the ring for Sara on my cell phone. When Sara asked where I was, Kelly told her that I was asleep in bed. When Sara asked what Kelly was doing, she said she was lying in bed watching a movie. Now, looking back, I guess Sara over-reacted, but I'm sure all she was doing was picturing Kelly and I in bed together. So, when I finally woke the next day, alone by that point, I didn't have a girlfriend. Needless to say, I was pissed. In fact, I wouldn't even speak to Sara for two weeks, but, with a home game approaching, Kelly offered a truce of taking me out to dinner after the game.
During the game, I couldn't help but to watch Kelly's body move as she went through the cheers: her skirt flying up on kicks to reveal her toned thighs and bloomers, the smile on her face, both innocent and dirty, and the way her uniform pulled tight around her breasts, her nipples poking slightly through the red and white cloth (Kelly once confessed to me that it turned her on to cheer without a bra on, saying that she'd like to try to go without any underwear in her last game). Feeling an erection stir in my pants, I began to realize why Sara had been so jealous and concerned.
After the game, Kelly met me out by my Malibu, a graduation gift from my parents, and we began driving outside of the Iowa town where we went to school. We talked lightly about class and mutual friends of ours, not delving into any series topics until the sun had set and Kelly realized we weren't at a restaurant yet.
"Exactly where are we going?" Kelly asked, an unusual tinge of nervousness shadowing her voice.
"You'll see," I responded, then, after a long silence, "Don't worry; we're almost there." Soon, we arrived at a dead end surrounded on all sides by cornfields. I parked my car, facing the corn, left the lights on and stepped outside. Reaching back behind my seat, I pulled out a small bucket and looked at Kelly, who watched me nervously. "You coming?" I asked. Kelly stared at me for a second and then undid her seatbelt without saying a word. By the time she came around to the front of the car, I was sitting on top of the bucket by the edge of the corn, with the lights shining in my face. She leaned back against the car, feigning calmness. "So here's the deal," I said as cooly as possible, while Kelly's frame shielded half my face from the light, "I lost someone I really care about, so now I'm going to take something from you."
"If you wanted to fuck, you didn't have to drive me out to a cornfield," Kelly replied.
"You'd be wise not to talk back," I answered. "Now, turn around, place your hands on the hood of the car, spread your legs, and stick that tight ass of yours up in the air." Kelly stood frozen, her eyes on the ground, unable to bear my steady stare. "Do it." I drug out the words, ending them in a quick snap. Kelly slowly turned around and assumed the position, putting her face flat against the car and sticking her ass out. With the light splashing against the top of her white skirt, her ass looked so round and sweet. I had to adjust my pants as my cock began growing hard. "Good girl. Why don't you reach back there and pull your underwear off?" Kelly took her hands from the car without lifting her face, and slid her bloomers down until they were loose enough on her legs that she could shake them down by wiggling her ass at me. "Your thong?" I questioned.
"I'm not wearing one," she whispered.
"What was that?" I asked.
"I'm not wearing one," she replied more loudly. "It turns me on to cheer without any panties. I can feel myself getting wet easier that way."
"You are a dirty little slut, aren't you?" Silence. "Aren't you?"
