Chapter 11
A cold shower calmed his temper. He tentatively decided that Warren was right, that he should try to affect a compromise with Patti, maybe get back together with her. He'd had his share of revenge screwing all the other cheerleaders, and he was certain they had told her.
He saw her as she was leaving the stadium. He waved at her, quickened his step. But instead of stopping, she flashed him a cold frown, turned and went out the exit.
He halted. His anger had a new birth. The goddamn bitch still wasn't satisfied. She wanted to continue their cold war, apparently, but that was fine with him. He'd go right on screwing her girlfriends and see what she thought of those apples, damn her! He'd make her the laughing stock of the school. He'd make her choke on those last words she had spoken to him: My day in court is coming, and when it does-you'll be sorry you were ever born! Yes, that was going to be his line. And from now on! And the added revenge started ten minutes later, when Pitney and Forbes told him that they had organized a game of touch football with the cheerleaders-all of them except Patti.
At first, it sounded stupid. He'd had enough football for one day; who needed more?
Pitney said, "Before you say no, y'better come down on the field and take a look. You never played football like this."
Curious, he followed them. And they were quite right. This was different. Five of his teammates were lined up against six cute cheerleaders. The football was centered, there was a lot of screaming and hollering and crooked running, and finally the ball carrier was "tagged." But what made their game of touch football so excitingly different was that none of them had any clothes on! The whole lot of them were naked.
His first reaction was that Beasely would catch them and turn them in. But that was asinine! The old fart would crawl between the rows of seats and watch them. He'd be the last person in the world to turn anyone in.
"C'mon, Jim," Pitney urged, Forbes at his side, "let's join 'em."
He blanked Patti from his mind. "Let's go!" he said vindictively. "This is just what I need."
He slipped out of his clothes and ran out onto the moonlit football field. Pitney and Forbes did-likewise. They now outnumbered the girls eight to five, but nobody seemed to mind the lopsided odds. The girls were in possession of the ball, Fay centered, and Shirley caught it against her breasts. She ran backwards, hoping to sweep around the action, and run for a touchdown. But Jim swept in from the left. He tagged her on her bobbing little ass, ending the play.
On the next scrimmage, with teenage titties and ass bouncing all over the playing field, Fay fumbled the ball. Pitney fell on top of her, his stiff prick going up the crack of her ass. Fay screamed, and this signalled a huge free-for-all, everybody scrambling for ball possession.
But ball possession, Jim learned, didn't necessarily mean football possession. In the heap of bodies that followed, he somewhere in the middle, he felt a girl's hands fingering his balls. And then somebody grabbed his penis. It was Lisa, and she hadn't changed her sex habits. She still loved to have a big rod shoved between her young red lips and then suck and suck and suck.
It was this way: a tangle of writhing bodies, everybody grabbing and fingering and feeling. There were laughs and shouts and, here and there, a loud sigh. Peters were fondled, pussies were explored, and everybody forgot what the massive struggle was all about-namely, the football.
All in all, he shot three loads of jizm. Lisa was responsible for the first orgasm, giving him and two of his teammates a blow job at mid-field. Fay made this event double interesting, for while Lisa gobbled hungrily on his swollen dick, Fay's kisses crept from his quivering thighs to his tingling balls. And when her long, hot tongue began to actually lap at his balls, he could have died with joy, and he instantly creamed the inside of Lisa's semen-starved mouth.
His second seduction occurred in the darkness near the end zone. Fay again. She rubbed his cock the way a girl rubs her hands together to keep them warm. It was a thrilling, different kind of sensation, and it inspired him to suck her tits and pinch her ass. Then, seconds later, hard as Gibraltar, he fell to the grass.
Fay made him fie on his back. She straddled him, worked the lips of her pussy around his erect pole, then sat on him, clear to his balls. She bounced up and down on him, shook her pretty, curvy tits in his face, and soon pumped them both to a heavenly climax.
He thought he was finished at this point, but the youngest of the cheerleaders, little Shirley, the one with the ponytail, grabbed his limp peter, and told the others that now it was her turn. He wrestled out of her arms, a giggling session followed, and then he ran from her. He got to the sidelines, but with surprising speed and agility, she managed to trip him.
Soon-very soon-she proved that she had surprising speed in other departments as well. She slipped her wiggling, sex mad, wet tongue into his mouth, flicked it against his tongue. It felt wonderful but he wanted to tell her she was wasting her time. He was too exhausted to come again, and he doubted that he could. But she kept her hot tongue in his mouth, swirling their saliva together, rubbing her young tummy against him.
Eventually she aroused him. His pecker came to a half rise, and she began working it with her hand. He was suddenly incensed, then, with a desire to kiss her young genitals. He rode over her, spread her thighs wide, and dipped his tongue in her wet crack. She loved this, and she experienced several orgasms, each stronger and more wonderful than the last. Finally, they sixty-nined one another, and while he was certain that there was no more jizm left in his nuts, at least, for the present, this 15 year old blond peter-sucker proved him quite wrong. She sucked it out of him with a pleading mouth that refused to take no for an answer and swallowed it, a happy smile on her raisin-muffin young face. His hot juice might just as well have been the drippings from one of the delicious ice cream cones she served up and ate.
But he was exhausted the next day, and so were most of his teammates. But Sunday was a day of rest from football and everything else, and Jim and the team took full advantage of it to lie around and regain their strength. Next week's conference play-off game and the grueling practice which preceded it would take every ounce of their mental and physical resources, and if they were to win the tide, top-notch performance was a must.
Throughout the week, before, during, and after practice, they avoided the girls like the plague. Even without Coach Frietag's warning pep talk, the players harbored an unconscious fear that sex might detract from their ability on the football field. Jim, of course, took his customary exception to this theory. There wasn't a remote possibility, even, that getting fucked and playing a good game of football were correlated. But he was cramming for a mid-semester exam, time was at a premium, and so he too abstained, though for different reasons.
By Friday, following a week of concerted, grueling field drill, Jim and the State Tech team were ready for their Saturday championship battle with the Wesleyan Raiders. The Raiders had been painstakingly scouted, discovered to be weak on pass defense, particularly so on flares and the short bullets over center, and so this was what they had concentrated on. And if Wesleyan drew in their backs to cover these short passes, then Jim was instructed to go with the bomb.
The game plan was solid, the team was honed to errorless play, but Jim suspected that everyone was a little too tight, and that could be just as tragic as having no preparation at all. Consequently, he invited his teammates up to his place, ordered in sandwiches and soft drinks, told the gang to kick off their shoes and relax.
"You can talk about anything but football," he said, passing out the soft drinks. "We're gonna break some of this tension, and that's the best way to do it."
"Can we talk about cunt?" Pitney laughed.
"That, we'll talk about after the game," he said with a grin.
Everyone laughed. And there was so much laughter, racket from the stereo, that the knock at the door went unheard. But Warren Yanko, who at this minute was leaving the apartment and going to a show, opened the door and discovered four of the cheerleaders. He shot Jim an unhappy glare. Jim closed the gap between them.
"I didn't plan this," he whispered to Warren.
"I'll just bet you didn't," Warren said cynically, and then he moved between the girls and hurried down the hallway.
Jim, no less surprised than the others, admitted the girls.
Fay said, "We can't stay. We just came over to wish you good luck for the big game."
His favorite, the little muffin-face with the light sprinkling of freckles across her nose, swished her ponytail, and said, "We want to show you our new cheer, too."
And as he looked at little Shirley, clad in her equally little ice cream store uniform, at Fay in a short, extra-short plaid top, Lisa giggled and added, "And we worked out this cheer 'specially for your game with Wesleyan. How 'bout that?"
He was courteous, giving them pop, offering sandwiches, trying to quiet the resultant confusion, so that there would be no complaint about the noise.
"This is one way of getting rid of those ugly tensions," Pitney joked, his arm draped around Fay's waist. "I feel better already."
Jim smiled weakly. He decided he had better put the brakes to any idea Pitney had, and before things got out of hand. Screwing might not hurt their football play but it could sure hurt their sleep, and that was exactly what would happen if he permitted them to stay. One hour would be two hours, two hours would become three. He told the girls this, that they wanted to break up and head for home.
"Can't we just show you our new cheer?" Shirley begged.
He had been nodding toward the door, looking nervously at his watch, but her pleading, little-girl eyes caused him to relent.
"Make it quick," he warned. "All right?"
They promised him it would be brief. Then they lined up, facing the players, and began their chant: a throaty, tumultuous chorusing of rah-rah, team, that ended with a high leap toward the ceiling, followed by a cartwheel. It was this, the cartwheel, which sent them spinning through the air, flipping from feet to hands and back to their feet, that broke the party wide open. For everyone of the perky teenyboppers was bare-assed.
Sexual pandemonium broke loose. Good intentions were swiftly forgotten. And even he, who was their host and who had politely but firmly ushered the teenyboppers to the door, was now caught up in the wild melee on the floor. His hand was thrust up somebody's skirt-Fay's-and he didn't realize that a week away from sex could make you this horny. But it did, and he wanted to give one of them a good screw, and what the hell was wrong with that, he thought, as long as it didn't turn into an all-night thing. One good lay and the girls could go their way.
But nothing goes quite according to plan-at least, not when sex is involved. For instance, it was Fay whose pussy was in his face, and Fay whom he thought he would screw. But little Shirley grasped his cock, twisted it until it hurt, and forced him to accompany her to one of the bedrooms.
"I want you to do it to me," she said.
He wasn't going to argue. This little pony-tailer was one helluva lay, and there was no denying that her childlike face held considerable appeal to him.
"Your outfit drives me crazy," he said, getting a Hard-on just from seeing how short it was. "I'll bet guys come to that ice cream place just to look at you, huh?"
She agreed. "Sure, and they order sundaes so that I'll have to stretch. Then they can see my panties." She had her back to him, was standing in front of a writing desk, and she demonstrated what she meant.
Her transparent white uniform climbed up her tanned thighs. It kept going up and up, and then he saw the puffy, lovely cheeks of her pretty ass, the crack of her ass-hole, the curly tufts of pussy hair showing between her legs.
He was so hot that he unashamedly opened his fly, pulled out his pecker, and began to stroke it. It grew hard very quickly. He said, "Can you tell when guys are looking at your panties?"
"Sure I can."
"Does it make you hot?"
"Uh-huh." Then she smiled. "But not as hot as it makes you."
"Keep stretching," he ordered. "Pretend you're in that ice cream stand. Pretend you're bending over one of the coolers, getting a scoop of ice cream."
She did as he directed. She bent over the writing desk. Her daring uniform climbed up her ass and nearly reached her waist. He walked up to her and, without a word, rammed his stiff penis into her exposed juicy pussy. She moaned with mad delight and the fuck-session began in earnest. He gave it to her from behind, later in a chair, once on the floor, and twice on the bed. She screwed him until he couldn't move, and then she put her mouth to work, sucking him, licking him, demanding his juice. It was utter heaven, having this crazy monkey of a nymphet gobbling him like this, and he was not sure what the others were doing, or what the clock was doing, or when the joyous dream came to an end. But in sad retrospect, these truths were self-evident.
He awoke in mid-morning, found the apartment empty and in shambles. He was late for pre-game warm-up at noon, and so were four of his teammates. But the sad rehash of past events revealed to him that he was late for more than the pre-game warm-up. He was late with his passes, too. His timing was off and when the tide game with the Raiders got under way, he found himself the victim of two early pass interceptions, both resulting in td's. A State Tech determined drive in the second half fizzled out because once again Jim failed to connect with his receivers. This, in turn, provided the Raiders with new impetus, enabling them to score again in the third quarter, and once more in the fourth. Jim and his Tech team never posed a serious threat to the underdog Raiders, and the final score was 28-0.
Coach Frietag, not normally given to street vernacular, had but one thing to offer.
"Fuck you guys!" And then he stormed out of the dressing room and fled for the nearest bar.
The defeat, the biggest and most tragic of the year for Tech, left the dressing room in silence. But the silence was never as keen as this, and when the last of the players drifted moodily from the locker room, and Jim was at last alone, he heard a hollow, mocking laugh from the darkness behind him.
He climbed off the bench and saw Patti standing in the shadows, a wide smirk on her face.
"I told you I'd get even for that gang-bang you pulled on me. You didn't believe me, did you?"
He didn't know what she was talking about. He stood perfectly still, stupefied by what she was saying.
"You guys kill me with your ego. Did you think the bunch of you were so handsome and clever that you seduced the girls? Did you think you were the world's best lovers or something?"
He didn't understand.
"I arranged it, smarty."
"You what?"
"I persuaded 'em to help me get even."
He still didn't understand, but suddenly she was making matters painfully clear. Her general strategy was basically simple. The girls on the cheerleader squad were to screw Jim and the other players as often as possible, particularly before their big tide game with Wesleyan. Physically exhaust them, this was the idea, and it was exactly what had happened.
"We were laughing so hard during the game that we couldn't even cheer. You guys looked so weak-we didn't think you'd even be able to finish the game."
He advanced on her. He wanted to slap her in the mouth, wipe that silly smirk off her contemptible little face. But she stopped him, threatening to scream if he laid a hand on her.
"We're even," she said. "You had your fun with that gang-bang, and now I've had mine, causing you to lose the championship."
He finally admitted to arranging the gang-bang. "But I had good reason," he told her, and he explained about seeing her give a blow job to some guy in a motel.
"That's right," she said, "and I did it because we-you and I-were getting too serious about each other." She paused. "And that's wrong. Young people oughta have fun before they think about getting married and settling down."
"Then why didn't you tell me that?" he asked.
She lowered her eyes. "I was afraid you'd get mad."
"That would've been better than cheating and doing what you did."
"No, it wouldn't have," she argued. "If I'd have told you about this other fellow, told you he wanted to take me to a motel and stuff, you wouldn't have got mad and told me to go to hell. That's why I didn't tell you. I figured that way I could have you and-well, just anyone I wanted."
He didn't know what to say to her. He found he still cared for her, but certainly not for her youthful reasoning.
Suddenly she stepped out of the darkness and closed the distance between them. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. The warm closeness of her breasts made his heart beat faster.
"Jim, why can't young people have fun with each other without getting mushy and serious? What's wrong if they do it with different ones?"
"Whore around, huh?"
"Don't say it that way, Jim. Say it like it is."
"Which is how?" he said coldly.
"Which is the truth," she snapped. "You've had your fun these past few weeks, and don't tell me you didn't go slightly nuts with that girl from the ice cream store, and Fay, and Lisa, and any of the others. And I'll tell you something else. I've had my fun too. Did it in the back seat of a car, once on a baby sitting job, and another time in a man's backyard. But I didn't hurt anybody, and neither did you. And that's the whole point of all this, Jim. Sex is for fun. So is dating and all the things that boys and girls do together. And then after the fun, after you've done this and done that, then people can start thinking seriously about each other, maybe. I mean, why be in such a rush?"
"Isn't that called playing the field?"
"So what if it is? It's fun-or don't you think so?"
He was silent, aware that she'd stepped in an inch or two closer, aware that her perky nipples were almost touching the front of his shirt.
"Fuck for fun, huh?" he said.
"Fucking is fun," she answered. "But it shouldn't mean that people have to get married or have to fall in love. But later on, after they've experimented with different bed partners, and they're really sure of themselves, then-then they can get married."
Her adult sophistication startled him. But did he agree with this kind of philosophy? he wondered. And what was he to say?
She broke into his thoughts. She said, "From now on, that's the way it's going to be. If you want to do it to me, we do it for fun. And if I want to screw somebody else or you want to eat some girl's pussy or something, there's no strings attached. We do it, and that's that." She studied him. "Later on, like I said, if we still feel something special about each other-well, we can do something about it."
He stood limp, arms at his sides, his eyes framing this lovely young teenager standing before him. And as he stood so totally motionless, undecided what to do or say, Patti made a sudden grab at her short cheerleader skirt, revealing her unpantied, tantalizing wet pussy.
"What about it, Jim? Do you want t'do it for fun from now on? None of this serious stuff."
Her young pussy held his eyes in a hypnotic gaze. He lowered his fly and took out his throbbing, stiff penis. "All right, from now on we'll do it for fun." He edged toward her, pointing his erect peter at her juice-wetted cunt. "And this is one game I'm not going to lose," he said, finding his long-lost smile.
She spread the lips of her waiting pussy, groaned as he shoved his huge, pleasure-tingling prick deep inside her. "Screwing's one thing you'll never lose at, Jim." She pumped her bare ass, working his thrilling largeness deeper and deeper. "I've heard of born losers, honey, but when it comes to fucking, you're a born winner!"