Custer's Last Stand
Copyright© 2026 by Lubrican
Chapter 2
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - When the school custodian found the head cheerleader and the head geek in his janitor closet, having sex, he took them to the principal. The principal succumbed to temptation, plain and simple. It was blackmail, plain and simple. But she was a gorgeous cheerleader who wasn't a virgin and he needed a slut in his life at that moment. The law would have called it rape, at the very least, but a strange thing happened. They grew to have feelings for each other. Then her mother got involved.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Teenagers Blackmail Rape Fiction School MaleDom Interracial Black Male White Male White Female Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Size Teacher/Student
There are basically two kinds of women in the world. There are your good girls, and then there are your bad girls. Amanda was a bad girl. Once she’d had an ultra-man-sized prick in her pussy, she couldn’t go without it. Oh, she complained, but she knew if I got the police involved that her career as a cheerleader after high school was over before it started. College might be over before it started, in fact. I had videotaped the interrogation in which I made her tell me who she got the dope from and now long she’d been smoking. I could never use that for anything official, since I had broken the law by videotaping her and even interrogating her for something criminal without her parents’ permission. But I doubted she knew that.
And, being a bad girl, the danger of bareback sex was also addictive. Each period she had after I started fucking her brought on tears and cursing, but when I hugged her and she felt my cock press against her pussy, she couldn’t wait to be dangerous again. She even kissed me back with genuine passion as I filled her pussy.
Then there are the good girls. Molly Worthington, Amanda’s widowed mother, was one of those. She was a delightful woman, very pretty and shapely, who supported the cheer team at all the bake sales and car washes and every other way they raised funds so they could go with the team to away games. There wasn’t money in the school budget for that.
I had been fertilizing Amanda without impregnating her for four months when her mother came in and asked the secretary if she could speak with me. I always make time for parents. I invited her in and gestured at the couch against one wall. It was an old couch and when she sat down she showed an acre of leg.
“How can I help you?” I asked.
“I have discovered that my daughter is sexually active,” she said, without fanfare. She stopped and waited. I played it cool.
“That’s not unusual in the case of popular girls, these days,” I said.
“What is unusual is that she broke up with her boyfriend and hasn’t gotten a new one.”
“All right,” I said, lifting my eyebrows.
“She is still having sex,” said Molly.
“I’m not sure why you’re telling me this,” I said. “I’m not sure what you want me to do,” I added.
“I find semen in her panties when I do the wash,” she said. “I started paying more attention, and when she comes home from school, the semen is ... fresh.”
I cursed myself for not thinking about this possibility.
“I think someone here, at school, is having sex with my daughter. She’s lost interest in boys, so it must be a man. I think a teacher is having sex with my daughter.”
This could be real trouble. I needed to handle it carefully, and wasn’t sure I could pull it off, especially if Amanda got under the gun and was interviewed by a detective. Any good detective could break her before his coffee got cool.
“That would be a violation of school policy, of course,” I said, “but I believe she’s already eighteen, which means she can have sex with whoever she wants to, legally.” I frowned. “Aside from the ethical problem, that is. I can do some investigating and if I discover who she is meeting, I can promise you it will come to a screeching halt.”
“No,” she said. “That’s not what I want.”
I blinked.
“You want your daughter to have sex here, at school, possibly with a member of the staff?”
“Yes, I do, but you’re going to think I’m a horrible person when I explain it.”
“I will not pass judgement on you, Molly,” I said. “I can promise you that.”
“We’re barely getting by,” said Molly. “High school is expensive, especially for a girl on the cheer team. She wants to go to college and cheer there, too. She might be good enough to get some kind of financial help if a recruiter saw her, but even then it won’t be a full ride. And, barring a full ride, I can’t afford to pay for her to go. I can’t go the student loan route, either, because I won’t hang that millstone around her neck and I won’t be able to pay them off myself.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. I really was. I liked this woman.
“So, as awful as it sounds, the best thing that could happen to my daughter is to ... get pregnant.”
“Get pregnant,” I said. My voice was flat.
“Yes. If that happens, then she’ll have to stay home and raise a baby. I work in medical coding, which I do from home. If I was single, meaning didn’t have a child, it would be a pretty good income, but that isn’t enough for two. She could learn to do that, though, and we’d have the income necessary to live well and raise her child. I know it’s not what she’d want, but I can’t think of any other way to go forward.”
“I see where you’re going,” I said. “Isn’t she on birth control?”
“No. I told her I wouldn’t do that and I told her that if she managed to get pills herself, I’d send her to live with her grandmother. My mother lives in a town of six hundred. There’s a consolidated school, but no sports teams. After she graduated, she’d have to take a job waiting tables at the only diner in town. I have used this threat before and she’s terrified of that.”
“But less terrified of getting pregnant,” I said.
“She’s charting her cycle,” said Molly. “The only time I find semen in her panties is when she’s not ovulating. I know when that is because our cycles are synced.”
She blushed and I waved a hand.
“So, if I understand you, what you want is for Amanda to continue having sex with ... whoever she’s having sex with ... until she makes a mistake and catches a fast ball.”
“Catches a fast ball,” the woman repeated. “I’ve never heard it called that.”
I shrugged. I also thought: Desperate problems lead to desperate solutions.
“That’s kind of hanging your ... um ... solution ... out in the wind. I can’t believe I’m asking this but, what if she doesn’t get pregnant?”
“I hoped you could find out who is having sex with her and ... encourage him ... or them ... to continue.”
“Do you think there might be a ‘them?’” I asked.
“I hope not, but she has my genes and when I was her age ... well ... let’s just say I wasn’t a very good girl.”
“I find that very difficult to believe,” I said.
“Trust me. Since my husband died I haven’t dated or gone out to ... have fun ... because I wanted to set a good example for her. I should have known the Washowski gene would take her over like it took me over.”
“Washowski gene?” I said.
“My maiden name,” she said. “My mother got pregnant with me when she was sixteen and my grandmother had her first baby when she was fourteen.”
I sat back and just thought. It was possible this was a very smooth sting. If Molly had found out about my penis violating her little girl’s pussy (and dumping dangerous sperm in it) then what she needed me to do was confess to that. If she was wearing a wire, and I told her that her “plan” could be made to work out, then I would be thrown in a dark dungeon, never to see the light of day again. What she said she wanted, though, was so outlandish that it didn’t seem like the kind of cockamamie plan the police would dream up. If the cops were involved, and they suspected me, Molly had all the DNA they would need to compare to any suspects. I was well aware that we all leave DNA practically all over the place, and it wouldn’t take much to get some of mine, even without a warrant. Her daughter’s panties were full of it.
That left this as something a desperate mother had come up with because she was at her wits’ end. I didn’t think this was a sting, but if it was I intended to string them out. I was also desperate, so I thought up a desperate solution ... sort of.
“I’m going to ask you a strange question,” I said. “You may ignore this question completely if you want to, and it will have no bearing on any further conferences that may need to take place.”
“That sounds dark and mysterious,” she said.
“Would you be interested in going to dinner with me?”
She blinked.
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Yes,” I said, simply.
“Isn’t that against the law, or something?” she asked.
“It is technically frowned upon but is not a violation of any law or policy I know of,” I said.
“Why?” she asked.
I knew she was asking why I had asked her out.
“Your plan is bare bones at this point in time,” I said. “For things to work out well – and you and your daughter would describe that word differently – it would need to be a much better planned-out mission. There are a number of ways to go that I can think of. One of them is to just sit down with her and explain college is not a realistic option for her. Maybe community college would work for her to learn a trade. Then she could support herself and you could support yourself.”
“I didn’t think of that,” she said, biting her lip.
“If we had a few hours to spend ... talking ... then we might be able to think of all the options and proceed from there.”
“I really want grandchildren, but I am fully aware that Amanda likes bad boys and bad boys do not make good husbands.”
“So part of this get-her-pregnant plan is for you,” I said.
“I told you that you’d think I was a horrible person,” she said.
“I don’t think you’re a horrible person at all,” I said. “You’ve had a rough go of things and sacrificed almost everything for Amanda. What would be wild was if you didn’t go a little wonky.”
“So this wouldn’t be a date, date,” she said.
“I don’t see why, as two adults, we can’t enjoy the evening as we talk about things. I have not dated since my divorce, so I understand exactly how that can affect one’s ... equilibrium. Maybe it would be helpful to both of us to spend some enjoyable time together in each other’s company.”
“Mister Custer, as a cheer mom I spend a lot of time with other moms, some of whom are not as introspective as I am about goings on between a man and woman. I have heard rumors about you.”
“What rumors?” I asked.
“Rumors that you have dated a few women since your divorce.”
“Well, a few, but very few,” I admitted.
“What I heard was that you dated some mothers of your students.”
“Unfounded allegations,” I said.
She smiled.
“From the whispers I hear, all those unfounded allegations claim to have had a very good time on these alleged dates.”
“Whatever,” I said, dismissively. “We don’t have to go to dinner to discuss this further.”
“Oh, but I want to go to dinner with you,” she said. “If any of those whispers are true, I might be very glad for having done it.”
Somehow the atmosphere in the room had changed radically.
“As attractive as you are, and as attractive as that sounds, I haven’t been on one of those dates for over five years,” I said.
“And yet your reputation still lingers,” she said.
“How about this?” I said. “You choose the restaurant and the time and date for us to get together. If you want to do breakfast at iHop that’s fine with me. The primary purpose of this liaison will be to discuss Amanda and her future. Anything else can be negotiated, if desired.”
“You’re smooth,” she said. “My Washowski genes have been asleep for a while but you are attractive, too. The bad girl in me will want to come out.”
“I do not find that possibility upsetting at all,” I said.
“I’ll text you with the time, date and place,” she said.
“And I will do some judicious investigation to see what I can find.”
“Thank you.”
“You are most welcome,” I said.
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