Chapter 5

NUMBER NINE:

Randy Marx stared down in disbelief as Stacy Richards sucked hungrily on his cock as it jutted out of his pants; her mouth made loud slurping noises as it worked its way up and down. He was standing in the woods behind Greenwood High, just out of sight of the main school building. Stacy, now on her knees in front of him, had met him after class and had asked if he would go with her into the woods; she wanted to show him something, she had said. Randy, who like most of the boys at school only knew Stacy as an object of unattainable beauty, had stammered something in the affirmative, and the two of them had left the school together after the final class. As soon as they had gone a little ways into the forest, just out of sight of the school, Stacy had turned to him, reached down and begun fondling his penis through his pants. Randy, frozen with surprise, had just watched in stunned silence as she sank to her knees in front of him. The charm bracelet on her wrist jingled quietly as she fumbled with his zipper.

"W-what are you doing?" What was she doing?

"P-please, Randy." She had looked up at him with her big, green eyes. "I... I want your cock." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, and she looked like she might cry.

Randy couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stared down at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

"What?"

"I w-want your... cock," she repeated haltingly. Her fingers continued their work while she spoke. His penis was now free of his pants and hung down in front of Stacy's face.

"I want to suck your cock." She turned her head back down and began licking his quickly hardening penis.

Randy just swallowed and fell silent as Stacy got to work. He looked around, frightened of getting caught, but there was no one in sight. His gaze dropped downward, where Stacy was servicing his cock. First she licked and kissed it, starting with the head and then working her soft, warm lips down the shaft. Then, when it was rigid (no time at all, really), she slipped her hot mouth over the shiny head and began sucking, all the while bobbing her head up and down. From where he looked down on her, Randy could only see her blonde hair sliding back and forth, but he could hear the slurping and gurgling sounds which accompanied the movement, and he could feel - oh god, how he could feel - the inside of her mouth and throat as it quivered and sucked around his trembling penis.

Finally, he could take it no more, and began to come. Instinctively, he grabbed the back of her head and pulled it tight against his crotch, jamming his cock right down into her throat as the sperm began to shoot out. Stacy struggled and choked; her hands fluttered about wildly, pushing against his legs, but she was unable to break his grip. Stacy's face remained crushed against his crotch, her mouth and throat stuffed with cock, until he finished coming. Eventually, the spurts began to lessen, and his penis grew soft. Randy relaxed his hold, and she pushed herself away, gasping and choking up the sperm. Suddenly embarrassed, Randy did up his pants, turned and ran away into the woods.

Behind him, Stacy lay on the ground, still choking up sperm and gasping for breath.

The Greenwood school cafeteria was its usual noisy chaos, with students running madly about, trying to fit in as much eating and socializing before the bell went off to announce the inevitable beginning of the afternoon classes. The main section of the cafeteria was filled with rows of connected benches and tables, where the students ate their lunches. The actual kitchen and serving area was located along one of the walls; the students picked up a tray at one end, and ran it along a metal track while making their selections. The food was paid for at the other end and a short section of railing led to the main part of the room.

Karen Williamson stood, tray in hand, looking for a place to sit. Her options were limited; the sitting areas were essentially run by the various school cliques, and Karen absolutely did not belong to any particular group. As a matter of fact, she was commonly the object of derision of many of these groups. It was not that she was particularly ugly, although she was a bit on the heavy side and had something of an acne problem, or that she was antisocial. Her isolation stemmed from a discussion in one of last year's Social Studies classes. In a "Current Events" module, the class had been discussing some recent controversies concerning homosexual rights. Karen had been arguing in support of those rights and had, in the heat of the debate, let slip the fact that she herself was gay. Word had quickly spread, and before long she was virtually an outcast at Greenwood. She had quickly learned that if one is going to come out of the closet, a high-school class is just not the place to do it. Her life had been hell ever since.

Desperately lonely, Karen had hoped that things would have blown over by this, her senior, year, but that hadn't proved to be the case. In fact, the abuse had even gotten worse. Just last week, she had found her locker plastered with pictures of naked women torn from a Penthouse magazine with the words "Dykes Anonymous" scrawled all over them. As a result of these and similar events, Karen had largely withdrawn from school social life, and now spent much of her time alone, often drinking (an activity which had helped neither her weight nor her acne problem). In fact, she had been drinking the previous night, and was now suffering from rather a bad hangover; this probably explained her lapse in judgment in choosing and sitting down at a table near the back of the room.

Even before the table fell ominously silent, she knew that she had made a mistake. A bad one. She looked up from her tray to see who she was sitting with. Across from her sat Stacy Richards and Ashley Peters, easily the two most popular girls in school. The rest of the now-silent table was filled with students of an equally exalted social level.

"Well!" Ashley took the lead, as she always did in making fun of Karen. "Aren't we lucky. A visit from the school dyke!" Karen flinched as Ashley's cutting voice drew attention. The other students at the table were smiling and laughing, knowing what was coming.

"What's wrong? No other dykes to eat with... or eat?" Ashley's voice was getting louder. Students at nearby tables were now looking over and joining in the laughter. Her face burning, Karen stumbled to her feet and fled the table, leaving her tray of food behind.

"Come back anytime," Ashley called after her. "Feel free to bring your girlfriend." The entire section the cafeteria was laughing now, as Karen, now in tears, burst through the exit and disappeared from view.

At a table near the door, Gary and Sharon watched her run out. Silently, they exchanged glances and looked over at Ashley as she laughed with her friends. Stacy laughed right along with them.

Tim smirked across the room at Dennis; the class was almost over. The two thirteen year-old boys had barely been able to restrain themselves during that afternoon's Recreation Class. Due to the colder weather, the class was once again taking place inside the gymnasium, and they had spent the entire period watching Stacy as she supervised the other students. At this particular moment, she was demonstrating volleyball techniques to a group of girls in the corner. She was wearing baggy shorts which came down to her knees and a loose sweatshirt, but that did not deter the boys from imagining what was underneath. So far, she had managed to avoid them, but Tim had plans to deal with that.

Finally, the bell rang, signalling the end of class.

"OK, everybody," Stacy yelled, clapping her hands for attention. "Into the dressing rooms. That's it for today." While the rest of the kids ran into the dressing rooms as directed, Tim and Dennis jogged over to where Stacy was bent over, putting away equipment. She straightened up as they approached.

"Yes?" She asked coldly. "What do you want?" She didn't seem happy to see them.

Embarrassed, Dennis turned to go, but Tim caught his arm before he could get away. "That's not very friendly," he stated. "You were a lot nicer last week." He was smirking again.

"That was last week," Stacy told him angrily. "Don't expect it to happen again." She put her hands on her hips and glared at them. "I don't expect to hear about it again from either of you. Is that understood?"

Dennis flushed red and began to mutter an apology, but was cut off by Tim.

"OK, you won't hear about it from us, then," he told her. "You'll be hearing about it from Mr. Tilby, though."

The thirteen year-old grabbed his friend by the arm and turned to go.

"Wait!" Stacy, no longer confident, called after them. Mr. Tilby was the teacher in charge of the grade 12 supervisors. "What do you mean?" She had a sick feeling that she already knew the answer.

Tim turned and faced her. "We're going to tell Mr. Tilby what happened. I bet he'll be interested."

Stacy felt her face flush with panic; Tilby would get her expelled for sure!

"Unless..." Tim's voice was sly.

"Unless?" Stacy knew what was coming. Unconsciously, she crossed her wrists in front of her and began fiddling with her charm bracelet. There were now almost a dozen metal "F"s hanging from it.

"Unless you become a lot more friendly," Tim finished off his sentence. "Like last week."

Stacy looked at the two of them - Tim looking cocky and sure of himself and Dennis looking both frightened and hopeful - and shuddered. If she gave in, she would become in effect the private whore of a couple of thirteen year-olds. But what else could she do?

"If I agree," she said slowly, fighting back the tears, "you'll keep quiet about it. No one else will know." Maybe she could minimize the damage.

Tim grinned in triumph; they had her!

"OK. It'll be our little secret." A slow smile began to form on Dennis's freckled face.

"And just this once," she bargained. "After that, I don't hear about it again?"

Tim began to nod, flushed with success and ready to agree to anything, but this time it was Dennis who did the interrupting. "Once a week," he told her. "After class on Fridays." Stacy's mouth fell open and she shook her head.

"OK." Dennis shrugged and turned to Tim. "Let's see Tilby."

He started walking, pulling an astonished Tim behind him. This time, the two boys actually managed to get a few steps away before Stacy called them back. Trembling, she agreed to their demands; there was no way she could let them go to Tilby.

Ten minutes later, she was stretched out naked on a pile of stored gym mats, with Dennis pumping his thirteen year-old cock in and out of her pussy while Tim waited his turn. The two boys had wanted her naked this time, and she had had no choice but to slip out of the shorts and sweatshirt. She grunted in time with Dennis's thrusts and moaned as he mauled her tits, but did not fight or cry out as he spurted within her.

She did, however, start crying when Tim crawled on top of her to take his turn at sticking his cock into her now sopping pussy.

With the footlights shining bright and hot directly upwards into her face, the men in the audience - she instinctively knew that they were men - were visible only as vague outlines; dark shapes and shadows which seemed to shift and pulse in time with the thick bass throb of the cheap rock music. She could hear the quiet rumble of conversation from beyond the lights, but as the dance began, the shapes fell silent. They almost appeared to lean forward towards the stage, focusing intensely upon the actions of the dancer.

On the precarious, well-lit catwalk, the dancer slid forward, limbs writhing in time with the music. She wore almost nothing: a pair of stiletto high-heels, black stockings, a spangled, gold g-string and a pair of tassled pasties covering her nipples. And a bright, shiny charm bracelet on one wrist. Her tits, small and firm, bobbed up and down as she gyrated back and forth across the small stage.

The music drew her forward; bit by bit, piece by piece, the minimal clothing came off until, finally, she stood naked and exposed before the watchers. The shapeless mass of the audience was no longer silent, but was instead calling out what seemed to be a name, over and over again. Dimly, the dancer sensed that she should be frightened, but she wasn't. Instead, she began to become more and more excited. Rubbing her breasts with one hand, she began to pant and moan as the shouting grew louder. The colored lights above her began to move... rotating wildly... pulsing on and off. Her pussy was damp and inviting when she inserted first her middle finger, and then middle three fingers.

Her excitement grew to the point of orgasm; the name chanted by the audience became louder and louder... Suddenly, there was a loud ringing sound, again and again as the lights sped up. She tried to ignore it, concentrating on the swiftly approaching orgasm, but it kept ringing and ringing... the hoarse chanting became clearer until, abruptly, she could make out the name:

"Stacy!"

Stacy Richards sat bolt upright in bed, sweaty and dishevelled. Her mother's voice had shouted out her name from the bottom of the stairs. "Stacy. Answer your phone."

The phone beside the bed was ringing. Stacy glanced over at the bedside clock: almost 10:30 - a bit early to be calling on a Saturday. She reached over and picked up the phone.

"Hi Stace." It was Sharon. Of course.

Stacy fought back an urge to slam down the phone. "What do you want?" she asked, fighting to contain her anger.

"Just to tell you that we're going out tonight; girl's night out." Sharon sounded pleased with herself.

"What are you talking about?" Stacy fought to clear her head of the last vestiges of sleep.

"There's a party at BCN tonight," Sharon explained. "We're going." BCN stood for Bakersville College North. At the time the campus was opened, there was a planned second campus to be built south of the town, but that had never occurred. The one college was still, however, called "North".

"I can't do that," Stacy argued, fighting down a sudden surge of panic. "I'm... uhm... busy tonight."

"Do I have to make threats?" Sharon asked. "You know what your options are. Besides, you might enjoy yourself."

Stacy sighed with resignation. She knew very well that she would have to agree with whatever Sharon said. If not, she would be ruined at Greenwood. "OK," she muttered. "I'll be there."

"Fine." Sharon was matter of fact; she had expected nothing else. "Come to my place at 7:00. Oh... we'll be out all night; tell your mother that you'll be spending the night at a friend's house." The line went dead as Sharon hung up before Stacy could reply or protest.

Slowly, Stacy put the receiver down and ran a shaky hand through her matted hair. Only then did she notice that her body was covered with a sheen of sweat. The dream! She pushed back the covers and looked down on her body: her nipples were firm and erect and her pussy was slightly damp. Could that dream really have been exciting her? All she remembered was being naked... and all those men were watching! She placed a finger on her clit and began to rub, moaning softly. Just the memory of the dream was exciting! What was happening to her? Despite her confusion, she continued to masturbate herself, quickly bringing herself to climax.

Just as the orgasm died away, the phone rang again. She picked it up.

"Hello?" It was Barry Packard. Just what she needed. She had noticed that he was trying to talk to her at school, but she had managed to avoid him successfully ever since they had fucked a couple of weeks ago in the front seat of his car.

"Hi Stacy," he greeted her. She remained silent.

"Uhm... I was just wondering if you wanted to... like, you know... go out tonight, or something."

"Are you kidding," she laughed. "I wouldn't be caught dead with a loser like you." All of her frustration and anger at what had happened to her in the last couple of weeks flowed out of her heart and down the phone lines.