Part V

Reggie Mantle settled back in the driver's seat of his convertible, relishing the blowjob. He would pay for it later, he knew — Veronica never touched a guy's dick without demanding something in return — but for now, all thoughts of intrigue were banished as her supple tongue slithered about his glans. The bitch was amazing. She knew just where to lick, when to jack, how hard to suck. Archie Andrews, the poor boob, would never know the ecstasy of a Veronica Lodge Special, simply because he gave in to her whims so quickly she never had to resort to sexual persuasion. He'd been a fool to turn her down in Grundy's class this morning. From what Reggie had seen, Betty's oral ministrations were all enthusiasm and no technique.

Not that Andrews would know the difference.

It was obvious the performance had pissed Ronnie off no end, and she was giving Reggie head in part to take her revenge on Archie, in part to prove that she was still the best cocksucker at Riverdale High. Veronica Lodge would never come in second to anyone — especially Betty Cooper. Reggie had nothing to do with it.

Which was fine with him.

"Girl, you are the shit," he murmured, combing his fingers through her shining black hair. "You are the fucking shit!"

The more he built her up, the more eagerly she performed. Her head bobbed and jerked, tensing him to a seminal blast, and for the coup de grace, she deep-throated him. The ring of muscle, or gristle, or whatever the fuck it was, relaxed, drawing him in. Then it tightened again, gripping the head of his throbbing cock. His animal grunt echoed through the darkness of lovers' lane. She stayed with him as he shot off, timing her swallows to each spurt. His semen flowed neatly down her gullet.

Then, as quickly as he climaxed, she let go and sat up. She brushed the front of her jacket, and, holding it open, inspected her blouse. It was spotless, of course.

"Spill his come, my ass," she said.

"So that's what's bothering you."

She ignored that. Ronnie opened a compact, and an LED flicked on, encircling the little mirror.

"Now, I have something I want you to do for me," she said, freshening her lipstick.

"At your service, Madam."

Here it comes.

"Take this," she said. Reaching under her legs, she handed him the plastic bag she'd brought along on their last-minute date. Inside the bag was a gun. Oh, not a real gun. Veronica wasn't that crazy. It was a paintball gun, and a really cool, expensive one, like something out of a spy movie, with a long, thin barrel, a gleaming blue grip and a capsule-shaped ammo chamber along the top.

"It's loaded and ready to go," Ronnie said. "I had to bribe the guy for the indelible paint he keeps under the counter. He said it doesn't wash out of clothes, and if it hits bare skin, it'll take like two weeks to wear off."

"I get it. You want Archie to go through the rest of the program with a flaming red butt."

"Not Archie. Betty. The paint is brown. Get her in the ass. It'll look like she shit herself."

"Come on," Reggie said.

He'd do anything to humiliate Archie, but picking on Betty was a new low.

"If you ever want these lips on your cock again, you'll do as you're told."

She had him there. They sat in silence as he wrestled with what was left of his conscience.

"Oh, all right," she said finally. "If you want to go after Archie, too, I won't mind. Just make sure I'm not around when you do it."

"Right in the balls," he said, starting up his car. He drove out slowly between the rows of glowing red taillights. For a Monday night, there were a lot of kids in the park. Now that spring was here, the teens of Riverdale were horny, and this shady lot was the town's most popular make-out spot. Little Riverdale, they called it. The custom was to leave your parking lights on so drivers could enter and exit with their headlamps off. But who cares about courtesy? Just to be a dick, Reggie cranked up his high beams. It was quite a show. In car after car, couples were in a state of partial to total undress. The white blaze slid caressingly across the girls' bare tits and raised legs, the boys' humping butts. Hateful curses and shouts of vengeance followed them into the road.

Reg didn't bother to zip up. He liked the feeling of the night air on his cock as it dried Ronnie's spit. On the way back to her mansion, they passed Pop's burger joint, catching a glimpse of Archie, Betty, and Jughead through the bright front window. Crumpled napkins, empty plastic baskets, and tall paper cups speared with red straws littered the table in front of them. Juggie was talking and gesturing, and Archie and Betty were laughing hard.

Well, they wouldn't be laughing for long.

Betty marched into school Tuesday morning ready and willing to strip. Today, there would be no unpleasant surprises. She had showered, washed her hair, lacquered her toenails and trimmed her bush. To make her entrance, she was dressed for spring in a sleeveless shift with a zigzag print of teal, yellow, and black, and cork-soled, strap-on wedges that tightened her calves in the most alluring fashion.

Archie, already nude, was waiting for her when she reached her locker, surrounded by a crowd of teen voyeurs. His dick, in its softened state, was small, resting lightly on his tightened sack. Betty hoped that condition would change in a moment.

"Archiekins," she said, "would you mind?"

She flipped her ponytail forward over one shoulder. Archie, taking the hint, unzipped her down the back. Betty stepped out of the shift carefully, and, with all deliberation, opened her locker and hung it inside. The wolves were salivating, their tongues practically hanging out, and she didn't want to disappoint them.

"Oh, dear," she said, "I seem to be having trouble with my bra. You —" she pointed to an pimple-faced shrimp with glasses thick as beer steins — "could you unhook it for me?"

The shrimp hesitated, until somebody behind him gave him a shove, and he fell into her arms.

"It's easy," she told him, presenting him with her long, smooth spine. "Just pull it out a little, and push the straps in."

She could feel his hands shaking as he twisted and tugged. The crowd, mostly boys, was getting restless, but Betty gave the kid all the time he needed. It was a teaching moment, the kind the program was designed for: Someday this little weasel would be in the backseat of a car with some hot, horny girl as pimply as he, and the experience would come in handy.

After much fumbling and grumbling, the bra sprang open. The shrimp jumped back as if some vicious dog had snapped at him. Betty turned about and faced the crowd, keeping her arms crossed over her tits as she plucked the straps from her shoulders.

"Aw, come on!" somebody said. But Betty would not be rushed. The bra dangled from her pinkie, but she kept her hands clamped over her nipples, teasing.

"Be patient," Archie told the kids. "Anything worth having is worth waiting for."

But the look in his eyes said "hurry up," and his cock was coming to life, all on its own.

Betty lowered her hands. The crowd gasped.

"You got something on your breast," the Shrimp said.

"Oh no," Betty said. "Where did that come from?"

It was a smudge, the color of ash, just off her left nipple, on the cleavage side. Betty licked the tip of her middle finger and rubbed until the spot was gone and her tit was once again as white as a daisy. Her nipple stood up in response, flushing to a deep pink, and the Shrimp's knees buckled. The boys to either side had to hold him up by his armpits.

"That's better," Betty said, holding her tit up, looking it over.

The ritual ended with Betty Finally she slipping her panties off over her sandals. Turning one last time to her locker, giving the group a generous view of her pert bottom, she folded her underwear, placed it on the top shelf, beside a stack of books, and took out her Riverdale nudity towel. When she faced the group again, Archie's cock was fully erect. He rolled it absently between his fingers.

"No no!" she said, playfully smacking his hand away. "We must wait until the designated relief period!"

"I'll be dead by then."

"You're sweet."

The other kids dogged their heels as they made their way to Miss Grundy's class. Betty glanced over her shoulder, and through the press of faces she saw Principal Weatherbee at the entrance to a stairwell, grinning at her. She thought she saw him wink. He seemed very happy about something.

"You were having fun back there," Archie said.

"You boys are so easy to toy with."

What she wanted was to blow Archie in Miss Grundy's class again, but unfortunately, she didn't get the chance. Today, Miss Grundy suggested they masturbate for everyone, so girls could see how boys do it, and vice versa. Another teaching moment, and Betty had to admit, she did learn something. She expected Archie just to yank it, the way she imagined boys did, but his technique surprised her. Standing in the front of the room, leaning with legs wide and his ass bunched against the teacher's desk, he hooked his fingers lightly under his softening scrotum and made circles with his arm, moving his stiff dick across his stomach with the heel of his hand. With his other hand, he lightly brushed his chest and nipples. He blushed all over as he got into it, breathing through his mouth and staring at Betty's boobs, his arm going faster until pearls of semen bubbled up beneath his wrist, suddenly, and rolled down his legs.

"Jerk off," Reggie muttered.

"Mr. Mantle," Miss Grundy said, "my one hope for you is that one day you can learn to give yourself as much pleasure as Mr. Andrews has. That was excellent, Mr. Andrews. It will be reflected on your quarterly grade. Now, Miss Cooper."

Wow — extra credit for masturbation. Is this a great country or what?

Archie sat down, wiping himself with his towel. Good thing he went first. His demonstration got Betty's pussy hot and wet, and it wouldn't take much effort to get off. Bypassing Grundy's desk, she shocked everyone by lying down in the center aisle, between two rows of students. The kids rearranged themselves in a ragged semicircle below her as she spread her legs, giving them a bird's-eye view of her glistening pink gash. Already she counted half a dozen erections. There was no mistaking them as they inflated the boys' pants. Jughead was rubbing himself discreetly over his fly. Only one person didn't join the crowd south of her pussy: that was Veronica, who stood directly above her head, her face seemingly upside down. At that angle, her expression was hard to read.

Since Archie had been so creative, Betty thought she'd try something different, too. Usually, at home in bed, she would stuff a couple fingers up her cunt while kissing Archie's picture, but now, with the real thing standing naked at her feet, all she needed to do was curl her middle finger, press the highest knuckle into her clit, and jiggle her wrist while gazing up at the underside of his boner and the cursive "w" of his balls. It was the most delicately sexual feeling, and it drew her toes apart.

But it didn't stay delicate for long. In a minute, maybe two, as the pressure built from within, her hand took on a will of its own, as uncontrollable as the creature in a horror flick that escapes from the laboratory. Take your time, she told herself, but it felt too fucking good. Her knuckle dug down and her splayed fingers batted her thighs as her wrist shook, rattled and rolled.

"God," she whimpered. "Motherfucking God."

Her mind rose from her body as she came, and she saw herself as if from above, squeezing her tits and lashing her clit. There was the top of Archie's red head, too, with the sharp white part down the middle, and his cock sticking out from under like Pinocchio's nose. He was rock-hard again, and this time he yanked his dick in the classic "jerk-off" manner. Suddenly, another naked cock popped out above her, then a third, and a fourth. The unspoken impulse surged through the group. Cocks sprouted like mushrooms, until every boy in class had whipped it out.

"Miss Grundy," Betty said, as she realized what was about to happen, "isn't this against the rules?"

But Miss Grundy didn't intervene. She was standing to the side, at Betty's jiggering elbow, discreetly inserting a yardstick up her skirt. The girls in class got in on the act, too, wanking off with their hands down their panties. But when girls come, they only get squishy. Boys, on the other hand —

"Thar she blows!" Betty cried.

Torrents of hot jizz rained on her face and her tits and tummy and legs, and her climax, which had begun to fade, reared a second time. She felt like a filthy whore, masturbating for her classmates, crisscrossed with cock-spatter, and she loved it. Her body was a living work of abstract art, a sexual drip painting, a Pollock in sperm.

Her orgasm went on long after the last cock was squeezed dry, but at last, her mind rejoined her body, and the room stopped spinning. She was gazing up at her classmates again. They looked too funny, the girls with their hands stuffed between their legs, the boys holding their dorks. For a time, nobody spoke. Everybody seemed embarrassed.