"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.