Path: not-for-mail
From: Yenc@power-post.org
Sender: Yenc@power-post.org
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: "CallGirlCheerleaders#13.txt" yEnc (1/1)
X-Newsposter: YENC-POWER-POST-A&A-v11b (Modified POWER-POST www.CosmicWolf.com)
Lines: 124
Message-ID: <9IOLe.7515$0E5.7408@fe05.lga>
X-Trace: nghlfjfcphhogbnddhpdlemcapeidcpanecoejnlggfjcgolioidaebmiiakdjgfaalknagkgigfjebdpjjdjdcjjmchiiclcocmlaglokcpellobbjdofkkiglhahhgbcfagklmibllijll
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 14 Aug 2005 14:28:37 MST
Date: Sun, 14 Aug 2005 21:28:37 +0000
===================
--- DECODED ATTACHMENT (callgirlcheerleaders#13.txt) ---
Ch. 13 Codes: Mf, teen, oral, rom
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Guess who's become a born-again lesbian?"
It was a few days after that epic Friday-night orgy, and I was at work
listening to Marianne update me on the school gossip.
"Who?"
"Giselle. She and Ashley are suddenly an item."
I laughed.
"I had a feeling something was up that night."
"I wasn't really paying attention. But Tiff told me about it today. I'd
seen them together this week, but it never really registered until she
mentioned it to me. They are in serious lust together, believe me."
"What about Tiffany?"
Silence came over the line for a few seconds. Then she sighed.
"I think we might have overdone it. She's been acting kind of weird. A
little more distant than usual. Between all that pot and beer, I think she
went further than she wished she had now. So, I don't know. I'm trying not
to get cute with her."
"You really think she's upset?"
"No. She'll get it over it if I leave her alone for a few days. Don't worry
about it. It has nothing to do with you. Having dyked out one night in her
life isn't going to kill her."
I laughed.
"Unlikely."
"Anyway, um, could I ask you a favor?"
"Name it."
"This group activity is fun and all, but do you think, at least for the near
future, we could limit it to just the two of us? Just for now?"
"I think I've probably had enough group sex to last me a few months."
She giggled.
"Me too. With, um, one exception."
"Who?"
"Hayley."
"Hayley?"
"Just let me explain. I'm kind of worried about her. I know what she's
like, because she's just like I was at that age. I'm telling you, if the
situations were reversed, and I had lost it to you at fifteen, you'd have a
hard time keeping me out of your bed. She's been going on like 'Sex is so
cool.' 'I want to have sex 24/7.' Stuff like that. I'm worried about what
she might do if we cut her off."
"Didn't we have this conversation the other night? I don't want you to feel
pressured into doing anything sexually, whether it's for me or anyone else."
"I'm not. Really. I was starting to feel a little weird about sharing you
with my friends, but Hayley is different. Yeah, she can be a brat sometimes,
but she's still my sister, and I care about her. If sharing you with her
will keep her out of trouble, then I'm fine with it."
"You're sure about that?"
"Steve, we share underwear and tampons. I don't think this is that much of a
stretch. I figure if you do it with her once a week or so, she should be
fine. Once the novelty wears off, I think she'll settle down."
"Okay. I guess I don't really mind. The truth is, she reminds me a lot of
you. It's sort of like doing it with a fifteen-year-old Marianne."
She giggled.
"Are you serious? You're thinking of me when you do it with her?"
"Usually. I like to imagine that you're the one I'm breaking in, not her."
She laughed again.
"That is *so* cool. You don't know how great that makes me feel. I love you
so much."
"I love you too, kitten."
When she meowed at me after that, she really did sound like a cat.
I got home that night about six, and per usual, Marianne was there, watching
television in the den (HBO this time, though, not another porn flick). I
gave her a kiss and went back to the kitchen to review my mail. The fourth
letter was the statement from one of my credit cards, and it seemed
noticeably thicker than normal. I realized as I was opening it that it was
the account I had been letting Marianne use.
It took a few seconds for the reality of it to register. She had somehow run
up almost *four thousand dollars* in charges in less than three weeks. I ran
my eyes rapidly down the statement as my eyes bulged in their sockets.
Clothes, jewelry, clothes, electronics, more clothes, CD's, food--it just
went on and on and on.
"Steve? What's wrong?"
I broke out of my shock and looked over to the couch. Marianne was watching
me with a look of concern on her face. She got to her feet and came rapidly
over to where I was standing. That was when she got a good look at the
statement, and her face paled in fear.
"Oops."
"What happened?" I gasped.
She seemed to wither in front of me.
"Um. I didn't think I'd spent that much. I'm sorry."
I continued flipping through the statement.
"How?"
"Well . . . you said I should pay the other girls with it, right? I got some
stuff for Ashley, and Giselle. And Tiffany, too. I got this bracelet that
Hayley wanted, and a boombox for her."
I ran my eyes down the list, finding the culprits. Those two items had
accounted for $600 alone.
"Plus a lot of it was clothes I've been getting to wear for you."
She had a point there, too. Her wardrobe had gotten a lot more interesting
since I had met her, but I hadn't given it enough thought to make the
connection.
I looked back at Marianne. Her forehead was creased in distress and her jaw
was vibrating softly. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, and my
anger dissolved. I reached out and hugged her.
"It's all right."
"Are you mad at me?"
"No. It's not like I can't afford this. But you can't do this every month."
She started to cry anyway.
"I'm sorry."
This was at least fifty percent my fault, I thought. I should have
anticipated something like this. You can't just hand a charge account to a
teenager and expect her to know how to manage it without any supervision.
She had promised me she wouldn't go crazy with it, but I reflected that what
"crazy" might mean to me was likely not what it meant to a seventeen-year-old
girl with her first credit card. Plus, thinking back to what our original
arrangement with that card had been, four thousand dollars worked out to just
sixteen pieces of ass, and I had certainly gotten more than that since then.
I held Marianne until she stopped crying.
"Please don't be mad at me."
"I'm not. This was as much my fault as yours."
She pressed her face, hot with tears, against my neck.
"How have your parents not noticed all this stuff you've bought?"
She leaned back, sniffling and wiping her face.
"They don't pay that much attention. Plus I've been trying to hide most of
it. I told Hayley she can't wear that bracelet around the house. She just
wears it to school and takes off on the way home."
"What does it look like?"
"It has these neat lapis beads mounted in 14k gold. I think it matches her
eyes. It's really pretty."
I realized I had seen her wearing it the last time she had come over, but
once again, I had been too dense to make the connection. Of course I should
have wondered where Hayley could have gotten a thing like that with a father
who managed a grocery store and a mother who worked as a legal secretary.
"Does she like it?"
"She loves it. She never takes it off unless she has to. She wears it with
everything, even stuff that doesn't go."
"Okay. That's good enough for me."
She hugged me again.
"I won't spend any more."
"It's all right. I want you to use it, just try to keep it under a grand a
month."
"Okay."
She backed up, pulling me toward the stairs and grinning through her previous
distress.
"Come on. I guess I have some bills to work off now."
She led me to the bedroom and began disrobing. I looked at her with more
attention to detail now, and I realized that she really had been trying to
dress the way she thought I liked her. Tight jeans, cut-off shorts (like
those now heading toward the floor), short skirts. She knew I liked the
cropped baby-tees (the shorter the better, so as to emphasize her chest) and
the stretch satin tops, so she had been wearing them almost exclusively.
Underneath, she wore a matching white satin bra-and-thong set, which was
another thing I realized had changed. Her underwear always matched now, and
it was invariably something interesting, which no doubt explained the ten or
twelve visits to Victoria's Secret on that statement.
She saw the look in my eye and smiled.
"You like it?"
"Almost as beautiful as you. I don't mind spending my money on someone who
deserves it."
She closed with me, linking her arms around my waist.
"Would you still love me if I didn't look like this?"
I kissed her nose.
"Kitten, it's been my experience in life that people who are as beautiful on
the inside as you are find ways to be beautiful on the outside. You wouldn't
be the same person. You would have to be ugly inside too. I've dated my
share of ugly women who looked very good superficially, and believe me it's a
not pleasant experience."
She lifted up on her toes and kissed me. I cupped her big tits in my hands
and pushed them around gently, tweaking her nipples through the satin. She
continued kissing me, sucking on my tongue, and slid her arms around my neck.
I let one hand drop down between her legs, reversing it, and extended my
middle finger into the juncture of her thighs. The satin was smooth and cool
against her hot flesh. As I massaged her slowly, her inner moisture dampened
the fabric until my finger was sliding slickly against her lips and clit.
She stood it for only a minute or so before lowering her hands to my waist
and unbuttoning my slacks. They fell to the floor, and Marianne followed
them. She reached into the fly of my boxers and found my erection. She
stroked it, looking up at me. She gave the base a sloppy kiss and grinned.
"Meow."
Pretending to be a cat, she began giving my cock a slow tongue bath, all the
while purring and meowing at me. I forced myself to maintain enough control
to remove my shirt and tie. By this time, she had gotten my entire erection
slick with her saliva, and she stroked it slowly with her right hand. With
the other she began to rub all over herself and moan in discomfort.
"Mmm, meow, I'm so hot. I think I must be in heat. Meow, what am I going to
do?"
I couldn't stand it anymore. I lifted her into my arms and practically
tossed her on the bed, making her to shriek with laughter. I paused only to
discard the last bits of my clothing and then grabbed her, rolling her on her
hands and knees. I opened the snaps on her bra, letting it fall off, and
almost tore the thong from her hips. She continued to moan and meow at me
until I stabbed my cock between her thighs. She let out a yowl that sounded
only partially faked as I sank into her wetness.
I drove rapidly in and out of her tight teenage twat, thumping against her
buttocks. She pushed back at me hard, stretching out all those toned
cheerleading muscles. I felt her hand brushing against my balls with each
thrust as she played with herself. I held tightly onto her hips, but she
battered back at me with everything she had.
Soon, way too soon, I felt my cum beginning to rise. I tried to slow the
pace, but Marianne would have none of it.
"No . . . no . . . fuck me, I'm almost there . . . come on!"
I redoubled my efforts, pounding her ass without restraint, and a few moments
later, she shrieked in orgasm. When her pussy bit down on my cock, I pulled
her backwards, stretching her even further open than she already was and
stabbing the last spasming inch of myself into her, coming like an
out-of-control fire hose. My legs buckled under me, and I fell forward,
pushing Marianne down on the bed. We lay, twitching and gasping in the
aftermath, until I had enough energy to roll off her.
She slid over, snuggling against me.
"I liked that."
"Me too."
She giggled.
"Meow."
"Still in heat there?"
"Mmm. I'm always in heat around you."
I ran my fingers through her hair, caressing her. She stretched out against
me, sliding her long smooth legs against mine.
"Your birthday is next week."
"Mmm-hmm. What are you going to get me?"
She propped her chin up on my chest.
"I'm kidding. You don't have to get me anything. You've already given me so
much."
I pushed her tousled blonde hair back over her head.
"Kitten, I have a lot of money, and it's been a long time since I had someone
I felt comfortable spending it on. Don't worry about my finances. That
credit card bill was just a surprise, not a problem."
She smiled.
"Okay. Thanks."
"So what do you want for your birthday?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know. Seriously, you don't need to get me anything."
"Just tell me what you want. If money were no object at all, what would you
want to get?"
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"What do you mean?"
"Just tell me. What would you want?"
"Well . . . a car--but I know that's impossible."
"What kind of car?"
She reared back, eyes swelling.
"No. You wouldn't."
"What kind of car?"
Her jaw dropped slowly.
"No. Steve, you cannot buy me a car. That's crazy."
"Why?"
"How would I explain it to my folks? I can't just drive up in a new car and
say, 'Hey, look at this.' They don't even know you exist yet."
"What if I thought up a way to explain it?"
Her eyebrows rose up her forehead.
"How?"
"Well . . . how about if we told them you won it in a raffle?"
Now she really was a picture of disbelief.
"A *raffle*? Come on."
"You've never seen cars being raffled off at the mall for some promotion?
Just tell them you entered a few weeks ago, and lo and behold, you won. I
could just have it delivered to your house. How would they know?"
The color drained out of her face, and her jaw fell toward her chest. Her
breathing grew short and rapid.
"No. No. Steve, you can't do this. I won't let you."
"I'm doing it, and you can't stop me."
She grabbed my arm tightly, and her eyes bulged. Her breath whistled through
her nostrils in agitation.
"What kind of car?"
She whimpered in frustration.
"What kind of car?"
She answered me in a tiny voice.
"A Bug."
"A Volkswagen Bug?"
She nodded weakly.
"What color?"
"Yellow."
"Done."
"Wait! Wait!" She grabbed both my hands tightly, squeezing so hard she
almost cut off the circulation. "Can I at least think about this for a few
days?"
"No. Decide now or the offer is withdrawn."
She shook my arms, letting out a sound that was half growl and half shriek of
distress.
"Going once. Going twice."
"Oh! Yes! No! Wait!"
"Too late. It's yours."
"Argh!"
She pounced on me, pinning me down and snarling at me as if she really were a
cat. But then her expression softened, and I could see her eyes beginning to
water.
"You're really going to buy me a car?"
"Yes."
"Steve." She drew it out almost into a whine. "We haven't even been going
out for two months yet."
"I don't care. I love you. And I think you're going to be around for quite
a while."
"God." She smiled at me weakly. "After this, I guess I have no choice."
"No. I'm not letting you go, sorry."
She lowered herself to me, pressing her firm body against mine. Further
discussion was silenced by the tongue in my mouth. My kitten was apparently
still in heat, and I had to attend to her distress.
* * *
size=15302 part=1 pcrc32=d8e726e5