***
Adults only, no prudes. If you don't like sex stories
containing teenagers engaging in weird perversions, or you
can't separate truth from fiction, get lost. The author
does not advocate or condone anything that goes on in this
story.
This story is mine. You can repost it or archive it only if
1) you don't change it, 2) my name and this disclaimer
remain attached, and 3) you aren't making money off it.
That includes posting it on some slimeball banner farm web
site. Yes, that means you!
This thing is unfinished, but I know generally where I'm
going. Feedback and suggestions/requests are most welcome,
however! If there's something you'd like to see Marianne
and her friends do, then by all means let me know. First
cum, first served--the sooner you get your requests in, the
sooner you will see them!
This chapter is a little tame, but after the orgy in Ch.12,
I figured Marianne needed the rest.
Previous chapters are archived at ASSTR
(https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Richard_Bissell). Muchas
gracias, Rey! Don't ask me to e-mail story pieces--
everything you need is there.
Ch. 13 Codes: Mf, teen, oral, rom
Call Girl Cheerleaders
(C)opyright 1999 by Richard Bissell
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.
* * *
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