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From: "PleaseCain" <pleasecain@aol.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Cheerleader" (mm, mf, anal) by deirdre -- reposted by H. Jekyll and PleaseCain
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Date: Fri, 16 Dec 2005 03:10:01 -0500
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"Cheerleader" (mm, mf, anal)

by deirdre


*****

NOTE: We are not the authors of this story.  "deirdre" was the
enigmatic queen of Usenet sex stories in the mid-1990s.  She posted 156
stories in just over two years, using an anonymous remailer and
apparently *never* corresponding with anyone.  She was last heard from
in late April 1996.  We will repost all 156 stories, with comments by
her, in alphabetical order, between now and the 10th anniversary of her
"retirement." In the coming months, we will announce a "deirdre-fest"
for next Spring.  Meanwhile, enjoy!

To contact us: h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com, or PleaseCain@aol.com.


*****

This is one of seven new stories I'm posting for Spring, 1996: *Ball,
Cheerleader, Date, Denial, Four, Mall,* and *Witch.*  Enjoy.  --
deirdre

Disclaimer: my stories, like the private sex fantasies of many people,
often depict "breaking some rules."  Do not read this story if you
believe fantasy stories should never depict situations undesirable in
real life.  Be warned that you may not be comfortable with the sexual
situations.  Do not read this story if you are less than 18 years of
age.

Permission granted to repost, to make available online, and to publish
in low-cost CD-ROM archives of alt groups if attributed to deirdre.
Permission granted to publish in periodicals and anthologies of this
type of material if attributed to deirdre and an author's payment is
sent to AIDS research in the name of deirdre.  -- deirdre


Cheerleader

by deirdre, 3/29/96


"Hi, Joe."  I jumped, I think.  I'd been standing around, casually
watching the action--well at least I *hoped* I looked casual.  It was
Jenny, my next-door neighbor.  "Great dance," she said, referring to
the evening's event.  She smiled.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound, well, *with it.*  I really liked
Jenny, and knew I didn't *really* have to put on an act for her.  No, I
don't mean I liked her *that* way, but we'd always gotten along well,
having done stuff together when we were kids.  The girl I *really*
liked, well, the girl I *dreamed* about was Charlotte.

"Wanna dance?"

"OK," I replied and followed her out onto the floor.  She smiled as we
danced.

I was actually grateful--I seldom, or rather never, get up the nerve to
go ask girls to dance.

Afterwards she said, "Thank you," and moved on--I saw her meet her
friend Betty, and they glanced back at me once before moving off.  And
I was left there, once again, trying my best to look casual.  But what
I was *really* doing was watching Charlotte.

She was out there dancing, first with one guy, then with another,
between talking and laughing with all the popular girls.  But that was
Charlotte: captain of the cheerleaders and homecoming queen.  She
danced a lot with the quarterback of the football team but also with
some of his friends and some of her friends' boyfriends.

There was *no way* I was going to ever ask Charlotte to dance.  It was
simply impossible.  All I could do was watch.  Without being noticed.

I shouldn't be just watching Charlotte--it was stupid.  I should have a
girlfriend.  I should be walking over and nonchalantly asking one of
the girls to dance: the girls my own age.  No, not Jenny, though she
would.  Maybe I *should* ask her, just to practice getting up my nerve.
 Betty?  No, no her either.  Mary or Gail or one of their friends: I'd
have to think about which of them was most likely to accept such an
invitation from *me.*

But it was impossible--I'd be too tongue-tied, standing in front of one
of those girls, who I just about *never* talked to during
school--they'd be wondering why I suddenly decided to act like I knew
them, was friends with them or something.  It was stupid--it was just
stupid, my life was.  I had to do *something* to break out of the rut.
I watched as Charlotte walked onto the dance floor with yet another
guy.

It was too much.  I had to leave.  And get a hold of myself.  I headed
for the door and walked, down the hall.  I found the rest room and
stopped, then continued on down the hall, away from the dance.  I
reached the end, and stared out a window for a little while.  The hall
was somewhat dark and was empty except people at the opposite end
walking in and out of the gym, where the dance was.  The music was
distant-sounding, growing louder for a a few seconds whenever anyone
pushed one of the gym doors open.  I leaned against the wall, wondering
what was next in my life.

Well, I couldn't just stand there feeling sorry for myself forever.  I
started back.  I didn't hurry or anything, just sort of strolled back.
Would someone see me coming back from nowhere?  Had anyone seen me
going?

It was comfortable being alone, in a way, even though it was hell.
Along the way, I came to the cafeteria entrance, and seeing that it was
dark and empty, turned in.  I headed over to the window where you could
see the front sidewalk, and sat on a table watching people from the
dance walk by.  I should watch them, the way they walk, the way they
talk to each other.  If I watched them, I could learn how to do it
myself.

"Hiding?"  It was a voice behind me, by the door where I'd entered
earlier.  Once again, it scared me nearly out of my wits since in my
reverie I hadn't noticed anyone approaching.

"Uh, sort of," I mumbled.  In the shadows, I couldn't see who it was,
but she was coming closer.

"You shouldn't be in here--I saw you go in."  I didn't answer.  I
realized that it looked like Charlotte.  It *was* Charlotte!  She
giggled and spoke again: "No answer?  Shy?  *I* see you watching me,
you pervert."  I could see a little smile now, to tell me she was just
teasing, I guess, but it *did* still look just a little malicious.  She
was approaching.

"What?" I answered stupidly.  This was all happening too fast for me.

"You think I'm going to be interested in you?"  She was close, now.  I
could see her more clearly now, but I still didn't quite like her
smile.  Then she was right in front of me, and she put up her hand, and
sort of idly started fingering my shirt!

Suddenly I hated her.  She was...I didn't know *what* she was doing,
but it was just to amuse herself.  I angrily pushed her arm away from
me.

She laughed again: "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings?"  Then:
"You *do* like me, don't you?"  I didn't answer.  "You think I'm
beautiful?  Sexy?"

"Uh, sure..."

And she giggled again, and once again took hold of my shirt, lightly in
our fingers.  "You *do* like me," she said, finality in her voice.
Then she whispered: "Take your shirt off."

She was unbuttoning my shirt!  I stared at her.  This was
impossible--absolutely impossible--but it was happening!  I stood
without thinking.  She finished the buttons, and was pushing it over my
shoulders.  Then she slipped her hands under my tee-shirt and ran them
up my chest.  *Charlotte's hands running up and down my chest.*  She
just continued, pushing my tee-shirt up.

Her hands: all over my chest.  "Take it off," she whispered again,
smiling.

Then she was undoing my belt.  I hadn't taken the tee-shirt off yet.
She had the buckle undone, and was undoing my pants!  "Come on!" she
said, looking sort of gleeful.  She pulled my pants down and my
underpants, leaving me uncovered between my tee-shirt and my knees.
Then her hand was on my cock, fingering it.  "I can *see* you like me,"
she said softly, and giggled again.

"Turn around," she said.  I might have turned a little, but she more or
less slipped behind me, and then was reaching around my right hip,
holding my cock in her hand, squeezing with her fingers, making it
hard.  Her other hand reached around the other side of me, holding my
hip.  "You *like* me, don't you?"  When I didn't answer, she said
again: "Don't you?"

"Yes!" I finally said.

"Lean over the table."  Then she was pushing on my back, and I found
myself half-lying facedown on the table, my feet still on the floor.
She ran a hand over my rear as I lay there, briefly finding my cock
between my legs.  Then she ran her hand up my back again, over my
tee-shirt, then she lay next to me in the same position.  We were
looking at each other.

I realized that someone else was in the room, a little behind us!
"Now, you be good for me," she said, as she lay there.  She put a hand
on my cheek.  "Now, you're going to cooperate, aren't you?"

It was the quarterback!  He was doing something, standing right behind
us.  "Now, you cooperate," she repeated.  The guy had his cock out and
was getting it hard!

"Hey!" I said, though not too loudly--some automatic sense of
self-preservation probably didn't really want to attract other people
to see any of this.

"Now be good.  You're a good boy," she said, in a soothing voice.
"Just *go along* with it."  The guy had taken hold of my hips!  I felt
his cock pressed against my rear!  "Now, *relax* and this'll go fine,"
she said.  "No big deal."

"No!"  My voice was weak.  I felt weak.  How could this be happening?

"Relax," she said again.  It was pressing.  Harder.  "Come on, I
*want*you to let him in."  I did what she wanted.

He slid in.  To the hilt.  Then out, then in.  He was doing it to me.
I was lying there, Charlotte making me do it.  Being fucked by a guy.
"That's a good boy," she said, still in her soothing voice.  He picked
up speed.  She said it again.  I felt his cock start to spasm.  Then he
was coming.  He pounded into me.  The whole time, she just kept cooing
"That's a good boy."

Then he was out.  She giggled.  "You were cute, you know?  You liked
that?"

"Uh, no."

"You don't like me?"  She stood and pulled my shoulders away from the
table.

I didn't have my balance though, and sort of slid, ending up sitting on
the floor.  Then she was kneeling, straddling me.  She put her hand on
my cock and felt it.  "You *do* like me, don't you?  Or you liked *it.*
 Jim's cock in you.  You were *cute."*  And she giggled again.  And
fondled my cock.  I didn't see Jim, the quarterback.  He must have
slipped out.  Suddenly she leaned over and kissed me on the mouth,
hard, holding my head with both hands.

She withdrew, and giggled.  "Like that?  Hey, that wasn't bad!"

Then she just stared at me a little.  And I suddenly didn't know
*what*she was thinking.  She leaned over and kissed me hard again.  A
little longer.  Then she knelt some more, still just looking at me.

And for a minute, that's all she did: stare at me below her.  Then she
leaned down and kissed me again.

That was nine years ago.  Last night, as I got home from work, my front
door opened as I reached for it.

It was like I was back at that dance.  I stood there staring.  There
was Charlotte, standing right inside the doorway!  She looked exactly
the way I remembered her, that very night.  She smiled--the same smile
from that night in the cafeteria: "Remember me?"  She grabbed me by the
belt and pulled me in, pulling the door shut behind me.  She was
immediately undoing my belt.  "Ready for Jim?" she added.  She seemed
to be in a hurry: she got my pants undone and was pulling them down
along with my underpants.  I felt frozen, staring at her, remembering
what she'd gotten me to do that night.

Suddenly I awoke out of my reverie, and it was like I'd lost control of
what I was doing.  I grabbed her and wrestled her to the floor in a
second.  I got her facedown on the carpet, lifted her skirt, and pulled
down her underpants.

I was out of control.  I plunged into her rear.  I lay, my body on
hers, my head beside hers.  She turned her head toward me and we ended
up looking at each other's faces.  "Kiss me, *now!"* she said,
suddenly.

And I did.  Just like we do every evening.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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