By the time Trevor and I left the school that day, neither of us could walk with anything more than drunken ability. Sometime around eight, we "finished up," only to have him push me down on my back after we kissed, and start it up again with my legs in the air. I lost track of how many times we did it, but I did know that I was in a permanent euphoric state so long as we were alone together in the library, and, when we finally did end our love-making for the night, I told Trevor to meet me there in the morning before school started if he wanted to "feed me breakfast." It was a far cry from being a reclusive nerd, but with Trevor's juice still sloshing around inside of me as I walked home in the dark, I felt less than shy. I let it leak out of me without a care in the world, the night air cooling my body, which was on fire, and I smelled of sex and cum, a scent too sweet. I felt fresh, and alive, and in a way, I couldn't wait to get home, take a shower, and go to sleep wearing a nightgown and thinking of Trevor, giggling to myself softly beneath the sheets, but, in a very real sense, I didn't want the night to end. I didn't want to wake up the next morning and have to wonder if it was all a dream. The summer night was still around me, still somber, yet playful. I wanted to go home and sleep in someone's arms, but I knew that might never be. Regardless, nothing could break my limitless spirit, or the satisfied grin that I wore with such pride.
When I did get home, the shower was incredible, both tactile and olfactory in a way that was completing. I decided to wear a nightgown, and below that, silk-white panties that made me feel innocent and soft. Just as I made it to the bed, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. At first, I worried that I had injured something, but then there came a churning sensation, and I realized that I hadn't quite finished with all of Trevor's spunk. A bubble must have gotten lodged somewhere, and, after a couple of moments of struggling and clutching the bedsheets later, I felt the bubble pop, and the torrent come forth, drenching the panties, wetting everything from my thighs to my calves, while a sighed with a great release of tension, and a satisfactory ending to a fairy-tale night. I collapsed onto the bedspread, and didn't bother to change the cum-drenched panties, though, with the amount of exhaustion that wracked my body, I was quick to sleep in spite.
I wake up in the morning just early enough to get to school on time for my private breakfast with Trevor. I decide to try out the weird split panties that I had bought over the summer. I see, looking in the mirror, that though they were called "crotchless," you couldn't really tell anyway if you looked from either side. They fit pretty well on me, actually, and I wiggle to see what it looks like, and chuckle at my little dance. I wear a knee-length skirt over them, nothing fancy, just pleated, and thigh-highs under that. All-in-all, a fairly routine outfit. I tie off my hair into pigtails, the short-and-bouncy kind, which I know Trevor will like.
There are few people in the school already, and so it isn't difficult to sneak into the library unnoticed. Trevor is already waiting in the back, reading something by Clarke with relative interest until I step around the corner.
He stands up and walks over to me, and takes to feeling up my skirt immediately. "I've got to get ready for the senior caucus nominations, so we'll have to make this quick," he says, as he steps back away and undoes his belt.
"So, all business and no play?"
"Right," he says, smiling, "no play. I need you to just get on your knees, close your eyes, and open your mouth for me."
I know he's half-joking, but it sounds a little harsh. "That's a bit dispassionate, don't you think?" I say, hesitant to act on such a mean-spirited proposition.
"Don't worry, there'll be plenty of that," he says, grinning. I realize he wants me to be obedient. I guess I'll have to get used to the idea.
"Down on your knees," he says, with a rising intonation, as I drop to the floor, with Trevor several paces away, inching closer, "close your eyes," and I close them, "and open your mouth." I open wide and stick out my tongue, and fight the urge to mock him with any sound- making.
I feel it for maybe a moment on my tongue before its in my throat, and Trevor, over- eager, is holding the back of my head with both hands, thrusting with vigor. I gag, and I tear, but there is feeling or pride welling up inside me regardless. Trevor hasn't had oral in two months, either, and he's showing his anxiety. It tastes salty already, and I struggle to breath in between thrusts, as Trevor is as focused as he is adamant. The intensity, whether it's the burning feeling on my lips, the stretching sensation in my throat or just the energy that he's exerting, is making me stir, and I realize I should have offered Trevor something else, instead. Now what relief will I have, throughout the day?
"You're poking my leg, dear," he says, and I look up at him, at the wry, embarrassed smile on his face. In a way, I'm sure he enjoys the fact that I'm really a boy, but it's still something that's strange for him to accept. It's strange for me to accept it. He lets me pull away a second, and I start to stroke him with my hand.
"I'm sorry. Can't help it."
"It's alright. I guess you were hungry for another kind of breakfast," he says, and maneuvers himself back into my mouth. I deepthroat him, and he holds me there until I need to breathe. It drives me insane.
"Here, let me sit down," he says, freeing himself from my grasp, as he takes a seat on the floor. I crawl over to him, my head between his legs, and lower myself next to his twitching member.
"You can't thrust as well in this position," I say.
"That's fine. I don't really want to thrust. You can do the rest."
"I thought time was an issue?"
"It is, but I'm sure you'll do fine."
That amount of confidence in my abilities is a mixed blessing. If I don't get him off, at least, we'll both be frustrated for the rest of the day.
I take him in my mouth and start to run my tongue up and down the bottom of the shaft. I occasionally glance up at him, which almost always rewards me with a twitch and some briny liquid on my palette. I use my knees to push my face forward, swallowing his cock over and over again, until, eventually, he stops me.
"It's good, but I want to try something. Don't move. Keep your mouth on it, and grab it." I put my hand on him, and start to stroke. "Good. Now, look up at me, with those cute eyes, and with a cock in your sweet mouth." I look up at him, blushing red. "Now just move your hand, and don't look away from me. I want to watch you."
There's very little movement. Just my hand sliding up and down, while me and Trevor are sprawled out on the floor, and he's watching me. It's so intimate and private that I feel like I'm going to melt, and all the woes of humiliation are upon me, but I can't help but feel appreciated, and, I'd even daresay loved. Literally, I'm helping Trevor, helping him relieve some stress, even helping him cum. I'm offering my assistance, my ability, so that he'll feel better. I want him to feel better.
Whatever that means for my morning diet, apparently.
Trevor's breathing is getting shorter, and he's starting to spasm. He's watching me intently, curiously, almost, and I'm looking back at him, anticipating the inevitable.
"Sara," he says, and I blink in response, blushing ever-redder at hearing my female name in such an intimate tone of voice, in such an intimate context, "Sara, if you keep going, I'm going to cum in your mouth." There's no urgency in his voice. It's almost casual. "I'm going to cum in your mouth, okay?" he even goes on to say. "Do you like that?" I do. I nod a bit. "You sure?" Yep. I nod again.
He ruminates on this for a bit before speaking again. He's holding back his orgasm, squeezing my shoulders between his legs. "Does it turn you on?" I nod, ashamed. "You're pretty turned on right now, aren't you?" I look down, at my hand, and then back up at him. "That's pretty awesome, actually. But, doesn't it embarrass you? That this turns you on, even though you're a boy?" I nod. "So you don't want to?" I shake my head. "But it's embarrassing. I mean, you're turned on, and so, don't you want me to fuck you in the ass? Isn't that what that means, what you want?" I nod, and I start to stroke him faster so that he'll finish and stop saying such embarrassing things. "And you want me to, right?" I nod again. Don't make me repeat myself! "And would you still give me this blowjob, even if I didn't?" Yep. "So you just want to be nice to me?" Mmmhm. "So you're my girlfriend?" I guess so.
Again, he pauses to think, and tries desperately to hold himself back. I want to get him finished, before he says something so humiliating that I break down. The line of questioning continues. "I'm not making you do this, you know that, right?" I do. "If you wanted to, you could stop, right now. I'd pull up my pants and walk away; you'd never have to dress like that again. Is that what you want?" I shake my head. "So you, Sara, want to blow me?" I nod, again, again, he makes me say it again. "I'm going to cum, and you're going to swallow my load, and if anybody asks you, you'll tell them you did it because you wanted to please me, right?" Of course. "I mean it. If I cum in your mouth, it's because you did it on your own this time. You're my girlfriend and you gave me a blowjob, even if you are a boy. You're Sara, and this is what you like to do, right?" Yes, yes, absolutely.
He relents. He leans back and starts to get ready. "Sara, you're amazing. I love you, I do." I look down, my face on fire. "Hey, look up." I look up into his eyes. "Here." Again, there's little movement. Were anyone watching, it would look like nothing about the scene has changed. But from my perspective, I felt Trevor shoot glob after glob of spunk into my mouth, while I look at him with a little bit of surprise and a little bit of sultry pleasure, and he looks at me with fascination, appreciation, desire, and guilty lust. I swallow, partially because he asked it of me, and partially because I want to savor the fruits of my labour. I made Trevor cum. I swallowed his sperm. I'm his girlfriend. He's gonna fuck my ass later until I explode all over the table in the back of the library. Your loss, Jennifer Kidwick. We lie there for a bit, while I suckle on him, still, almost like a lollipop or some kind of pacifier, perfectly relaxed and lulling off into a sleep that I won't in the least bit regret.
A flash of light, and a dizzy, startled moment of confusion later, and there's Kitty with a digital camera. Trevor, nonchalant that he is, doesn't even flinch. I turn beet red and start to grab for it. She shows me the display. There's Sara, giving Trevor a handjob while she kisses his cock. There's Sara, swallowing a load. There's Sara, in a daze, in an oral-afterglow with her lover. She's been there, under the table, the whole time.
"I won't tell anyone, don't worry. You look so cute."
"She does," says Trevor.
"Don't you have to be there for the nominations?" she says to Trevor, who quickly pulls up his pants.
"You're right, I do. Sara, I'll see you later. I'll take care of that for you," he says, suggestively, and, after grabbing his book and his bag, he leaves the library the same way he came in, like some kind of demented Batman.
"Take care of that, he says. Does he mean that?" she says, pointing to my skirt, which is conspicuously bulged.
"None of your business."
"Ooooh, he's going to give it to you good. Can I watch?"
"No."
"Awww, why not? Shouldn't you be nicer to someone with pictures like these?"
"Don't you dare!"
"I won't, I won't! I promised, remember? Still, it wouldn't hurt."
"Maybe, okay? I've got to get ready for class too. And so do you, aren't you a freshman? Orientation started at least fifteen minutes ago."
"I know, but I had somewhere more interesting to be," she says, climbing out the window herself. "Tell me when you guys are gonna finish that up," she says, disappearing from view. I wipe my face. I can still taste it.
End Part 5