The blue Plymouth Valiant drove steadily through the mostly deserted night streets of Bakersville, its headlights cutting a swath through the surrounding darkness. Inside, Barry Packard could barely believe his luck. He snuck a glance to his right, trying not to be too obvious about it. Sitting beside him, in the passenger seat, was - unbelievably - Stacy Richards, easily the most beautiful girl in school (in Barry's opinion). She sat quietly, staring straight ahead through the front window as the car rolled along, her perfect features lit intermittently by the passing street lights. She had seemed a little quiet and nervous the entire evening, leading Barry to worry that she was bored or unhappy with him - Barry was neither confident nor particularly successful with girls - but when he had apologised and offered to take her home, she had insisted that she was having a good time, and didn't want to go home.
In fact, it had been her idea that they head down to the beach. THE BEACH! That was the prime "make-out" spot for the teenagers of Bakersville. On any given night, there would usually be at least a handful of cars parked alongside the long dirt road which traced the coastline to the south of the town. Barry had never dreamed that one day he would be taking Stacy Richards there (actually, he had "dreamed" about it several times; he had just never imagined that it would really happen).
Barry steered the car off the paved section of the street and onto the bumpier dirt road which ran alongside the beach. In reality, Barry had never expected that he would ever go on a date with Stacy. Her kind was usually reserved for the star of the football team, or some other equivalent sports hero, and even then only for the duration of his fame. Barry, on the other hand, was a second-string lineman, only put into the game when the result was no longer in doubt. In fact, he really didn't even like football. He was certainly not particularly ugly or unpopular, but girls like Stacy were usually so far above his particular level in the school social strata that he could only dream of going out with her. It had been a matter of pride with Barry that he had gathered the nerve to ask her out last summer, and although she had turned him down at the time, she had been less cruel about it than she could have been. Still, he had been more than a little surprised when Stacy had called him up last week and suggested a Saturday-night date.
He had even half-expected that it would all turn out to be some kind of a joke, but when he had arrived at her house to pick her up, she had indeed been waiting for him, a vision of beauty in her short skirt and light blouse. She hadn't seemed overly friendly or talkative, but Barry didn't know enough about her to know whether or not this was her usual behaviour. Still, the movie and dinner had gone off OK, and, of course, it had been her suggestion that they drive down to the beach afterwards. Even as he drove along the beach road, Barry still couldn't believe it. His cock bulged pleasurably in his pants as he steered the car around a bend in the road.
"How about here?" he asked, trying, but not quite succeeding, to sound casual. His voice was hoarse and dry. He had picked a fairly popular spot about half a mile along the road; there was another car parked a couple of hundred yards away.
Stacy shook her head, her blonde hair shimmering in the starlight. "Further along," she said quietly.
Barry shrugged and drove the car further along the road, passing through and then leaving behind all of the more popular and well-used spots. The road was almost deserted, which was unusual for a Saturday night, but the weather had been turning a little cold lately. In fact, Barry had seen Stacy shivering a little earlier while they had been walking out of the restaurant. He had noted that she was dressed quite lightly for November. Even this far south, the weather began to cool down by this time of the year.
Twenty minutes later, Barry had parked the car in a suitably secluded spot; there had been no one else on the road for the last three miles. The night fell briefly silent as the car engine was shut off, but the sound of the breakers crashing against the shoreline quickly became apparent as the two teenagers sat for a few moments in awkward silence. Barry was too nervous to start anything, and Stacy just sat there, staring out over the dark, black water.
Barry could take it no longer. "Well..." He started to say something, but was interrupted by the feel of Stacy's hand against his. His throat constricted and his heart skipped a beat as she slid across the seat and wrapped her arm over his shoulder. She put her hand on his face and turned it towards her. She was so beautiful in the starlight!
"K-kiss me," she whispered, her voice shaking. She sounded curiously reluctant, almost frightened. Barry, however, didn't notice and probably wouldn't have cared if he had noticed. This was a dream come true. He pulled her slim body towards himself on the car seat and crushed his mouth to hers. After a brief hesitation, her lips parted, allowing him to slip his tongue into her waiting mouth. She wasn't kissing him back, though; she merely accepted his advances passively as she sat beside him on the car seat. Barry, sensing her reticence, pulled away, breaking the kiss.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, short of breath. Stacy bit her lower lip before answering. In the light, it looked to Barry as if she was about to cry, but she just shook her head. Satisfied, Barry leaned forward again. This time, she participated, crushing her lips against his and moving her tongue around in response to his advances. Soon, the two teenagers were necking vigorously in the front seat of the car as the windows began to steam up.
A few moments later, Barry felt Stacy touch his hand and then guide it slowly to her breasts. He responded by squeezing and fondling them through the thin fabric of her blouse. Barry could barely believe what was happening! Daringly, he pulled open the buttons on her blouse; a couple of buttons broke free and fell to the seat, but Barry didn't notice. Stacy didn't react. He slipped his hand in and under her bra, cupping her breast. He half-expected her to put a halt to it, but she just continued kissing him. Gaining confidence, he reached around with his other hand and unclipped the back of the bra. It fell away under her unbuttoned blouse, leaving her breasts almost fully exposed to his hands and eyes. Stacy tensed, but did not object or pull away.
Instead, she reached down and ran her fingers along the now-conspicuous bulge in his jeans. Barry gasped; could this really be happening? He pulled back and looked over at Stacy. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open; she seemed to be breathing hard, but it was difficult for Barry to tell in the weak starlight. All he could see were her breasts rising and falling beneath the open blouse. Misgivings aside, he reached forward and began playing with those breasts, alternately squeezing them and then tweaking the nipples. Stacy gasped at this, but did not open her eyes.
Meanwhile, her hand was at work, sliding open his zipper and reaching inside. She pushed her hand through the already damp front of Barry's underwear and slowly worked his penis out into the open. Once again, Barry was struck with a sense of disbelief at what was happening. He had never heard of Stacy Richards acting like this, even when she was going steady with someone. Even someone popular. Nevertheless, he continued fondling the offered breasts, content to let Stacy make the next move.
That move wasn't long in coming. Stacy took a deep breath, opened her eyes and then leaned back on the seat, away from Barry. She sat back against the car door and pulled up her skirt, revealing her legs, pale and white in the starlight.
"Stacy..." Barry was suddenly unsure of himself; he had only had sex one time before, and this was largely uncharted territory for him. "Are you sure you..."
"Yes," she interrupted him, slipping her panties down her leg. "I want to... to do it... have sex w-with you." Once again, her frightened, tentative manner belied the content of her words, but the content was enough for Barry, who was already near to coming all over the car seat. He needed no more encouragement! Awkwardly, he shifted himself around so he lay atop Stacy's proffered body in the too-small car seat. He began to thrust his hips forward.
"J-just a second." Stacy shifted her position, trying to avoid having her breasts painfully crushed against Barry's chest, but it was impossible. The car seat was just too small, and Barry was lying right on top of her. Resigned, she reached down and grabbed ahold of his penis with her long, cool fingers.
"Ok... Ok... now." Stacy mumbled instructions as she guided Barry's stiff cock into her pussy. He was more than co-operative, and thrust forward vigorously when she instructed, but her pussy was still quite dry and she had to force every inch of inside her manually. Finally, it was inside. Stacy moved her hand away and squirmed around, still trying to get at least comfortable. Finally, she settled on a position, and put her arms around Barry's neck.
After that, it was all over in a few seconds. Barry began pushing his hips roughly back and forth, grating his cock in and out of her unprepared pussy. Stacy tried to find a rhythm which would minimize the pain and discomfort, but was unable to do so. A thin line of drool slipped from between Barry's lips and dribbled down onto her chest as he pumped frantically. Gasping and moaning, she lay there as he suddenly stiffened and than came inside of her with a loud grunt. Unnoticed by Barry, a tear welled up out of her eye and slid down the side of her face.
Finally, he relaxed, spent. As she lay there, crushed beneath his weight, she could feel his penis shrivelling up inside her burning pussy as the warm sperm began leaking out and down the inside of her thigh...
Gary hung up the phone just as Sharon entered his bedroom. He was sitting in front of his computer which in turn sat on top of a desk in the far corner of his room. He nodded a indifferent greeting to her, and immediately began entering information into some sort of database program as Sharon walked forward. She came to a halt just behind him, putting her hands onto his shoulders.
"What'cha up to?" He seemed to be entering some names and dates into little boxes on the screen (Sharon knew almost nothing about computers).
"That was Stacy on the phone," he answered, still working. "She's fucked two guys since last week. I'm just entering it into the system."
System? Sharon leaned in closer to the screen, suddenly interested. "Numbers two and three! Tell me about it."
"Number two was Barry Packard." He fiddled with his mouse and then punched the return button on the computer; a new screen was called up. This screen held a name, a date and other information, including a small picture, obviously taken (scanned, although Sharon didn't know this) from the school yearbook. "Barry Packard." Gary pointed to that name at the top of the screen, and slowly read off the information as it appeared. "Fucked on Saturday, Nov.6; it occurred in the front seat of his car, which was parked down by the beach. Apparently, he came in about 20 seconds. Can't blame him, I suppose."
Sharon laughed. "Number three?"
Gary pushed another button, and another list of information appeared. "Grant Hardin." Sharon stifled a giggle at his name as Grant's digitized picture stared sombrely out of the top left-hand corner of the computer screen. He had a big nose. "Fucked on Tuesday, Nov.9 in his bedroom. He also came very quickly. He called out the name 'Susan' when he came."
Sharon laughed again. "Seems there's not too many boys around who can restrain themselves with Stacy Richards. She must be a good fuck."
Gary just shrugged. "Maybe. We'll see."
"Perhaps we'll have to find her some real men," Sharon suggested. Gary looked intrigued at this suggestion, but didn't say anything. Sharon moved away sat down on the side of his bed, pulling out a cigarette. He noticed that she had a small paper bag with her.
"What's that?" he asked, as she lit up and took a long, satisfied drag.
"Oh, just a little something for Stacy," she smirked. "A little present to celebrate her success at the game." She reached into the bag and pulled out...
"You bastard!" Stacy cried. "You fucking bastard!" She lay on her back on the leather couch in her parent's living room, her shirt and fingers sticky with sperm. She brushed her hands against the front of her shirt in a futile effort to wipe herself clean, but that only seemed to smear the warm, sticky fluid more evenly down her front. She began to cry, involuntarily bringing a hand up to her face to cover her eyes. When she took the hand away, her eyelid and cheek glistened with sperm.
Toby Hooper, a tall, gangly nineteen year-old, had jumped back off of her after prematurely ejaculating. His already freckled face turned bright red with embarrassment as he fumbled to push his sticky cock back into his pants. "Jesus... I'm sorry," he apologized, zipping up his jeans. "I d-didn't mean to..."
"Just fuck off and get out of here!" Stacy screamed at him. "Get out!" Tears ran down her face, mixing with the quickly congealing sperm on her cheeks.
Toby, his pants now securely fastened, continued to stammer out incoherent apologies as he picked up his paper-sack and scurried out of the house. Outside, he jumped onto his bike and pedalled furiously away.
Behind him, Stacy continued to cry on the couch, her blonde hair in disarray and her shirt and face coated with his quickly drying sperm.
To Stacy, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity when Toby had come collecting money that Saturday morning for his paper route. She considered him to be, like, a total loser at school (as well as being a grade behind her) and did not find him the least bit attractive, with his messy red hair and freckles, but he was a student at Greenwood. From her present, unwelcome perspective, that was enough. Her parents were away on one of their weekend "getaways", so Stacy had been all alone in the house when he came by.
She had thought that he would prove as easy to seduce as Barry and Grant had the week before - she was, after all, who she was - but it had turned out not to be so easy. Toby was going steady with a girl at school named Tami ("Toby & Tami..." she and Ashley had enjoyed making fun of them), and the dork seemed determined to be faithful to her. Either that, or he was just too stupid and shy to take a hint. Stacy had swallowed her pride and had come onto him like a bitch in heat - touching his hand; "accidentally" brushing against him with her breast; making suggestive comments about being lonely by herself in such a big house - but he would not react. Finally, she had been forced to come right out with it and more or less ask him directly to have sex with her. He had risen to his feet and turned to go, stammering something about being behind on his paper route, but Stacy wrapped her strong arms around him and crushed her lips to his face in a passionate kiss. When she eventually disentangled her tongue from his, he was breathing hard, and no longer so anxious to leave.
She got him safely onto the couch in the living room and, after some more necking, she had succeeded in extracting his by-then rigid cock from his pants. By now, she had developed a technique for getting at a boy's cock quickly, although she still hated the feel of it. He was now co-operating fully, and had roughly pulled her pants down to her ankles. She fell back on the couch and prepared to help guide his cock into to her still unresponsive pussy, but as he had bent over her, his cock had twitched and the spurted jism all down the front of her shirt. There was so much of it! He had been saving up for sixteen years. She had thrown her hands up to protect herself, but had only succeeded in getting the warm, sticky fluid all over her fingers.
Lying there, splattered with warm sperm, Stacy had begun the shrieking which would drive Toby out of the house.
By the time her tears had subsided, the sperm had soaked through her blouse and had dried, sticky and brittle, against her skin. Her breathing steadied as she tried to come to terms with what she was becoming... what she was being forced to become. Shaking, she got to her feet and stumbled to the phone to make the report she had made twice before.
Then a shower.
Sharon's surprise present had turned out to be a small, stainless steel charm bracelet. It was not particularly expensive or attractive, but was solidly built, the links almost large enough to qualify as a chain. Almost. But, it was still a charm bracelet, and as such each link was designed in such a way as to allow for the attachment of numerous small pieces of jewellery, usually figurines or symbols: small hearts and the like. Sharon had not forgotten about that, and happily dumped the contents of a somewhat larger plastic bag onto the bed. The resulting pile revealed a large number - an even hundred, Sharon later explained - of small, steel "F"'s. Ordinarily, such ornaments would be worn on charm bracelets by girls with names beginning with that letter, but in Stacy's case the letter would stand for something else. Gary quickly figures out what that "something else" would be. By the end of the year, Sharon explained to a laughing Gary, Stacy's charm bracelet should be displaying fifty-five such ornaments.
"Belling the cat," Gary chuckled. "I like it."
"Not the cat," Sharon disagreed, "the pussy. Belling the pussy."
Gary had laughed again and then drew her towards him for an appreciative kiss.
The actual "belling" had gone very smoothly, Sharon thought. The next day at school, Neil and Gary had contrived to lead the "pussy" into the metal-working shop after classes. Before the frightened Stacy could protest, they had clipped the charm bracelet onto her left wrist, and then forced her arm onto a nearby workbench. Sharon had watched from the doorway - serving as a lookout - as Stacy started to struggle and cry out. Her struggles subsided, however, when Neil brought the soldering iron and solder down to her wrist; the slightest movement would have caused the molten solder to drip onto her exposed arm. Stacy watched in silent horror as the two boys soldered shut the clip to the charm bracelet, fastening it permanently to her wrist. She could still, of course, easily remove it with the proper tools, but such a removal would certainly leave evidence; evidence which, Gary quietly explained to Stacy, would lead to the imposition of further punishment and humiliation. The charm bracelet would stay on her wrist until the school year was over.
When Stacy had nodded her understanding, Neil took Sharon's place at the door, and the pudgy girl moved forward and fastened the small, steel "F"s to Stacy's newly acquired bracelet. Silently, she affixed four of them, spreading them evenly along the bracelet. Stacy looked on in disbelief as understanding dawned in her face. Immediately, her large, green eyes flooded with tears, but she didn't offer a protest. She knew there was nothing that she could say.
Sharon had smirked at her and moved back when she was finished affixing the charms. She and Gary had turned to leave the room, but Neil had stayed behind, moving towards Stacy with an unmistakable glint in his eyes. Sharon left the room and walked away, while Gary stayed to stand watch. If she had turned to look as she left the room, she would have seen Stacy, now on her knees, reach forward - the charms clinking merrily on her wrist - and begin to pull down the zipper of Neil's pants.
Sharon had not needed to look back however. She had a pretty good idea of what would happen - what was happening as she sat on the school steps, enjoying a cigarette. She was, however, rudely jarred from her pleasant thoughts by a door banging shut behind her, and the sound of someone crying. Turning, Sharon saw Tami Slaighter, a classmate of hers. Sharon and Tami were not particularly close friends, but Sharon's curiosity compelled her to stand up and comfort the girl.
Bit by bit, the story came out as the sobbing Tami told Sharon the reason for her tears.
Dennis Baxter, eighteen years old, had had no direct experience with girls and was certainly a virgin, but he knew sex when he saw it. He was seeing it now, as he stared through the partially open doorway which led to the instructor's storeroom in the section of Greenwood set aside for the grade junior classes. Every Friday afternoon, the kids took Recreation as the last class of the day. This basically consisted of playing various games - outside when it was warm enough, and in the gym when it was not - and was supervised by upper level students for extra credit.
Dennis's class was supervised by Stacy Richards, and it was her that he had gone looking for after arriving late for class; Dennis had a Doctor's note that needed delivering. When he had arrived in the gymnasium, his classmates had told him that the instructor had gone to the storeroom for some equipment. In a hurry to deliver the note and join his friends, Dennis had hurried along, hoping to find her.
Well, he had found her alright, but she was in no position to receive the (now forgotten) note he held clutched in his sweaty hand. As he looked through the doorway, he was greeted by the sight of Stacy Richards on her hands and knees with her skirt hiked up over her hips, while Tim Myers - himself no older than Dennis - fucked in and out of her from behind. Tim grunted as he frantically pistoned his hips back and forth, sliding his cock in and out of her warm pussy. Stacy, her head down and face curtained by her free-flowing blonde hair, was also making small grunting noises as she moved her ass in time with his thrusts, squirming and wiggling as she did so.
Dennis's mouth dropped open as he watched. He couldn't believe what he was seeing! He pushed forward a bit to get a better view, but accidentally bumped against the doorframe. At once, Tim stopped moving and looked over at him, his face red with shock and embarrassment. Stacy looked back over her shoulder at the 18-year old, shaking her face free of her hair. "No!" She
sounded strange and anxious. "Don't stop." She wiggled her hips hopefully around his still-sheathed cock. "Please... keep going," she begged. She crouched back, trying to impale herself further on his rapidly deflating cock.
Tim didn't move. "B-but..." Unable to speak, he gestured towards Dennis, who stood frozen in the doorway. Stacy's head turned towards him and she peered up at him from beneath the curtain of hair. At first she looked as shocked and upset as Tim, but she quickly recovered.
"Come in, Dennis," she invited, her voice a hoarse whisper. "J-Join the fun." This last sentence ended with a quiet squeal as Tim began moving again. Dennis didn't need to be told twice. Carefully closing the door behind him, the teenager walked slowly forward, uncertain of what to do next. Stacy gestured at him to come closer as Tim's thrusts regained their earlier rhythm, if somewhat lacking in their former urgency. The surprise at being caught had obviously set him back a bit on the path to orgasm.
When Dennis was standing in front of her, Stacy reached up and pulled down the zipper on his pants. She quickly slipped his penis out and, without another word, began kissing and licking it. Within minutes, it was as hard as a pole; Stacy engulfed it with her mouth and began sucking for all she was worth, her lips sliding up and down in time with Tim's regular thrusts into her pussy. Plugged at both ends, she gasped and moaned as the two boys pumped their rigid cocks in and out of her body.
Eventually, the Tim and Dennis came, more or less at the same time. Tim pumped his sperm into Stacy's warm, wet pussy from the rear, while Dennis ejaculated into her mouth and down her rapidly convulsing throat. She swallowed every drop before the penis fell loose, making certain that no evidence of her behaviour would remain on her clothing or face. Behind her, Tim began to laugh.
Later that same evening, Stacy had phoned Gary and, as required, gave him the details of her sexual activities. He had accepted the information as usual, but had some additional news for her.
"Sharon talked to Tami today," he told her. "She knows what happened last Saturday with you and Toby."
"W-what do you mean? I already told you what h-happened." Stacy felt sick to her stomach. What had she done wrong? Were then going to release the pictures after all?
"Your paperboy 'lover' never came inside of you. According to Tami, he couldn't restrain himself. Is that what happened?"
Stacy bit her lip and hesitated. She had not mentioned that part of her encounter with Toby out of sheer embarrassment. She had been somewhat surprised to discover that she still had some pride left, even after all that had happened - but she couldn't see how that mattered.
"Y-yes," she answered, finally. "That's what happened." Fuck you, she thought.
"Well then, you know the rules. It doesn't count unless your partner ejaculates inside of you. Don't you remember?"
Stacy's vision began to blur with tears. She remembered. Gary evidently took her silence as agreement, because he continued speaking. "You broke the rules. Not only does Toby not count, but you now have an extra ten to do, bringing the total up to an even sixty-five."
"You can't do that," Stacy exclaimed, horrified. He couldn't...
"I'm sorry; I didn't catch that." Gary sounded amused. "Did you just tell me that I 'can't' do something?"
Stacy bit her lip in an effort to regain control - in an effort not to tell him what she really thought. Finally, she mastered her emotions enough to answer him.
"No. I didn't." Her voice shook. "You can do whatever you l-like."
"Right. Well, after fucking the two kiddies today, your total was up to eight, but it goes back down to seven after we subtract Toby. That leaves fifty-eight to go, right?"
He seemed to expect an answer. "Right," she agreed, her voice trembling. "Fifty-eight." Fifty-eight! Involuntarily, she looked down at her wrist where the charm bracelet anchored the four metal "F"s to her wrist. Fifty-eight.
"We'll get the new 'charms' to you tomorrow. Oh, and one other thing," Gary continued. "Tami is Sharon's friend, and she is apparently quite upset about what happened. Sharon wants you to apologise."
"She's asked Toby and Tami to meet her at the playing field an hour before school on Monday. She wants you there to apologise for trying to seduce Toby, and promise never to try it again."
The line fell silent as Stacy struggled to comprehend to enormity of the humiliation she was going to be forced to suffer the following morning.
"Do you understand?"
Stacy took a ragged breath and then answered in the affirmative. "Yes."
"Good. Well... that's all then. Pleasant dreams." He hung up the phone.
Stacy slammed the receiver down, ran across her room and threw herself down on the bed in pain and anguish. In fury, she slammed her fists repeatedly into the unresisting mattress and pillow, causing the charm bracelet - unimpressed by her display of temper - to jingle quietly as the small, metallic "F"s flashed silver on her wrist.