Story Title: Heroic
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He was strolling up the steps in the house having a place with the captain of the football team, following the shapely backside of the commander of the cheerleading crew up to the second floor, where every one of the rooms were. Not terrible for a washout.
“In here,” she said, turning around to see him, to usher him into the second space on one side past the landing.
Prior to following her inside, Tom saw three couples in the hall alone in different phases of getting personal with one another – yet then it’s anything but an especially wild gathering, by all accounts.
The door shut behind him, and there he was, in a room with Anne Higgs, quite possibly the most pretty young lady he’d at any point seen, captain of the school cheerleaders and the object of desire for every teen kid around.
“Please,” she urged him towards her.
Tom’s heart was pounding, his cock rock hard between his legs: look at her. The long, golden hair shimmering down her back like a mountain waterfall caught in the sunlight, her large green eyes drawing him in, her figure so breathtaking under her body-hugging outfit. And she pulled him towards her – Tom, a complete nobody until a few days ago.
She fastened her lips on his, kissing him with full intimacy, pulling his body to hers so that his hardness pressed up against her abdomen. As they kissed, Tom found his hands arriving at her rounded behind, and the enormous need within him took over, so that he squeezed her against him, crushing his penis against her, still partially in disbelief at just who it was he was kissing.
Anne broke away. She looked at him seemingly in wonderment, a huge smile lighting up her face as though she was impressed with him somehow.
“Are you gonna fuck me, Tom?” she asked him breathlessly. “Are you gonna tear off my panties and fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before?”
He felt a little strange then. He hardly even knew this girl: a few days ago, she would have passed him in the school hallway and not given him so much as a glance, and here she was asking him to perform the most personal act possible with her. And he’d hardly said a word to her up until this point. But what do you do when a girl like that asked you a thing like that? She probably had a future as a model ahead of her, you just don’t turn that kind of thing down when you’re a single guy.
“Come on, baby,” she said to him, stepping away and falling back onto the large double bed, “show me the kind of power you showed Rick when you saved his life.”
She lay there now, those perfect legs parted to reveal luxurious white lace panties nestling under that tiny pleated skirt of hers. Incredible.
He climbed onto the bed beside her, and his arm circled her waist as he drew level, his mouth reaching hers again to pitch into a deep kiss once again. As they kissed, she pushed his hand down, over her flat stomach that was so warm and smooth where her crop top came up short, but she kept pushing his hand until in moved over her skirt and down between her thighs. She pressed his fingers against her panties, against her mound that was so very hot and already soaking wet, even through her underwear.
“You see how wet you make me?” she whispered, breaking away from their kiss. “I’m ready for you, Tom. I want you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.”
He thought it a little odd at the time that not only did they really not know each other very well, but they had only really kissed a couple of times and she was urging him to penetrate her already. But the fact was that at moments like that, you don’t really think about things too much. In Tom’s limited bedroom experience, he knew that when you had your first time with someone, there was rarely time to think about things, and a man is very open to suggestion at such a moment. He did what she wanted him to, pulling off his pants and dragging her tiny panties down her thighs to reveal the glistening folds of her hairless pussy.
It was certainly an amazing feeling to grip her hips and drive his rigid shaft into her warm wetness – like a wet dream, it didn’t quite seem real. And the truth was, he seemed to be moving purely on instinct now: he really wasn’t thinking about much as he moved inside her.
He wasn’t thinking about anything much when it all started, either. Rick probably would have said something like he didn’t have his eye on the ball, but then he didn’t know Rick back then anyway – well, not to talk to. You see, Rick was just a mythical figure that Tom passed occasionally in the hallway, always surrounded by the most attractive girls, always at the centre of attention.
But just because you’re Mr Popularity, doesn’t preclude you from danger.
Tom was almost the direct opposite at the time: people walked past him as though nobody was there, as though he was invisible. He wasn’t a geek – not in the classical ridiculous glasses and greasy hair-type computer addict kind of a way, anyway – and he wasn’t a goth: all in all, he wasn’t out to be particularly outrageous or downright anti-social. He just wasn’t a football player, and that was what counted at Lincoln High.
After a couple of years at the school where the students just seemed to gather around the football players like moths around a light bulb, Tom had grown distant, not caring for the superficial nature of society there. He had his interests: listening to music of various kinds, strumming on his guitar a little here and there. But he found increasingly that people just didn’t understand him. Ultimately, this was a mistake, but he didn’t know that until life became truly lonely.
The correction of that mistake came from the most unlikely source. Tom was just wondering home from school, like usual on a Thursday afternoon. He had his personal stereo on, his button headphones tucked into his ears to fill his audio world with the sounds of the latest Coldplay album. It was a wonder that he noticed what he did.
Rick was up ahead, swaggering about like he owned the place, which, unofficially, he did as captain of the school football team. He was talking to a couple of seriously attractive girls – cheerleaders, probably, not that Tom knew who was one and who wasn’t at school, not paying attention to that kind of thing.