My damn car wouldn’t start. I’d stopped for a Coke on the way out of town, and now I was screwed. I was a first-year frat pledge, a mere sophomore, and I absolutely had to make it to Norman for the Midwest Regional Track and Field Championship, the last big event for our university before the Nationals next week and then summer break, and now this.

Before you get the wrong idea, I’m no athlete; no, I was working one of the concession stands as a fundraiser for the frat, and if I didn’t show, my ass would be toast. At the regional meet, each university gets to run a concession stand to raise money for various causes or programs; I’d committed to it to raise money for our fraternity. I HAD TO be there!

All of us Oklahoma State Cowboys hated going to our arch-rival Oklahoma Sooners Stadium in Norman, but that’s where it was being held, and I was ninety minutes away with no transportation, facing a total fail on my responsibilities.

I had jumper cables and tried to flag down someone to give me a jump, but so far I’d been ignored. When an older Toyota Avalon I recognized pulled in, I thought I was saved! It was Trevor Wilson, the president of our fraternity and a great athlete, with a car full of teammates and their girlfriends, undoubtedly on their way to the University of Oklahoma as well.

He lowered his window. “Greg, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be halfway there already?”

“I know! My car won’t start. Can you jump me?”

“Sorry, we’re running late too. Tell you what, pile in and ride down with us.”

I must have looked skeptical because I was; his car was jammed. In the back seat were Paul “Tank” Arthur, a shot putter and discus thrower. He was called Tank for a reason; solid and wide, his bulk took up nearly half of the seat.

Alongside him was his girlfriend, Marsha “Booty” Fleming, no svelte figure herself. With wide hips, a plush bottom, and enormous jugs, the analogy I always thought of was “Rubenesque”. Tank called her his “big bouncy beauty with the juicy booty” (hence, Booty), who made no bones about the fact that she loved getting boned. The girl was perpetually, unabashedly horny, but so was Tank.

Crammed into what little was left of the backseat were Hank “Stretch” Barnes and his quiet, mousy girlfriend, Brenda Taylor, tucked tightly on his lap. Hank was a tall, skinny high jump stud and more than adequate at high hurdles as well, with his long legs. Brenda thought he walked on water; given the size of his feet, she may have been right.

In the front bucket seats were the aforementioned Trevor, a top athlete and a sprinter who ran the hundred meters and was the 4 x 100 relay anchor and played football in the fall, and his girlfriend (and my heartthrob) the stunning and sweet Rachel Jones. Rachel is soul-achingly beautiful, with long, shining chestnut hair, sparkling brown eyes, a petite and perfect figure, and a smile that made me feel faint.

Rachel looked like she was born to be the prototypical cheerleader; not coincidentally, she was one. She had no idea how I felt about her, of course, but was always kind to me, which did nothing to dampen my ardor.

Trevor must have seen my doubtful look because he immediately took charge and started to rearrange things. “Greg, you’re short. Why don’t you ride in back? Stretch, you and Brenda move up front and slide the seat back so you’ll have room for those legs; you won’t do the team any favors if you can’t move when the meet starts.”

He squeezed Rachel’s hand. “Rachel, baby, since you’re so tiny, why don’t you sit on Greg’s lap in the back seat?”

The implications of his passenger juggling didn’t fully dawn on me until I’d slid into the back seat, passenger side, my hip pressed into Booty’s voluptuousness, and Rachel carefully settled herself onto my lap.

The girl of my wet dreams, in her short little pleated cheerleader skirt and tight top, her warm, firm, perfect little bottom nestled snugly into my groin, her shining hair in my face, and something I hadn’t anticipated, her soft, incredibly sexy scent flooding my olfactory senses… for the next hour and a half! I was in deep trouble.

She turned and looked at me over her shoulder. “I’m not too heavy, am I?”

“Umm, no, uh, you’re fine. I mean I’m fine. You’re not heavy at all, you’re…” I almost said ‘perfect’, which was true, but I stopped.

As I trailed off, she favored me with her megawatt smile. “Well, good – but let me know if you get uncomfortable, okay?  I can always change positions or something, but for now, let’s enjoy the ride.” So saying, she wiggled and squirmed and settled herself more firmly into me, and I could almost hear the sound of blood rushing to my crotch. It was my wildest dream come true, Rachel riding my lap as I became aroused, but inside of my head, I was screaming, Nooooo!

The reality, however, was that this was an erection that would not be denied.

It grew. It thickened and hardened, swelled, and slowly worked its way upright, stretching my pants taut over it, and I thought again, for the umpteenth time, how often it’s a disadvantage to have a huge cock. An underendowed guy, or even one of average proportions, might harbor some hope that she wouldn’t notice. With a cock the size of her forearm, I had no chance of flying under her radar… or, more accurately, throbbing unobtrusively under her ass.

Sure enough, she suddenly stopped wriggling and held very still, my bulge lodged in the heavenly valley between her cheeks. She slowly turned and looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes wide.

Blushing crimson, I whispered, “Sorry,” praying she wouldn’t say anything. Best case, I’d be embarrassed and kicked out of the car in the middle of nowhere; worst case, Trevor would beat the crap out of me!

She remained mum – but she didn’t pretend to ignore it or let me off the hook! Instead, she smiled at me, an evil smile that I didn’t know she possessed and rubbed her butt on my bulge. She then leaned back, whispered, “Wow!”, and stuck her tongue deep into my ear. Luckily, it was a brief oral/aural exploration or I might have come in my pants. Turns out, my sweet fantasy angel has a good bit of the devil in her too!

She then leaned forward on the back of the seat in front of her and engaged in the flow of conversation in the car, chattering away with her friends like a little bird for the next twenty-five miles while subtly grinding her ass against my hard cock every inch of the way. In any other situation, I would have been in heaven; in the crowded car, I was sweating bullets and hoping nobody else caught on.

I was also beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, I might endure the ride without spilling a load in my pants. About that time, she sat up straight, squeezing me between her muscular ass cheeks, then slowly snuck her right hand – the one toward the door – underneath her and began to explore my problem in great detail. Her hand traversed my length from balls to head and back, squeezing, stroking, fingering, teasing, torturing, and utterly demolishing my willpower… as well as my won’t power.

This time when she whispered in my ear, she said. “OMG! Greg, you’re fucking huge!”

I weakly whispered back, “Rachel, please…”

She merely giggled, then leaned over and whispered something in Booty’s right ear. When Booty turned and stared at me, and then her eyes dropped to where Rachel rested on my lap, I had a pretty good idea what she’d been told; when she sneakily insinuated her hand beneath Rachel and into my crotch, where she firmly seized my balls and the thick root of my cock, I was sure.

She whispered, “Fuck, Greg!” and began to fondle me. We still had almost an hour to ride, and I knew that if they continued there was no way I was going to make it without launching a load. They continued.

I did long equations; I tried to remember Wordsworth’s poems and Shakespeare’s sonnets, word for word; I pictured the periodic table of the elements in detail and did other complicated, mind-involving, erection destroying things, but to no avail.

I succeeded in holding out for another twenty minutes, Rachel giving me the world’s best but most subtle lapdance and Booty massaging my testicles, but when I came, it was a monster. I pumped and spurted and gushed. Except for one little squeak and a deep groan, I remained silent, but every muscle in my body was as rigid as my cock, and I leaned my forehead against Rachel’s back and came and came.

I thought it was never going to end, and I realized that I was tightly gripping Rachel’s hips as I ground my cock against her, spurting merrily away the entire time. Booty knew everything, her hand positioned to feel every pump, flex, and spasm of my orgasm as each squirt of cum passed through me and into my pants. She smiled at me, evilly triumphant, and continued to squeeze me until she’d milked me dry.

Rachel, for her part, leaned back on me and whispered, “Whoopsie!” before giggling hysterically. I felt faint – and wet, and I began to wonder how long before the front of my pants grew dark with semen stains. Rachel, apparently reading my mind, whispered, “Sorry, but I had to do that… if it helps, my panties are soaked too.”

It didn’t help at all… but it was wonderful to hear! Looking down, I realized fortune had favored me; not only had my dream girl given me an enormous orgasm, but I’d also been lucky enough that the nozzle of my hose was lodged near my left hip, inside of my tighty whities where they’re two layers thick and behind the pocket of my jeans – the pocket in which I kept a folded hankie!

I might survive this yet if the layers of fabric could absorb the enormous amount of cum I’d spilled. In the meantime, we continued on our way, me literally stewing in my own juices, praying it wouldn’t soak through. Rachel behaved herself, but the damage was done. I was embarrassed because Booty and Rachel were aware of my loss of control, but if it didn’t show – and they both kept quiet – maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It had felt incredibly good…

When we arrived and everyone piled out, Rachel “accidentally” put one hand squarely on my crotch as she got out. I knew it was an accident by the way she squeezed my limp, wet cock and grinned wickedly. As they trooped off toward the locker rooms and I turned toward the bowels of the stadium where concessions are based, Rachel excused herself and came back.

“Greg, are you okay?”

“I’m a mess.” I was, too, a wet, sticky mess; I could feel cum oozing down toward my thigh.

“I’m sorry I did that to you.” She grinned impishly. “Felt good though, didn’t it?”

“Rachel…” I wanted to be mad at her, but I couldn’t. I smiled. “Yeah, it felt amazing, but now I have to go get out of this underwear before the whole world knows.”

She laughed. “Poor baby! If you’ll forgive me, I’ll make it up to you on the way home.”

That sounded both exciting and terrifying. “Uhhh… gosh, Rach…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll love it. I promise.” With that, she turned and walked away, and I watched her little cheerleader skirt swish back and forth with the sway of her hips – hips that I knew had other, far more sinister talents!

I quickly walked to a restroom and went into a stall, where I removed my pants and underwear and used the back of my Jockeys – the only dry part – and wads of TP to clean myself up. The back side of my front left pants pocket was cum-soaked, and it had penetrated halfway through the folds of my hankie, but there was nothing to be done about that but hope they’d dry. I left my cum-soaked undies hanging on the hook on the stall door, not wanting to tote them out publicly to the trash can and snuck out.

I don’t ever go commando or wear boxers because I always feel like the outline of my cock will be visible through most pants; I’m kind of a small guy, but my cock isn’t. Looking in the mirror, I could see that was very much the case with these thin khakis, its obvious bulge dangling well down my thigh. Nothing I could do about it – but all afternoon, working the concession stand, I felt very conspicuous. I was also ultra-aware of my Free Willy flopping about unrestrained, which, despite my epic orgasm, was making me very horny.

Later that evening, when I’d cleaned up the concession and headed out to the car I found them waiting for me. The team had done well and spirits were high, the guys reliving every moment. Nobody paid any attention to me except for Rachel and Booty, whose eyes seemed glued to the living thing flopping about in my pants as I approached. That was very embarrassing!

As we all climbed into the car, assuming our former positions, Rachel took advantage of the darkness to nimbly slide my zipper down and undo my belt before settling herself again on my lap. We were barely out of the parking lot before she had my rapidly expanding cock out and my balls in her hands, reaching down between her legs to stroke me.

She parted her legs and held me so Booty could take a good look. Booty’s lips parted as she stared, then she licked them and turned to Tank. She quickly had his zipper down and his thick, dark cock out, then scooted her big ass against me as she leaned over to engulf him with her red lips. Watching her head bob up and down as she sucked his cock was doing nothing to relieve my horniness; I was rock-hard.

When Rachel took my hand and pulled it around her hip, pushing it between her thighs, I took the hint – and was stunned to find her naked beneath her short cheerleader skirt! Her pussy was hot and wet and smooth as velvet, and I almost buttered the back of the seat in front of us but somehow managed to control myself.

When she began to slide her wet pussy against my rigid cock as I fingered her, however, I knew I couldn’t last long. Luckily, she sensed it too and rose slightly, positioning me at her opening and riding down, grunting low in her throat as her tight little body opened to accept my girth. She came – I felt her stiffen and then shudder violently as she climaxed, which did it for me, and I filled her with my hot cum, spurting my load deep inside her pussy.

We both were still for a moment, stunned at the power, urgency, and danger of what we’d done, but then I started to finger her hard clit and she began to ride me. There was no way her tight pussy was going to allow me to go limp, and I didn’t, and she came twice more before, twenty or thirty miles up the road, I pumped another load of hot, white cream into her depths as she came yet again.

This time I softened enough to slip out of her, but we both played with her dripping pussy and when I brought my cum-slathered fingers to her lips she sucked them clean. Turnabout being fair play, she soon did the same to me, feeding me our cum. Not wanting to be a chicken, I sucked our combined fluids from her fingers, shocked to discover that we tasted quite good, and also that it sent the right signal to my tired cock, which began to rise again!

Hearing Tank groan and Booty moan as he’d filled her mouth had already done some work on me, and now our taste – and Booty leaning over to say, “Go, stud!”, her cum-scented breath in my face – finished the work of hardening my cock, and Rachel slipped me deeply into her sopping cunt.

She fucked me almost all the way home until, on the outskirts of Stillwater, I again filled her amazing pussy with my cream. I’d lost track of her orgasms, but she’d seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself; now, however, we were faced with the problem of getting out without making it too obvious what had gone on in the car!

I quickly fished out my hankie and gave it to her - it was almost dry by then – and she pulled a wad of Kleenex from her purse and tried to contain the damages. I guess we were mostly successful – nobody seemed to notice anything amiss when we got out of the car.

She hung back with me for a moment as they all started away. “You okay?”

“God, Rachel…”

“Fun, huh? You have a great cock.”

“Thanks… you’re pretty amazing too.”

“I have cum running down my legs. Think Trevor will believe that’s all me, just extra horny for him?” I smiled weakly, and she went on, “Maybe I’ll make him eat my pussy before we fuck.”

“Rachel…”

She laughed. “Just kidding. You’re staying here this summer?”

“Yeah, I got a job. You?”

“Yup, taking classes. Trevor is going home to Houston. You and me are gonna have so much fun!”

I felt myself getting hard again…