“So,” he said, looking me up and down, “the cheerleader wants to be my slut.”
I stood still as he walked around me.
“Hunh. I don’t think so.”
****
He had a rep around school, and not in a good way. But it was in the way I wanted.
The talk in the girls’ room was that he forced girls to do sick, perverted things, and laughed at them when they did. That he treated them like shit, expected them to kiss his ass, kiss his feet, kiss his…
And that was just what I wanted.
But he was twenty-three and I was sixteen. He dealt drugs, and had money.
I was a junior in high school. A cheerleader. People thought of me as the sweet girl next door, all pretty hair and toothpaste smile. All polite and everything.
They didn’t see me watching hardcore porn on my laptop at night, stripping in front of my window with the lights on and the drapes open, pulling my toys out from the bottom of an old gym bag and fucking myself sore with them, twisting my tits, buggering my ass, stretching my cunt, and playing with my clit, all while fantasizing about someone treating me like shit, forcing me to do sick, perverted things, making me kiss their cock, then shoving it down my throat.
I wanted him. But after he had laughed at me, and just walked away, I decided I had to force the issue.
I put on the sluttiest clothes I had, got out my makeup box, found the lipstick I called “Cocksucker Red”, and made myself up heavily. I looked more whore than wholesome.
I knew he walked into a certain alley every evening at around 7:30, where he did his drug deals, so I positioned myself in the shadows and waited.
“Heyy, it’s the cheerleader. But she don’t look like one, does she? What’s up, twat?”
“I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me bad.”
He smirked at me. “Really.”
“Yes. Really.”
He stood looking at me for a good, long time, rolling a toothpick in his mouth.
“OK, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You meet me at the High Street Mall on Saturday at noon, by Penney’s. Wear high heels, a skimpy crop-top you think might turn me on, that cheerleader rah-rah skirt you got, and nothing else. Got it?”
I nodded, already wet, and starting to breathe heavily through my nose.
“Then we’ll see if you got what it takes to be my cunt. Right?”
And he walked away.
****
I started at 7 am, taking a shower, masturbating and cumming three times before I got out, doing my hair and dressing with great care, doing everything I could think of to make myself look like something out of my parents’ worst nightmares, except for the make-up and high heels.
Then I threw on sweatpants, a hoodie, and sneakers, made sure I had the right make-up in my bag, told my parents I was going to the mall with Charlene, borrowed the car, and left.