Diary of a Horny Student Ch. 04

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Tem 22, 2022 // By:analsex // No Comment

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4

“Do you want me to teach you how to eat pussy?”

The shocking words hardly registered in my brain as I slumped against the couch in Tara’s basement. She was trying to cheer me up after I told her about how thoroughly I had botched things with Steph.

“What for?” I murmured

“Well you may have royally fucked up with Steph, but you’ve still got Rachel’s prom to go to tomorrow, and you’re gonna wanna be prepared if you get called in off the bench!” She exclaimed. My eyes limply shifted over to her spot on the floor.

“What makes you think I don’t know how to eat pussy?” I inquired.

“Truth or dare,”

“Truth”

“Have you ever eaten pussy?”

“…no.”

“Well there you go,” she remarked, an “I told you so” look on her face.

I thought about what this lesson might entail–maybe Tara, legs spread and bottomless, fingers parting her lips to show me the pearl of her clit and how to massage it with my tongue; maybe pressing her fingers up inside her pussy in search of her G-spot. Maybe she’d even invite me to try.

All of these lewd thoughts about one of my best friends passed through my mind…and my cock barely moved.

My fuck up with Steph had affected me greatly.

We hadn’t spoken in the days since the incident, and not a single sound, sexual or otherwise, had filtered its way down through the floorboards of her room above into my room below. I had made an ass out of myself, and more importantly I had hurt her. I had hurt Steph, a former tormentor who now I dare say I considered a friend. But now, I didn’t know where we stood, and I certainly didn’t know what it meant for me in terms of having a date for my own prom.

The one thing I did know is that for the first time in years, I went multiple days without masturbating.

Digital messages with Rachel did nothing for me. They had mostly been logistics for Friday, the day I would accompany this chaste choir girl to her school’s prom. It was an agreement I made in the moments after orgasm that I had come to dread, and though I would never back out, any reminder of the impending evening did nothing for my libido, especially under the current circumstances. Even in the moments she attempted to be flirty, I barely engaged. What was the point?

In my room, in the moments where I would usually be rock hard, stroking it to the angelic sounds of Steph’s cresting orgasm, it was just quiet. A heavy quiet that did nothing to arouse, and everything to remind me of how violated she had felt.

Tara did her best to cheer me up.

“Listen, Miller, it sucks, I know, but you fucked up.”

She wasn’t doing a great job.

“You remember what I told you in the car that time?” She said, eyebrows raised.

Tara had told me there was more to Steph than it seemed–that she might actually be into me–but I never believed it. Even so, any affection that had been there had to be long gone now. I nodded.

“Well you may have hurt her more than you actually realize,” she said, a slight lilt of sadness to her voice.

Sensing the dour shift in tone, she quickly livened things back up.

“I mean don’t get me wrong, I know it was super hot to jerk off to her moans coming through the floor–I mean, shit, I’ve even thought about it myself once or twice to get my vibrator to hit the right spot, but you can’t TELL her that!”

I thought momentarily about Tara riding her vibrator, the one with the one-two-three, one-two-three buzzing pattern she liked. My cock didn’t move.

Something about her phrasing though–was she saying she would touch herself while thinking about hearing Steph’s moans through the floor? Or while thinking about ME, jerking off while hearing Steph’s moans through the floor? In the moment the thought was fleeting, but I would run it over in my mind again later.

“So what’s this mean for OUR prom,” she asked after a long pause, “do you still have a date?”

“Honestly, I’ve got no fucking clue, Tara…but signs definitely point to no.”

My eyes drifted down to the floor as a heaping helping of teenage shame and self loathing set in. “She only was going as a goof anyway…she didn’t actually want to be there.”

“Oh, Jesus, cry me a river,” Tara said, popping me one in the shoulder. “I’ll tell you what: why don’t you forget about it, and you and me can go together?” she suggested, an uncharacteristic brightness in her voice.

“Us go together?” This idea got my attention. “But what about Chris?”

It got my attention because it was a very odd suggestion. Tara had gotten a date for the prom very, very quickly. She had a dark sexiness to her that was catnip to the young and horny, regardless of gender. She pretty much had her the choice of anyone she wanted, and she chose to accept the invitation of Chris Nivens, the star of the drama club. Legitimately talented, he was the star of every production our school put on, and had the cocky attitude to go with it. He was always shitty to me, and I didn’t like him. I tried kaçak iddaa to be civil about it for Tara’s sake though.

Tara wasn’t a drama student herself, but she definitely had a drama student aesthetic, and loved the parties they would throw. It had been told that she and Chris had been seen at said parties making out in the corner on more than one occasion, and word had spread that one time Chris had been fingering her right out in the open in front of everyone. Unfazed by another rumor about her, she assured me that even though it sounded “hot as fuck,” it was definitely not true.

I believed her, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that image here and there, cock in hand. Of Tara perched up on an end table in a dark corner of a dimly lit room, Chris’ hand tucked deep between her spread legs as they kissed, fingers thrusting in and out of her sopping-wet center while a room full of others mingled and danced nearby. Would she cum? Would the music be loud enough to hide her cries if she did?

All of these thoughts had coaxed more than one messy load out of my balls, but at this moment it was all quiet on the western front in my pants.

Tara got up and went over to the mini fridge to grab another soda. Her thin, high-waisted pants held tight around her curves as she moved, the legs flaring out down by her feet, flapping loosely with each step.The mention of Chris seemed to trigger something.

“Change of plans,” she finally said flatly, her back to me.

She didn’t tell me then, and I didn’t press the issue, but later I’d find out exactly what that change of plans entailed.

Tara had hung around the school auditorium one night, waiting for play rehearsals to end. She had told me of her plan previously, as it was her intention to make sure she and Chris had some alone time up in the “Juliet’s Balcony” stage set.

While on her knees, topless, sucking his dick, he had started to get very aggressive, grabbing her hair, fucking her face, calling her a “good slut” and a “dirty whore.”

Now Tara never met a kink she didn’t like, but there was an anger behind his actions, and a lack of control on her part that made her start to panic. She pushed him off her, and tried to calm him down.

He then backed her to the edge of the balcony, pulling her skirt up, and called her a slut again as he tried to force himself on her.

One solid elbow across the nose from Tara later, Chris was off her, and she was out of there. The following day she overheard someone talking about how “Chris fucked Tara in the balcony set.”

“Just another thing people say about me behind my back,” she would say, dismissively.

I had always wondered why Chris’ nose was too broken for him to perform in the play. He was a piece of shit.

When the prospect of prom had initially rolled around, I had deeply wanted Tara to be my date. I really hated that Chris had snapped her up, so this new opportunity seemed like one I should jump on. I agreed it was a great plan. She smiled a big, beaming smile. My eyes glanced down, and I could have sworn I saw the cast shadow of hard nipples through her lacy red top.

It must have been the cold air from the mini fridge.

Even though my mind was still on my blunder with Steph, my anticipation of the prom was reinvigorated by this new development with Tara. It was going to be fun, that was guaranteed, but first I had to make it through the other prom, Rachel’s prom, which now loomed more like a chore than a fun outing.

I should have been thinking about having a fun time with some new people, but all I could think about as I got ready was Steph. Today was the day of her big test, and I had no idea how she fared on it. As I walked out to my car, done up fine in my rented tux, I paused, and looked up at the second floor windows of her unit. I was hoping to see any sign of life, but still curtains were all I saw.

I fumbled for my keys, reliving again the events of that evening when a voice came from behind me.

“Oooh, fancy – where you off to tonight?” It wasn’t a voice I immediately recognized. Turning, I saw pale legs stemming from rust-colored shorts, the swell of an ample bosom under a fashionable jacket, emerald green eyes, and a mane of flowing red hair. It was Sarah, the girl next door. The one whose room I could see into from my bathroom window. The one I intensely lusted after. The one Steph used to fuck.

“I’m going to a prom for a school a couple towns over,” I offered back in a friendly manner.

“Ooh, two proms huh?” she joked back. She was carrying a bag of groceries that she shifted to her other hip as she reached for her house keys. “You’re a man in demand, I see…”

She bounced her eyebrows at me in a suggestive manner before hitting me again with a flawless smile. Rachel’s prom was a million miles away now as I laughed, and frantically searched for a way to extend the conversation.

“What’re you up tonight?” I finally blurted out.

“Not much,” she said kaçak bahis casually, “just having a friend over to hang. She had this big test thing today, so we’re just gonna chill and decompress a bit.”

My eyebrows went up slightly at this knowledge, but inside I was screaming. She obviously meant Steph.

“That’s cool,” I managed to get out. I cleared my throat a bit and decided it was time to leave–I desperately needed to process this info.

“Well I’m gonna be late, I better hit it. Have fun!” I offered as I slipped into the car, starting the engine.

“Thanks,” she offered back with a wave, “and good luck!” She bounced her eyebrows at me again as I rolled past.

Finally, my cock twitched.

My mind was already on other things besides the prom at hand, and this short interaction with the girl of my dreams did no good to change that. Getting to Rachel’s friend’s house where we and a group of her friends would be loading into a limo, I politely smiled and glad handed my way through the proceedings, all the while my mind on what would be going on at Sarah’s house that evening.

On the limo ride over, I nodded and laughed at the right points to keep up appearances as my mind whirled with images of Steph, nude on Sarah’s bed, writhing around in pleasure as Sarah’s tongue danced over her clit. I cursed Rachel’s prom, wishing I was at home, where I might have the chance to see their lust from my bathroom window. Would I be able to hear Steph’s erotic short-short-long moan when she finally came on my redheaded goddess’ face?

In retrospect I recognize that I was a truly awful prom date. Rachel and her friends did their best to convince me to have a good time, but my mind was elsewhere. I fulfilled all my prom date obligations, but in a very clinical manner. Even during slow dances, I couldn’t think about Rachel’s two, extra large breasts pressed tight against my chest, because I was too preoccupied with the four breasts no doubt being pressed together right then back home.

Returning to her friend’s house after the dance, we changed into more comfortable clothes. The big backyard was littered with pre-arranged tents, where the crew would continue the festivities and ultimately spend the night. There were a decent number of tents, but the yard was large enough that no two were placed uncomfortably close to each other.

I had not intended to stay the evening, but I wanted to be polite, so I hung out for a while as everyone gathered around a roaring fire pit to chat and laugh, and drink some smuggled booze. As we chatted, Rachel pulled in close to my side, but I paid it no mind, as there was a slight chill in the air, despite the flames.

We all talked, but I couldn’t tell you what was said. My mind was permanently affixed to running a continuous cycle of all the erotic scenarios that might be playing out at Sarah’s house. Wet pussies spasming on fingers, hands gripping fistfuls of hair in climax…God, I wonder if Sarah has any toys. Was Steph over there right now wetting a thick dildo with her mouth right before she eased it into Sarah’s cunt? For the first time in who knows how many days, I felt a tightness in my pants.

I needed to get up and walk around before anyone noticed, so I decided to head off to the bathroom. As I got up, Rachel popped up as well, saying she also had to go, and would walk with me. Heading back toward the house, we passed through the small city of tents. From one tent to my left I heard low, indistinct chatter, followed by a sudden intake of breath, and what sounded like a moan. I paused, but felt Rachel’s hand on mine pulling me back on track toward the house.

We chatted innocuously as we walked, my mind on the sapphic exhibition no doubt unfolding next door to my house, but was brought back to the moment as Rachel ascended the stairs in front of me. She wore a purple zip-up hoodie and shorts, and only now, as her stepping legs flared out her generous ass with each bend did I realize exactly how short they were. They hung loose, but barely fell past the bottom scoop of her cheeks, and pulled nice and tight across them as she climbed the stairs.

As I waited for her to return from the bathroom, I realized I had never seen her in something like this before–something so comfortable and revealing–she was always proper and appropriate at any church function. I thought back to her prom dress–modest, but accenting the flare of her hips, and provided anyone close enough, say slow dance close, a tantalizing view of her considerable cleavage. I thought about the fun, lively, and sometimes raunchy manner in which she joked and celebrated with her friends. I thought about the pictures she sent me, about how she put those humongous breasts of hers on display, nipples painfully erect. I realized I didn’t know a damn thing about this girl–about who she actually was. I knew her from church, and from our online conversations, which is hardly enough to know who someone is; to know what they’re capable of.

As illegal bahis we started back toward the fire, the light rain dusting us as we walked, I decided it was time for me to go.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna get going, ” I said. Rachel stopped a few steps ahead of me.

“Are you sure?” she asked, closing the distance between us. I was prepared to answer in the affirmative, but right as the words formed in my mouth the sky opened up.

“Oh my God!” she shrieked as sheets of rain started down. She grabbed my wrist and pulled as she dragged me towards the nearest tent. Quickly working the zipper, we both tumbled in, safe from the rain, and no more the worse for wear.

“That was crazy, it just came out of nowhere!” She squeaked, the both of us laughing as she clicked on a nearby lantern, bathing us both in a dim, orange light. “You have to at least wait until the rain lets up,” she insisted. It was warm in the tent, and a big, thick sleeping bag was laid out, with nice pillows around to lounge on–it wasn’t the worst place to wait out a rain storm.

We sat in a thick silence as our breath returned to normal. Not the largest tent in the world, we were huddled fairly close. The zipper on her hoodie was let down a bit, allowing me to see the glistening flat of her chest, and just the slightest hint of cleavage.

“Hey, do you remember the camping trips we used to go on with church?” she finally said, breaking the silence.”

“Sure,” I said timidly.

“Do you remember the backrubs we used to give each other?” She asked, a slight smile on her lips.

“Sure,” I said again, thinking back to the few times I had run my hands over the neck and back of a real woman in a chaste ritual that occupied the hormonal instincts of horny teens bound by the virtuous demands of religion.

“Well I’ve had this kink in my neck,” she said, turning her back to me, “and I was wondering if maybe you’d give me one.” She lifted her long strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, turning back over her shoulder to glance at me.

“Sure,” I said once again – it was the only word I seemed to remember. at that moment my mouth started to go dry.

“Great!” She exclaimed, and shimmied her plump ass back between my legs, only stopping when our bodies touched.

Fantasies of Steph and Sarah started to fade from my mind as I focused on the very real situation, the very real girl, in front of me. As I felt her ass pressed up against my cock I still tried to rationalize what was going on. Surely all she wanted was a neck rub, nothing more, just like we used to do, right?

I put my hands on her shoulders and started to rub, a slight moan escaping her lips as I did so. Working my way inward toward her neck, but the hood of her sweatshirt made it tough to make any actual progress.

“I’m, uh, not sure how good I can really get in there with this hood in the way,” I choked out.

I heard the slight buzz of a descending zipper, and with a slight shrug and a shimmy, she slipped the sweatshirt down over the crests of her bare shoulders.

“How’s this?” She breathed.

“Yeah…that works” I practically whispered. I ran my hands over the warm, exposed skin, traveling toward her neck and noticed something: My hands never touched fabric. There was no shirt underneath her hoodie…no bra straps either. Beneath this hooded sweatshirt was nothing but the bare skin of her body..

My cock started to swell.

Her back arched, pressing her ass into me further.

I rubbed the nape of her neck, eliciting a soft moan of approval. My hands glided over her skin from the tips of her shoulders up the swoop of her neck and down again. Her plump breasts remained covered by the hoodie, but left her upper chest nude to the night air. Rocking my hands forward on the downstroke, my fingers brushed across the ridges of her collarbone, my mind once again taking note that there were no shirts, no straps, only flesh. A pulse shot through my stiffening cock.

Her ass shifted against it.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” she cooed, relaxing into me further. She was practically reclining into me now, and I could peer over her shoulders, down her exposed chest, and into the cleavage peeking out from her unzipped sweatshirt. On every breath in, her massive mammaries would pull the shirt tighter across them as they rose up slowly, before sinking back down with breath out. It was hypnotic.

“Do you remember the last time we did this?” She asked with a playfulness in her tone.

“Yes,” I managed to squeak out. I sure remembered. We had never done THIS before, but the last time I had my hands on her neck and shoulders was at a church camping trip. THE church camping trip. The one I had confessed about to Tara during one of our Truth or Dare games. It was a moment I would never forget, one forever branded with teenage embarrassment. Hormones racing through my body, my hands touching a real life girl, it all became too much, and right there at that church camping trip, as Rachel gave a soft, pleasurable moan and put one hand on my leg, my cock exploded in my pants. I ended the massage abruptly, and ran off back to my tent in search of new pants. It was not my finest moment.

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