Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Housewives of Coxville County By; Ota & The Ogre
Prologue: The Games Afoot



   The crowd went into uproar as the basketball fell through the white
netting of the rim, a loud burst of sporadic cheers on the left side of the
gymnasium where fans of the Coxville basketball team sat.  Yet another
three-pointer had been aimed, shot, and stuffed right through the open net
in an audible swish.  The game was quickly turning into a blow out for
Coxville's cross-town rivals from Bartown.  The baying cheers of the
Coxville crowd all but drowned out the low groans from across the way,
their competitors, who slumped, cursed, spat, and shook their heads in
mixed distress and partial disbelief as they looked up at the lit
scoreboard.  Home- 18, Guests- 4.



   It was beyond disheartening.  Barely into the second quarter and the
visiting team's morale were smashed all but to shards.  It was January, and
ever since Bartown's football team, the Beavers, - suffered their loss to
the Coxville Cocks with a score of 14 to 8 in the previous football season
- it seemed that Bartown had since been suffering from a steady string of
bad luck in all their athletic endeavors when it came to facing their
longtime rivals.



   The performance from Coxville's players, once considered "fair" by most
other team's standards, had since developed into something almost
otherworldly in the span of what seemed like overnight.  Their strength,
speed, coordination, team work and stamina had grown exponentially since
the last season, leaving Bartown's coaches perplexed, unprepared, and
soundly cajoled at their opponent's superior skills.  This sudden drastic
increase in physical ability seemed to be exhibited most, no, solely by
their African-American players.  The vast majority of young men who made up
the Coxville team were black, with the few caucasian players actually on
hand displaying their ample ability to keep the bleachers warm.  Because of
this disproportion in the team's racial cast, the entire Coxville
basketball team appeared to be nothing short of unstoppable machines.



   Jonah Houlihan, Bartown's head basketball coach, was thoroughly stumped
when it came to creating or utilizing an effective countermeasure to
Coxville's relentless onslaught.  What the fuck sort of training had they
been giving these boys, he thought.  From the tip off of the game, they had
aggressively outclassed, outmaneuvered, and overpowered Bartown's
predominately white team of young players, making them appear to be nil
more than novices to the sport - their three consecutive championships all
but a distant memory- as the ball was repeatedly snatched, slapped, and
jostled from their hands.

   Another loud wave of cheers echoed through the gymnasium as one of the
Coxville players, a tall, well-muscled dark skinned number, quickly
recovered the ball after a failed shot taken by one of Bartown's players, a
shorter, blonde boy of far less impressive physical stature, bricked from
the rim and bounded backwards into the fray.  The Coxville player nimbly
made his way from the far end of the court and to the other side.  Along
the way, and in one graceful spin, he dodged two of the oncoming players
just before jumping into the air, and hurling the ball in a feint to a
fellow player, another young black youth, of darker complexion and even
more lean muscular definition.  He was positioned just near the right side
of the low post.  The darker Coxville player immediately caught the passed
ball, already in the air by the time it flew into his large open hands, and
lifted his arms to slam the ball into the white net with a loud smash.



   "Wow!  Did you see that?!" Said George Swallows enthusiastically. 
"We're killing these guys.  Championship, here we come!"



   George sat in one of the middle bleachers, a point where he had a
perfect view of the game.  The gymnasium was packed, bustling with shouts,
cheers, hollers and other such sounds that filled the area with resounding
electricity.  The kind of living energy that came from many people being
gathered and excited in one place.  Most of, if not all of the faces, were
familiar ones.  Many of the local high school students occupied the lower
rows of the bleachers, most of them gathered in groups no smaller than
five. Five girls and six boys sat together on the lowest row.  Kitty
Summers, her signature blonde hair that was styled into a pony tail, sat at
the center of her band of fellow cheerleaders, who were in turn clustered
with several of the boys from the football team.

   The sight of them sitting there was considered an unorthodox one for the
small southern town.  Kitty and her entourage of Miko Larson, Patty, and
Pamela, as well as the always seemingly out of place Susan, were sitting
amongst a cluster of young men, all of them black, and all of them of
varying shapes, sizes, and shades of ebony.  Miko and Pamela were to
Kitty's right, and Susan and Patty to her left, with the boys sitting at
varying point's in-between.  Kitty sat in the center, an arm wrapped from
behind around the chiseled torso of her boyfriend Samson West, a tall and
built young man, who in turn had his right arm casually slung over the
blonde girl's shoulder.  To the right were Miko and Pamela, who sat on both
sides of the tall, bald and contradictively nicknamed Little Leroy, his
arms slung comfortably around the both of them, his long sinewy legs
stretched forward in leisure.  Miko was wearing a particularly high cut
skirt and girl's hoodie that seemed to be a youth large in size.  Her slim
but curvy figure clung to the cotton and denim fabric.  Pamela was wearing
a pair of shorts that seemed to be trimmed all the way up to the highest
point of her upper thigh, showcasing her immaculately smooth legs and
tanned skin.  Her ensemble was completed with a t shirt that cut up at
about the middle point of her torso, showing her slim waist and flat
stomach.

   Both girls rested a hand each on Leroy's stomach, a defined mass of
rippling muscle that shown through the fabric of his white tank top, their
hands close enough to one another's that their fingers often brushed
together.  Patty, the tall, built redhead was wearing a pair of tight
fitting sweatpants that presented the promise of the bountiful curves of
her hips, thighs, and rear end.  She wore black shoulder cut shirt that
exposed her shoulders, and the black straps of her bra which kept her large
breasts mostly tamed.  On the shirt in bold white letters was a tagline
that said black is the new black.  The pun and joke of this phrase would
strike an onlooker upon noticing that Patty was on the large arm of the big
and burly brown skinned boy named Max, and how both of her arms were coiled
around his massive singular one - while Susan, once considered to be the
taciturn bookworm of the group, now sat on the lap of the tall and long
limbed boy, who's nickname among the group was LD.  Susan wore only a slim
chestnut colored skirt that had various flower patterns on it.  Her hair
was let down, and fell in long straight strands down almost to the middle
part of her back.  Both of LD's dark hands were clasped onto her hips.  At
times an idle hand would venture down to caress one of her smooth legs, and
on rare occasions travel a bit further towards her inner thigh.

   The display summoned a silent ruckus among some of those in attendance.
Parents, member of faculty, and a number of fellow students looked on in
profound - though ineffably silent - outrage at the spectacle.  It wasn't
enough that almost all of them had begun dressing more provocatively, had
become infamous for their consecutive absences from classes, and had since
relinquished all their previous social ties to be with this gang of dark
skinned hooligans, but now it seemed like the young women were making a
show of flaunting their new behavior.  The young girls, cuddled up with the
group of young black men - clad in revealing high cut jean skirts and t
shirts.  It angered many within the crowd, though their protests were
confined to low mumbles and covert pointing amongst the populace.  For the
most part however - such as with many towns priding themselves on their
virtue and wholesomeness - the people who noticed the state of the girls
and their boyfriends ignored the display in favor of praising the action of
the game.  For small towns that pride themselves for their wholesomeness
can only do so, not out of the comfort of knowing there is no dirt or
controversy to be found, but out the willful ignorance of keeping such
matters swept firmly under the proverbial rug.

   Closer to the top of the bleachers was Mr.  and Mrs.  Brown, dressed
down as always in a recherché fashion, their daughter Stacy sitting next to
them.  Mr.  White sat with one hand on rested on the silky, milk white leg
of his gorgeous wife Anya's, who seemed to be either disinterested in the
gesture, the game, or both.  With him was his son Todd, who stared
grievously not at his parent's (really parent, since under no circumstances
would Todd ever consider Anya to be his mother, but rather his father's
most recent purchase), but down at Kitty as she cheered the team on while
wrapped around Samson.  Todd, being Kitty's previous boyfriend, had not yet
come to terms with the act of Kitty dumping him in favor of Sampson, this
fact being shown in the seemingly permanent scowl that now seemed to be
permanently carved into his young face.  Closer to the ground floor was
principle Long, who seemed to be more invested in keeping a head count of
those in attendance than the actual game.  If anyone had taken the time to
monitor his movements however, one might have noticed the faint hint of a
smirk lining the old features of his brown face whenever he looked over at
Kitty and her party.



   "I tell you Harold, these kids are on fire tonight.  Houlihan over there
looks like he doesn't know whether he wants to rage or cry" said George
Swallows, who was sitting next to his long time friend Harold Summers.



   George slightly nudged Harold in his side with his elbow, using his
other hand to point across the way of the court to the Bartown's head
basketball coach.  Indeed, the silver haired Caucasian man looked to be a
state of stunted anger and profound sorrow, his eyebrows furrowed at a
downward angle, while his face muscles tensed and his mouth drooped
simultaneously in what couldn't be rightly discerned as a scowl or frown.
Harold seemed to be in somewhat of a trance, a vacant thousand yard stare
aimed down to the lower bleachers where his daughter sat.  He snapped out
of it with an abrupt jump in response to George's nudge.  He shook his
head, derailing whatever train of thought he was in, and looked over at
Houlihan.  He stared for a moment, and then began to laugh, more a nervous
secondary chuckle as though he was trying to catch up to the conversation.
George immediately broke into laugher behind him, paunch stomach giggling
somewhat as a result.  George put a hand to his thinning brown hair while
lost in amusement.







   "Ha-ha, oh wow, look at him.  Hey honey, get a close up of Coach
Houlihan's face, it's priceless."







   To George Swallow's right sat his lovely wife Ivana, a handheld
camcorder in her flawlessly manicured hands.  Her husband had recently
bought the recorder, and had brought it along to give its said high
definition capabilities a test run.  Ivana focused the camera on the
disheveled coach, the high quality of the camera capturing every contour
and line of the man's face.







   "Oh now that is just too funny", Ivana said, the faint hint of her
southern accent made prominent by the statement.  "You'd swear he was a kid
who just got an IOU from Santa on Christmas morning".







   George continued laughing, Harold's laughter now dwindling to more of a
light snicker while Ivana giggled from behind the opened lens.  The plan
had originally been for George to be one recording the game.  As it turned
out however, in making idle chit-chat with Harold, George handed Ivana the
camera, and had since seemed to push the objective down as a simple
afterthought.  It was a common move for George as far as Ivana was
concerned.  In their nine some odd years of marriage George had never been
one to follow through with a plan, despite the fact he was often the one
proposing them.  He was often struck with an array of seemingly ingenious
ideas, a family outing here, a plan for building a shed there, a new device
to be installed or used at home that never made it out of the garage once
purchased.  This was how scatterbrained her husband was, and it was
therefore countered by Ivana's habit of taking action to take part in
whatever venture George had planned as a solo act, with George giving
occasional commentary in gest to maintain the illusion that he was at the
helm of the enterprise.  Therefore she had spent most of the time using the
new camcorder, pointing and aiming it back and forth in capturing the
action of the game, a single red dot on the lower left side of the
viewfinder to mark what she was recording every moment.





   Basketball wasn't by any means Ivana's favorite sport.  Not that she
couldn't appreciate the degree of skill that it required to do such feats,
like the muscular black youth's slam dunk that she had just witnessed.  Her
reluctance to be present at the game spawned from the fact that tonight
she'd simply rather be doing other things than field testing George's
soon-to-be-forgotten camcorder.  In all likelihood she would have much
rather preferred to be at home, relaxing in a long luxurious soak in a hot
bath, washing and priming her deep brown hair, and laying in her warm king
sized bed to enjoy the new book on diet and health she had just received
that day in the mail.  She was so enamored with her plans for that evening
she had initially told George earlier that day she didn't much feel like
attending the game when he had brought it up.





   ...







   "I don't think I'm up for it tonight.  This week really took it out of
me, and I think I'd rather just stay in and relax tonight.  Catch up on
some rest, maybe get little bit of reading in", she said.







   "Awww, come on honey.  We haven't had much time to be out and about at
all lately.  What with my hours in the office during the day, and these
extra hours you've been working at the school, the only time I get to see
you is when you're asleep", said George in a tone that sounded dangerously
close to a whine.







   "I know, but the last place I want to go out to is the school where I
work George", Ivana replied tersely.







   "True, but 1) you're not going there to work, you're going there to have
fun and enjoy the game, and 2) you'll be making me happy, because I'll get
to show everyone that my gorgeous wife has got Coxville spirit.  I told you
I was captain way back when."







   Only every time words with the letter B comes up in a sentence, she
thought to herself.  She fought the urge to roll her eyes.







   Many years ago in his youth, George had been captain of the Coxville
basketball team.  Back when George had a stomach rather than a gut, and
when the number of loses held by the team made them infamous for being the
sacrificial lamb of the county.  George had always hoisted himself as more
of the optimist, and never wavering from his "can-do" attitude.  Much of
that charm and optimism was what had originally attracted Ivana to him. 
His bright smile, boyish good looks, and bright character struck something
warm inside her, and matched with his decent physical state at the time,
she saw him as something of a catch.  These days he still maintained his
cheery personality, his optimistic outlook on all things, but everything
else she noticed had taken something of a back seat and then some over the
years.  His once full head of thick brown hair slowly thinned and retreated
from his hairline bit by bit, revealing more of a shiny white skull almost
every other day it seemed.  His stomach, once taut and lined with a decent
amount of muscle, had grown soft as marshmallow and expanded, as well as
grew hairy with age.  When he smiled his boyish appeal could still be seen,
but only just barely.



   She still cared for him greatly, loved him as much as any devoted wife
in a wholesome southern town such as Coxville could love her husband, but
she couldn't ignore that such a degree of depth and time in knowing
someone, made one privy to every single one of their faults, be it minute
or major.  George's increasingly lax efforts when it came to physical
fitness were one such fault, and stood in stark contrast to her efforts. 
While George gorged himself on potato chips, burgers, French fries, ice
cream, candy bars, and whole cases of ice cold beer, Ivana spent an ample
amount of her time working on, pushing, and perfecting her body.  Every
morning and night she spent an hour on the stationary bike - what with
jogging being completely out of the question given how large her breasts
were - and engaged in a grueling workout regimen with her friend and ad hoc
personal trainer Sammy Spitzmen.  Sammy was young, nine years Ivana's
junior, and at the pinnacle of her physical health.  Sammy held seemingly
boundless reserves of energy, so Ivana's workouts primarily consisted of
simply trying to keep up with the hyperactive, remarkably fit and bubbly
redhead.  Her efforts, despite her inability to keep up with Sammy, had
paid off.  At 36, Ivana's body was a pillar of womanly health and beauty.

   From head to toe there was not an ounce undesirable fat on her frame. 
Her arms were trim, with just enough definition to them to appear strong,
but maintained their feminine shape and appeal.  Her stomach was flat, and
set up well for the outward curvature of her most desirable hips.  She
worked tirelessly on her lower half, particularly her gluts, which never
seemed to lose shape or mass despite the dozens upon dozens of squats she
did almost daily.  But alas, it still carried ample muscle under the soft
outer layers.  Her ass had always been big, as were her breasts, a full and
round set of GGs that, despite their size, curved upward near their peak,
and stayed pert regardless of how hard she worked to reduce them through
exercise.  Her behind got her a slew of glances as she walked down the
halls of Coxville High, particularly from the black male students, who
never seemed to be without a low whistle or a stunted O shaped expression
as she passed them.  She often ignored it, chalking it up to immature
adolescent behavior, and the ineffable fact that black men can never seem
to contain themselves around women with large posteriors.  The extra work
to her lower half paid off particularly well in her thighs and legs, which
shown tight and showcased fine lines that made many of the younger girls
she saw at school turn colors when catching the hungered gaze shot at them
by their boyfriends.

   Her figure, matched with her very scantly tanned natural skin color - a
trait of her Nordic and Italian ancestry - made her something of a knockout
around Coxville.  No light claims, considering that many, if not most of
the women in town were considered to be stunningly beautiful by any county,
or even the state, or even possibly the country for that matter.

   Her shape made her able to wear basically whatever she wanted, or
rather, whatever she wanted that was considered reasonable with her
profession.  As head nurse and health consultant of Coxville High, Ivana
Swallows had the right to take certain liberties with the style of her
dress.  The way she saw it, it was her duty to remain as a close to a
living picture of health as possible, to act as an example to her patients
and colleagues.  This responsibility that she prided herself on, granted in
her mind a privilege to wear what she wanted.  If she found a particularly
striking new sweater or blouse that she knew she simply had to own, she'd
buy it, and not think twice about wearing it to work with, perhaps, a bit
more of her cleavage pronounced than would normally be merited for someone
of her caste and position.  Lately she had been working longer hours at the
school, preparing for a meeting with the parents of students on proper
health and nutrition for the school year.

   While it was common for schools to have PSAs promoting proper health
habits and exercise amongst the student body, Ivana pushed for Principle
Long to forward the message publicly to the parents of students as well,
convincing after weeks and weeks of proposing, editing, and further
proposing, to host a public parent-teacher meeting on proper diet and
effective physical activities that could implemented in their every day
life.  After all, teenagers seldom retained such information for prolonged
periods of time, and their whimsical belief that they could all eat junk
food in bulk, and maintain good health with menial exercise often guided
their activity level more than not.  This fact irked her fiercely.  She
adopted the belief that an unfit, unhealthy student body was merely the
reflected dereliction of duty from their parents and instructors, and Ivana
Swallows was by no means a derelict.

   "Besides" George began again.  "Jenny will be there.  I'm sure you two
girls would love spending some time to get together and visit for a while."

   As soon as the name "Jenny" escaped George's lips, Ivana's left eye
twitched.  It took every fiber of her being to keep her body from doing a
full wince.  She found it to be the vocalized equivalent of nails on a
chalk board.  Her nerves jutted, and on the inside her soul curled into a
tight red ball as she turned to her husband and said,



   "Oh really?  Well...I guess I'm not THAT tired.  Besides I wanted to
pick up a few notes from my office anyway for the upcoming health awareness
meeting we're having at the end of the month."



   "Alrighty then, sounds like a plan", said George, his face beaming with
delight.

   Ivana held every ounce of raw anger and annoyance buried deep within the
pit of her stomach.  If she was going to be there, that low clout blonde
headed bimbo Jenny Summers, then she would undoubtedly be there doing her
absolute best to show off and frolic around the place in front of everyone,
flashing her big (probably fake) tits in front of everyone present to
garner some pathetic nod of acknowledgement.  And if Jenny Summers was
going to be at the game, then Ivana Swallows had to be there as well.



   "It'll be a perfect opportunity to test out that new camcorder I bought
the other day", said George as he took a large bite of a particularly large
ham sandwich, dripping with mayo.

   Slowly, Ivana pressed down her anger, and forced her full lips to turn
up into a wide smile.

   "Yeah, that sounds like a great plan dear."

   ...



   Ivana had spent most of the first quarter of the game simply getting
used to controlling the camcorder.  It was small enough device that she was
able to hold it in one hand, and the flipping viewfinder made aiming the
recorder easy to keep a subject in sight.  The only trick she found to it
was zooming in and out.  During certain motions of the game Ivana wanted to
get close up shots of the players when they engaged in some of the more
spectacular moves.  The button that controlled the span of the frame was
very sensitive, and moved simply by her touching a finger to a grayish
switch located on the side of the camcorder, and motioning it forwards or
backwards slowly.  Because of this some of the shots would look jerky,
zooming in too fast that it would focus on the wrong part of the court, or
too close to a player while trying to get a medium sized view.  Once she
had accidentally zoomed in directly on the crotch of one of the Coxville
player's as he ran up the court.  It was purely an accident, and a part of
her laughed on the inside at the act, but another part of her twisted in
shock at what the camera captured.  As the young player, a tall, long
limbed African American boy of considerable musculature, ran down the
court, she could see the steady bouncing of something in the front of the
boy's shorts.  The length and shape of it resembled a small baby's arm, or
even a segmented nightstick as it bounced up and down with each step as he
ran.  What the hell?  What's he hiding in his pants?  Ivana thought to
herself.



   Against her initial thought to simply let the matter go for fear of
looking like some sort of pervert with a fetish for filming young ball
players, she continued to follow the boy's crotch with the camera.  It was
a tad difficult following him as he jogged to the other side of the court,
but the angle soon became perfect as he neared closer to their side of the
gymnasium.  As his steps approached, Ivana could make out more of the
hidden shape.  The structure of it, the way it flopped up and down slightly
with each stride, Ivana was eventually able to make out what she was
seeing. Oh my god, is that?  That can't be his...penis, she thought.  It
can't be, she continued as she looked closer into the viewfinder.



   To her disbelief, she could just make out the meaty surface of what must
have been a penis of an easy ten inches straining the fabric of the young
basketball player's red and white jersey shorts.  My word, no way that
could be his penis, it's far too long, and...thick, she thought.  Indeed,
the sizable member was as thick as it was long, if not more so.  The
outline of it barely fit into frame as Ivana closed on it with the grayish
button.  The sweat on his pants casted a wet quality over the full outline,
which gave it more definition, and she could just barely make out smaller
lines lining the penis that could only be veins, full veins the size of a
child's fingers.  My lord, thought Ivana.

   "What's wrong honey?" said George.

   Ivana stirred with surprise at the abruptness of George's question.

   "Wh...What?" she said flustered to the point she almost fumbled the
camera out of her hands.

   "You said my lord like you just spotted him on the court.  Is the camera
working alright?"

   Ivana hadn't realized she had spoken.  Had she really said "my lord" out
loud?



   "Oh, oh no, it's just-"



   "Here, let me see, maybe we'll just have to delete some of the earlier
footage or-"



   "No!  Ivana said, a bit louder than necessary that it made George's eyes
widened in surprise.



   "I just...forgot that I have to get a few of my notes from my office is
all.  Remember, for the meeting?"



   "Oh yeah, that's right."



   "Yeah, I'm actually going to run down there and grab them really quick.
I shouldn't be more than a minute."



   "Alright, well here I'll take the camcorder and film the rest of the
ga-"



   "No!" said Ivana in an even louder tone this time, unsure now of whether
or not she had been recording the sight of the young black man running down
the court.  She didn't want to run the risk of George looking into the
viewfinder to spy recorded footage, taken by his wife, of a tall, muscular
black kid with the outline of a penis flopping around in his pants that
made his (rock hard) look like that of a toddler's by comparison.

   Ivana feigned clearing her throat, making it seem like her outburst was
accidental.



   "I actually want to mess around with it a bit more, I'm starting to get
the hung-I mean- hang of how it works; I want to get a little better at
it."

   George's face went from one of confusion, then - to Ivana's worry- a
brief contortion bordering on suspicion, before it finally settled on that
warm, boyish smile of his.



   "Ha-ha, alright then.  That sounds just like my lady, once she jumps
onto something, she doesn't get off til it's mastered" he chuckled. 
"Alright, well I'll save your seat for you.  Hurry on back though, we're
only in the second quarter, but I do want to get some of the later parts of
the game on film."

   Ivana smiled,



   "Sure thing dear."



   "Oh, and Ivy", came Harold from the other side of George in a somewhat
weary voice.  Harold had taken to calling her by her short name, pronounced
"Eve-e" years ago.  "If you see that wife of mine, tell her to hurry on
back so she doesn't miss the game.  She went to get us some drinks from the
concession stand almost twenty minutes ago, and hasn't come back yet."



   Harold looked at her with a drained expression.  His eyes were strange,
a bit of strain and redness to them.  Ivana had noticed this as an
increasingly common state for Harold these days.  Harold once had a
physique that was hefty and greatly similar to George's, a thick paunch and
round features of flesh.  In the beginning it had looked like he had simply
got into the habit of steady workouts, a healthy weight loss.  Now however
it appeared more to be a product of him simply not eating.



   His face held two hollows where he once had full cheeks the like of a
chipmunk, and his once normal fitting clothes seemed to fit him baggy like
that of the youths she saw every day at school, just not nearly as stylish.
His eyes bore dark rings around the edges that confessed a lack of sleep.
Ivana looked over at the lower bleachers, and to his daughter Kitty.  She
knew that the girl had recently changed, taken to that Sampson West and his
crowd of black derelicts that she and her little cheerleader friends had
developed a fancy for, and in turn caught an array of questionable habits
in dress and attitude.



   Ditching classes, staying out late at night, dressing more and more like
street walkers than A-students.  She speculated that this drastic change in
behavior somehow correlated to Harold's drastic change in appearance and
demeanor.  And not just that, it seemed to be catching on to the other
girls as well, like a kind of virus.  The other cheerleaders, all once
young ladies of the highest caste and caliber of Coxville, had adopted the
same unladylike habits after they started hanging around those dark skinned
roughians.  Even the pretty dark haired girl, Susan, who had once been
known to everyone as having perfect attendance and straight A's in all her
courses, and always seen reading a book of some sort, had now fallen into
the crowd.  Nothing good is to be found in that, thought Ivana, looking at
the young blonde girl who was clasped tightly on the muscled form of
Sampson.



   The young girl was already turning for the worse, already gaining weight
in places that would be seen as unattractive if not for her naturally
athletic figure.  She struggled to keep a smile from forming on her lips at
the mention and thought of Jenny that this caused by relation.  A
sniggering bit of satisfaction was found in Ivana at the tarnish to Jenny's
legacy.  Not much, as Ivana had no real qualms with Jenny's daughter, but a
slight triumph was found none the less.



   "Sure thing Harold, I'll let her know", she said from behind clenched
teeth.

   Ivana turned to make her way through the aisle.



   "Oh and honey", said George.

   Ivana half turned to her husband, now frustrated from what would
undoubtedly be yet another request.



   "If you're going to pass the concession stand, think you could get me a
coke and some chili fries?"

   The mention of it made her stomach turn.  She didn't understand how her
husband could voluntarily eat that junk.

   "And THAT's the sort of thing I'll be speaking against at the meeting"
she said, a bit of bite to her tone to let George know she most certainly
did not approve of his choice in food.

   "Then I'll have to enjoy them tonight while I can", replied George,
dawning a somewhat smart assed grin that said touché.



   "Sigh...fine, diet or regular?"



   "Diet, I'm willing to compromise", said George.



   "Alright", Ivana said, and started walking through the aisle again.



   "Thanks honey, the best as always", he smiled, punctuating his remark by
giving her a slight smack on the butt, which made it giggle somewhat from
the impact.  She liked the feeling, but George's spoiled behavior soured
the sensation somewhat.



   As she made her way down the aisle, another cascade of loud cheers
erupted from the crowd.  Ivana looked back before exiting the gymnasium to
see that the Coxville basketball team had scored yet another three pointer,
the same black athlete from before bouncing on one leg in a recovery motion
from the jump shot he had just made, the long meaty outline of his cock
bouncing in unison with the motion.  Thick as an arm, she thought to
herself.  For some reason unknown to her, she lingered on this thought, and
to the sensation of George playfully smacking her behind, and how the force
rippled through her ass.  The combined thoughts of the player's huge penis,
and the smack caused Ivana to oddly shudder as she exited through the
gymnasium's double doors.



   As Ivana walked down the hallway that led from the gymnasium, she
rewound the footage on the camcorder, before hitting the delete option. 
She didn't want to chance George finding what she had previously recorded,
and she figured it would be much easier to simply tell him she accidentally
deleted the earlier part of the game should the situation arise where he
actually held possession of the recorder again.  The hall was empty,
everyone was most likely gathered back in the main hall of the gym, and she
could hear each one of her steps reverberate through the barren hall with
the echoing clack of her high heels.  The force of her steps caused her
large natural breasts to bounce slightly each time her foot came into
contact with the ground.  Ivana was a very large DD, and her bountiful
mounds had always been a source of mixed appreciation and woe for the
middle aged beauty.



   The size and mass of them made running long distances a near impossible
feat, and she often had lower back pains that she suffered silently.  Her
husband George loved them however, the fact that his hands were only
capable of grabbing a meager handful that covered only a portion of her
breasts was an incredible turn on for him.  Ivana often caught the eyes of
many of the local townsmen (and some women) to be cast down at them during
daily conversation.  She often had to reprimand the younger men at school,
and lecture them on how crude it was to not look a person in the eye whilst
talking to them.  The act irked her to say the least, but a part of her,
the lesser known Domina that dwelled inside of her, found the gesture to be
oddly flattering.  She liked the notion that men and women found her
attractive, desired her, and envied her, stood jealous of her figure as
something to be achieved.



   Of course this wasn't the case for everyone in town.  Not everyone held
her to be the end all form of beauty in Coxville.  On the contrary, when
the issue of good looks among the women folk in town came up, the premier
name to be referenced rated Ivana as a "close second" to Jenny Summers. 
She had actually heard this time and time again in hushed whispers from
students, even faculty of the school, and by relation the rest of the
people in town.  In fact, a quite often scenario was Jenny's and her name
being uttered, compared, and contrasted in the same sentence.



   "You get a load of Nurse Swallows today?  Damn, she's soooo hot", she'd
hear young men in the hallway whisper in the hallways when they thought she
was not around or could hear them.



   "God, I'd give anything to bury my face in those tits."

   She should have been offended, part of her in fact was, but the reverse
came in the form of a smile of being charmed by the statement.  Why
shouldn't men be attracted to her?  Young men especially are bound to
express appreciation of the female form, and Ivana was, to her own credit,
a very sexually appealing woman.  The notion that she was something of a
sex icon to the young boys flattered her into a faint blush, all the way up
to when someone would counter with,



   "Yeah she's hot...but Mrs.  Summers' ...god...no SHE'S AMAZING I tell
ya."

   Ivana's spirits would be lifted, only to suffer the plummet every time
she heard this.



   "Now Mrs.  Summers has a PERFECT body.  That hair, those eyes, those
curves, those tits, lord almighty, those things make you want to stand up
and beg for buttermilk", they'd say.



   "You're right about that one.  Hands down the hottest woman in
Coxville."

   Hearing that title, "hottest woman in Coxville", always served as the
final jab in the gut to Ivana.  She HATED the fact that so many of people
in town had such an all-encompassing title for Jenny Summers.  As if she
was the end all-be-all to sexual desire in the county.  It made all of
Ivana's efforts, the exhausting daily exercises, the assiduous dieting, the
meticulous effort put into her wardrobe and the perfect appliances of
makeup - just enough to let her natural beauty show- all of it, seem to be
for nothing.  It worked her nerves to the nub to think all time and energy
merited that of second class to someone like Jenny.  Jenny, who as far as
she saw, was only popular because of her looks.  Yes, Jenny Summers was a
stunningly gorgeous woman, she had been even back when they attended high
school together.  Back then Jenny was smaller in frame, her body slightly
more athletic and less curvaceous.  Not at all unlike the way Jenny's
daughter Kitty looked now, or rather, used to look before falling in with
those young punks.  She was the spitting image of her mother, and similarly
the subject of much admiration from many of her peers (and secretly some of
the faculty judging from rumor), a male and female.  Ivana was certainly
nothing to scoff at herself, and her peers gave her a similar sort of
appreciation.  However it was a marvel to Ivana that so many people failed
to notice how wholly imperfect she was.  The amount of praise garnered from
fans of Jenny didn't at all cover what Ivana found to be an utterly false
personality from the buxomly blonde.  She was always so damn happy, so
openly fake.  A forced kindness always seemed to beam from her statuesque
porcelain face and bright smile, enough to make Ivana's lightly tanned face
redden.  But alas, all those around her dotted on her, gave her nothing but
unyielding affection, while giving Ivana what seemed to be any leftover
accolades that remained after they were done praising Jenny for simply
knowing how to inhale and exhale oxygen properly.



   Jenny Summers, the Queen of Coxville, made Ivana Swallows sick.  So sick
that it eventually convinced Ivana that she needed to make friends with
her, approach her as a potential best friend with the aim of exposing Jenny
for the fraud Ivana knew she really was.  The entire span of their
"friendship" had been one carefully aimed shot for Ivana to finally bring
what she knew to be a farce into the light that others could see.  Ivana
would gradually wear her down, bide her time until she found a way to out
her.  Show that the wholesome southern belle facade merely masked something
low class, something crude, that didn't at all merit having such a perfect
life, with endless admiration and all the fixings and added appreciation
that Ivana worked her behind off to receive the runoff of.  Ivana was so
caught up in her mental tangent, going over the checklist of how false
Jenny Summers really was and reasons she despised her, she hadn't even
noticed she had been hovering over the desk in her office, standing blankly
over a slew of papers, her notes for the upcoming meeting for more than
five minutes.

   She sighed, coming back somewhat into the here and now, and kneeled down
to collect what pages she felt she need.  Her desk was a mess, papers
scattered everywhere.  She hated things being unorganized.  Things at work
had just been maddening as of late, and she hadn't yet had the time to
thoroughly clean the office.  As she rustled through the pile, her huge
breasts hung lower over the desk, wafting slightly as she gathered the
pieces of white paper.  After she gathered the pages she needed, she
stepped back into the main hallway of the school.  It was dark, a stark
contrast to how bright the halls seemed during school hours.  The darkened
state of the place made her somewhat ill at ease.  She didn't realize how
creepy the school looked at night.  The wide hallways intended to give
enough space for the steady traffic of students and faculty during each
school day now seemed to hold a vast emptiness, one where it seemed
anything could pop out of anywhere at any time.  Ivana walked nervously
down the hallway, the clanking of her shoes louder than she liked as they
echoed steadily.  Her steps were so loud that she actually missed the first
audible moan when it was bellowed into the air from somewhere further down
the hallway.  Ivana stopped dead in her tracks.  She stood stock still,
trying to determine whether or not she had just heard something.



   She figured it was just her mind playing tricks, making up alternative
sounds for her own movement and giving form to simple shadows strewn about
the corridor of the school, which already had her a little creeped out. 
This was her initial conclusion...until she heard the noise again.  A low,
almost guttural groan from something that she couldn't determine.  Her
heart began to pound harder in her chest as she stood as stone in the
center of the empty corridor.  She thought it may have been an animal.  A
cat perhaps, who snuck in through a cracked or open window - opened with
the intent of air out the summer heat, and forgotten - in search of idle
mice, and had found instead another cat competing for the same prize?  Or
maybe it's some pervert trying to get the drop on me, Ivana thought.

   The latter idea motivated her to slowly, but not too slowly, unlace, and
step out of her high heel shoes.  She wasn't sure which direction the noise
came from, and if it was a pervert, she was going to make sure she had
something on hand to fight with, as well as create an easier means for her
to escape.  She hated the idea of running, but if she were attacked, she'd
have no choice.  Again the noise came, this time louder than the last. 
Definitely a groan, but this time it sounded more effeminate, a womanly
howl more than a masculine grunt.  Ivana began walking forward again, her
feet now making only scant patting sounds as the soles of her feet planted
themselves one after another on the cold smooth hallway floor.

   That noise again, this time louder.  Definitely a woman, definitely
emitting from one of the nearby rooms in the corridor.  Added to the sound
now was a blunt and steady smacking that Ivana could just make out.  As she
approached closer the source of the disturbance, an idea crossed her mind.
If there was a pervert, or perhaps thief walking through the school, they
would most likely be caught off guard if they attacked her to find a
camcorder being shoved into their face, their image caught on camera for
the authorities to possibly identify him.  Should that instance arise,
Ivana figured that would be enough to throw the prowler off kilter enough
to allow her to get the first blow, perhaps even frighten him into running
away.  She flipped the viewfinder open, and hit the red button that marked
"record".  Try this curve ball you derelict bastard, she thought to
herself. The noise once coming from one of the classrooms allocated to the
science department.  It was one of the larger rooms that stayed open later
than the others, for students wanting to do extra credit for chemistry. 
Bizarre however, as Ivana thought that even though the room was open for
longer hours, it was surely locked at night after the janitors got done
cleaning.

   All the same, there was most definitely someone inside there, and by the
sound of it he was breaking into something.  The distinct sound of a hand
or fist crashing into...something.  It sounded like a pair of heavy hands
coming together in applause in the middle of a steady stream of water. 
Whatever it was it sounded too soft to be a lock or safe of some sort. 
Besides there wasn't really anything of value in the room to steal anyway,
was there?  Ivana pondered this as she took another few quiet steps towards
the door.  The groans took on the form of two people, not one as she
originally thought.  It sounded like a man and a woman, though by the
intensity, the nonsensical grunts and groans coming from both, one could
hardly define either as sounding human.



   The smashing sounds grew louder, and as Ivana placed her ear against the
door she pick out an increasing wet quality to the noise.  She pieced
together that the sound of the smashing was what gave rise to the grunting.
The harder the slam, the louder the subsequent grunts would be. 
Someone's...having sex in the science room!  Ivana realized.  How wholly
crude!  She figured it had to be a couple of young students, capitalizing
off the crowd gathered in the gymnasium for the game, and likely the lax
duties of the janitors leaving the door unlocked to watch the game. 
Probably a couple of the (black) students who didn't have the good sense to
take their bedroom escapades to the bedroom.  Young hormones at work, with
a mix of no scruples or tact.  Well, someone is about to get busted,
thought Ivana.  If an anonymous and concerned citizen were to film these
two derelicts in the act, and recommend to Principle Long that they should
be suspended, even expelled for indecent behavior that would get the
message across that such horrid acts were not to be tolerated in Coxville
High, let alone the Coxville community.  Long was under the gun enough as
is with the problem of student attendance and grade performance, and Ivana
knew he certainly wouldn't let something like lewd conduct compound upon
the pile, not if it meant his neck was exposed to the potential danger.



   Ivana snickered at the thought of besting a pair of unruly youths, but
also there was a bit of excitement that grew in her.  A thrill that her
increasing heartbeat attested to as it thumped harder and harder in her
chest.  The sounds that these two were making, they were so...so...Ivana
couldn't quite place a word to it.



   "Gawd damn dis pussy is fuckin good", came the very deep baritone voice
of a man from inside the room.

   Oh yeah, they're black alright, Ivana concluded in her mind after
gauging the twang in the voice.  No scruples and even worse grammar, she
thought.  She readied the camera, holding the viewfinder up to her face,
her other hand quietly, slowly twisting the silver door handle, and ever so
gently pushing it open.  When the door swayed inward to reveal the scene,
the slow unveiling of two sweaty masses of flesh and muscle, she forced
herself to hold back a gasp.  HE was black alright, but the female with
him, most certainly was not.  What Ivana saw was almost surreal to her. 
She was by no means inexperienced or uneducated in the subject of sex, but
what she beheld seemed to be far much more than simple intercourse.  The
man, a big, burly brown skinned individual with a monstrous frame - a giant
by all accounts as far Ivana was concerned - was standing with his back
more cocked at a side angle to Ivana, facing her enough that she could make
out the curvature of his solid chest and strong facial features, with his
head facing downward that he didn't notice her or the faint blue light of
the camera from the slightly opened door.  Even in the near dark, Ivana
could make out his smooth dark skin that glistened with sweat, droplets
rolling down his chiseled back, highly sculpted lower torso, his Adonis
like ass and titanic thighs and legs strewn with hard muscle.  His dark
blue workmen's pants pooled around his ankles, just at his white socks and
brown work boots.  He was pumping vigorously, relentlessly into the woman,
a very curvy and fit white body, which was just as sweaty as he was,
glistening in the moonlight that poured in through the window.



   She was bent over onto the nearest adjoined tables nearest to the
smallish sink and gas setup.  The audible smashing Ivana had previously
heard was the sound of the man's thick body, his hips smashing with an
incredible force into the soft, round ass cheeks of the bellowing, writhing
female.  The desk was angled in such a way that Ivana could clearly see the
deep brown pair of humungous testicles that swayed back and forth, swinging
underneath and slapping loud near her pubic area of the woman.



   "Oh shit!" cursed the woman in a mesh of surprise and unbridled
pleasure. "You're burying that big black cock so DEEP!" she groaned.



   The white figure reached a hand up and clasped it onto a faucet head
that was nearby, clutching it tightly and exposing a gold wedding band as
she continued getting pounded from behind by the huge black man.  Ivana's
breath grew shallow before she unconsciously held it completely, her heart
hammered in her chest.  Her hand holding the camcorder shook with the
combined fear and adrenaline rush of what she was witnessing.  Her reaction
was bizarrely split, divided in two in her take on what she was seeing. 
The prim and proper woman in her screamed out at the woman in protest,
while her inner voyeur quietly stared on in frothing glee at the spectacle.
Despite both forces holding equal ground in her head, the voyeur won the
final decision, and Ivana quietly continued to film.  She took up her other
hand to steady the camcorder and calm her other shaking hand, fighting the
urge to slide her hand...someplace else.  Drawn to the sight, she watched
as the screen automatically brightened to compensate for the eclipsing
dark.

   The camcorder illuminated the room through its lens, and Ivana got a
better look at the particulars of both characters as they continued their
animalistic tryst.  She could better see the rippling muscle that composed
the entire span of his large body.  He was dark, chocolate dark with the
added darkness of the room.  His face showcased powerful features, a wide
nose, large dark eyes, full lips, and a chiseled jaw line that clenched
tightly as he labored behind the woman.  Ivana zoomed in on the man's face,
close enough that she could see the beads of sweat pouring from his shiny
bald head.  He's so...dark she thought.  He wasn't familiar to her, not in
the slightest.  His workmen's pants and short-sleeve button down shirt that
lay flat on the floor looked very similar to the uniform the two other
janitors at the school wore, the tall and slim dark skinned black man, and
the fatter, lighter skinned one whose names she never cared or bothered
learning, much less to remember.  This one, who seemed to be an even height
and build between the two, might have been new.



   "Ugh, you like dat big ol nigga dick stretchin out yo pussy huh, dirty
white bitch!"



   "Agh, yes, fuck yeah, I love that big nigger cock.  Ah!"



   The dialogue between them caused Ivana to pan back out with the camera.
She made the focus go further down in examination the source of the loud
slamming noises.  If Ivana hadn't gasped before, she most certainly did
when her green eyes fell on the image conveyed by the lens, as it focused
on what was to be seen below the black man's waist.  Ivana's eyes widened
with shock and awe.  A full, rock hard penis of incredible length, the
biggest she had ever seen.  A solid 12 inches, and of significant girth she
saw, in crystal clarity made by the camera.  The color of deep ebony, it
resembled a large night stick or billy-club, but dare Ivana thought, fuller
- more robust - with thick dark veins running up and down the meaty shaft.
It was pulling back from inside the woman's exposed, gapping pink pussy. 
The lens blurred for a moment, readjusting from the angle change, and
showed a high definition close up of the huge dark member just before it
buried itself all the way back inside the panting woman's pussy.



   "Oh my god", whispered Ivana, a shake in her voice from watching the
black stud go deep, what must have been belly deep, into a quivering and
incredibly wet white gash.  The woman's pussy dripped clear liquids down
her pale toned thighs.  The slick liquids bathed the black stud's cock, and
it was clearly visible each time he pulled back to his of his fat cock
head. Ivana shivered.  Never in her life had she seem a woman get so
thoroughly dominated, punished sexually, and with such force than what she
was observing.  She'd have felt sorry for the poor woman and her brutalized
pussy...if it weren't for the moans this girl was emitting.



   "Ugh fuck!  You're gonna make me cum on that huge motherfucker!" the
woman said, her grip on the faucet getting tighter.



   Her moaning became quickened when the black stud sped up his pace, his
hips pumping with an even louder set of slams rewards his efforts.  The
woman's screams grew maddening as her climax approached.  When it finally
hit, Ivana moved the camera ever so slightly to the right, and panned out
to get a shot of the woman's straight legs shake as her pussy dripped a
larger quantity of clear white liquids from her sweet pink gap.  A tuft of
long blonde hair whipped up and back in ecstasy from the onslaught.  Ivana
pulled the image back a bit more and the hair wafted backwards, exposing
the enraptured face of...Jenny Summers!?



   "Oh my god!" Ivana said at the same time Jenny did, though Jenny's was a
more invigorated one of passion more than shock.



   "Ugh, yeah, I'm bout to nut too baby." Growled the black man as his pace
quickened.

   Jenny turned her face around to look at the black stud.  She took her
free hand, the one not clutching the faucet head for dear life, and placed
it on the rock solid abs of the toiling Negro.  In a gesture of power he
grabbed her arm, pulling it back and forcing her to lift up slightly from
the table.  Jenny's large breasts flopped up slightly with the motion.



   "Oh yes!  That's it baby, pound that pussy.  Give me that hot white
nigger load!"

   The stud obliged, and gutted her pussy hard until every muscle in his
body tensed.



   "AAAGH FUUUCK!" he roared, pumping a few more finalizing thrusts before
a thick white spray spilled inside Jenny's filled pussy.

   It pooled from inside in thick wet globs, spilling onto the classroom
floor.  As his orgasm continued, Jenny pushed up from the table and turned
towards the man, his huge cock flopping out of her pussy, and she quickly
kneeled down, grabbing the cock firmly in one hand, grabbing a handful of
the man's testicles in the other, and swallowing the humungous head,
sucking at the rich, creamy white bounty that came from it.  Like a child
to its bottle, she sucked and sucked on the throbbing head, opening her
mouth wide to take a mouthful of pearly white cum.

   "GARRGH!" He shouted in a toothy snarl, before his body finally relaxed,
and his face calmed.

   A long moment went by, the air quiet except for the man's slow
breathing, and Jenny's steady mmmmh sounds as she gulped the cum down and
licked what remnants remained from the now softening head.  The veins of
the cock pulsed a little before they finally calmed to a minimum, or, as
much of a minimum as a thirteen inch penis could.



   "Ma cousin Jerome was right.  You one bad bitch Mrs.  Summers.  Shit, I
ain't neva seen a white bitch take all ma meat like dat beefo", the man
said in more of an exhale.



   "Please...call me Jenny", she said in between swallows and licks.  "What
was your name again?" she asked.

   Ivana couldn't believe her ears any more than her eyes.  Had Jenny, a
married woman, this complete slut, just fucked a man, a BLACK man no less,
without even knowing his name?



   "Tyrone..." he said, looking down at her as she lapped at the cum that
had dripped onto her large breasts, her long blonde hair shifts a little
from her bobbing head motions.



   "Well...welcome to Coxville High, Tyrone.  You be sure to tell your
cousin Jerome I said thank you for giving me the chance to show you around
campus.  I mean, you're only filling in for him tonight and all but I know
how big the place is.  You can easily get lost around here."



   "Yes ma'am." chuckled the black man.

   Ivana saw this as her queue to leave.  Quietly and quickly, she turned
and scampered away from the door.  Now that the pair wasn't occupied with
one another, they were bound to hear her, or see the blue glow of the
camera.  Ivana made her way silently back outside the school building, and
leaving the exhausted pair behind.

   ...

   Outside it was still barren, empty and cold.  Ivana found herself almost
ghost walking back to the gymnasium, back to her husband George, somewhat
in shock from what she saw.  Jenny Summers, the Queen of Coxville, caught
on tape being fucked senseless, thoroughly broken into by one of the
biggest, blackest men she had ever seen.  Biggest in every conceivable way
and sense of the word.  The image of the man's huge penis still burns in
her mind.  It was so potent that she had to stop and move off to the side
of the walkway to rewind the footage.

   She had to get another look at it, of him.  Clear images of his muscles,
cock, balls, Jenny's tight robust and curvy body bent over and her pussy
getting pounded.  The moans, curses, sweat, and loud smashing sounds were
all captured on the camcorder.  Jenny Summers, little miss perfect by
everyone's standards was reduced to a panting, sweaty, slattern.

   If everyone found out about this side of Jenny, this dirty wanton
persona that had been unveiled this night, they'd...The idea formed in
Ivana's brain before she even knew it.  This is it, thought.  That's it,
I've got it.  She held the key to her greatest rival's demise right in her
hands.  This was the bit of proof she needed.  The greatest weapon to her
competition's fall, and it literally rested in her hands.  Ivana rewound
the footage, shut the camcorder off, and walked back to the gymnasium with
a wide genuine smile on her face.  There was an extra bounce to her step as
she walked back into the gym and up the flight to her aisle.

   "Where are the chili fries?" asked George with childlike pout on his
face.

   Oh darn, I forgot all about George's disgusting chili fries, she
thought.



   "I'm sorry hun, they were fresh out at the concessions stand.  She lied.
"They'll probably have another batch ready by half time."



   "Oh...alright then", said George, the same pout etched across his face.

   God, he was such a baby when he doesn't have things his way, Ivana
thought.  Harold leans forward to looked at Ivana.



   "How was Jenny?" He asked.



   "Wh-what?" stammered Ivana.



   "How was Jenny doing at the concession stand?  You saw her there right?"



   "Oh...I...I didn't see her."

   A strange look crossed Harold's face, a question mark almost forming
atop his head that was soon replaced with an expression of worry.  If only
Harold knew how much of a dirty whore his perfect little wife was, Ivana
thought to herself.  or l knew how filthy and perverted she really was,
doing that huge sweaty black man...that huge, sweaty, incredibly built
black man...that huge, sweaty, incredibly built black man, and that giant
black penis of his...Ivana lost herself in the thought again.  Her green
eyes glazed over at the memory of that huge mass of ebony flesh ramming
itself into Jenny's pink pussy, again and again unmercifully.  It was then
that for a brief moment, Ivana had a very strange thought.

   In her mind's eye she pictured the black man in his entire adonic
splendor.  She imagined his huge member ramming itself relentlessly,
unmercifully into a pink open slit and doing the same exact act with all
its intensity.  Though only instead of the pink open slit belonging to that
of Jenny Summers, the one being thrashed relentlessly was her.

   With that a long, toe curling jolt of electricity went from Ivana's
head, and sunked all the way down her back, and flooding in-between her
legs.  This sensation would have made her black lace panties wet from her
own juices if they hadn't been soaked earlier while recording Jenny's
scandalous behavior.

   The plan had formed in Ivana's mind seemingly in that instant.  The
entire plan layed itself out in a single detailed image in her mind.  I'll
finally expose you, you dirty slut!  That's a promise!  If Ivana had moved
or felt herself, or the fabric of her black skirt.  She would undoubtedly
have noticed how drenched her panties were, right when the buzzer signaling
half time went off in a loud blare, echoing, and cutting through the cheers
within the Coxville High gymnasium, the scoreboard reading 24 to 8.