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Archive name: alan13.txt (MF, mc)
Authors name: Julian Coreto (juliancoreto@hotmail.com)
Story title : Alan - Part 13
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This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2002. Please
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Alan - 13 (MF, mc)
by Julian Coreto (juliancoreto@hotmail.com)
***
Flashback To Prom Night
"You look fantastic! Stunning!"
"Thanks, Mom," Pauline answered, blushing furiously. It
was the afternoon before the prom, and Pauline was at
the salon. Mrs. Van Devanter had been ferrying her
daughters about town all morning and afternoon. Kate was
at the dressmaker's, which was Pauline's next stop. Mom
was going to take Pauline there and drop Kate off in
exchange back at this salon.
Her usually billowing light-brown hair was up, held by
lavender ribbons and the better half of a can of
hairspray. Her fingernails and toenails were lacquered
to match the hair ribbons. After some last minute
hemming and stitching her dress would be ready, also the
same color. She was giddy with anticipation.
This was all a bit new for her; she had never been a
satin and lace type of girl. No tomboy her, but she
hadn't really been one to doll it up very often. She
preferred comfort to couture; not that she was ever
indifferent to her appearance. Rather she strove to find
the happy medium between form and function, favoring
nice skirts and pants, pretty blouses, eschewing short
skirts and clingy tops. But for the prom she went whole
hog: a spaghetti-strap dress, open-toe shoes (dyed to
match), this ultra-feminine hairstyle, and the nail
polish.
"Gorgeous! Absolutely Gorgeous!" James Van Devanter
enthused as his two daughters down the staircase.
Pauline was resplendent in her lavender dress. It was
low-cut and tapered to the waist. The bottom was
separate, a knee length skirt under a pale translucent
ankle length piece which sort of resembled a sarong. It
wasn't your typical prom dress, and that was what she
wanted. Kate was wearing a more traditional dress, a
pastel yellow off the shoulder number, tailored up top
to hug her lush figure, cut very low in the back, the
hem coming to her mid-calf. Her hair was French braided
and up, two yellow Bakelite barrettes holding them in
place. Mrs. Van Devanter had helped them with their
makeup, and they both seemed to glow. Their dad was
clicking away like a half-crazed paparazzo.
Alan and Chad, waiting in the living room, came out upon
hearing the fuss. They had spent the last twenty minutes
or so successfully avoiding conversation. Chad had
barely said two words to him since that day, weeks ago,
when he confided in his counselor. After he pissed
himself a few times he realized that it was pointless to
try to tell anyone about what was happening between Kate
and Alan. The most embarrassing time was when he had
shown up at the Van Devanter's knowing that Kate was not
home. The reason he was sure Kate wasn't home was
because he had just dropped her off at Alan's.
It was a late-May Saturday night, the weekend before
Memorial Day weekend. They had been out on a date, a
teen social at the country club; Kate's cell phone rang
just as he had returned from the punch bowl with two
glasses. Kate was on her cell phone, and he could tell,
just from her side of the conversation to whom she was
speaking.
"Yes, Master." Pause. "I'll be right over, Master."
Pause. "Yes, he's right here. We're still at the club,
Master." Pause. "No wonder you and Pauline left early."
Giggle. "I'm sure she was good, she is my kid sister,
after all." Throaty laugh, then calmly, "Yes, Master, we
came in his car." Pause. Giggle. A look from her which
made him feel like the lowest form of life on the Planet
Earth, followed by a short--yet derisive--laugh, which
he was sure came at his expense. "I'll see you soon."
She hit the end button, terminating the call.
"Pity," she said to him, sighing wistfully. "I was
hoping to stay till the end of the dance, but when He
calls, I go." She picked up her purse and started out.
Try as he might he couldn't resist following. As he
passed the entrance he spied the trashcan near the door.
All he had to do was throw his car keys in the trash!
Then he wouldn't be able to take his girlfriend over to
Alan Marshall's house, and that turd wouldn't fuck his
pretty little Kate. In a way he would be protecting her!
He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the keys,
but for some reason he was unable to grasp them.
Meanwhile he was still incapable of ceasing his forward
progress behind Kate. He kept jabbing his hand into his
pocket and coming up empty. Fuck! Goddamn hands! What
the fuck is going on?
Kate was waiting at his car, tapping her foot
impatiently. When he was within five yards of his Beamer
he was at last able to fish his keys out of his pocket,
but instead of heaving them into the bushes he just
pressed the electronic button on the fob to pop the
locks. Kate jumped in and fastened her seatbelt, but he
seemed rooted in place, trying with all his will to keep
himself from even opening the door on his side. She
upbraided him, and his resolve crumbled.
It was a short drive to Marshall's house, and he
attempted to talk her out of going, but she was having
none of it. As he turned onto Alan's block he was
shocked to look at her. She was touching up her makeup
in the vanity mirror on the visor, and he could see her
quivering in anticipation, her shoulders vibrating,
making it harder to work the lipstick across her mouth
evenly. He cut the engine and gave her a doleful look.
"Kate, baby, are you sure you want to go in there? You
don't even know what sick and perverted things he's
going to do to you."
She laughed. The sound of it cut through him like a
rusty chainsaw. It was a cackle of pure contempt, and it
tore him up inside.
She opened the door and started up the path. "Let's go,
my Master wants you to come in, too." she ordered, and
he found himself following her again, right into the
house so he could face Alan Marshall, his humiliation
personified. The haughty puke opened the door as she
approached; he was wearing slippers and a bathrobe.
In the living room Kate fell to her knees, kneeling
before him as if he were a god, which to her he was. By
merely prostrating herself before him she was becoming
aroused, her nipples popping out to press against the
fabric of her dress, her shaven slit slowly secreting
juices, the labia becoming sensitive and puffy. She
nuzzled her face in Alan's groin, enjoying the feel of
the soft material of his robe against her cheek. Alan
reached down and pushed the straps of her dress off her
shoulders, and it fell to her waist. Her gold nipple
rings sparkled in the light. He parted his robe and she
mewled as he held the head of his cock against her
bright red lips, smearing his manhood with her lipstick.
She kissed the head lovingly, and then licked around the
crown, savoring the taste of him, greedily lapping up
his pre- come.
Her eyes had been closed, and she had all but forgotten
that Chad was still here when he spoke.
"Alan, please," he whined. "Do I have to stay here and
watch this shit?"
"Yes. Shut up. I'll let you go soon."
Kate's oral skills were fantastic. She had him fully
hard in almost no time, and in just a few minutes was
taking him to the hilt, her throat stretched out around
him, her lips nestling in his pubic hair as she moved
her face forward and back on his shaft. She was
slobbering profusely and making obscene slurping noises,
a curtain of saliva on her chin and all around her
mouth, glistening by the light of the room, and little
droplets of it falling to her chest. Periodically she
would release him and rub his shaft across her cheeks,
over her neck, and she even leaned forward to swish her
glossy black hair around his crotch; but these were just
respites, times she needed to catch her breath before
swallowing him whole again.
Alan moved back to the sofa and pulled Kate along with
him. He sat, and she crawled up onto the couch on all
fours, perpendicular to him, her mouth quickly covering
his erection again. He reached under her to rub her
pussy.
"You're incredibly wet. More than usual," he commented
wryly.
She lifts her mouth off of him, gasping because she had
been deep-throating him. "I like it when you make him
watch," she chuckled.
"And you like it when I use you, don't you?" This was
for Chad's benefit, for he had no doubts that she liked
his use of her. She demonstrated that every time, in
both word and action.
He pulled her up so she was sitting next to him. "Tell
him," he said softly. She looked up at her master with
questioning eyes, so he elaborated, "Tell Chad why you
ditched the dance and came here at my order."
She looked over at the pathetic form of her quote-
unquote boyfriend. He was slouched in a chair, facing
them, his eyes downcast. Alan put one arm around her
shoulder, the hand hanging down and rolling her nipple
and ring through his fingers, causing her to pant gently
as she continued to answer Alan's questions.
"Because you wanted me to come here. Because You're my
Master."
"But why, my little slut," he pressed on, and Chad
noticed her quiver when he called her that, "Why did YOU
want to come her tonight?"
"I don't understand," she whimpered, her upper lip
tremulous. "I came here because you wanted me to. Isn't
that the right answer?" She shifted a bit in her seat so
she could look at Alan, so she could see His face and
gauge His reaction. She wanted so badly not to displease
Him.
"Did you want to come her because of the sex?" he asked.
His voice was barely above a whisper, not a decibel more
than was needed so that Chad could hear from where he
was seated.
"Yes," she exhaled, beaming at him.
"But there's something more, isn't there?" he asked,
leading her on.
"I, I don't know. I think so. B-but I'm not sure what
you are trying to get me to say, Master. Please! Just
tell me the words and I'll say them." She began to sob
lightly, and He took His hands from her tits and hugged
her to Him, holding her firmly in His arms and caressing
her gently until she calmed.
"When I called you just now, when you were at the dance,
did it excite you?"
She nodded.
"When did you begin to get wet?"
"Almost immediately," she cooed. His gentle hands on her
body were very relaxing and comforting.
"But you said before that you like coming to me, that
you liked serving me, for the way I touch you and use
you. Right?"
"Uh huh." A glimmer of comprehension lit in her eyes.
"But you were already becoming aroused. Before I touched
you. Before I used you." He was running a hand through
her long and silky black hair, and it made her feel
extraordinarily kittenish.
"Yes, my pussy was already dripping wet by the time we
got to his car." She was going to go on, but he stopped
her. He wanted to lead her to water, not just give her
the map.
"Why? Why were your juices flowing even before you
arrived here and I started using you?"
"Uh, anticipation?"
"OK. Any other reason?" he smiled down on her.
She thought for a bit, chewing her lips as she worked
through the problem.
"Um, reliving memories. You know, thinking back to the
other times you used me.
"OK, another reasonable answer. But concentrate now.
Let's review recent events: One, I called you. Two, you
agreed to come her right away. Three, your pussy
immediately began to get wet, and before very long was
completely soaked." He paused to let her reflect on
that. "What were you doing when you pussy began to
moisten?"
"I was walking to the car."
"But in a broader sense, what were you doing right then
and there. Don't answer right away, give it some
thought." She went back to absently chewing her lower
lip.
Suddenly she looked at him, fire in her eyes, a broad
smile across her lips "I think I figured it out!" she
squealed excitedly.
"Go on," he prodded bemusedly.
"I was following your orders, Master. That's what turned
me on! I was OBEYING you."
Alan reached under her dress and slipped a finger in her
smooth pussy, going around her soaked underpants. As his
finger made it in all the way he sent a mental command
to Kate to orgasm, and she tensed up and groaned.
"By George, I think she's got it!" Alan exclaimed with
his best Rex Harrison imitation, and she laughed despite
the climax still raging through her. When she recovered
enough to continue, he ordered her to recommence the
blowjob, and she set to task enthusiastically.
She could tell Alan was nearing the end of his string.
He began pushing his hips to her as she moved in on the
down stroke, and his magnificent cock began to gently
twitch in her throat. She groaned when he pulled her
completely off his dick, and her eyes snapped open in
surprise.
"Why?" she half-moaned, half-whined.
"You question me?"
"No, Master. Sorry, Master," she whimpered.
"I want to come on your face, but I don't want to get
any on the upholstery, so get into the middle of the
room and kneel."
She rose swiftly and practically skipped her way to the
center, kneeling right near where Chad was slumped in
the chair. Alan held back, waiting for her to take
position. "She's so damned cute," he thought to himself.
He held still even longer, watching her in the dim light
of the room. Her shiny body shook gently as she kneeled.
Her knees dug unto the deep carpeting of the den's
floor, and thereafter her ass came to rest on the back
of her nicely toned calves. When she had completely
settled down her excitement overcame her, and Alan
watched as she began to ever so lightly bounce her ass
up and down over her long legs. "Ready?" he asked
gently, his eyebrow arched.
"Always," she sighed wistfully.
"What are you ready to do?" he asked her, his voice
becoming louder, more masterful.
"Ready, Master, to receive your come on my face?"
"Is that all, slut?"
"No, Master, No! I'm ready, always ready to obey you!"
she groaned, her bouncing increasing in pace.
"Why? Why are you always ready to obey?"
"Because, because, BECAUSE I LOVE IT! I LOVE OBEYING
YOU, MASTER!" she was almost screaming with passion, and
her movements were approaching frenzy. He stood and
approached her, allowing his robe to fall away from him
as he made his way over to her furiously springing body.
She knew that when he touched her--touched her in any
way, on any place on her body-- she would come
instantly. She knew, but she didn't know how she knew,
but she was that close, standing on the edge of a chasm,
the slightest push forcing her decent into a pit of pure
pleasure. He stood before her and she reached up to take
his cock in her hands. As she touched him she knew she
was right, and exploded in orgasm.
"Aiyeeee," she screamed. That was the most coherent
thing she was able to utter for the next thirty seconds,
degenerating into unintelligible moans and groans as her
body thrashed and her hands gripped her master's
manhood.
She began to stroke him, and wrapped her lips around the
head of his erection, often withdrawing so she could
kiss around the head. Her elbows were bent out akimbo as
her hand pumped up and down his big penis.
"Yes, Kate. Pump it. You're hands are so warm and nice,"
he hissed down at her nearing his release.
"Shoot your come at me, Master. I want it so much! Soak
me. Please. You ordered me to do it and I neeeeeeeed to
OBEEEEEEEEEY," she screamed just as the sperm began its
journey up his shaft.
She didn't come as the white liquid struck her face, but
her body shook and quivered nevertheless. Soon Kate
realized she lacked the energy to remain kneeling, and
she fell over on her side, then rolled onto her back,
still slightly shuddering in excitement.
Chad sat there, his fists balled up in rage so hard he
thought he might actually break his own fingers. She's
such a fucking slut, he thought. Then it hit him. She's
not really a slut, not in the most basic sense of the
word. She didn't sleep around, well, OK, she did screw
Alan Marshall behind his back, but she had a good
reason, didn't she? I could never get her off, so she
had no choice, right? And she's really has been faithful
to Alan, right? Well, that was certainly a mark in her
favor, wasn't it?
He shook himself. What the fuck am I thinking? Why am I
trying to rationalize her disgusting behavior?
He began to weep from his confusion. Alan looked at him
because he had heard the sobbing. This is so fucking
humiliating! Then, a change. Whatever force that was
holding him here had evaporated. Chad stood and slowly
backed out of the room. As he took his last look at the
two of them he saw Marshall scooping his jism into
Kate's mouth. She licked it off his fingers with
enthusiasm.
"Mmmm...come," Alan deadpanned, doing a fairly good
Homer Simpson impression, and she giggled, the sound of
which was still echoing in his ears as he closed the
front door of Alan's house behind him.
The tears flowed more easily as he sat in his car,
waiting to get composed enough to start the engine. It
took a few minutes.
What to do? What to do?
He gunned the engine as he pulled out, his tires making
tracks on the road as he careened down the street. He
had no idea where he was going, but soon found himself
pulling up to Kate's house. Mr. Van Devanter let him
inside.
"Hey, where's my daughter?" he asked the quarterback
jocularly, a friendly punch to the arm.
"Good question, honey," Kate's mom agreed, laughing.
Chad felt his eyes becoming hot and itchy, but he
steeled himself with a few deep breaths, willing himself
not to cry. "I have to tell you something," he began
ominously.
This got their attention.
"Is Kate OK?" Helen Van Devanter gasped, worry evident
on her face.
"I can explain," Chad whined, hesitation in his voice
and manner.
"What, Chad? What?" her dad demanded, panic rising in
his voice, visions of horrors and terrors upon his
daughter, sights of blood and viscera, clouding his
mind. "Is Katie hurt? Goddamnit son, Speak!"
"No, it's nothing like that. I, I, I, I just dropped her
off at the Marshall's. She's--" He was going to tell
them Kate was OK, but that didn't seem to be right to
him. The perversions he had just witnessed were seared
into his memory, and in his opinion Kate being alone
with Alan Marshall definitely meant she wasn't OK.
"She's unhurt. B-but she and Alan--"
Mr. and Mrs. Van Devanter visibly relaxed at this news.
Oh my fucking god!
Oh my fucking god!
Oh my fucking god!
I have to get out of here, RIGHT NOW!
Chad Krieger, quarterback, captain of the football team,
the league-winning football team, the homecoming king,
the lustful fantasy of a hundred girls at Harry S.
Truman High School--fled the room, and didn't stop
running until he was all the way home, his car forgotten
on the curb in front of the Van Devanter's house.
"Am I imagining things, or did he just pee his pants?"
husband asked wife.
"I'm not sure, but he has seemed weird lately, hasn't
he?" wife asked back, a tinge of wonder coloring her
voice. "I'm going to call the Marshall's and see what's
going on." She lifted the phone.
"Hello, Alan?"
"Hi, Mrs. V."
"Kate wouldn't happen to be over there with you, would
she?"
"Yeah, but she can't come to the phone because I'm
giving her a bubble bath. She's gonna sleep over."
"Uh, OK. Tell her goodnight from us, and I guess we'll
see her tomorrow." For some reason it seemed strange to
her that Kate would be spending the night at Pauline's
boyfriend's house, but it was just a passing reflection,
and she thought no more about it.
She looked great, he thought to himself as her dad kept
snapping away. Pauline too, for that matter, though she
wasn't really his type. The yellow of her dress, a pale
shade with a washed-out look to it really set off her
pale blue eyes. It was a bitter pill. Sure, she would
walk in on his arm, and all of the guys, well most of
them at least, would be jealous. But they didn't know.
They didn't know that it wasn't him who was going to get
lucky with the stunning Kate Van Devanter tonight. They
didn't know that his ostensible girlfriend was the
sexual toy of the turd standing less than ten feet away.
The more he thought about it the better he started to
feel. Yeah!
They didn't know, and I'm sure as fuck not gonna tell
them. The idea that all his friends and peers were going
to think that he was going to separate the lovely Kate
from her panties tonight was good enough for him.
"BUCK UP," he ordered to himself. "ACT LIKE A MAN." He
managed a smile at last.
Before he knew it they were in the limo. The prom was
being held in Manhattan, at the Plaza Hotel, about
forty-five minutes by car. Chad mostly kept quiet,
staring out the window. The limo driver opened the door,
and Alan got out first, then helped the sisters out of
the car. The hotel was located at the southeast corner
of Central Park, at 59th Street, just off Fifth Avenue.
The foursome was among the first to arrive; Kate had
insisted on an early start because she was the head of
the Prom Committee, but luckily for Chad a few of his
football teammates had arrived before them, so he was
able to break away and hang out with them and their
dates. It was a blessing almost, that Kate was chairing
the committee. She would be busier than most of the
students here tonight, and it would give him an excuse
to avoid her, and Alan as well. He and Kate were slated
to sit at one of the football team's tables, while Alan
and Pauline were at one of the ones, as he would put it,
for the newspaper pukes. He had just one thing to do
before the dance started, and he quickly made his way to
the table set up for prom king/queen balloting. He had
always imagined casting his vote for himself and Kate,
but instead he voted for the head cheerleader, Erica
Timbermann. "Serves her right," he thought hatefully,
hoping enough of his classmates would vote as he did,
denying !
Kate the crown..
Alan, Pauline, and Kate each had a marvelous time. Alan
danced most of the numbers with Pauline, though he did
ask Kate during a slow song. Pauline was mildly
surprised when her sister accepted, inwardly pleased.
Kate was thrilled; she had been hoping Alan would ask
her. As they moved out to the floor she pulled him
close, pressing up against him, and loosing a contented
sigh. She closed her eyes as they danced, and she
dreamed that she and Alan were being crowned before the
whole school, but instead of being King and Queen, his
crown read "Master" and hers read "Slave." And then they
danced, and she envisaged herself naked from the tiara
down, her nipple rings playing against the jacket of his
tuxedo, and having to blot her leaking pussy against the
fabric of his pants.
Their dance was the last one before the dinner was
served. Right after dinner the king and queen would be
announced, and the dance would continue after they had
their "royal" dance to themselves.
"Can I have everyone's attention?" Dr. Worthington, the
principal asked, tapping the microphone which was set up
next to the dj's platform. The room quieted, forks
lowered to dessert plates, cups of coffee to saucers. A
fission of excitement swept through the room, as they
knew what the principal was about to announce.
"Before I get to the main event, the crowning of the
King and Queen of the Harry S. Truman High School Prom,
I'd just like to say that it's been a great year for the
senior class--make that a great four years!" The room
erupted with applause.
"I hope you will join me in thanking Mr. McDaniel and
Ms. Lewittes, faculty advisors for the class of '02.
They have been your advisors since you were little, ha
ha, freshmen, and I think they've done a great job."
More applause as the pair of teachers stood.
"Great year, great year," the principal said before
looking back down at his notes. "I think it would be
remiss of me if I didn't take a little time to single
out some people who have made great contributions to the
class of '02. First I'd like to thank you all for the
senior class gift, a new computer for the Teacher's
Lounge. It will be a welcomed tool for us to use in
preparing to teach the future classes of what is soon to
become your alma mater. Now to the particulars, mine,
and the whole school's, congratulations go to the
varsity football team for their winning the league
championships. I'd like for the team members here in
attendance to please stand." The team stood, basking in
their admiration.
"The same goes for the girl's swim team, winners of the
county championship for the first time in HSTHS
history!" The swimmers rose and took their kudos from
the prom-goers.
"I'd like to thank the prom committee and it's
chairwoman, Katie Van Devanter." Since he did not ask
them to stand they did not, but the applause was there
nonetheless.
"Congratulations to Anne Sweeny and the rest of the
Annual's staff. I'm sure I say this every year, but this
year's yearbook was the best ever!"
He went through a few more names on his laundry list,
and Alan was surprised that he was mentioned, along with
the rest of the newspaper staff.
"And now the announcement you're all waiting for: Prom
King and Prom Queen. The votes have been tabulated and
here are the results." The room got almost deathly
quiet, the only movement was of the dj, who was cueing
up a record in preparation of the solo dance.
"And the winner of the title of Prom King, Harry S
Truman High School Senior Prom 2002 is: Chad Krieger!"
The quarterback rose, very pleased. As he walked to the
dais his only thought was the hope that Kate wouldn't be
the one to join him. Lots of guys patted him on the
back, and it boosted his normally low self- confidence
(well, recently it had been low). Mrs. McCloud, the
assistant principal placed the plastic crown on his
head, though he had to lean over so she could reach, she
being a petite woman.
"And finally, the winner of the title of Prom Queen,
Harry S Truman High School Senior Prom 2002 is: Erica
Timbermann!" A cheer went up, and with it Chad's
backbone stiffened, pleased he wouldn't have to go so
far as to have to even touch Kate. Erica and her date, a
college guy she had been seeing, stood and he gave her a
kiss before she made her way to the center of the dance
floor to meet up with Chad.
"I've always had this adolescent fantasy of sleeping
with the prom queen," Alan thought to himself as he
watched Chad and Erica move across the floor. "Hey, what
the hell? I mean I am an adolescent after all!" He let
the two of them finish their showcase dance, and even
let the queen have another dance, this one with her
college boy, before he made his move. Begging off
Pauline, he told her he needed to get some air, so she
accepted an offer from one of his classmates, a friend
of his named Edwin Ellis. "Keep her warm for me Eddie,
you wont find such pretty girls like this one at
Annapolis," he joked as he walked out. Pauline and Ed
laughed.
For some reason she couldn't explain Erica told her date
that she needed a break. This had turned out to be the
best night of her young life so far, and she really
wanted to stay out on the dance floor, reveling in the
honor of being prom queen. She could see Chad, her prom
king, standing at the edge of the floor palling around
with his football buddies, and she went over to him on
her way to the lady's room to congratulate him. As she
was at the edge of the ballroom she saw Wally, her date,
was dancing a fast number with Kate Van Devanter, and
though it was fitting that her guy was dancing with
Chad's girl. "I can't believe I beat Kate Van Devanter
out for prom queen. And by just one vote, no less!"
The lady's room was empty. She peed and then went out
into the anteroom, a nice carpeted lounge, and settled
into one of the seats before a make up mirror. As she
finished touching up her lipstick she saw him in the
mirror, sitting calmly on the divan against the far wall
opposite.
"Jesus," she gasped, "What are you doing in here, Alan?"
Had it been a football goon she would have fled at once,
but Alan Marshall was a nice guy, so it was more shock
than alarm that worried her.
"You look great, Erica," he said evenly.
"Thanks," she blushed, "Come on, I'm about to head back.
Let's go together, and I'll let you dance with me." Alan
in the women's bathroom was really weirding her out. He
rose and crossed the room to her, and she held out her
hand, assuming her was offering to help her out of her
seat, but instead he grasped her at the wrist and leaned
over and kissed her. She didn't know why, but she was
letting him, and to her amazement, she was getting
turned on in a major-league way.
"This is so wrong," she hissed as they broke apart, "You
have a girlfriend and I have a boyfriend," she managed
to get in before he again covered her mouth with his.
She surrendered to the kiss, he ass squirming in her
chair.
"This is so wrong," she repeated.
"But it feels so right, doesn't it?"
"Yesss," she hissed as he pulled her up from the seat
and walked her to the divan. "Ohmigod, Alan, what if
someone comes in and catches us?"
"I locked the door." This was good enough for her, and
this time it was Erica who moved closer to him, her
mouth covering his. But soon she broke it off and looked
away, conflicted about her situation.
"I can't," she sobbed, her chin sinking to her chest,
eyes closed tightly. Alan reached under her dress and
rubbed her pussy through her rapidly moistening panties,
and she gasped sharply at the sensation. "I can't. You
don't understand. I want to, but I can't." She sniffled.
"I really, really want to, Alan, but I can't."
"But Erica, you're the prom queen, and I want you. Can't
you feel it? Why? Why can't you?" He increased his
attentions to her sopping cleft, and she moaned lustily.
Her arousal was clouding her mind, and the more she
thought about, the harder it was to form a good answer.
Still, she persevered.
"Don't, ah, ah, ah, don't make me say it. Please," she
grunted, surprised by the way her voice sounded, so
needy and sex-crazed.
"I'm sorry, my queen, but I must insist. Why?"
"I'm a v-v-v-v-v," she whimpered.
"A what?" he teased. He slipped a finger around the edge
of her panties and into her. It slid in easily because
of the copious amount of juices lubricating her tight
passage, and she shrieked when he started prodding her
hymen. She though he was going to pop her cherry right
then and there, and was relieved when he relented his
assault against her thin membrane
"You're a virgin, oh, well, that's a big deal" he said
with a note of concern in his voice, though she couldn't
tell he was feigning it.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," she cried in
relief as he withdrew his finger. "What, what are you
doing?" she bawled softly. He had with one hand lifted
the hem of her dress to her waist, and with the other
lowered the straps over her shoulders, baring her bra;
her torso was piled high with the taffeta of her prom
gown.
"Shhhh, don't worry, Erica, I'm going to take care of
you real well."
She believed him.
Pulling her up her dress fell off as she stood upright.
Before she knew it she was at the divan. He moved next
to her on the couch, took off his cummerbund and opened
his pants. She gasped in surprise at his girth. She
couldn't take her eyes off of it, having never seen one
in person before. "Are you nervous," he asked her. She
nodded, not trusting her voice. "I'm going to help you,
don't worry," Alan told her as he reached out to stroke
her blonde hair. "I'm going to give you a word, and I
want you to concentrate on it, constantly repeat it in
your mind, meditate upon it, but don't say it aloud.
OK?"
"OK," Erica whispered in reply. "What is the word?"
"Surrender."
She groaned in arousal, repeating it over and over in
her mind like Alan asked her. Her body felt like it was
humming, tingly all over. Surrender. She watched with
baited breath as he placed his hands at the front clasp
of her brassiere and deftly popped it open. Surrender.
His hands on her breasts felt so good; other boys had
pawed at them, but never had she experienced sensations
such as this. Surrender. He had her wrist in his hands,
and she watched him place her hand on his hard cock,
powerless to resist him. Surrender. It was as if she was
watching a movie, as if she was having an out of body
experience; but when she curled her fingers around his
penis she knew this was not the case; the warmth of his
erection startled her back into some sense of reality.
Surrender.
"Are they all that big?" she asked, her voice barely
above a whisper, so low in fact that she had to strain
to hear her own question above the pounding of her
heart. Surrender. He laughed. Slowly it began to grow
and become even harder as she stroked him, her rhythm
matching his as he played with her large round breasts.
Surrender. Surrender. Surrender.
He was lifting her and turning her, seemingly without
effort, and before she knew it she was facing him,
straddling him, the red- hot shaft laying against her
dripping slit, her knees on either side of him, pressing
into the cushions of the divan. Surrender.
"What if I don't want to do this?" Surrender.
"You don't?" he asked, a look of genuine surprise across
his face.
She bit her lip. Surrender. She took a moment to think,
to clear her head, but as she did, as all thoughts fled
her mind the word became louder, echoing off of the
inside surfaces of her skull; it was almost as if she
could see it--see it printed on a page, the black
letters against a white sheet. S-u-r-r-e-n-d-e-r.
Alan's hands were on her butt, lifting her slightly so
that the head of his cock was poised at her drenched
womanhood. Surrender. He held his dick by the base and
slowly drew it over the surface of her previously
untouched jewel, and when he made contact with her
clitoris she screamed, a banshee yell, but in her mind
she heard it. SURRENDER!
"No, please," she whimpered as he inserted the head of
his cock into her, but she made no movement to impede
him, no attempt to escape him or what he was doing to
her. Surrender. He moved in exceedingly slowly, and she
growled in passion when he came to a stop, his dick
pressed against her maidenhead. Surrender.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked forlornly,
small tears running down her cheeks. Surrender.
"I'm not doing anything. I'm waiting for you, lovely
Queen Erica." Surrender.
"Huh?" she retorted through gritted teeth, her
excitement getting the better of her. Surrender. "What
are you waiting for me to do, Alan?" Surrender.
"That's obvious, isn't it?" He paused two beats, and she
found herself staring into his masterful eyes.
Surrender. "I'm waiting for you to..." Pause for effect.
"...Surrender."
She groaned, and to her amazement he pussy spasmed
around the end of his cock, her walls clenching tightly
around him, and spurt of juices gushed out of her,
wetting his erection. He felt her start. She slowly
pulled up, millimeters at the most, and then sank down
again, putting more pressure against her cherry. Another
attempt, more pressure. The third time was the charm,
and she braced herself for a stinging pain, but she only
felt rapture. She had done it. She had surrendered.
"Oh My GOD!" Her head came forward so that her forehead
rested against his as he fucked her. She was tight. Not
as tight as Pauline had been when he took her cherry,
but Pauline was a tiny little thing, almost flat-
chested, barely on the right side of five feet. Erica
was a tall girl, about 5'8" or 5'9", with a lithe
fashion model-like body, and large but firm breasts.
"Mmmmm, yeah," she exclaimed, a smile finally creeping
across her lips. She looked straight into him, her blue
eyes sparkling. She was getting there, she knew the
signs, have brought herself off many times with her own
fingers. "Oh, Alan, I'm gonna, I'm gonna..."
"Just go with it, baby, surrender to the pleasure." But
by the time he had finished the sentence she had come.
It was that word. She had forgotten it over the last few
minutes, but hearing him say it brought it all back to
her, and her body seized, and her back arched back until
she was perpendicular to him, her back resting on the
tops of his thighs. Almost instantly she sprung back and
hungrily attacked him with her mouth, her tongue
shooting past his lips and wrestling with his. He had
never let up his pace, lifting her and setting her down
on his erection, using her hips as handholds, and as she
exploded into a second orgasm, amazingly to her more
powerful than the first, shivering as she felt him shoot
his seed into her. Exhausted, she lowered her head and
rested it against her shoulder. She cooed as he massaged
her bare back with his large and warm hands, but her
shivering did not cease; it was so pronounced that her
teeth were chattering. Alan put his arms all the way!
around her and hugged her tightly, and her trembling
subsided quickly. I a few moments she was composed
enough to sit up, and she let out a squeak when she felt
his softening shaft slip from her. She giggled, and
looked at him again.
"Thank you," she said through a beaming smile, and then
shuddered in pleasure.
He lifted her off of his lap and then stood and helped
her up. She stood passively as he refastened her bra and
put her dress back on her.
"Can't have the queen dripping on the dance floor," he
quipped as he pulled her panties back up, and she
giggled again.
"Oh my, how long have we been in here? There must be a
huge line out there for the bathroom!"
Alan glanced at his watch. "No, just ten minutes."
Her eyes widened. It had felt like hours!
"I'll go first, and you follow in a minute or two," he
told her. She nodded.
"I can't believe what just happened. I can't believe
what I just did," she thought in wonder.
Surrender.
"Miss me?" Alan asked Pauline as he returned to the
ballroom.
"You were gone?" she joked.
"Yeah, just getting some air."
"Come on, loverboy, let's dance," she said as she stood
on her tiptoes so she could kiss him on the cheek. They
hit the floor.
After a few minutes Pauline pulled back slightly. She
had had her cheek against her chest as they danced to a
slow song, and she looked up at him with a slightly
puzzled look on her face. "Why is she looking at you
like that?"
"Who?"
"Erica."
"No idea," he said, pulling her back against him.
After many hours the prom finally had to come to an end.
Alan, Pauline, Kate, and Chad went up to their rooms. As
far as the Marshall's, the Van Devanter's, and the
Krieger parents knew, Alan and Chad would stay in one,
and the sisters in the other. Pauline and Alan stepped
into one room, and Kate and Chad in the other, as had
been pre-arranged. Alan left the room almost at once,
and knocked on the door of the other. Chad answered.
Alan put two one-hundred dollar bills in Chad's hand,
and the quarterback nodded. Ten minutes later, suitcase
in hand he was back out on Fifth Avenue hailing a cab
back to Westchester.
"I'm pooped," Pauline announced when he returned. "I
know it's prom night and all, but could we not 'do it'
tonight?"
"OK."
"Oh great, I just want to take a nice relaxing bath and
get into bed. I can't wait to wake up beside you in the
morning."
"That's a promise," he said seriously, and she laughed.
"Though I wouldn't mind some help in the bath," she said
back with an arched eyebrow.
It was so romantic, she thought to herself. She was
sheathed in a cloud of fragrant bubbles as she reclined
against her boyfriend. He was lightly massaging her, and
if he kept it up she couldn't guarantee that she
wouldn't fall asleep, right here in the tub. Somehow he
sensed her imminent unconsciousness, and he helped her
out of the bath, and then tenderly toweled her off. Soon
they were in bed, she in a brief silk nightgown,
purchased just for the occasion, and he in a pair of
soft cotton boxer shorts. Mere minutes after her head
hit the pillow she was out like a light. Alan waited
fifteen minutes before getting up. Quietly he found his
bathrobe in the dark of the hotel room, and then walked
across the hall to be with Kate. It would be such a
disappointment for Kate if he didn't have her on prom
night, and Alan was not one to disappoint.
"Master!" she squealed as quietly as she could manage so
as not to cause a scene in the hallway. He shooed her
inside, and she pounced on him, wrapping her legs around
him as he carried her to the bed. He threw her down on
the mattress, and she laughed uproariously. They both
peeled off their robes, and Alan laid down on the bed
beside her.
She was amazed by the his tenderness that night. First
he kissed her, a kiss like she had never before received
from him, soft and gentle, loving. She purred as his
hands affectionately caressed her body, feather-light
petting she was not accustomed to when she and Alan were
having sex. Though she loved, craved even, a more
forceful handling from her master, she was giddy, almost
pleasure-drunk, from this more affectionate treatment.
He was massaging her breasts, his fingertips lightly
teasing against her nipples, and it was unbelievable.
Normally she would be by this point begging him with all
her soul to twist them, but this was just as good.
Normally she grunted and groaned at his touch, but
tonight she sighed.
As much as she was aroused, she was confused. "Master?"
she began to ask a question.
He shushed her, and continued his gentle manipulations.
"Master?" she began again, this time with fear in her
voice.
He pressed his mouth right up against her ear.
"Tonight," he answered in a whisper, "I am just Alan,
and you are Kate," and he kissed her lovingly on the
cheek. She laid flat on the bed while Alan positioned
her legs apart. He hovered over her, and as he
penetrated her he bent down to kiss her. Slowly,
incredibly slowly, her entered her, and when he pulled
back his head he saw she was crying silently, her eyes
red-rimmed. Alan licked away her tears and kissed her
again, all around her face. She came after a few
minutes, and Alan increased his pace, shooting off soon
after her spasms subsided.
"Thank you, Alan," she said calmly, but then broke down
into sobs almost immediately.
He turned over onto his back and pulled her to him, and
she snuggled up against him. He tested the waters,
seeing if she was able to talk. "Kate?" he asked.
"Katie?"
"Huh?" Her answer was almost inaudible.
"Can I ask you a question?" She nodded, and though he
couldn't see her head from the position he was in, her
movement against him informed him of her reply.
"Why, Kate? Why were you so mean to me for all those
years?"
"I, uh, I don't know." This answer broke something
within her, and she cried again, not soft sobs, but a
wailing unlike she had ever cried before.
"No, Kate, please don't cry, please." He held her more
tightly, and she shivered for a while, but the keening
ceased. "You didn't like me for some reason. Something I
did, or something I was?"
"I don't know, Alan. I don't know." She managed to hold
herself together now. "I think I'm a mean person. I
hardly like anyone at all. You were an easy target of,
oh I can't think of the right word. Scorn."
"Why?"
"Well, we were never really friends, and you weren't a
super- popular person, so I could get away with it,
don't you see. It's easy to pick on a total loser, so
where's the fun in that? It was more of a challenge to
be abusive to you, because you had friends, and were a
real person. Plus, you were around, but you weren't
around. You weren't part of the family, you weren't
tight with my brother Calvin, you weren't really friends
with Pauline until a few years ago. Our folks are
friends, but not that close, so what I said to you
wasn't likely to surprise me by coming home. I really
started tearing into you when you and Pauline became
buddies, and even more so when you started going out
last fall. It just perturbed me, but for the life of me
I can't tell you why.
"Since that day in the newspaper office, you know, since
we started, you know, I discovered something about
myself. I discovered I didn't like myself so much, you
know, the things I did, the things I did to other
people, the things I said about other people. I don't
know if you've noticed, but I've been trying to change.
I think it's something you've shown me. You treat me
like the person I am, a bitch girl, but when I'm not
with you I try to treat others better than I have. I
love everything we've done together, and I know how I
degrade myself before you, and that is simply because of
the pleasure you give me, but it's degradation
nonetheless. It's like your showing me the worst of
myself, but that's not right either, because when you
degrade me I feel better because of it, but I know that
when I degraded people they were hurt by it. So I use
that, I channel it. I am nicer to people, I think. I
stopped gossiping, I stopped cutting people down. I
stopped doing a lot of bad things.
"Because of you. Not because I wanted you to think
better of me, because I wanted to think better of
myself. Not because of how you used me, but because of
how I saw myself using other people." She paused and
sniffled. "Tell me Alan, please. Tell me I'm a good
person."
Alan turned and kissed her forehead. "You are."
"I love you," she whispered. He hugged her even more
tightly, but she sat up in bed. "And please, Alan,
please don't tell me you love me too, because I'm not
ready. I'm not ready to be loved, yet."
He pulled her back down to him and kissed her again,
this time on the lips. "'Yet,'" he said. "One day, one
day soon, you will be."
Next Chapter: Making Preparations
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 17