by Katie Ford
So I take a deep breath and square my shoulders before walking over to workstation ten. Trent’s already there, one hip casually resting against the counter with his strong arms folded over that big chest.
“You ready?” he smirks, blue eyes glinting. “Wanna get started?”
I take a deep breath, trying to center myself because I hate the fact that I might just be a good grade to Trent, even if Mr. Muller paired us up randomly. I have to let him know that not everything in the world is free, and that we’ll be sharing the work evenly.
“I just want you to know,” are my prim words. “That I’m allergic to formaldehyde, so I’ll need you to participate fully.”
Of course, this is a lie. I’m not allergic to anything at all. Not gluten, not peanuts, not anything. But sometimes it’s just easier to go with a white lie. It smooths the path in a way the truth never can.
Unfortunately, the handsome man doesn’t even blink. Instead he just grins at me again.
“Really?” he asks, one black brow cocked. “But during the mouse dissection a couple months ago, I could swear you were just fine. In fact, didn’t you get the highest grade in the class?”
My insides grow hot and I have a hard time meeting those twinkling blue eyes.
“Um yes,” is my stammer. “But back then, Rosie was here and she did a lot of the work. I just drew the pictures and labeled the diagrams.”
Rosie is my best friend who moved away mid-semester, leaving me alone in the hell that’s Sunnyside High. She was just like me: a nerd through and through with no cure possible. And we’d been friends for so long that it was a shock when her parents pulled her out to attend the gifted and talented school in a nearby city.
“What am I going to do?” I’d asked tearfully.
My friend had thrown her arms around me, hugging my shoulders tight.
“You’ll be fine,” she whispered in my ear fiercely. “I’m still with you,” she said, thumping herself across the heart, “so you can’t let these stupid kids get to you.”
But now, Rosie had left me all alone, and here I was in lab partnered with a man who made me feel so conflicted. We hadn’t even started working together yet, and I was already setting boundaries as my mind raced on at a million miles an hour. On the one hand, the idea of working with Trent thrilled me to my soul. Here in close quarters with him, I could feel my pulse beating erratically as my knees grew weak. The man was a six foot three hunk of pure muscle, every part of him honed by a lifetime of athleticism.
But on the other hand, I’ve been a target of bullies since I was six years old. It was always me with my back against the chainlink fence, watching in horror as my lunch was thrown on the ground and my backpack rifled through. So was this some kind of grown-up version of that? Was I going to be made a fool, this time by the hottest guy at school? It was a combination of lust and fear that made my heart churn. I wanted to make a good impression, but how was that possible when he was so cocky and assured, while I was just a bumbling mushroom?
But I smiled on the outside, pretending nothing was wrong.
“Okay great,” was my businesslike answer. “You’re in charge of the frog and I’ll do all the drawings. It’s a good division of responsibilities.”
Trent’s blue eyes gleamed, and I had the sinking sensation that this was no dull-witted blockhead. Sure, he was a star athlete, but this guy was in Honors Biology after all. He was intelligent for sure. But oh god, what if he outsmarted me?
Like Trent could read my mind, the man’s smirk grew more pronounced then.
“Babe,” he drawled. “The frogs are in the mini-fridge,” he said, pointing at the three by three cube on the ground. “I hurt my knee in practice yesterday, so I can’t bend down to get it. Can you do it instead?”
I glanced at his knee. True to his words, he was wearing some type of athletic tape on his leg, the skin-colored gauze highlighting the pure strength and power of those thighs. I stared at him but then nodded calmly.
“Sure, no problem,” were my words as I put down my clipboard. “I’ll get it, and then we’ll start the dissection.”
Bending over, I reached over to the mini-fridge. No big deal. The frogs had been delivered to our classroom just yesterday, and they were individually wrapped and stored in freezers at each workstation. Plus, the frogs have a plastic covering, so I could say that my formaldehyde allergy wasn’t triggered because of the protective saran.
But as I opened the door, already beginning to rummage around, I felt a light tap on my behind. What in the world? Was I lightheaded from skipping lunch? Maybe I’d imagined it.
But then that tap grew stronger, more like a push on my bottom. Any other person would have straightened immediately, whipping around to see what was going on. But the thing is that I’m a curvy girl and not exactly athletic. I’ve always been uncoordinated, and right now was no exception. So instead of bouncing to my feet with an outraged expression, instead I wobbled precariously on one foot while uttering a long-drawn out, “Oooooh!”
And then I collapsed right there on the floor, with my skirt up around my face, big meaty thighs and bottom on display. Oh god! This was so embarrassing! I couldn’t even move for a moment, trying to catch my breath. Thank god workstation ten was in the corner. At least no one could see.
I frantically tried to rearrange myself, but it was impossible. My breasts jiggled right and left as I scrambled, big bottom bumping and swaying as I lifted myself to my hands and knees. I half expected to hear a cackle of nasty laughter, but instead, only a low growl met my ears. Shocked, my head turned to glance at Trent over one shoulder and what I saw made me go completely still.
Because his blue eyes were eating me up. He was positioned right in back of me, with a full view of my ample bottom and thick thighs. I was doggie style on my hands and knees, face flushed and big boobies dangling to the ground, as if ready to be fucked.
And the quarterback wanted it. His blue eyes were aroused and hot, trailing over every inch of skin. And to my shock, he desperately wanted me as well. Because Trent wore nylon athletic shorts, and the ridge of his cock was completely visible. It was huge, hard and pulsing, running down one thigh like a giant snake. As I watched, it grew and grew until the tip of his cock just nudged the bottom lip of his shorts, peeking out from beyond the hem.
“Oh god,” I gasped, unable to move while still on my hands and knees, curves trembling as heat flared in my pussy. “Oh god.”
“Oh yeah,” Trent growled, unable to tear his eyes from my succulent form. “Shit you’re beautiful.”
And all of a sudden, I knew that I hadn’t been hallucinating in the past hour. This man had called me “pretty girl,” “babe,” and “sweet thing,” and he meant every word of it. He was absolutely turned on by my lusciousness and the white bottom that trembled even as he stared.
“Fuuuck,” was his low, aroused growl, one hand discreetly slipping down to stroke that hard ridge. “Aw shee-it.”
I crouched there unmoving for a moment. But then a new flood of awareness washed over my form, and I did something that I’d only ever seen in movies before. And not regular movies, but rather the free porn clips that I watched secretly on-line, with my head under the covers.
Lowering myself gently so that my shoulders were braced against the hard, concrete floor, I reached both hands back to stroke the soft expanse of my bottom. With clever fingers, I plucked my pink g-string out of my ass and strapped it over one great cheek, opening my pussy to his gaze. You’d think I’d stop there. After all, I was crouched on the floor of the biology classroom, hidden from fellow students only by the counters and sink, my big bottom swaying wide and open.
But it wasn’t enough. Trent’s gaze made me so hot and hungry that I did even more. As my pussy steamed with pure heat, I reached both my palms backwards and placed one on each cheek. Then with a sly smile over my shoulder, I pulled myself apart, opening my pussy to Trent’s gaze. Oh god, it must have looked good because immediately the man be
gan dripping, his penis leaking onto the floor in small droplets of white.
“Do you like that, big guy?” came my hushed murmur as I gazed coquettishly at him over one shoulder, wiggling my bottom a little to bait him. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
Trent couldn’t reply for a moment, his big fingers stroking his shaft through the thin fabric of those nylon shorts. But his body spoke volumes because a small spurt of semen jetted from the tip of his dick, splattering against the hard concrete.
“Oooh big boy,” I cooed, eyeing the white puddle. “I’ll bet that tastes good.”
His cock jerked at my words as Trent’s blue eyes flared, an unconscious growl rising from his lips.
“Fuck,” was his low hiss, that possessive gaze eating me up. “Fuck you’re delicious.”
But we were interrupted then by the startling sound of a clap. Sure enough, Mr. Muller was standing at the front of the classroom again about to make an announcement.
“Now that you’ve found your workstations and partners, let’s begin,” he called out. “Trays are behind you, and remember, the frogs are already in your freezers. Just unwrap and you’ll be on your way!”
Any normal girl would have jumped to her feet, flushed and embarrassed, afraid of being discovered. But something had happened, turning me into a super slut. So as kids bustled at their station, leaning over to retrieve their frogs, I rotated on my hands and knees and lightly nuzzled Trent’s dick through the fabric of his shorts, even letting my tongue swipe against his glans a few times. Oh god, his semen tasted good, both sweet and salty against my lips.
“You like that?” I mewled again, looking up at those hungry azure eyes. “Because I can do more.”
Trent merely growled again, unable to form words. It seemed as if he was about to thrust his cock into my mouth, consequences be damned, but then the man jerked away, eyes blazing.
“Get up,” he rasped. “Mr. Muller’s coming.”
I sprang into motion, my cheeks flushed and hair in disarray. My movements were just in time because our teacher appeared then, peering over his glasses at us.
“Ms. Martin and Mr. Lewis,” he huffed. “Are you on track? Oh, of course you are,” he said, seeing the wrapped parcel in my hand. “I knew I could count on you, Janie,” he says. “You’re Miss Reliable.” And with a chortle, Mr. Muller turns away to check up on workstation nine, totally unaware of what just happened right under his nose.
Because oh god, it was so wrong. Trent physically pushed me, but instead of being outraged and angry, I went with it. I bent over and showed Trent my bottom, even opening my pussy to tempt him with the steaming folds. I nuzzled his cock, for crying out loud, lapping up the semen dripping from his tip! So what comes next? All I know is that something’s been unleashed … and I can’t wait to find out what happens.
CHAPTER TWO
Janie
Getting home from school, I scuttled upstairs to my room before throwing my book bag on my bed.
“Everything good today, honey?” called my mom from downstairs.
“Yes, everything’s fine!” I call back, hoping my voice sounds normal. It’s a little croaky but that’s to be expected given what happened earlier. Because oh my god, I showed my pussy to a man, the pink folds gleaming and wet. And not just any man, but Trent Lewis in particular, the hottest guy at Sunnyside.
My eyes close again, remembering the encounter. There I am, on my hands and knees, skirt flipped up over my back. There I am, slyly reaching a hand back to pull my g-string to the side to reveal my steamy pussy. And there I am, pulling my pussy apart to show him the pinkness that’s already glossy and puffy, begging for his touch.
What in the world? How could I have done this? I’m boring Janie Martin, not some super-slut who goes around parading herself. And yet it was true. It had really happened, and I knew I wasn’t dreaming.
But at the same time, I didn’t know what to think because someone physically pushed me. I’d felt the nudge on my bottom as I bent over, and when that didn’t knock me off my feet, a second stronger push sent me tumbling onto my hands and knees. What the hell?
But there was only one person who could have done it, and my chest flared with anger remembering what had happened. It was Trent. Must have been. No one else was even around during that time. He’d shoved me on purpose, making me fall over like a bully picking on a small kid. Sure, events spiraled out of control after that, but still. A man had pushed me until I fell!
So I wasn’t sure what to make of what had happened. On the one hand, I was titillated, my body desperately wanting more. But on the other, Trent had physically hurt a woman. Of course, there were no bruises or whatnot because I have plenty of padding. But even so, physical confrontation is wrong. I resolved to slap that cocky grin off his face tomorrow in Biology.
But there was no time because the appetizing smell of meatloaf wafted up at me from downstairs and suddenly my stomach growled in answer. Like a woman on a scent, I descended the staircase before appearing in the kitchen.
My mom closed the oven door just as she lifted a steaming tray of browning beef and breadcrumbs onto the table.
“There you are!” Elaine chortled, setting down the pan on our homey red and white checkered cloth. “You’re a healthy girl with a good appetite,” she nodded approvingly. “I knew you’d come as soon as the meatloaf was done.”
I blushed because it was true. I love to eat and have never held back. In fact, I can’t hold back. There have been a few times when I tried dieting, but I was miserable the entire time. My stomach literally ached from constant hunger, and I couldn’t sleep because of the knives stabbing my belly each night. So at two a.m., I’d leap out of bed and storm downstairs, throwing the cabinets open and devouring everything in sight. Obviously, that did more damage than good. I ended up putting on even more weight from the nightly gorgings, instead of losing fat. But to Elaine, it’s never mattered. My mom is a heavy-set woman herself, and she nodded approvingly as I grabbed a plate and sat down on the table.
“I can never understand those ladies who subsist on salad,” she clucked, shaking her head with bewilderment. “Us Martin girls aren’t like that. We need meat to survive.”
I nodded, carefully cutting into the steaming meatloaf and serving Elaine a slice.
“Ma, this looks wonderful,” I complimented. “And healthy too, with all the carrots and onions on the side.”
Elaine beamed again.
“Exactly,” she said. “We need to get our veggies somehow, and a balanced meal is a wonderful way to do it. You know, back when you were small, I used to sneak mashed carrots into your cereal to trick you into eating vegetables. It was ingenious, if I say so myself,” she chortles.
I try not to laugh because even though I was only six at the time, I knew what my mom was up to. Who wouldn’t? The orange of pureed carrots doesn’t exactly blend in with brown Choc-O-Puffs.
But Elaine is sweet and loves me loads. My mom dotes on me and my dad. We’re her family and we mean the world to her. So she’s always done her best to make sure we have a hot meal on the table and a warm hug should it be needed. In short, my mom is the best, and a more caring lady couldn’t be found.
“There you go, honey,” says my mom while pouring a generous ladle full of gravy onto my slice of meatloaf. “It’s mm-mmm good. Now tell me, how was your Science Club meeting? Did you guys finally decide on a motto?”
I smile while chewing. The truth is that I could barely pay attention during the Science Club meeting because I’d been too busy re-living my encounter with Trent in my head. But I swallowed and beamed.
“Yep, we did. It’s “To the Stars and Into the Hands of Humans,”” I announce proudly. “Rosie thought of it, but she’s gone now. I’m going to tell her that her motto won anyways.”
Elaine leans over and gives me a friendly hug.
“Oh sweetheart, that’s a wonderful saying. And I know you miss Rosie, but won’t you see her at the science competition nex
t month? It’ll be two good friends having a reunion.”
I nod, helping myself to another portion of meatloaf.
“It’ll be good to see Rosie-Posey again,” I agree. “I miss her a lot.”
But before Elaine can respond, my dad bursts in through the back door.
“Elaine! Janie! Where’s my toolbox?” Vincent asks frantically, his eyes bugging out and hair wild. “Help me!”
“What?” sputters my mom. “My goodness, Vincent, what’s going on? What has you in such a tizzy?”
But now my dad’s sprung into motion, which is amazing given his portly build. He speeds over to the hall closet and bangs the door open before sticking his head inside, only to come out empty-handed. Then he rushes to the basement door and flings it open, disappearing within the depths.
“Dad, Dad!” I call, getting up and peering into the darkness. “What’s going on? Why are you in such a rush? Why do you need your toolbox?”
Vincent’s huffing and puffing as he stumbles up the stairs, but he doesn’t bother to answer, merely rushing out the door again. This time, Elaine and I trail him, following along cautiously. What the hell is going on? My dad is a really calm guy. He works as a plumber, and he’s always said that getting sprayed in the face by all sorts of liquids gives him perspective. It makes everything else seem not so bad, if you get what I mean.
So to see him scrambling around like a chicken with its head cut-off is new. But the moment Elaine and I step into the street, we see what’s got my dad so frantic. There are cop cars screaming around the corner, their sirens wailing. And as my mom and I run to the end of the block, we see it then. There’s been a car accident, and it’s a bad one. A fancy red Mercedes is crushed up under a Mack truck. And I mean, completely totaled. The front of the car is literally underneath the side of the giant tractor-trailer, squashed so that it’s only two feet high. No one could be alive within that crunched up metal. It’s a ghastly sight, and my mom and I grip each other, eyes wide.
