Heather and Joe

Somewhere in the state of Texas in a suburb of a medium sized city, there was a high school of approximately fifteen hundred students. It was a cool rainy, Monday morning in early October at about 7:30 in the morning. The student parking lot was empty except for a grey BMW parked in a secluded corner. The occupants of the car were a young man and woman in the back seat. The man had his jeans and underwear down to his ankles as the woman's head bobbed slowly over his crotch. The man was strong and athletic with a chiseled chin, dark hair cropped short like a marine. The woman was a blonde wearing tight designer jeans and a white blouse which had been pulled up to reveal shapely 36C breasts.

One of her hands stroked his balls while the other touched a nipple that was peeking out of her bra. She had long hair that had a wave in it that suggested much money spent at the beauty salon, which currently was being made a mess by the hands of the man as he clutched a handful and began to push her face down to the base of his cock. His pubic hairs scratched and stuck to her make up. He held her head in place for a few seconds, then began to pump her mouth rapidly. His pistoning became more frantic and he grasped her hair more forcefully until he began to shudder. She tried to pull back, but he held her in place about halfway up his dick while he continued to unload into her mouth. When he was finished, she made a loud gulp sound and he released his grip. She then placed her thumb and index finger at the base of his manhood and slowly worked her way upward, squeezing out any leftover cum which she licked clean. She then sat up and adjusted her bra and pulled her blouse back into position.

The man just sat and looked out the window as his dick lost its erection. The woman reached into her purse and took out a packet of moist towlets. He sat without expression as she patiently cleaned him up. He said nothing and pulled up his underwear and pants. She zipped him up and fastened the button. He reached down to pick up his slender backpack from the car floor, then grunted something as he left the car. She watched him walk toward the school until he disappeared into a building. She casually picked out a couple of curly black hairs from her mouth as she searched her purse. She pulled out a small make up kit and hung a tablet sized mirror onto the back of the driver head rest. After fixing her face and hair, she picked up her heavy backpack and left the car.

Balancing the pack on her right shoulder, she took the same route as the man, pausing only briefly to look at her reflection in a window. Tall and slender, with not a hair out of place, she felt confident to enter. Yawning deeply, she turned right as if on autopilot and walked down a corridor before opening a door labelled A-4. Inside was an empty class room with the exception of a middle-aged man sitting at a desk in front of the class. He looked up briefly from his work and said: "Heather, I see you are true to your word. So many people your age are not early birds."

Heather smiled and approached his desk.

"Mr. Wilkerson, I'm worried about my grade this quarter."

The man smiled again and said: "A healthy attitude for this time of year. Most students wait until last day before grades are submitted."

He turned to his computer and typed on the keyboard. "Yes I see that you failed the last test and your homework has been riddled with errors, but if you correct then honestly and pay better attention during lessons, your grade should recover."

At this point, she sighed internally, knowing that Mr. Wilkerson, though male and straight, seemed impervious to her physical charms that made it so difficult for others to concentrate without their eyes wandering. She was going to have to work for it.

"I know, I'm just stuck on some of the concepts. Could you help me?"

"I'm a morning person, so unless you can make it here before 7 AM, I won't be able to assist you."

"What can I do?"

"We do have an excellent student tutor that is here after school. He's my best student and has no problem understanding Calculus."

"Thanks. When and where?"

"Mondays and Thursdays at 3:30 in room B-7."

Heather thanked him again and left the room.

Heather and her friends ate lunch every day in the room of Ms. Timmons, the English teacher/ yearbook/ student council advisor. It was a great place to relax away from the prying eyes and open ears of the student cafeteria. Here all subjects were a go, but the predominate one was boyfriends- either the acquisition, maintenance or dumping. Rachel, her fellow cheerleader started things out with how hers (all-state tight end) was currently being recruited by Ohio-State and Georgia and that she wanted to accompany him on his visits to make sure that he isn't tempted by one of those guide sluts that she heard schools employ to woo recruits.

The other girls chimed in their opinions, but Heather stayed out, choosing to stay glued to her phone. She had sent Brad a text asking if she could stay after school, but he had not responded. All the talk had made her paranoid thinking that maybe Brad had been 'distracted' by someone. When the bell rang, she realized that she had not eaten her lunch.

Her afternoon classes dragged on as she was tormented by her grumbling stomach and her worries. Her phone finally tweedled at her indicating a text from him saying that he had a ride from a friend which he failed to identify. She queried him, but got no response. Since Brad had been caught with a BAC of .1 last summer, he had surrendered his license in a quasi-legal agreement that kept his name out the court records. Heather had agreed to be his chauffer so as to avoid any hint of scandal that might scare off any college recruiters. Up till now it had also been a great way for her to keep an eye on him, for she was sure that other girls were gunning for him. An all-state quarterback that was being pursued by several major schools, was also the target of many girls hoping for his attention. She would gladly eviscerate any girl that fluttered her eyes in his direction.

"Brad, I hope your 'friend' has an Adam's apple." She muttered as she headed for the cafeteria vending machines. His cum was the only food she had consumed all day and she didn't want the tutor to hear her unladylike stomach noises. She wolfed down a Snickers, then went to restroom to freshen up. She made sure that her teeth were clean and make up was still good, for she had a reputation to maintain even with some lowly tutor.

Heather was relieved that the hallway was deserted and quiet. She had been worried that some smartass would see her and make a dumb comment about her seeking help. All the classrooms in the school had windows in the doors, but B-7 had been an office or a storeroom. The door was open and the light was on, so she stepped inside. The room was 15' by 20' with two small windows up near the ceiling. The walls were painted the institutional white favored by schools everywhere, and there were two tables with an assortment of chairs ranging from the 1940s to 1990s. Seated at the table farthest from the door was a young man about her age. He was dressed in somewhat tattered jeans, sneakers and t-shirt of an ugly shade of green. He was tall, maybe 6'3"and slender of build. Next to him was stack of books. Some were math, others were Dungeons and Dragons.

At the sight of these books, she thought: "Oh great a real winner here." She watched him a little more as it seemed as he was unaware of her presence. She watched him draw shapes on a sheet of graph paper, then write in a note book labelled 'Tomb of Eternal Sorrows' before she made a polite cough to announce herself. He continued for a few more seconds before slowly craning his neck backwards over his shoulder as if it took too much energy to simply turn his whole body. He said "hi___" and did what amounted to a double take. His eyes zeroed in on her chest, then his brain clicked on and he moved his gaze to her face.

"You're that math tutor right?" Heather asked.

'Y...Yes." He seemed unsure of himself.

"Really?"

"Yes... I just wasn't expecting anyone. It's rare to see anyone on Monday or at this point of the quarter. Most people usually wait until the last moment before seeing me. Oh and my name's Joe Stevens."

"Heather Sommers" she replied.

He jumped up and walked over to a chair on rollers that actually had a cushion. "Since you are here, I'll give you the best seat." He said as he rolled it over to her. "Teacher and subject?"

"Wilkerson, Calculus." She said as she seated herself on the proffered chair. He waited patiently as she rummaged through her backpack for the assignments.

"Give me a minute or two so I can look at your work." He said.

Heather handed him the papers and watched as his eyes scanned her work. He had blue eyes set with a slightly aquiline nose. His complexion was mostly clear with a few scraggly beard tufts poking out. His hair was brown and thick with a lopsided look of bed head. His face seemed to radiate a calm competence seemingly unperturbed by the proximity of a pretty girl. "A new wardrobe, razor and a comb and he would look halfway decent." She thought to herself.

The session went by quickly and she felt more confident about her next test. She thanked him and left the room. He watched the hypnotic sway of her ass as she walked out the door. On his lap top he opened his browser then went the door to check the hallway. Confident the coast was clear, he let out a whoop and punched the air in triumph. "Fuckin' hell! It's her, It's really her!" He checked the hall again, then went over to the chair she had used. He gazed reverently at the imprint her butt had made and touched it as if it were a holy relic. He then bent over and took a whiff. He nervously looked at the clock and made a decision. He hurried over to the door, checked the hall once more and then locked it shut. He sat down and typed an address for his browser. The previous year's edition of the yearbook popped up and Joe began searching until he found his object of desire. A montage of cheerleader pictures with at least half of them featuring Heather all in form fitting uniforms showing plenty of leg, belly, tits and ass.

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." he said as he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. Within a few minutes of furious pounding he climaxed by shooting a stream that went in an arc over the screen and across the table. The subsequent blasts nailed the screen, covering the whole cheer squad. He sat there for a minute admiring, before the reality of the situation finally soaked in.

"Shit! Jizz on the keyboard." He zipped up and searched for tissues, but found none. The towel dispenser had not been filled since the Reagan administration. "Desperate times, desperate measures." And he removed his shoes and socks. His socks were not terribly effective, but it was all he had. Later he would have to take apart his keyboard and clean it. He cleaned the table and floor and had just stuffed the socks into his backpack, when he heard the jingle of keys outside the door.

He jumped to his chair and tried to look nonchalant. It was Fred, the night janitor coming by to empty the trash. The old man with a limp and a strange accent was quite friendly and normally quite talkative, something Joe was hoping to avoid, so he acted like he was in the process of leaving. As Joe put his books and laptop into his backpack, Fred finished dumping the can and was about to launch into one of his diatribes about the weather, the price of eggs or some other weighty issue. Instead he stood there and stared with a puzzled expression. Joe decided not to encourage him, by acting like he was in a big hurry to leave.

"Sorry Fred, I gotta go a little early today." And he walked out the door and into the hallway. As he walked down the hall, Fred called out behind him.

"Hey Joe! Why you barefoot?"

Since she wasn't driving Brad, the drive home was a little faster than usual. As she guided her car past the gates and to the four car garage, she noticed that her father and stepmom's car were not there. "Good. Not much homework tonight, so I can chat with Uncle Bill." She stopped by the kitchen to pick up something to eat. Luna, their cook, was chopping vegetables. She said without looking up "Dinner will be at 7:15 is that ok?"

"Yes, that's fine Luna."

She hurried upstairs and went to her room. The computer clock indicated it was too early, so she contented herself by doing her history reading. Mr. Bill, as he sometimes called himself, set his own hours, but always made himself available at this time every Monday. Bill Sommers, her father's younger brother by five years seemed so laid back, compared to his brother that Heather wondered if he was adopted, but the looks, style of dressing and mannerisms confirmed that they indeed were genetically related. Finally the screen came on and the friendly countenance of Bill appeared.

Heather thought her uncle was the only male on the planet that she trusted in to confide her thoughts. Bill always listened, and made humorous observations without being judgmental in any way. That afternoon she talked about Brad which she usually did, school work, and the loser nerd with the clothing that looked rejected from Goodwill. Bill listened, offered his pithy commentary and a joke about bears in a forest pretending to be rabbits. He told her to read the chapter about Stalinism to better understand it. Heather's phone beeped announcing the arrival of her father, which meant the conversation with Bill was over. She waved and said goodbye to Bill and his cute boyfriend Matt, who had squeezed himself into the picture to greet her.

Joe rode the bus home, glad that nobody had witnessed the exchange between him and the janitor. Tonight he would heat up his homemade stew and eat alone until his mother came home around 9PM. He had become quite adept at cooking ever since his parents divorced. A failed business partnership had left his mother with a large debt which required her to work two jobs at an average of 65 hours per week. It was not uncommon for her to fall asleep right after dinner. Joe would remove her shoes and drape blankets over her as she would usually fall asleep on the sofa instead of bed. The only day they had together was Sunday, so Joe never made any plans with his friends on that day.

As usual, Luna's cooking was awesome, though it seemed Heather was the only one who noticed it. Her father Thomas, never Tom, prattled on about his activities with the booster club and his favorite subject, Brad. Thomas Sommers was the president of the school football booster club. He and others worked to recruit kids and have them move to his district in order to play football. Sometimes he helped the families find employment and affordable housing. His biggest triumph was managing to get Jack Neeson to leave his job at Northeast Tech to become coach at their high school. The reasons why a former NFL all-pro would leave his up and coming college team was a subject of much speculation. The district could pay him no more than 100,000 a year for fear of triggering criticism. It was up to the booster club to sweeten the deal without anyone noticing. All that mattered was that the team won a state championship last year and was probably going to do it again this year.

"Letter of Intent day is coming soon! Which one- USC or Florida?" He asked the question that he already planned to answer. "USC- good quarterback tradition, but not so much recently. Florida-SEC is the best conference by far." He continued without paying much attention to his food.

"Coach Neeson thinks Brad could easily be pro material no matter what school, but a big name school in a real bowl game can do more to sew up his being first round in NFL draft. This will in turn increase our status among potential football transfer students choosing our school."

On and on it went with her father dominating the conversation and expecting complete agreement. Heather and her stepmom stoically going along until they finally got him to start eating his cold food.

The next day was uneventful. The only vaguely interesting thing to Heather was cheerleading practice. The girls practically ran things themselves for the coach was there in name only. Ashley Neeson was the football coach's 24 year old trophy wife whose only qualification for the job was her last name. She was usually late for practice and spent most of it glued to her phone. The only good aspect of her leadership was that she wasn't a martinet like the last coach and would let them rest their injuries. Today it seemed like the whole squad had a sore ankle or smashed wrist, so practice was light dance routines and a few new chants. When they were finished, Brad texted her that he'll be riding with someone else.

The following day was as uninteresting as the last. At the afterschool Yearbook meeting Heather was looking through the previous year's edition when stumbled upon the picture of Joe Stevens.

"Good lord look at him!" She gasped.

"What's up?" asked her friend Rachel.

"My math tutor. I thought he was a slob, but I figured he'd at least try to look good for his picture."

"Ewww you sat in room alone with him?" Rachel looked repulsed by the image.

"It looks like he rolled out of bed just before the picture." Said Heather.

"What's the octopus on his shirt?" Rachel laughed.

"It says 'Why vote for the lesser evil?' Must be one of those stupid nerd jokes." Heather hypothesized. She turned the page and Rachel lost interest. For some reason she wasn't happy about what Rachel had said. Also there was a nagging feeling that she had met Joe before.

Saturday night was always date night with Brad. They'd go out and hang with friends or catch a movie. Whatever they did the evening wasn't complete without sex. This night they were in the parking lot of a bowling alley, not because they liked the sport but because certain parts of the lot had much needed privacy. They sat there in silence as Brad took swigs from a bottle of whiskey. Heather leaned over and began to rub his crotch. "What will it be tonight, dear? Hand, mouth or pussy?" She thought to herself. Brad looked at her with bloodshot eyes as if he heard her internal question.

"I wanna fuck you up the ass."

"In the back seat?" she pointed.

"Nah, on the hood."

Heather searched her purse and fished out a packet of lube and a small towel. Getting fucked on or next to a car was not comfortable. She lifted her skirt and pulled off her panties, balling them up and placing them in her purse. She then went outside and placed towel on the edge of the car where her hips would be taking a pounding. She then lifted up her skirt presenting her heart shaped ass to be violated by her drunken lover.

He began to rub his cock on her ass crack as she bent over. He poured lube on the tip of his dick and some around her asshole. She began to relax her sphincter muscles to allow him inside. She reached back and put her hand around his shaft to control the insertion and give herself time to dilate. After a minute, he was completely inside her. He stopped as if enjoying the moment and then started fucking. Heather crossed her arms under her shirt and began lightly pinching her nipples. His pace quickened and he slapped her ass causing a small yelp. He then put his hands on her slightly reddened ass cheeks and increased his motion. Heather turned her head to see her reflection in the windshield. She watched as her body bounced rhythmically and he began to pant, which meant he was close. She began to count down from 10, then felt him spasm and she felt a familiar warmth in her rectum.

"Only off by one second." She thought.