What I read was:
"if the pizza delivery guy is going to bang the cheerleader, the story should start as the pizza delivery guy rings the bell at the cheerleader’s door"
So I wrote a story over lunch break.
It's rough and short and silly, but I hope you'll enjoy it.
There is a rule, when writing naughty stories: if the pizza delivery guy is going to bang the cheerleader, the story should start as the pizza delivery guy rings the bell at the cheerleader’s door.
From then on, you’ve only to keep it interesting.
For instance…
The cheerleader opens the door and her smile wavers, and then dies.
“Here’s your pizza, miss,” the pizza delivery guy says, Only she’s not a guy. She’s a tall brunette with a Pizza Paradise hat, a wicked smile and a large pizza box.
“Uhm,” the cheerleader says. “Yeah, ehm, sure…”
She’s got long blonde hair coming down to her waist, and she’s wearing only a checkered flannel shirt and a pair of tube white socks.
The brunette arches her eyebrows, questioningly. She takes the receipt that’ stuck to the box and. “You ordered a large margherita, right?”
“Yes, well…” The blonde actually blushes. “Oh, this is so awkward!”
The brunette frowns. “What’s up?”
The blonde stands in the doorway and sighs. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and then bites the corner of her mouth. “Listen, it’s complicated…”
“It ain’t complicated,” the brunette replies. “It’s a large pizza. Nothing complicated ‘bout that.”
The blonde shakes her head. “I know, it’s just… oh, this is embarrassing.”
The brunette cocks a hip and waits.
“Listen, it’s… I’m in the cheerleading team at school, you see. And when I ordered the pizza…” The blonde sighs, and her expression hardens. “It was a dare, OK? I’ve just joined the team, and there’s this sort of, you know, initiation thing.”
“What’s that to do with my pizza?”
The cheerleader squares her shoulders. She holds up her smartphone. “It’s a dare. I was to order a pizza and then get a selfie of me, you know, smooching the delivery guy. And then forward it to the team.”
The brunette’s eyes widen. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” the blonde smiles. “I mean…”
“What if you don’t send the smooching selfie?” the brunette asks.
The blonde shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean,nobody ever had any problem, but…”
She looks up. “But I’m gonna pay for the pizza, of course!” she’s hasty to say. “I guess I’ll just have to order another from somewhere else.”
“You know,” the brunette says taking a step forward, “maybe you don’t need to.”
“What do you mean?”
The brunette is real close, now. She moves the box to the side and she leans closer, and stops the blonde’s gasp with her mouth, locking her in a nice long French kiss. The blonde pushes herself on tiptoes, responding to the kiss, and the brunette slips her free hand inside the flannel shirt, and gently squeezes the girl’s tit.
They stand like that, leaning on each other, and the brunette explores the blonde mouth for two solid minutes before letting her go with a satisfied sigh.
The blonde is flushed.
“You did not take the selfie,” the brunette says in a low, sultry voice. Her lips are wet and inviting.
The blonde takes a step back, the brunette comes in and places the pizza box on a side table. The door slams and by the time they are on the living room couch the flannel shirt and the Pizza Paradise hat are gone, and the blonde is slipping her hands under the brunette’s t-shirt, and helping her get rid of it.
The brunette caresses the butterfly tattoo by the blonde’s navel.
The blonde is not sure of what’s happening, but her heart beats faster and faster as the brunette leans into her and pushes her back on the couch. The blonde gasps and giggles and now she’s on her back, tweaking her nipples, her legs over the shoulders of the brunette, whose tongue teases deliciously her clit. The blonde arches her back as the brunette pushes in deeper with her warm, velvet tongue, and it’s like her pussy’s become electric and her blood is roaring in her ears and she comes with a sharp spasm, rocking her hips, and it’s never been so fucking beautiful.
They smoke a joint and have a slice of pizza, then the blonde is ready to have another go. She’s the one taking the initiative now. She raises the brunette’s right arm over her head and slowly licks her armpit. The brunette laughs but the blonde is slipping her hand between her legs. She bends and moves from the armpit to the shoulder and then down the chest, finally locking her lips on the brunette’s erect nipple. The brunette runs her fingers through the long blond hair, and then moves, changing position, inviting the blonde in. The blonde does not need any further invitation. She kneels on the couch and places her hands on the shoulders of the brunette,and then pushed her thigh between her legs, and as she falls backward the brunette feels the muscular pressure of the blonde’s leg against her throbbing pussy. She lays back, propped against the armrest, and opens her legs, and the blonde falls on her, her face buried between her tits. Humming softly, the blonde keeps using her tongue, bending to reach underneath the brunette’s tits. Her hair a warm, moist honey waterfall caressing the brunette’s olive skin.
The blonde takes a first tentative stab at the brunette’s pussy. She’s baked and delirious as she rubs her cheek against the inside of the brunette’s thigh.
Hands grab her, roughly. She gasps and squeals as the world turns around her. The brunette slaps her on the ass and the blonde falls back between her companion’s thighs and sits on her face. She holds on to the brunette’s knees just as the other woman starts licking her again, firing her up. And then it is pure, magnificent, madness.
The pizza is cold and rubbery by now, but after another joint it is exactly what the doctor ordered. Tomorrow morning there will be confusion, shame, possibly even fear, but right now the cheerleader knows, knows with all her essence that sixty-nine is her favorite number and she’ll be a lesbian for the rest of her life. She's stoned, exhausted and a little in love.
It’s three in the morning when the brunette finally emerges from the blonde’s house, aching all over and buzzing like a live wire. She looks up at the moon, and stretches, arching her back.
Amazing what a friend in the cheerleaders team and five bucks slipped to the pizza delivery guy will get you these days.
Oh, so fun. Short and sexy. Is every young lady actually a lesbian, just needing the right incentive to blossom? Or at least, on that sliding scale of sexuality, bi-curious? Hope to think so.
ReplyDeleteWell, for sure that's how it works in my fiction.
DeleteIn real life, I am quite convinced most women are bi-curious, but of course I cannot prove it.
I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject of human sexuality. But I have read a number of studies concerning the practice known as “swinging.” In those studies, women swingers are overwhelming bisexual, in some studies as much as 100% of the women, but never less than 75%. It should be noted that the women are either married or in a committed relationship, most of which are heterosexual though some are lesbian. The women see themselves as in love with their committed partner. The sex outside of committed partnership is for the fun of the sex: flirting, being the object of sexual desire, dressing and appearing sexy, the thrill of the hunt, and the physical pleasure of the sex act. It is not about romance or love. All of them say it adds variety to their sex life, some of which they bring back to the sex they experience with their committed partner. Even more importantly, it increases their self-confidence and positive self-image. And, almost always, sex with another woman is positively encouraged by all involved. On the sliding scale of sexuality, some women swingers actually see themselves as pansexual, while at other end some would only occasionally engage in bisexual activities. Interestingly, men swingers rarely engage in homosexual activity, and their women partners usually don’t encourage or support homosexual behavior. One could debate that idea for a while, but I don’t have any good explanation. But this much is true. Women who have broken the norm of monogamy find it often very easy to expand their sexual horizons to bisexuality. So, Tamara, at least for women swingers, bi-sexuality is the norm. Might be an idea for a story.
DeleteThank you for these information!
DeleteIt is certainly in line with what I have experienced in my life (despite not swinging myself), and it certainly gives me a lot of ideas for stories.
I'm really learning a lot of new stuff, for my writing: right now, I am reading a handbook on how to be a dominatrix and it's... hmm, intriguing.
O, you're killing me with anticipation! Hope that it comes to fruition soon. Thanks for caring to reply.
Deletegreat story. love the little twist at the end.
ReplyDelete