If the summer was pretty much like being in dreamland, senior year brought me somewhat back to reality.   My grades had been slipping a little, and it was important to me that I bring them back up the honest way, not by using my power.  After all, I did want to go to a reputable college, and I wouldn’t be in a position to influence the either SAT scoring machines or admissions committee.  I knew I’d have to pay less attention to sex and more to my schoolwork.

 

Of course, that didn’t mean I’d have to give up sex altogether.  As the semester got going, I settled into a pattern of making it with a different girl every night.  It wasn’t that hard, really.  Each day I would be on the lookout for a girl who struck my fancy, and then I would suggest to her that she come to my house that night.  Sometimes I would have her simply arrive late, so I could take her right to bed.  Other times I would “invite” her to dinner.  My parents didn’t mind – I’d made sure of that.  We’d sit around the table making small talk, then I’d leave the cleanup to my mom while the girl and I would go upstairs and have sex. 

 

I experimented with a lot of different positions and techniques.  In the process I found that there was value in making sure that she shared some of my pleasure.  I guess I was a little surprised, but it gave me quite a head trip to know that my own physical attributes and expertise were a turn-on for her.  After that I focused on ways to make my partner as well as me feel good.  I did get my share of blow jobs, though.  Particularly on days when I didn’t have much time to spare, I saw no reason not to have a naked girl on her knees sucking my cock while I did my math.

 

* * *

 

The cheerleaders got more than their fair share of attention, especially the three bustier ones – Joanne, Ann-Marie, and Mary-Jo.  Not only were they fast friends, but they were very good at using their sexy bodies to attract boys.  They were also very good at rejecting the advances of any boy they deemed to be “not cool”.  Of course I had seen the cheerleaders at ball games before, and of course I had always found them sexy and attractive, but I had never before considered myself to be in their league.  “Not cool” was very much a part of my hesitation.  Well, after that summer I was no longer afraid of that.

 

The triumvirate, as I like to call them, caught my attention one cold Saturday afternoon in November.  I was watching our team getting badly beaten at a football game that day.  My friend Sam had managed to get us front row 50-yard line seats, but the game was pretty depressing.  To spice things up for me a bit, I amused myself by sweeping my eyes around the stands, making people stand up and sit down in the well-known “wave” pattern.  After going around once it took on a life of its own, the crowd making its own wave and adding the appropriate sound effects as well.

 

Then it was halftime, and the cheerleaders were doing their act.  Given our prime seat location, it was almost like a private performance.  They were right there in front of us, jumping, dancing, showing their hindquarters and sexy legs, throwing their hair and pompoms around.  The best part was when they jumped: you could almost see their breasts bouncing.  Almost, but not quite.  For my tastes, too much was left to the imagination.

 

After the game I dragged Sam along to the locker rooms.  “C’mon,” I said, “we’re going to meet those cheerleaders.”

 

“Aw, nah, I don’t want to.”

 

“Oh, c’mon, you sure do.  Didn’t you see those bodies?  Their like sexy angels!”

 

“That’s OK.  You go ahead.  I’m just going to – ”

 

The three were just coming up from behind us, chatting away about some boys they had seen in the stands.  They split to go around us, but Joanne got a glimpse of us as they passed us by.  “Hey,” she called, and the others stopped and turned, “here he is.  He’s right here!”

 

They were ignoring me, and looking at Sam.  Sam was dumbfounded.  His mouth dropped open but he didn’t say anything.

 

“See,” said Joanne, “he drools.”

 

“No he doesn’t,” was Mary-Jo’s response, “he’s just leaking.”

 

Ann Marie’s turn.  “So which is it, drooling or leaking?”

 

“He can’t talk.”

 

“Yeah, he’s some sort of moron.

 

“Moron!  Moron!”  All three of them started chanting.  Then they did a little pompom dance, teasing Sam with their bodies, but not letting him touch.  They danced off, still chanting, and never looked back.

 

Turning to Sam I saw that his mouth was closed now, but his face was beet red. 

 

“Sam,” I started, “don’t –”

 

He backed up slowly, then whirled around and ran.  I felt really sorry for him, but I was also really angry at the girls.  And when I get angry, some very interesting things start happening.  I resolved to make them pay for their viciousness. 

 

The next day I went to the stadium during their normal rehearsal period.  Sitting in the stands I identified the three girls who were the object of my wrath, and threw a thought at them: You feel really awful for what you did to Sam, and you really want to make it up to him.  You’ll do anything he asks to make him feel better.  I watched the girls dance some more, but their hearts were clearly no longer in it.  Then I got up and left.

 

A week later Sam and I attended another football game, but this time Sam didn’t want to sit on the 50-yard line.  He didn’t want the cheerleaders to notice him at all.  So we set behind the end zone, but I made the necessary additional arrangements.  There was a point during the game when Joanne could have been seen pointing into the end zone bleachers.  Then the three talked together for a while before the next cheer brought them out onto the field again.

 

The game ended and Sam and I got up to leave.  It was another loss for the home team, but and Sam wanted to get out of there fast.  I managed to loiter just enough though.  Almost out of nowhere there were three quite pretty young ladies in cheerleading outfits carrying pompoms entering our row.  Sam’s face expressed consternation, but he had no time to do anything else.

 

Ann Marie was the first to talk.  “Sam, my friends and I want to apologize for what we did to you last week.”

 

“Yeah,” said Mary-Jo, “that was pretty insensitive of us.  We’re sorry for hurting your feelings like that.”  Sam’s face was changing to incredulity, then to suspicion. 

 

“No, really,” added Joanne.  “We think you’re really nice, and we want to make it up to you.  Can we take you out to the Union Café?”  That was the coffee shop in the student union building where everybody met for socializing.

 

Sam looked at me for help.  I shrugged and nodded my encouragement.  Then he looked at Joanne again and replied, “Uh, OK.  When do you want to go?”

 

Joanne smiled.  “15 minutes,” she asked her friends?  They both nodded.  “15 minutes.  See you there!”  And they were off as quickly as they had arrived.

 

Sam looked at me again.  “Whoa!  What the hell just happened there?”

 

“Hey,” I responded, “who knows?  But they seem honest to me.  Just go with it.”

 

“OK.”  We exited the stadium and split up.

 

I don’t know what actually happened at the café, but they must have had a good time.  Sam returned to the dorm room later with a smile that would have made the Cheshire Cat look sad.  “So, what happened?”

 

“Only good things,” said Sam.  “I’m supposed to meet them again after their practice tomorrow.  They said you could come too.”

 

“Me?  Well, I wouldn’t turn down an invitation like that.”

 

Monday afternoon found us in the stands again watching the cheerleaders rehearse.  But everything was different this time.  We were sitting close, and the three girls kept looking at us and winking.  In fact, it seemed like a personal performance.  Afterwards they beckoned us to follow them.

 

That we did, right into the girls’ locker room.  On the way, Ann Marie confided to us that the other members of the cheerleading team had some new steps to learn with their coach, so we’d have about a half hour alone now.

 

In the locker room they went about their business as if we weren’t there.  They removed their costumes, right down to their underwear.  But they didn’t stop there!  The final garments came off and the girls surrounded us.  “Shower time!” said Joanne.  Better strip!  Sam was dumbfounded, but I was quite enjoying this interesting turn of events.

 

“Yeah!” I whooped, by way of encouragement, and we both did as we were told, then followed the three lovely young girls into the warm stream.

 

Under the shower, the girls did all the work.  They put our hands on their wet, soapy breasts and helped us massage them.  They played with our hard pricks, sometimes getting down on their knees and sucking, the water playing over their blond heads.  They turned around and pulled our dicks between their legs, making sure our steel rubbed their clits.  I for one really enjoyed the unusually large and firm tits and their strongly toned bodies.  I’m sure Sam did as well.  For him this was absolutely a dream come true.

 

By and large the girls shared us pretty evenly, but I did notice toward the end of our orgy that Joanne in particular was showing a good deal of interest in Sam.  There was definitely something developing there, I thought.

 

The arrival of four more cheerleaders into the locker room snapped us out of our collective reverie.  Fortunately, by then I’d developed the habit of instantly imposing ignorance when people arrive unexpectedly into potentially compromising situations.  So the newcomers didn’t notice us.  To our female friends then, I thought, They won’t notice us, we can continue.

 

Later, Sam was a different man.  It was incredible – his voice was more confident, his very bearing was self-assured.  I was very happy for him.  Something else happened, too.  He and Joanne started going out together, and soon became an inseparable item.  That item lasted the rest of the way through high school, and – I learned much later – through college as well.  They’ve been happily married now for years.

 

For my part, I stayed away from Joanne, but made sure I got to enjoy Ann Marie and Mary-Jo over and over again.  Sometimes I had them come to my house together, sometimes not.  Their jock boyfriends were jealous, but I just made them get into a fight with each other and then decide that it wasn’t worth the trouble.  Mary-Jo was the first girl I actually made spend the night with me.  I made sure she didn’t sleep; I forced her to pleasure me all night long.  It was one delightful night!