Thanks for priming her, Stuart, I thought, and began to fuck her in
earnest.

All protest from her ended as her pussy spread itself wide for me. She
was holding onto her knees, spreading them as far as she could, and in
ten smooth strokes I was buried in her cunt up to my balls. This was
te best fuck of my life – she was so tight, so smooth, the internal
contours of her pussy forming a perfect sheath for my hard dick, and we
pumped like a german machine.

“Lay beside me, and let me feel those titties,” I said, “and you can get
the feel of my cock while I do.

She walked on her knees to my side, then laid down on her side next to
me, while I was on my back. This gave me access to her left breast
only, so I made her turn slightly to expose them both.

As we lay there on the old green carpet, I squeezed and stroked those
magnificent breasts, thumbing the nipples and pinching them lightly
until they were fully erect. She took my cock in her left hand and
began to stroke it, her fingers not quite touching her thumb as she
grasped it with her small hand. Her touch was warm and exciting, but
she did not really know how to give a proper handjob, and I had no
desire to teach her. I pushed her onto her back and began to suck her
nipples, first one, then the other, while my hand slipped between her
thighs. She gasped as my fingers probed her pussy, but she was very
wet, and her clit was engorged.

“One favor, please?” She was actually begging, something I imagine
she’d never done before.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t call me Annie. That’s what that slime Bill Arnold called me.
Call me Ann.”

“We’ll see. If you do a good job and you earn it – but for now you’re
Annie. Now get naked.”

She held her breath for a second, then let it out and undid the front
clasp on her bra, sweeping it away with one hand and laying it on the
little sofa with the rest of her clothes. I cannot tell you how I felt,
seeing those breasts that I had fantasized about for so long. They were
so perfect, so round and high, and with large nipples that looked so
completetly suckable. I nearly came just looking at them. When she
bent over to remove her panties, they hung taut below her, then did not
sag one iota when she stood again, panties in hand.

And then she was naked before me. Her pussy hair was a neat, perfectly
trimmed little triangle of light brown – even more lovely and delicate
than I had expected. She had an ideal figure, her smooth tummy and
slim waist, her flawless creamy skin, her dancers legs. Nude, she was
still a perfect doll, an ideal girl.

She was shaking a bit, but I could tell that she was resigned to this.
“All right,” I said, “Now undress me.”

She stepped immediately forward and began to unbutton my shirt. “No,” I
said, “on your knees, Annie.” She dropped to her knees, and had to
reach up straining to take off my shirt. Then off came my shoes and
socks, again piled neatly next to hers on the sofa, then she undid my
pants and stuggled to get them off (levis are hand to remove from a
standing person), but finally succeeded. All through this her face was
calm and businesslike, but her breathing was becoming rapid, and there
was a flush creeping over her chest and upper arms.

“What?” She was visibly shaken. Shocked at her failure to charm me,
she was beginning to see the reality of the situation.

“There must be some place where you can go when you want to party – a
boathouse or a cabin or something…”

“No, I…”

“Don’t lie to me, Annie. That would be a truly major mistake.”

She was quiet for a moment, and a tear leaked out of her left eye and
ran down her face. “Uh, well… our carriage hou… our garage… is
separate from the house and has a… a furnished attic.”

“Where the chauffeur lives?”

“We’re not that rich. It’s for that, though, I guess. There’s a
kitchen and a little living room…” She paused for a moment, then
looked at her shoes again. “And a bed… room.”

“Perfect. You have a key?”

“No, but I know where it is. My dad used to use the rooms as a den,
kind of, but my mom thought he was taking girls there and she put the
key away in her jewelry box.”

“Good. Get it tonight and make two copies tomorrow at lunch. Meet me
here after school and give me one of them. I’ll give you further
instructions then.”

She looked devastated. “You want a _key_of_your_own_!? How long is this
supposed to go on?” Her voice was choked.

I smiled and looked her straight in the eye. “As long as I say, Annie.
Now be a good girl and do what I said. Or else.”

She muttered a very childlike, pouty “OK” then got up and practically
ran away, her arms crossed over her chest as she ran…

I sat there for minutes afterward, basking in glorious delight and hard
as a post in anticipation.

“A better something. Something very, very pleasant. Something like you
gave Bill Arnold.”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

“Something even better, perhaps.” I smiled the smile of the cat who ate
the canary.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then suddenly opened them and smiled.
The smile was the sort of familar, cosy smile she usually reserved for
her fellow elite, and she beamed it at me with all the energy she could
muster. “Oh, come on, be a sweetheart. You saw what that slime made me
do. Haven’t I been through enough? Besides, you look like a nice guy -
you don’t want it like that, you know, forcing me to, do you?”

She batted her eyes and tilted her head. A curl of honey brown hair
drifted over one eye and her face assumed a look that was at once
innocent, friendly, sexy, and strong. Looking back, it is of course
obvious that she was trying to manipulate me through those same charms
that had kept her on top of the pyramid for four years. But at the time
I was only 19, and very suceptible.

She saw the hesistation in my face, and tried to press the advantage.

“There’s no reason we can’t be friends, is there? I mean, do a girl
one little favor…. uh….. um…..”

Her smile faded a bit, and I realized that she was trying to remember
my name. We’d been in school together since the second grade, had even
been lab partners, and she had never taken even enough interest to
remember my name. The spell broke.

“Forget it, Annie,” my voice was strong and I could see that she knew I
was not going to play. “No, this is going to be business.” Her
espression fell into one of complete despair.

I recognized the look – it was very much like the one she had given Bill
Arnold when he threatened to rape her if she did not come across with a
blowjob – but there was a difference. Though she was defeated, she was
not disgusted, or at least not as disgusted as she had been then.

She looked around the shop, but most of the tables were empty. It was
primarily a lunch and dinner place, and I knew it would be pretty empty
for at least two hours.

She finally spotted me, and I held my camera up and winked. I could not
tell if she recognized me, but I doubt it. She’d done such a good job
of ignoring me, I doubted she was even sure that I went to her school.
She strode up purposefully and sat down angrily in my booth, facing
me.

“Are you the guy who left those pictures?” Her voice was a furious
whipser, but there was a lot of fear there. The anger was clearly
intended to give her courage and perhaps bully me into giving in. No
chance…

I smiled. “Photography is my life, ‘Annie.’ Of course, I don’t usually
take those kinds of pictures…”

“Sure!” she spat. “I’ll bet you creep all night long spying on people
like that, you pervert!”

“I’m a pervert? Maybe you better look at those snapshots again.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Her voice was a high, nervous squeak.

“Take care, now, Annie. You don’t want to get on my bad side, now DO
YOU?” I pointed my finger at her and stared her down.

She looked at me with a stunned horror. Our voices were low, but I
imagine no one (except maybe Bill Arnold) had ever talked to her in
such a tone, especially no one from the great unwashed masses, like me.
She was beginning to realize that I had her and I knew it.

Sunday crawled by, and I hardly slept that night. I went in to school
as early as I could, waited for the darkroom to open, and cut my
morning classes. I was aware that my haste could ruin this priceless
piece of film, so I deliberately made myself slow down. I went into
the blackout booth and loaded the reel with the film. Twice my fingers
slipped – loading a reel by hand is no easy trick under the best of
circumstances – but I finally got the strip into the can and delevoped
it with painstaking attention to time and temperature.

The negatives were perfect. They were so crisp, so defined. I could
not believe my luck. I was aware of how dangerous it was to print
anything when at any moment an instructor or a student might glance over
to see what I was doing, but the darkroom was pretty empty and I just
had to make a contact sheet at least.

I let the negs dry, then cut them into strips of six. I laid them onto
some glossy stock and made a contact print. I developed the thing face
down, maddening though that was, and squeegied and dried it that way. I
did not look at it until I was alone in a stall in the boys room.

What a treasure. Ann’s look of concentration as she stroked that cock.
Ann’s pretty lips stretched around that thick, bent cockhead. Ann’s
averted eyes and submissive posture as the come dripped off her chin.
I drew out my hard dick and came in four slow strokes, my come pouring
into the toilet bowl. If only that could be my dick, I thought. If
only he had convinced her to fuck him, or even just to strip – I’d love
to have photos of those tits and that pussy…

In the calmness that follows a good orgasm, I reflected that I could get
in real trouble if anyone saw these photos. Of course, there was no way
to link them to me unless they were found on my person, still…

Then I grinned. I grinned probably the biggest grin of my life. Me
get in trouble? Not anything like the trouble Ann could get into. I
had her. Boy, did I ever. A vast and limitless universe of
possibility opened before me. I had her taking coke and giving head to
a sleazebag. “Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you,” I
said quietly to myself. Such a warm feeling to anticipate the future,
when such vistas of pleasures lie ahead.

Ann Macafee was their Queen. She was the female lead of nearly every
play the school put on. She dated the star of the football team (I
know, that sounds corny, but it was true) and hung around with the
kids-who-are-rich-and-will-be-richer. Her family lived in the
foothills in a house that was just this side of an estate. She had it
all, and she was beautiful.

Her beauty had that casual, effortless look. Her short brown hair,
fine and fresh, framed a face that was almost a perfect match to that
girl whose father owns the hotel in Twin Peaks (I say that now, though
of course back then there was no Twin Peaks). Her body, always clothed
in expensive wools and tweeds, was perfectly proportioned. Her firm
high breasts looked like the models by which all other breasts are
designed. Her round, tight ass gave only slightly when she perched on
a chair. She had straight, dainty posture, and perfectly manicured
hands. She was, in every sense, a perfect little doll. And she knew
it.

Some people can put you down without saying a word – by the way they
look at you, or avoid looking at you; or simply by the way they carry
themselves. Ann was a perfect example. She was better than us, she
seemed to say. She would glide through the halls, aloof and apart, her
face a mask of calm separateness, until she would spy another of the
elite circle and her expression would break into a smile of pure
warmth.

For most of my junior year I had suffered a devastating and quite
secret crush on Ann. I was not a part of her life, of course. I was
no nerd, but my friends were as I was, a part of the masses. I was a
fairly good-looking young man, well built and handsome, or so I was
told by the girls I dated, but I did not posess that magic glamour that
permitted access to the higher circle. Ann never looked at me, never
met my eyes. We were lab partners in chemistry, and somehow she still
managed to avoid any kind of interaction. The few times I tried to
make a joke or start a conversation, she withered me with total
disinterest. It was horrible.

By my senior year I was pretty much over it, though. I had enjoyed a
pretty successfull summer, sexually speaking, and this had boosted my
confidence to the point that I no longer needed an Ann Macafee. Oh, I
still appreciated her lovely long legs on those days she wore a skirt,
and I still let my eyes roam her breasts when the weather was warm and
she wore thin silk blouses. But my obsession was over.

I thought that she would never enter my world. But everything changed
when I discovered that Ann led a secret life.

It was early in my senior year. I had driven up to the top of Mt.
Ervin, which is a popular make-out spot for the highschoolers. I was
working on a project for my photography class, and had gone up to Ervin
Park to take some long-exposure shots, showing the stars streaking
across the sky over time; a very common thing for amature photographers
to do. I did not want to be seen near the parking lot with a camera,
since that was where the kids parked, and no one would be too happy if
they saw me bopping around with my Nikon. I had taken a few girls there
myself, and I know I would have been pissed.

So I had hiked down the hillside and was approaching a small clearing I
knew of, where I planned to set up the tripod and start the timed
exposures. The spot was quite sheltered from the parking lot and the
road, which was important to me since a passing headlight would ruin my
shot. As I got within earshot of the clearing, I heard voices talking
low.

“Shit” I whispered to myself. Someone was using my spot – I didn’t know
anyone else knew about it. I had taken Linda Short there to fuck her,
and had not been worried since I was sure it was a private spot. Now I
knew differently. I crept up quietly and peered from behind a bushy
tree.

It was Ann Macafee, there with Bill Arnold. I was totally shocked; Bill
was known as sort of the school hoodlum. He wore heavy metal T-shirts,
engineer boots, and torn levis pretty much all the time. He was just
the sort the Ann would avoid like disease, yet here she was with him, at
night, and in a very intimate spot.

They were kneeling over something and talking in hushed tones. I could
not tell what they were doing at first, then Bill lit a small candle. I
saw the mirror on the grass, and the razor blade glinting on its
surface. Aha, I thought: Cocaine. Now everything made sense; Ann
liked coke (okey, that was suprising, but not insane) and Bill was
certainly the most likely source for drugs on campus.

I could not make out what they were saying, but Bill’s face was full of
mischief. Ann looked very anxious as she stared at the coke he was
forming into a line on the mirror. He did the line, then sat back, his
vial of coke in his hand, and stared at her. Finally, probably out of
frustration, her voice rose to where I could hear it.

“Come on Bob. Lay out a line for me. You said you would.” She still
held her usual expression of superiority, but there was a quivver of
desperation in her voice that told me coke was not a casual thing for
her.

“Maybe I will. Wha’cha gonna do for me, Annie?” Bill said, leering at
her.

“Fuck you!” Ann said and looked away.

Bill chuckled. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I had in mind. Pussy for
coke. Not a bad deal, when you consider how much this shit costs. I’ll
bet you’ve got a tight cunt…”

She whirled on him, but her anger caused her to drop her voice into a
hiss and I could not hear what she said. They spoke in low tones for a
while, and it seemed to me that some sort of negotiation was going on.

They came to an agreement, and Ann said “God, you’re a shit. Alright,
fine, let’s get it over with.”

Bill sat back on his elbows and smiled again. “But you have to take it
out.” When it looked like she was about to protest, he added “or no
deal, Annie.”

“Stop calling me that,” she said, trying to remain the Queen. But she
reached out, lowered his zipper, and took out his cock, which was stiff
as a pole.

I could not believe this, even though it was pretty obvious that he
wanted some kind of sex from her. His cock was average in length, but
fat, with a slight bend near the had. It had the vaguely bruised look
that comes from frequent use. She gripped it lightly with her right
hand and began to jerk him off.

Bill moaned, then began to sprinkle some coke on the mirror with one
hand while propping himself with the other. When she leaned forward to
take the mirror, he stopped her.

“This is the worst handjob I’ve even had, Annie. Either you’d better
get into it, babe, or no snow.”

She looked pained and embarrased, but she leaned into her work on his
dick and began stroking with both hands. Bill was obviously enjoying
her attentions, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was not
going to settle for this.

I was incredibly turned on, watching this pristine queen jacking off
the school hood. There she was, expensive knit skirt and cardigan
sweater, on her knees with a bent dick in her hand, stroking it. She’d
obviously given hand before, which did not suprise me – that’s probably
all girls like her did.

I smiled to myself when I rememberd my Nikon was hanging around my
neck. Thanking my lucky stars for putting me here with a camera, and
without my noisy autowinder, I began to slowly click off pictures,
pacing myself so as not to run out of film. The candlelight was more
than adequate, since I had brought fast film.

Click – Ann giving Bill a handjob.

Bill stopped her again, and she obviously thought she was going to get
her coke because she looked relieved. But he whispered something and
she stood up, turned her back on him, and angrily stomped away a few
strides.

“Come on, Annie,” Bill said, teasing her. “It’s fair. Blow for blow.
Coke for cock. Besides, your handjob sucks.” He laughed, obviously
amused by his choice of words. “I mean, it doesn’t suck. Hey, that’s
the problem!”

His glee was disgusting, but I was loving this.

Click – Bill standing with his dick sticking out, Ann turning to
look.

“If you think I’m taking that… thing in my mouth, you’re crazy.” Her
eyes were darting between his hard dick and the coked mirror on the
grass behind him.

Bill’s face suddenly dropped into a serious expression. “Wise up Annie.
Nobody has the coke connections I do, and you’re in need. Besides, ” he
said, narrowing his gaze, “we’re alone here. I could lay you down and
fuck your brains out if I wanted to. A little head won’t kill you, and
I promise to give you the coke afterwards. I’ll leave your pussy alone.”
He was stroking his cock with one hand as he spoke, keeping it hard.

Her voice was very shakey now. “Oh, come on Bill…”

“I want to,” he interrupted her. “I want to come on. I want to come
on you. Now you can open those sweet lips of yours or we can wrestle
and see who is stronger. I don’t mind. Either way, you get your coke
and I get my nut.”

His look was deadly and serious. Ann obviously knew she was cornered.
I briefly considered stepping out of the shadows to save her – Bill was
a hood, but I was quite a bit bigger than him. Maybe she’d reward me
for my gallantry. Then I remembered all the withering looks she had
given me over the years…

Click – Ann kneels before Bill.

Click – Ann takes Bill’s dick into her mouth.

Bill began to pump his skinny hips almost immediately as Ann took his
obscene dick in and out of her little mouth. She gave the impression of
some experience, though not a lot. She let him slide the bent thing in
and out, covering her teeth with her lips, but I did not see any tongue
action, nor did she move her head laterally at all – these would have
been signs of a good cocksucker. Like Linda Short.

Bill did not seem to care. I clicked off a series of five shots showing
Ann with varying amounts of Bill’s dick in her mouth, then he grunted
and hissed. He obviously began to come, for Ann violently pulled his
cock from her mouth and tried to lunge away. Bill grabbed her hair and
held her in place, so that his long streams of sperm landed on her face,
hair, and sweater.

After he had finished coming – which was a subject of two particularly
good photos in my series; Ann with come flying toward her face, Ann with
come hanging off her chin – he chuckled and ler her go. She grabbed
her purse, and stepped off into the bushes, spitting and dabbing her
face with a kleenex.

While she was gone, Bill began to chop up the coke with the razor blade
and draw it into a line. He added a second line, and then a third.
When she returned, he smiled and handed the mirror to her with one hand
and offered his straw with the other.

“Here you go, Annie. Nice job – I gave you some extra lines, you’re
such a good little cocksucker.”

She glared at him, refusing his straw. She had her own – a sign of a
true cokehead – and she turned her back on him, sat down, and did the
lines.

Click – Ann snorts cocaine while Bill stands behind, shrinking, wet
dick in his hand.

Click – Ann smiles at the mirror, Bill milks his dick behind her head.

Click – Ann snorts another line while Bill drips his last dribbles of
sperm on her hair, she oblivious through her haze of coke.

The deal done, Ann was in a real hurry to get out of there. She was
probably afraid that he’d try to rape her anyway, but Bill was obviously
spent to the point of disinterest. He had retrieved a beer from his
shoulder bag and was taking long pulls at it while he played with
himself. He paid her no attention as she gathered up her stuff.

I suddenly realized that I was standing on the path she was about to
take back. I crouched down quickly in the darkness – she passed by
within two feet of me without noticeing. Her perfume was almost strong
enough to cover the smell of Bill’s crotch, though not quite. The
whole scene had given me a raging boner and it was a little
uncomfortable squatting in my tight jeans. As soon as she was out of
sight, I rushed back to my car and headed home.