0 comments/ 72753 views/ 2 favorites Quinn's Senior Year Ch. 1 By: SoftPeaches Quinn’s Senior Year: Mr. McPhee and European History “Is that something you’d like to share with the class, Quinn?” My head snapped forward toward the front of the class, the note plunged into my backpack, and my heart jumped into my throat. Shit. “Ughm, no, I’m cool, Mr. McPhee,” I replied in the most nonchalant manner possible. Nevertheless, he was walking right toward me, down the front of the row, and into the aisle I was sitting in. I squirmed nervously in my seat, trying to swallow my heart and calm my pulse. Next to me, Kristen stared at the developing situation in wide-eyed horror and pity. Her face mirrored what I already understood. I was so incredibly busted. “Let’s see it,” he demanded. “See what?” I implored shakily. “Here’s my homework. I did it.” “I’m not talking about the homework, and you know it. Give me the note.” His incredible brown eyes did not waver. In fact, they were the same eyes I was gushing over, to Kristen in the note that never reached it’s final destination. Mr. McPhee was the most gorgeous man I had ever laid eyes on; he was five years out of college, with short dark brown hair, a mustache and goatee, and those killer soft brown eyes. His button down oxford shirts covered strong shoulders and a muscular torso and arms. His slacks clung to his ass, which was rounded and looked to be the result of a life of athleticism. He was what I thought about in the bottom bunk of my bed, while my little sister slept above me, the face I fantasized about kissing as my hormones raged before bed; I had analyzed every aspect of my lust for him in the folded piece of notebook paper clutched in my now sweaty palm. His eyes were still glued upon me, hard and unyielding. Almost as if in slow motion, I reluctantly pressed the note into his outstretched hand. The entire class leaned forward in their seats. Slowly, he unfolded the paper, and to my absolute horror he dropped his eyes to the page and began to read it to himself. Everyone in the class smirked or sympathized with my situation silently. Kristen and I were the only ones hoping the note would not be read aloud. As Mr. McPhee folded the note and slipped it in his pocket, his eyes regarded me with no emotion, and the entire class vocalized their disappointment with a universal “awwww.” “Quinn, I’m going to have to see you after school in the Social Studies office,” he stated. “But I have dance team practice, I can’t,” I replied. “I’ll write you a pass,” he responded coolly. “Fine,” I retorted, looking away. My face was already flushed, and burned from embarrassment; now not only was I going to have to face this teacher later this afternoon, but everyday in class and my extra-curricular life for my entire Senior year. I was going to be late for practice today, too, and we had check-offs for our first football performance. Mrs. Wallace, our coach, was such an incredible tyrant to top it all off. I couldn’t imagine how many laps she would assign for a senior being tardy to the first check-offs of a season. Mr. McPhee returned to the board for five more minutes, detailing the importance of the Concordat of Bologna. I dared not even look at Kristen, until the bell rang. I quickly shoved my notebook and pencil into my backpack, slung it over both my shoulders, and bolted for the door. Kristen was in hot pursuit. “Oh, my God, that sucked hardcore!” She blurted out as we weaved in and out of our peers in the hall. I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. “Yeah, no shit.” “I’d help you if I could,” she offered, “but it’s not like Mrs. Wallace ever listens to me,” she said. I knew she was right. Mrs. Wallace never listened to any of the captains. All Kristen was good for to her was coming up with routines. “Maybe it will help that I’ll have that pass,” I suggested halfheartedly. “Maybe,” she replied doubtfully, as we turned into our English class. I spent the rest of the school day trying in vain to come up with a reasonable excuse or explanation for that note. My head was starting to hurt. By the last bell of the day, I was feeling slightly nauseous at the thought of having to face Mr. McPhee. It wasn’t as if I didn’t really know him as a teacher or mentor, either. Not only was I a tutor at the History Center, but I had him for study hall twice in my high school career. I held the position of Secretary in the National Honors Society, and he was the advisor. I had fostered a crush on him since the first day I had seen him. It was so painful to think of it all culminating into a final moment of humiliation lasting for the next nine months. By the time I was able to go to my locker, grab my dance bag, letter jacket, and books, and make it downstairs to the bottom floor where the history office was located, barely anyone remained in the school. If anyone was around they were in the main office two floors above or the gym area on the other side of the school. It was eerie to be in the halls while they were so quiet. All that could be heard was the soft sound my clunky black shoes made with the swishing of my blue and white plaid uniform skirt and backpack. Turning the corner, I faced the history office with an incredible amount of apprehension. I had no idea how he planned on punishing me, but the embarrassment was more than enough for me. I pulled the large handle of the windowless door marked “History Offices” and slipped inside. I went straight forward and found the office that he shared with Mrs. Wilson, an eighty year old Economics teacher. She apparently had left during eighth period, as she often did on Wednesdays. His desk was on the right hand side of the room, neatly organized with several books stacked on his left, and a manila folder filled with ungraded tests awaiting his red pen. He was leaning back in his chair, holding my note in his hand. His eyes lifted from the paper and he studied me closely. His eyes were strangely warm now, and the way he regarded me sent shivers up my spine. I shifted my weight slightly from one foot to the other, and looked down. His eyes were focused on me so intently, and so silently, I felt instantly self-conscious. It was as if he was trying to memorize how I looked in that moment. My crisp white blouse, which I buttoned lower than was generally permitted in a private school, my pleated navy blue and white skirt which I hemmed short over the summer after I took Home Ec, the white socks, and the clunky black shoes that were technically not permitted for uniform. My hair was a soft brown of mid-back length at that time, held back by a low ponytail that always ended up over my shoulder, with a white ribbon tied in a bow around the hair band. My hazel eyes were downcast as he studied me, and I felt ashamed. I didn’t even feel I was much to study anyway. While most of the white girls in school that were considered pretty were busty, with hips that matched those of young teenage boys, my body was the exact opposite. I was a 34B with a tiny little waist and a whole lot of ass. I always joked, telling the girls on the dance team that song by Sir Mixalot, “Baby Got Back,” was my anthem. I really wasn’t all that confident about my body, though. I just faked the confidence in order to feel confident most of the time. It wasn’t working now. Mr. McPhee broke the silence. “You’re missing practice entirely today. I’m not at all tolerant of people ignoring me, especially in class. I thought you were more respectful than that.” “I can’t miss practice today!” I protested. “Being late is bad enough, but if I miss all of it, I won’t get to do check-offs, and I won’t be aloud to perform tomorrow!” “I spoke with Mrs. Wallace, and she said to go to a captain’s house tonight and show her that you know the routines. You’ll be fine.” I stared at him in disbelief. First of all, why would he have called Mrs. Wallace about this, and second, why would she be so lenient? “That doesn’t sound like her at all,” I stated. “No,” he agreed, “She wasn’t very pleasant about it at first, but I reminded her of the student handbook, which says that no student will be aloud to participate in extra curricular activities if they are punished for more than one indiscretion in one week.” I looked up sharply. “What other indiscretions am I being punished for?” “It is what you can be punished for, Quinn,” he said softly as he pulled out a small hand mirror. He held it up a few feet away for me to see part of my reflection in. “If you were to look in the mirror, you would see several dress code violations that have not escaped my notice. In addition to the fact that you have gum in your mouth,” he stated. He set the creased paper on his desk and leaned back further. This man that I had looked up to, respected, and thought about as my hands explored my body at night was seeming to enjoy the power he had over me at this point. “Fine, whatever, so what do you want me to do? A report? Grade papers? What?” I shot back, trying to maintain some measure of control. “Come closer, and take this mirror. Look into it and tell me what you see.” I took the mirror and held it to my face. “I, uhm, I see myself,” I replied, not quite sure where he was going with this. “Would you like to know what I see, Quinn?” “What?” I inquired nervously. “I see a pair of the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.” I stood up straight and my heart began to pound. My thong was instantly moist. He saw my reaction, and the corner of his mouth nudged upward into a sexy smile. “I see a beautiful face with soft skin, a cute little nose, and silky brown hair. Do you know what my favorite feature on your face is, Quinn?” He didn’t wait for me to answer, and I don’t think I could have. “I love your mouth. You have the most perfect lips for sucking cock.” He paused to take in my reaction, still rocking back slightly in his chair. My eyes were as wide as saucers, my heart was racing, and beneath the white lace of my thong, I was aching, along with my nipples, which were pushing against the matching underwire demi bra covering my perky bosom. I gulped involuntarily, and watched with incredible embarrassment as he unzipped his gray slacks and pulled from a pair of black cotton boxers the most amazing dick I had ever seen. His eyes met mine. “Come here,” he commanded. The backpack slipped off of my shoulders and onto the floor as I placed my letter jacket and books on a chair. Mesmerized by the shameless exposure of his sex, to me, his student, I slowly walked toward him, my head bowed slightly, but my eyes still on him. “Have you ever had a dick before, Quinn?” “Um, well, last spring, after Prom, I went down on my date, but he passed out while I was doing it. I really haven’t done anything with a guy since then.” He laughed softly. I was standing about two feet from the side of his chair, when he turned so that he was facing me. Grabbing my hand he sat me on his leg, his warm cock brushing on my thigh. I could barely breathe. “You’re eighteen, right?” He inquired suddenly. “Yeah,” I whispered, my voice almost cracking. “I just turned in August. I can vote now.” He laughed, letting his torso shake and his head fall back slightly. He always encouraged his students to register and vote as soon as they turned eighteen. As he stopped laughing, his hand brushed the side of my face, index finger tracing my lips. My hormones and blood were raging now, and as my eyes closed, my mouth opened slightly and sucked softly on the tip of his finger. He took a breath sharply, and leaned back in his chair more. Slowly I licked the length of his finger and began sucking and pulling up and down on it. His eyes were on my face as he pulled his finger out, gently guided me off of his lap, and stood. His cock, thick, and proud, stood taller than I had ever seen one. I had seen boys. This was a man. He commanded me to pull one of the smaller chairs students used for their desks in class to sit in front of him as he sat on the edge of his desk. As I sat down, I couldn’t help but notice that his dick was hard as a rock, and right in my face. “Give me head.” My mouth watered, my nipples and pussy ached, and my head began to spin with the reality of what was happening. For four years I had sat in a desk, gorging my eyes on his body, practically swooning at the sound of his voice, looking at the crotch of his pants when I knew he was busy with something else. Now his spicy, earthy smell was in my nostrils, the heat of his erection inches from my face. Closing my eyes, I licked the head of his dick from the bottom, swirled it around, and then slid my strawberry-glossed lips over the length of his shaft. He groaned. I gripped slightly with the inside of my lips as my head pulled back on his dick, and ran the tip of my tongue along the bottom of his shaft as I plunged it back toward my throat. Holding it there, I sucked and bobbed up and down on it, my fingers resting on the inside of his thighs. He was breathing hard when he lifted my head from between his legs, pulled me to my feet, and slid off the edge of the desk. Reaching behind him, he grabbed my note off of the desktop and began to read a part of it. “I get so horny just thinking about him, how about you? If I ever got the chance, I’m sure I would fuck him. I love his ass. I wonder how big his dick is, too! I think I saw him hard once in class, it looked pretty big.” He smiled once more, eyes devouring me. “I’m going to have you now.” My pussy ached and rubbed against the soaking wet lace of my thong. The moisture was now beginning to rub on the inside of my thighs. I wanted to touch him, to be covered by him. He sensed my urgency. “Take off your shirt. Leave everything else on.” Slowly I began to unbutton my shirt, my fingers fumbling, and my body on fire with that hormonal high associated with unfulfilled teenage sexuality. His dick quivered slightly as I let the blouse slip to the ground. Before I knew it, he had lifted me onto the edge of the desk. His mouth was on mine, tongue exploring mine, and moving to my neck, his left hand squeezing and kneading my tits, thumb rubbing my nipple, as the tip of his dick pressed into my shaved slit, gliding up and down the parted lips, but not pushing through. “I’m a virgin,” I whispered. “I know, I can tell. But not for long.” He pulled the hair band out of my hair, as my hair fell all around me, and my head dropped back in ecstasy. His other hand began to rub my clit, as I had only fantasized about him doing in my bed. The head of his cock was pushing gently into my soaking wet opening as his mouth sucked and nibbled the soft flesh of my neck, and the hand on my tits began working each nipple in turn. I was lost in the incredible sensations he was giving my body, when he began to push me back against the desktop. His fingers were still rubbing my clit, and I could feel the tingling in my body as my abdomen began to tighten for the impending orgasm. Right as I was about to cum, he quickened the rubbing on my clit, and pushed his dick completely past my virginal barrier. My body exploded with pain and pleasure, my pussy contracting tightly on his rock hard cock, my body twisting in the strength of the orgasm he had brought me to. He continued pushing his thick cock into my freshly deflowered pussy, slowing to a sensual rhythm. I began to twist my nipples, and started to feel hot all over again. He saw me, and suddenly pulled out. “Get off the desk and bed over it here.” Doing as I was instructed, I slipped off the edge, my skirt covering me once more, turned around and bent over nervously, my elbows on the desk, my face looking back at him. “W-What are you going to do, Mr. McPhee?” “I’m going to take you from behind, doggy-style, so I can watch this fantastic ass of yours.” Before I could ask another question, he already flipped my skirt up, bent me completely over, and positioned his dick just inside slick pussy lips again. He began to rub the head of his cock from my clit to my ass crack, to my surprise. I tensed up, but he slipped it back down and positioned it for entry again. With a gentle push, he shoved his length back into me, and began to rub and squeeze my ass cheeks. My pussy still hurt considerably from the loss of my maidenhead, but I found that I was quickly lost again in the pleasure of his thick, hot shaft sliding inside of me as I came again all over his dick. As I was practically yelling, lost in the explosion within my body, he began to tense up, and pound his sex into my pussy. He let out a few soft moans, and then his face grimaced with the intensity of his orgasm. “Oh, God, oh, God,” he began moaning. He was still pushing himself into my tight pussy, and I slipped my fingers quickly down to my clit. I jerked my fingers up and down as hard and fast as I could on my swollen boatman, and came one more time as he let his seed erupt inside of me. His body relaxed as he delicately pulled himself from inside of me. He pulled me up from the desk and turned me around. His lips met mine in a soft kiss as his hands cupped my face. Ending the embrace, he stood back, looked at me, smiled at my completely disheveled appearance, and suggested I straighten myself up before I go home. After I finished in the bathroom, I went back to his office to gather my things. I smiled shyly and he grinned back. “I’m not going to say anything about this to anybody, so don’t worry,” I said. He regarded me for a moment and glancing down at my note, he inquired, “Does your friend Kristen share your opinion of me?” I blushed a little. “Most girls do,” I replied. His face became thoughtful as he smiled. “Are you going to her house to show her you know your little routines?” He asked. “Um, yeah, she lives really close to me, and we’re pretty tight anyway.” “Why don’t you tell her how things went this afternoon. I’d be interested in knowing her response, as well.” There was an odd glint in his eye, but I didn’t know what to attribute it to. Getting up to take me to the door, he placed his hand under my skirt and grabbed my pussy. “This is mine now. That means that if I see any of these idiot boys walking around with you, or hear about you with anyone else, there will be hell to pay. Understand?” Looking into his eyes, my knees went weak and I simply nodded. He demanded that I verbally acknowledge him, so I did. “Good, now go to see your friend, and study for the quiz tomorrow.” After kissing my forehead, he softly slapped my ass, as I walked out the door a woman. Quinn's Senior Year Ch. 2 I got in my car and found my key chain in my backpack. As I started the engine, I flipped down the visor to look in the mirror. My face was flushed, and there was a smile playing on my lips. I had lost my virginity to Mr. McPhee! I backed out and drove from the school parking lot to Kristen's house, singing loudly to every song on the radio, and to some of the commercials, too. Her mom greeted me at the door, and asked if I wanted to stay for dinner. I answered that I would. Anything to keep me out of my house for as long as possible. "Kristen's in her room." "Thanks," I replied. I walked through their family room, messed up her brother's hair, petted her dog, and continued to her bedroom door, where I knocked briefly. "Come in!" She had her stereo going, Third Eye Blind was playing. She was laying stomach down on her bed in our practice uniform we were instructed to wear for the day, black shorts and a white tank top with the words "Dance Team" embroidered on it. Her shoulder length brown hair was up in a ponytail, and she was studying for the history quiz. "What's up?" she asked as she sat up looking toward me expectantly. "You would not even believe what happened today with Mr. McPhee after school!" I began. "What? What did he do?" "He fucked me!" Her reaction was almost comical; first her brow wrinkled, then her jaw dropped like a cartoon character, and her eyes widened. "No way!" she exclaimed, as her hand flew to her mouth. "Dude, I am totally telling you, I had sex with him, and he wants to do it again I think!" "Where? Where did you do it?!" "The History Offices." She just shook her head in amazement, hand still covering her mouth. "So that was it, that was your virginity!" She announced with a giggle. "Start spillin' it.........is he big?" Laying back on her pastel patterned quilt, I recounted every detail of my incredible encounter with Mr. McPhee. Kristen leaned back next to me, asking questions here and there, analyzing everything, comparing my experience to her first time with her boyfriend Aaron. "You wanna go out to my car and smoke?" I asked. "Yeah, lemme grab my jacket." It was getting close to dinner time as we head out to the car, attempting to leave the house unnoticed. This was virtually impossible in the Kerry household. "Hey, where you girls goin? We're havin' chili here soon," her mom continued, "Q, did you call your aunt?" "Um, no, not yet, but I will in a few minutes." Nobody ever called me "Q" but Kristen's mom. I didn't mind it. Kristen's house was set back off a two lane road, surrounded by trees, but still visible from the street. We walked across her gravel driveway toward my car in the turnaround. Upon shutting the doors and starting the radio, I dug through my backpack, found a bottle of ibuprofen, popped off the top, and pulled out a little baggie. Kristen opened my glove compartment and retrieved my bowl, and I proceeded to pack it up. After putting the pill bottle in my bag, contents safely locked away, I pulled out my lighter. Neither Kristen or I smoked cigarettes, the lighter was kept around for one thing only. Minutes later Pink Floyd was serenading us as smoke filled my car. "When do you think you'll fuck him again?" I wasn't actually sure. "I don't know, but ya know what - he asked about you." Kristen sat forward suddenly. "Really?! What did he ask?" she implored with a somewhat confused, shy smile. "He wanted to know if you thought he was hot. He wanted me to tell you about what happened today, and for me to tell him what you thought about it." "What are you going to tell him?" she questioned me. "I'm not sure yet. Ya know what, though, I think he wants to get with you too." "But I have a boyfriend," she said, confused. "Dude, that would be like me telling you that Brad Pitt wanted your body, and you being like 'But I have a boyfriend'! Mr. McPhee is hot! You have to have sex with him if he wants you to! It's like there isn't a 'no' option!" "But Aaron is the only guy I have ever been with," she protested. "I guarantee you that Mr. McPhee is, like, so much better." "I think I'd be so nervous," she replied. "I was totally nervous the whole time, but it was, like, the best experience of my life." She seemed to think about it for a moment, but her mind began to drift. Soon she started listening to the CD I had just put in. It was a song by Eazy E, "Gimme Dat Nut." We both started to sing to it at the same passage: "In some pussy is the place to be, always fucking is the life for me, spread them legs open far and wide, fuck this shit, just let me put my dick inside!" By the time we were finished, we were both giggling and falling all over each other, a side effect of the herb. Still laughing, Kristen looked at me as seriously as possible and said, "I wonder what pussy feels like," and continued to giggle softly. "I don't know, I've never thought about it," I lied. I had thought about it a few times before, especially after the first time I had gone web surfing a couple years ago. I ended up bored, so I had typed in the word "sex." It returned with 5,472 matches. I clicked through all the sites I could, looking at every free tour, completely amazed, and very aroused. That was the first time I had ever seen anything like it. The memory of touching myself while looking at the screen began to arouse me. I regarded my friend once more. Kristen by far was the most beautiful friend I had. She had stunning dark eyes that were framed so heavily with eyelashes that she never had to use mascara, shiny dark silk for hair that famed her face, soft olive-toned skin, and a figure to die for. She had both the tits and the ass, and was just tall enough to carry it off, creating an erotic and head-turning hourglass shape. I had often been jealous of her body, as most teenage girls are never happy with themselves. Then again, I often touched myself when laying in bed next to her, on weekend sleepovers. I had wanted to feel her sometimes in the worst way, and she was asking me now if I ever wondered what pussy felt like. "Do you?" I asked. "I just wondered, you know, 'cause I know what dick feels like. I was just thinking I have no idea what it is like to have sex with me." "Hmm, I dunno," I began, "maybe it's like having sex with me, I mean, like another girl, ya know?" Kristen giggled nervously, and I joined her. We were still hunched pretty close to each other, partially from our last giggle episode, and partly because it was beginning to get chilly in the car. We were leaning our heads on each other, and slowly, she turned her head and looked at me. Her face was very serious all of a sudden, and she looked apprehensive. "Can I kiss you?" I looked at her blankly. Never had I ever imagined she would ask me that. I wanted to say yes, but my throat was unable to utter a sound. My beautiful best friend did not wait for a response. Lifting her hand to my cheek, she began to run her fingers through my hair. Placing her hand behind my head she leaned forward as I closed my eyes. I began to breathe heavily as her warm, dark pink lips pressed my own. Her hand found it's way into my coat and under my starched white blouse. Unsure of herself, she placed her hand at my waist and slipped it slowly upward, so that it stopped just short of my breast, creating a trail of fire on my skin. I could hear both of our hearts beating over the music as I pulled the bottom of her tank top over her breasts, exposing her ample bosom almost spilling out of her bra. She was wearing a sheer cream colored underwire bra, through which her nipples could easily be seen. Dark, almost brown, her quarter-sized areolas peaked into two extremely large, erect nipples. Her tits were fantastic, all I wanted was to have my mouth all over them. Softly, I let my hands fall on the sides of her bra, and slid them toward myself to cup her soft , firm bosom. A small wimper escaped her lips, and she became more confident. She moved her hand behind my back, unfastened my bra, and took both of my perky breasts in her hands while her tongue licked my bottom lip before pushing into my mouth. And there we were, high in my Lumina, fondling, squeezing, caressing each other's tits, best friends since fourth grade. I wanted to touch her everywhere, to let my hands wander over this foreign but so familiar body in my hands, to kiss her in so many places. I flipped the armrest up off the seat, and pulled her closer to me. Her tits pressed against mine, and I could feel the hardness of her nipples rub against my own. The car was cold, but our body heat and letter jackets kept us warm. Kristen reached behind her, and grabbed my dance bag, full of clothes, and shoved it between me and the driver side door. She pushed me back onto it as her mouth fell upon my neck, near my collarbone. My fingers tangled in her dark hair, removing her hair band, as her mouth traveled to the soft swell of my breast. She glanced up and looked at me, her eyes mirroring my lust. My heart was pounding and my tits were aching for her mouth. She pinched my nipple between her thumb and forefinger, watching my response intently as I dropped my head back and began to moan. Satisfied with my reaction, she licked my nipple with a warm, flat tongue, and then so quickly did she begin to suck, I arched my back in sheer surprise and pleasure. She released my tender flesh only for it's twin moments later, her hand working the nipple she had left. "Oh, my god," I whispered hoarsely. Looking up, my dearest friend, for whom I would do anything, gave me yet another reason to love her. She traced her finger from my areola across my stomach, around my bellybutton, and then directly down. She reached underneath my skirt and gently cupped my lace covered pussy. I took a sharp breath as she pushed aside my thong, and slowly, softly, explored my bare lips. "You shave yours?!" she asked in surprise. "Yeah," I managed with a smile, "I saw it on the internet once." She stared at my moistened mound for a moment, and then slowly licked her top lip. Without averting her gaze, she moved her body back away from me while pulling my legs forward. When she was done, her breath was on my pussy, and my thighs were on either side of her head. Then she began. It was the most incredible experience I had felt until then. She traced the opening of my pink lips with her dark tongue, and I lost control. As she began to push past my soft skin into my wet slit, my hands, still woven in her hair, suddenly pressed her face into my pussy. Both of us gasping for breath, she shoved her tongue into my hole, and then with a flat tongue, she licked from my opening over the folds of skin, and pushed roughly over my clit. I almost screamed in pleasure, as she began to hold back my lips and lap at my clit like a kitten would do with a bowl of cream. My face pressed against the steamed window, all it took was a glance down at my best friend eating my newly deflowered pussy to send me over the edge. My thighs began to tighten, and my hips thrust up to meet Kristen's golden tongue. The explosion washed over me in waves, my eyes never leaving the sight of Kristen's mouth being filled with my pussy juice. She continued to explore inside my lips with her tongue, even after I had cum. Gently I raised her head from between my thighs, and smiled, as I saw her face was covered with my juice. I sat up as I pulled her to me, and began to lick my honey from her face. Her tongue met mine and we kissed passionately as my taste covered my own mouth. My hands went back to her magnificent tits, which I began to fondle through her bra, as she nuzzled her face into my neck and covered me with soft, tiny kisses. "I want to make you feel good," I said softly. "I'm all for it," she said with a smile. As I slowly moved a hand from her tits to lower latitudes, we heard a call from the house. "Girls! Chili's ready! Get on in here!" We quickly sat back from each other, her mother's voice not a welcomed intrusion. "We better get dressed," she stated awkwardly. "Yeah, I know." Quickly we arranged our clothes, and made our way into the house, looking at each other with a mixture of lust, fear, and guilt the whole time. We mostly felt lust, though. Eating chili at the table with her family was pure torture, as Kristen sat next to me, and I wanted to finish what we had started so badly. I thought about touching her under the table, but what if her parents or brother noticed? I couldn't. I was too much of a chicken shit. Kristen's mom asked me again if I had called my aunt to let her know I was eating with them. I said I hadn't, and she suggested that I do so that very minute. With much reluctance, I got up and went into the kitchen. Dialing the numbers, I began to get a little nervous. I did not have a good relationship with my aunt and uncle, and I knew that they would not be pleased or lenient with me for not calling. I knew this when I was reminded to call in the first place, but if I had called, I would not be permitted to stay. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, that was my theory. The phone call did not go well, as expected. I was informed that I better get my ass home, that I was in for it. I knew that I would be. I was always on their shit list, as they called it. Just another day in my life. I went back into the dining room and thanked Kristen's mom for dinner, looking at beautiful Kristen the whole time. Her eyes were sympathetic, she knew what I had to go home to. I signaled for her to call me, said good night to everyone, and left the house. The night had gotten colder, and I looked up at the stars as I crossed her gravel driveway. There was a clarity in the air, between the chill, the cloudless black sky ablaze with celestial lights, and the crunching sound my shoes made across the gravel. The wind moved through the trees, creating a rustle among the autumn leaves not yet sent to the earth. The moment was like an explanation that I could not translate. Reaching my car, I opened the door, moved my dance bag to the passenger seat, and slipped inside. After turning the key into the ignition, I turned down the music, and with my hands and head resting on the steering wheel, I took a moment to think about my day. I had been embarrassed beyond belief in school, lost my virginity to my incredibly sexy history teacher, and had my pussy licked by my incredibly sexy best friend. It was a lot to take in. My head swam with the details of the events, when I realized I had not performed my dance team check-offs for Kristen as instructed. I'll just call her when I get home, I thought. She'd cover for me, I knew. Tired, and not really up to going home and facing the tyrants, I backed out of the driveway and turned up the radio. I changed the station, never settling on anything. All I wanted to think about was seeing Mr. McPhee and Kristen tomorrow. I just needed to get through the night alone, and tomorrow would be even better than today. I wondered out loud what my name would sound like if Mr. McPhee married me. "Quinn McPhee," I stated with a smile. Then I realized with a frown that I didn't know his first name. "No biggie," I reasoned out loud, "All that matters is that he loves me. I'll find out tomorrow."