0 comments/  39049 views/  1 favorites

Everybody's Somebody Sometime

By: Cal Y. Pygia



"Jen! What's wrong?"

I sniffled, wiping a tear away as I looked up, through a blur, to see my roommate, Marilyn Mann, standing before me. She sat by my side, taking my hand in hers.

"Is my mascara a mess?" I wondered aloud.

Marilyn smiled at me. "Jennifer Bridges! That's the least of your worries, it seems to me." Her tone was soft when she repeated her question. "What's wrong?"

I sniffled again. "John Symmes," I said, grimacing with distaste, as if the very syllables of my tormentor's name left a bad taste in my mouth.

"Him!" Marilyn shook her head in sisterly sympathy. "What's he done this time?"

I told her: "He came on to me after the game last week."

John was the starting quarterback at Littlefield College, and, as such, he thought no girl could resist his dubious--make that his non-existent--charm. If a coed was the least bit attractive, she'd fall victim to his leering ways, sooner or later, especially if she was a member of the school's cheerleading squad, as both Marilyn and I are.

"I'm surprised it's taken him so long," Marilyn declared.

I offered her a faint smile, pretending I felt the amusement I showed. "I've only been on the squad a week," I reminded her.

"Like I said," Marilyn returned, "I'm surprised it's taken him so long."

I chuckled, this time feeling the amusement.

"What did the creep say?"

I figured Marilyn should know; he'd come on to her, too, shortly after she'd joined the squad, a month ahead of me. I shrugged. "That if I didn't 'put out,' he'd tell everyone--" I hesitated.

"Tell everyone what?" Marilyn prompted me.

"If I didn't have sex with him--if I didn't 'put out for him,' to use his exact words --he'd tell everyone he'd 'rammed his cock'--again, those are his words, not mine--'down my throat, right after he'd fucked me in the ass.'" I was blushing, I realized. Admitting a guy had said such things to me was humiliating, even if the one in whom I confided was my best friend as well as my roommate.

Marilyn shook her head again, patting my hand. "Those are the very same words the jerk threatened me with," she confided, consoling me.

I looked at her. "What did you do, Marilyn?"

Now it was her turn to blush, and her face reddened as she admitted, "I gave in to him."

My eyes widened, and I gasped, before shouting, "Marilyn! You didn't!"

The volume of my declaration drew other students' gazes. Embarrassed to have drawn such unwanted attention, I apologized to my confidante.

Marilyn shrugged. "I didn't know what else to do," she admitted. "Despite his boorish behavior, John Symmes is definitely a big man on campus, and the beta males would say or do anything--even suck his cock, probably--to gain his favor, and that includes repeating locker room rumors about me. I couldn't have such gossip spread all over the campus--and beyond."

I gulped. "I guess that's what I'll have to do, too, then--give in."

I must have looked as panicked as I felt, because Marilyn said, her tone firm, "I don't thing so, Jen; not this time. It's about time John Symmes was taught a lesson." She gave me a knowing look. "Besides, a girl in your--uh--condition--well, you can't very well give in to John's demands, can you? I mean, not without--"

I took her meaning at once, of course. "You're right," I agreed, "I really can't."

Marilyn grinned. "Good! I just had a brainstorm!" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "This is what we're going to do," she said, as she divulged her plan.

John grunted when he saw me. "I didn't think you'd show," he declared, "especially here, in the men's locker room."

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"That's what Woody said you'd said," the quarterback admitted, "but he's known for his practical jokes."

Woody was Woody Haddock. Unlike John, Woody was a decent guy, and he was definitely every bit as much an alpha male as John was. In fact, as the team's second-string quarterback, Woody was John's only serious contender, on or off the field.

I was wearing my cheerleader's outfit, and John was eyeing my breasts through the tight fabric of the halter top. He also ogled my legs, which were bare from the very tops of my thighs all the way down to the bobby socks I wore with my tennis shows. I sidled up to him as he sat on the bench in front of his locker. There was no one else around, just him and me. "He wouldn't tease you," I said, arching an eyebrow to indicate the double meaning I intended the word "tease" to convey. "Would he?"

Still trading stares between the naked flesh of my bare legs and my jutting nipples, John shifted his weight. "Hell, no, but--"

I closed the slight distance between John and me, and my crotch was only inches from his face. "You wouldn't stand for such insolence, a big strong man like you, would you, Johnny?" I placed my hands on his broad, muscular shoulders. He was a handsome guy, and, if he weren't the biggest, crassest jerk in Littlefield College (or anywhere else in a hundred miles' radius, for that matter), I might have been interested in him. As it was, he was just a waste.

"I'd stomp his ass," John told me. "It's hard to believe you'd agree to meet me here, is all, in the men's locker room." His hands swept around my buttocks and pulled my crotch into his face.

I pushed away from him. "I agreed to meet you here," I told him, "not to fuck you here."

He glanced up at me, a nasty look on his face. "You backing out?" There was a threatening tone to his voice, and I understood clearly what he was intimating. If I didn't let him have his way with me, he'd spread the rumors he'd mentioned, about how he'd stuffed his prick down my throat after he'd fucked me in my ass.

"No, I'm not backing out, silly. Why would I? Why would any girl?" Oops! Maybe I was laying it on a little thick, I thought, but my implicit compliment had the desired effect; the idiot grinned, thinking I'd meant it, thinking that I found him as irresistible to women as he imagined himself to be. "It's just that I don't want to be interrupted." I glanced around the locker room. "This place isn't private; anyone could walk in on us."

John grinned. "That makes it all the more exciting," he said.

For you, maybe, I thought, but I replied, "Even Coach Williams."

The name of the varsity football coach made John flinch. He reconsidered. "Where, then?"

"My dorm room."

"Don't you have a roommate?"

"Marilyn Mann," I said, naming her. Feigning ignorance of the answer, I asked, "Do you know her?"

"Know her?" John exclaimed. "I fucked that bitch in the ass!"

I looked properly surprised at his falsehood.

He chuckled. "Then, I put it down her throat, gagging her on her own shit."

Bastard! I thought. But I smiled at him, as if he were my Prince Charming. I took him by the hand. "Come on, sweetie. Maybe you can do the same to me." I tugged his hand, but he remained in place. "What's wrong? You backing out?"

"What if the bitch walks in on us?" he wondered.

I grinned. "That would make it all the more exciting; we could make it a threesome."

It took fifteen minutes to walk from the locker room to my dorm, but, during this time, I had second thoughts about going through with Marilyn's plan, especially since, if I did so, I wouldn't have any privacy; everyone on campus, before long, would know the secret that I'd dared to share only with my roommate and best friend. "Isn't it about time that the world--or at least the students at Littlefield College--knew the true you?" Marilyn had asked. After an hour, she'd persuaded me that she was right, but, now, with her absent instead of present, I was beginning to think the opposite. I was afraid. Others might not understand. They might regard me as a freak. The gossip might be far worse than any rumors John might spread about my having let him fuck me up one side and down the other. Where was Marilyn when I needed her most? I'd have asked myself, except that I knew full well exactly where she was.

When we reached the door to the room I shared with Marilyn, I asked John, "You really did it with Marilyn?"

"Sure," he assured me. "Your roommate's a real slut."

The casual manner in which he told his callous lies, slandering my best friend, solidified my resolve. I unlocked the door, and we went inside. I reminded myself not to glance at the closet door. I sure as hell didn't want to give anything away.

"Which one's yours?" he asked, nodding toward the room's twin beds.

"The one on the left," I said.

John went to the other one. He grinned at my questioning frown. "I want to fuck you in her bed," he said.

If we used Marilyn's bed, instead of mine, everything would be ruined; the angle would be wrong; all our preparations would be for naught. My mind raced.

"I want my sperm on her sheets," John declared.

I smiled. "That's where you'll fuck me in the mouth," I proposed, "after you've fuck me in the ass, in my bed. That way, your sperm will be on both our mattresses."

John grinned. "Hot damn, girl! I like the way you think! You're an even bigger slut than your bitch roommate."

Relieved, I sat on my own bed, before the big lug could change his mind, and, unfastening my halter top, let my breasts spring free. They're beautiful, if I do say so myself--the best money can buy--and John was captivated by their full, firm, round buoyancy; he leaped across the room, pouncing on them. His big, calloused hands gripped my boobs as if they were a pair of footballs he meant to juggle instead of pass.

"Ouch!" I shrieked, slapping his hands. "You're hurting me."

He let my breasts go, and I hoped the bastard hadn't bruised them. "Not half as much as I'm going to hurt you when I shove this up your ass," he asserted, tugging his sweatpants down, past his ass. Kicking off his shoes and removing his socks, he slid the heavy cotton material over his powerful thighs, past his knees, and along his muscular calves. He stepped out of the abandoned pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor, between Marilyn's bed and mine, wearing nothing but his jockstrap.

His thick, hard cock and tightly bunched balls made a bulge in the white cotton pouch. He tugged the front of the supporter aside, and his prick, which was nearly as big as my forearm, sprang free, assuming an upright, rigid position, as if it were standing at attention.

The sight was amusing, and I almost giggled. However, I suppressed the impulse to snicker at him, certain that my laughter would not be welcomed; if anything, John might consider such a response to the sight of his mighty phallus an insult. Instead, I stared wide eyed at the immense column of flesh and said, in a low, fawning tone, "My God! You'll split me in half with that monster!"

John flicked the mighty member, and it bobbled before him. "I might at that," he concurred. He nodded at my mini-skirt, socks, and shoes. "Get naked, bitch."

I turned my back to him.

"No need to be shy," he said, snickering.

I unsnapped and unzipped the front of my skirt. Hooking a thumb in either side of the waistband, I slipped the garment down my long, tapering legs, feeling John's eyes on my bare flesh. I had no doubt that he was enjoying the sight of my firm, tight ass as much, if not more, than he'd taken pleasure in viewing my bouncing boobs. He was probably already imagining himself driving his monster cock back and forth through my snug little asshole.

My skirt fell around my ankles, where they were joined, a moment later, by my pink thong panties. I stepped out of both, and when I turned around, to face my tormentor, I was wearing only my socks and shoes.

"What the fuck?" John demanded. His eyes bulged as if they'd protrude from their sockets, like those of the wicked wolf in classic cartoons, but it was with shock, not lust, that he stared at me. "What the fuck?" he repeated.

I wiggled the end of my own flaccid cock up and down, smiling at the naked quarterback. "What's the matter, Johnny?" I asked. "Don't you like what you see?"

"You're a guy," he observed, "a fucking guy!"

"Actually, I'm as much a dame as I am a dude," I objected. "I'm a chick with a dick."

"You're a fucking faggot!" John roared. His fists clenched at his sides, and he took a step toward me, his face contorted in rage. "I'm going to destroy your pansy ass!"

Behind us, I heard the creak of hinges as the closet door opened, and Marilyn said, "I wouldn't, if I were you."

"Neither would I, asshole," Woody Haddock agreed.

Hearing their voices, John spun to face them. For the moment, I was forgotten, and I took advantage of the opportunity to make an end run around the quarterback and take my place beside Marilyn and Woody.

"Woody?" John cried. "What the hell are you doing here, with that bitch?" By "that bitch," he meant Marilyn, of course.

"Marilyn and I are dating," Woody informed the other jock.

I looked at my roommate, stunned at the news.

She nodded, smiling.

"Since when?" John demanded.

Woody smiled at his new girlfriend. "Since I agreed to set up your sorry ass," he replied.

"Set me up?" John asked, perplexed. "What the hell do you mean?"

Marilyn answered for her boyfriend. Holding up her video camera, she said, "I have it all on film, right here."

John lunged for the camera, but Woody blocked him.

"I'm going to stomp your ass," he threatened the second-string quarterback. "Then, I'm going to stomp these bitches."

Woody jabbed him in the mouth, delivering three more blows, as quick as a prizefighter, before John knew what had hit him. The bastard was out before he hit the floor. When he returned to consciousness, Woody told him it was all over for him--everything.

John was going to quit the team, and Woody would take over as the starting quarterback. Moreover, John would say nothing about what had happened here today. If he did, not only would Woody hunt him down and whip his ass again, in front of the whole damned team, even if he was expelled for doing so, but the contents of Marilyn's video cam would be flashed all over the scoreboard's replay screen during the homecoming game, and every member of the school's staff, faculty, and student body would know how John Symmes had tried to seduce a transsexual, grabbing her tits and ogling her bare ass before she turned around to offer him her cock--to suck, as far as any of them would know (and all of them would, no doubt, contend).

"You can kiss your reputation goodbye forever," Marilyn told him.

"You wouldn't," John said. He glared at me. "Your little faggot friend's little secret would be known all over school, too." He smiled, smug in his newfound confidence. "I guess you didn't think of that, huh?"

"We thought of it, all right," I assured John. "Marilyn convinced me that it's time my little secret is known; I was going to start letting people know, in my own way, but, if you want to be chivalrous and help me do so, by letting everyone know our little secret, that's fine with me, too."

"Our little secret? What the hell do you mean by that?" John demanded.

Marilyn held up her video camera again. "I have your little secret on film, right here, remember?"

John's shoulders slumped, and his penis wilted. It looked as if someone had let all the air out of the big windbag. "All right," he said. "I'll quit the team, and I'll keep mum, okay?"

"And you'll leave the girls alone," Woody reminded him. He looked at me. "Both of them."

"All right," John agreed. "You win."

I showed him to the door, and he left, as meek and mild as a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Some alpha male, I thought.

I started to follow him.

"Where are you going?" Marilyn asked me.

"I thought you guys might like a little time alone."

Woody glanced at Marilyn. "What about the threesome you promised me?"

My eyes widened as I stared at my roommate. Apparently, Marilyn had been keeping a secret of her own. "Threesome?" I repeated.

She opened her arms to me, and I stepped into her embrace. Woody's cock stiffened against my leg as he became a participant in our group hug. I kissed Marilyn, and Woody kissed me; I kissed Woody, and he kissed Marilyn. We traded more kisses, my own cock stiffening, as Woody's had.

"You know, you don't have to out yourself now, if you don't want to," Marilyn told me. "John's certainly not going to say anything, and your secret's safe with us, right Woody?"

"Right," he agreed, "just as our secret's safe with Jen--at least, I hope it is."

I smiled. "Of course it is, but, you know, Marilyn, I think I am going to let others know who--and what--I am. You were right: it's about time the world knew the true me."

Woody pointed his cock at my ass. "I'm ready," he said.

Marilyn gave him an arch look, laughing. "Me first, if you don't mind. After all, I'm your girlfriend."

Woody shrugged, winking at me. "She has a point," he said.

"I have an idea. I'll fuck you while you fuck her--or she can suck me while you fuck her, if either of you prefer--or--"

"Enough!" Marilyn said. "We don't have to do everything to everyone the first time out, right?"

Woody looked at me, and we nodded in unison. "Right," we said.

"So, somebody do me!" Marilyn said, and somebody did.