Suburban Underbelly Ch. 01

Dear prospective reader; this is a four part group sex tale that also contains other flavors of sexual perversion. It is a work of fiction and is meant to be entertaining rather than enlightening or socially responsible. I will post the chapters 2 -- 3 days apart.

All characters are at least eighteen.

***

It was about three fifteen on a hot Friday afternoon and, although I didn't know it yet, in the next forty eight hours I would lose not only everything I owned, but a part of myself as well. And I'm not talking metaphorically here, I mean a part-of-myself: a fucking chunk of... well, I'll get to that in due time. It'd be better if I just start at the beginning.

I had been summoned to the superintendant's office and was buzzing with misplaced optimism as I trotted across the parking lot that separated Palmetto South High School from the district's administrative offices. I thought this was going to be my big break. Why else would Mr. Dungee want to speak to a mere substitute teacher if not to offer him a permanent faculty position? As a twenty two year old, recently certified kid holding a bachelor's degree with the ink barely dry, it was everything I'd been hoping for.

Except when I entered Frank Dungee's office, still dripping sweat from the short trip through the broiling, late spring Gulf Coast air, I could tell something was wrong. He sat back from my regrettably clammy handshake, sagged heavily onto his crossed forearms and looked at me over the smudged lenses of his glasses. "Thanks for coming by," he said in a tired voice.

"No problem, Mr. Dungee."

"Actually Dan, there is a problem."

"Oh?" I asked, trying to think of what I might have done wrong. My only recent misconduct was drinking four PBRs and masturbating to free, poor quality porn clips for an hour last night. But I couldn't imagine this meeting had anything to do with that. Professionally I'd been straight as an arrow since I'd started subbing at the district three months ago. I was always on time, I stuck to the lesson plans and I had even managed not to ogle any of the primo young tail that flounced around in front of me every day. And that wasn't easy, given the way they stared at me with dewy doe eyes during class and left little anonymous notes in big loopy girl handwriting with hearts over the I's and smiley faces in the O's; notes I quickly destroyed whenever they turned up. I had been very careful.

"Now, I want to be clear that you've done nothing wrong," said Frank.

"Well, that's good," I said, but I knew it wasn't. No one ever reminded you you've done nothing wrong unless they were about to screw you over.

"Dan, one of the greatest challenges in running a school district like this is the parents. This is a very up-scale little community and the citizens expect a sometimes onerous level of responsiveness from their public servants."

I nodded. The other teachers, the real teachers, complained about the parents' ridiculous demands and expectations all the time.

"So we here in administration have to choose our battles carefully."

"Of course."

Dungee took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with his hands while I thought furiously of what he could possibly have done to piss off any of the rich assholes who populated this cul-de-sac suburb.

"You see Dan, we've got a few complaints from parents that you are a little too popular with the female student body."

"What? You're kidding, right?"

"I wish I was."

"No offense Frank, but that's bullshit."

"Yes, Dan. Yes it is. And as I said, we know you haven't done anything wrong. But when a concerned parent looks into their daughter's diary and reads an elaborate sexual fantasy involving a very young teacher they... Well, their response is more heated than rational."

"So what are you saying?"

"We're not going to be calling you in for any more substitute assignments."

"You're firing me because some asshole's little girl is fingering herself to fantasies of me?"

"Let's not be crude, Dan."

"It's already crude, Frank. I need this job. I'm barely treading water financially. Until I get a real teaching position I've got nothing else to keep me fed."

"I understand that. That's why I am telling you this unofficially. So you don't expect a call that's never going to come."

"Fuck."

"Please Dan, you aren't being fired. We're just not going to be contacting you for any future assignments. Since substitute teachers are essentially day-to-day contract employees, as far as the district is concerned this is the easiest, cheapest solution to this problem. I just want you to know so you can make other arrangements."

So that was that. I wasn't fired, but I didn't have a job either. What pissed me off the most was that I ended up thanking Frank for the "favor" of telling me they were cutting me loose. I didn't even have the balls to slam the door on my way out.

I stomped out into the soul sucking wet fire we Gulf Coast folks call "air" and paused in the shade of a ginkgo tree to loosen my tie and collar. Off to my right I saw the cheerleading squad filing into a school bus to be taken to a competition. Several of them spun around to look at me, causing their short skirts to twirl further up their firm, coltish legs. They flashed cute smiles and waved.

"Hi Mr. Y," they shouted in playful, sing-songy voices.

"Afternoon, ladies," I replied and I nodded briefly. Out of habit I averted my eyes after the briefest of glances.

"You gonna wish us luck Mr. Yost?" called one of them.

I raised a hand and called "Good luck," adding "Not that I have any to spare," quietly to myself.

The girls giggled and I turned to walk off in the opposite direction. It occurred to me that it might teach Dungee a lesson if I went up and started hitting on the cheerleaders. Since I'm not employed here anymore, I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I fucked each and every one of their adorable faces, eh Mr. Dungee? I thought maliciously. But I knew better. Once those girls found out I wasn't a "teacher" anymore the taboo would be gone and so would the desire. I was only wanted because I was unobtainable.

I began my walk to the bus stop. My horrible old Pontiac was in the mechanic's with a transmission problem that had been fixed but not paid for, so I'd been taking public transportation for the last two weeks. Now that I didn't have a job I wondered how the hell I'd pay off the repair bill and get he damn thing back. For that matter, without the car I wondered how the hell I'd get a job. It was all very depressing. So when I looked up to see the goth girls of Palmetto South lounging around a white Toyota parked under an oak tree, it was refreshing to be confronted with the clique dedicated to unfocused gloominess.

There were four of them; all in dressed in black of course. Cindy Kwan, or "Sin-Dee", as she had started signing her name on assignments, was their leader and she sat on the hood of the car as if holding court. She was a senior; a pale, wispy Asian with lank, jet black hair and dark, expressionless eyes. Next to her, leaning against the front right quarter panel, was a tough, boyish looking, auburn haired girl in black denim and biker boots who I never saw in school; only in the parking lot. I wasn't sure if she'd graduated, dropped out or been expelled. Seated next to Cindy was Palmetto South's premier genetic curiosity, Ramona LeFarge. She was a legally blind albino who always wore shapeless black clothing and a full veil to keep her sensitive skin out of the brutal southern sun. She sat clutching her white cane in both velvet gloved hands as she nodded along to whatever Cindy was saying. The last was the newest addition to their group, Madison Mallard. She had been a subject of much concern in the teacher's lounge for it disturbed the faculty greatly when a smart, pretty girl quit the cheerleaders and started hanging out with one of the unpopular sub-cultures. She looked like a fashion photographer's version of a goth-chick with big, dark sunglasses, a black kerchief wrapped tightly over her head, a tight, black, long sleeved mini-dress and spike heeled, knee high, black suede boots. The dark side looked good on her.

I realized I must have stared too long when Cindy said something and they all turned towards me at once. I said, "Afternoon ladies," and prepared to walk past on my way to my bus.

"Still riding the bus, Mr. Y?" asked Madison, letting slip a very non-gothy smile that lit up her face like a perky residue from her pep squad days.

"Yeah, the car's still in the shop," I answered. For some reason the students all seem to find my automotive troubles to be both fascinating and amusing. In a wealthy town where owning a car more than three years old was considered a sign of near poverty, being without a car at all was bizarre indeed.

"So, you wanna ride?" she asked, almost as a taunt. I got offered rides from students all the time, but always turned them down to avoid any perception that I was mixing too freely with the kids. I was about to refuse when it occurred to me that I had no such professional concerns any longer.

"Yeah, I'll take a ride. It's too hot to wait at the bus stop today."

I don't know about Ramona because her veil covered her face completely, but I could see the three other girls' mouths drop open in surprise. Madison recovered first, affecting a who-gives-a-shit shrug and a wry half smile. "OK, Mr. Y. Let's go then," she said.

She waved a quick goodbye to her friends as I followed her down the mostly empty row of cars. I made a great show of not staring at her tight, curvy ass while surreptitiously doing just that out of the corners of my eyes. After a short walk she stopped at a new red Porsche 911 Turbo convertible.

"Wow, this is yours?"

"Yeah, Birthday present. I just got it last weekend."

"Oh. Happy birthday then," I said while looking over the car with unabashed automotive lust.

"I think my dad was hoping I'd snap out of my gloomy phase if he bought me something snazzy. I'm tempted to take it out and wrap it around a tree."

"Oh don't do that. It'd be a crime against engineering," I said. "Dangerous too."

She popped the locks with her remote and I settled in. The pale leather seats caressed my ass as the car started up with a low purr. I was checking out the console when she suddenly accelerated in reverse too quickly and then stopped with a squeal, causing my head to slap backward and bounce off the headrest.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to this thing."

"No problem, just let me ride in here at least a mile before you kill me," I said. I reached up and fastened my seatbelt. It was a wildly overpowered vehicle for a new driver.

She gingerly eased the car up to Jackson Parkway and waited for an opening in the heavy traffic. I could sense her nervousness by the way she gripped the wheel and peered at the oncoming vehicles with spastic jerks of her head. Although it had occurred to me that my early death would solve my problems, I began feeling anxious nonetheless. Finally she punched the accelerator and the Porsche skittered out into traffic briefly before fish-tailing across two lanes and ending up on the sidewalk. If I had been waiting at the bus stop she would have flattened me. It was a nerve-wracking fifteen yard trip.

"Shit. I hate this car," she said.

"I thought you'd been kidding about wrapping it around a tree."

"Let me just calm down. I can do this."

I looked over at her and noticed her kerchief had slipped back on her head when we jumped the curb. A short tuft of bright green hair was poking out from the front.

"Hey, your hair is green!" I said.

"Oh, yeah. It sure is."

"You don't like it?"

"I don't even know what I like anymore. It's like this stupid car; everything is going too fast for me lately."

Poor kid. I knew the feeling. My God-awful teenage years were still a pretty fresh memory. "I bet you've been thinking about getting a tattoo, right?"

She didn't answer. She just stared at me with a "what business is it of yours" look.

"Just... well, if you haven't yet, consider putting it off until you've calmed down a bit."

She continued to stare me down.

"Let me show you something," I said. I reached under my seatbelt and pulled up my shirt and tee-shirt. Twisting in my seat I displayed my private shame. It was located along my right side, on my ribs several inches beneath my armpit.

"What is that?" she said leaning over to look at my tattoo.

That's what everyone said when they saw it. It was supposed to be a sexy female devil pissing on an anatomically correct heart, a memento of an extreme period of heartache. However, it had been done by my art school friend Dante who was unskilled with ink and needles and, frankly, art, so it ended up looking like connect the dot drawing of a retarded stripper giving birth to a ham.

"It's a homemade tattoo I got when a girl I loved broke my heart."

She reached over and ran her fingertips over the image. The feel of her hand on my ribs; the warmth of her breath on my chest as she leaned in close; the smell of her perfume; it all sent a wild thrill through my body. She's just a kid, I told myself. Hands off!

"What's it suppose to be?"

Since I was trying to teach her a Valuable Life Lesson I went ahead and told her. It took her a while to stop laughing.

"My point is, if you are in the type of mood to dye your hair green then regret it, getting your skin permanently altered might not be a good idea."

"OK Mr. Yost, point taken," she said with a smile.

"I like the green hair though."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've always thought punk chicks were cool."

She smiled again, pulled off her kerchief and shook her hair out into a spiky green mess. Not only was her hair neon green, it was cut short too. I thought of her straight, sandy blond hair that used to sway across the top of her ass when she'd walk ahead of me in the school corridor. Despite what I told her of my opinion of punk girls, I thought it was damn shame she'd cut it all off. Still, the green was striking and Maddie was attractive enough to make any hair color or style look good. I found myself wondering what had got her so depressed that she wanted to wreck her car, hair and social status.

"So, where you headed Mr. Yost?"

"Call me Dan," I said like I was a cool teacher rather than an unemployed one. "I live just outside of town on Tyerman Road; it's off Jefferson; other side of the canal."

She eased the car into motion. I turned and looked at her as she concentrated on driving. "So, why the sudden shift in personal style Maddie?"

"I go by Madison now," was all she said.

"OK. Same question, Madison."

She looked at me suspiciously, like she expected me to berate her if she told me the truth. Finally she merely shrugged and spoke. "Well, Dan, I just finally noticed that the world sucks and most people are idiots."

"Ouch," I said. "That's always a rough discovery; like figuring out there's no Santa. It didn't occur to me until I was nineteen."

"So you're saying everyone goes through this phase?"

"No. Just those who care... and are smart enough."

She looked at me and smiled reluctantly before turning quickly back to the road when she almost hit a pickup truck. I cowered in my seat until she turned back to me. "So, what should I do?"

"Sorry kiddo, nobody knows. Behind that door lies the meaning of life."

She considered this for about a minute. "I think you're gonna be a great teacher some day."

"Ha!" I laughed, if only she knew. "I don't know about that. Presently my only goals are getting my car back and my air conditioner fixed."

"Your house doesn't have air conditioning?"

"Not that's currently working, no."

She stared at me from behind her big, dark Dolce and Gabana sunglasses for several weird seconds. Finally she turned back to the steering wheel when our light turned green.

"I've got a better idea, Dan," she said without looking at me.

Ten minutes later we pulled up in front of a huge mock-tutor mansion that was wedged between the country club golf course and the country club lake. She pulled around back and tucked her car into the five slot garage. There were a couple of other cars parked at the far end.

"Your folks home?" I asked, a little nervously.

"Ha! Yeah right. Mom and my step-dad show up for a couple of days every month or so, make sure I'm alive, toss me some money and they're off to Paris, L.A. or wherever. They're not really into the domestic thing."

"Oh," I said.

"Come on, I'm going to help cool you off."

I followed her out of the garage onto a flagstone patio tastefully decorated with quality outdoor furniture, expensive sculpture and professionally trimmed topiary all arranged around a large in-ground pool with a diving board and a slide. She motioned to the pool and asked, "So you want to cool off?"

"I didn't bring a bathing suit."

"Use your underwear then: or are you going commando today?" she asked with a taunting grin.

I was befuddled. Was she coming on to me, or was she just letting me use her pool? I got the distinct impression that something sexy was brewing, but I wasn't sure. It was so hard to tell what she was thinking with her eyes hidden behind those big sunglasses. Besides, she was obviously in a confused mental state lately. It'd be wrong to encourage her.

Finally she just shrugged and started heading back to the house. "Well, while you decide I'm going to get my swimsuit," she said as she strode into the house and left me standing there alone.

So I stripped down to my faded dark blue boxers and jumped into the pool.

I was doing slow laps when she returned. She had on a short, floral print silk robe and a white, wide brimmed sun hat. She had left her sunglasses inside and I could see her hazel eyes surrounded by heavy eyeliner. I stood up in the shallow end as she approached.

"Hello," was all I could think to say.

"So, Mr. Dan, would you help me put on my sunscreen?"

The thought of smearing slick, greasy sunscreen all over her flesh brushed away all my tortured considerations of Madison's youth and confusion. I hate to say it, but I knew right then that I'd be fucking her within fifteen minutes. And I didn't resist: not at all.

As I stepped from the pool my wet boxers clung to me like paint, leaving no mystery of the contours of my package. Her eyes dropped to look me over and I self consciously pulled at the front of my shorts to separate the fabric from my skin. I flashed an abashed smile but she only held out a bottle of SPF 60 Coppertone and turned to face away from me. I squirted a generous dollop into my palm as she shrugged off her robe. She was naked.

"You're naked," I said.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" She asked as she turned back around. She stepped close so her rigid nipples brushed lightly against my chest. She reached down and took hold of my cock through my boxers. I had gone rock hard in record time.

"Only in the best kind of ways," I said.

"Maybe if you were naked too..." she said and started to push my underwear down. Madison slid them to my ankles and I stepped out of them, leaving her squatting before me with my cock bobbing in her face. She grasped the base of my shaft and brought my head forward to take me into her mouth. As I felt her soft tongue slide back along the tender underside of my grateful dick I moaned loudly. The girl knew how to suck.

I still had a healthy handful of sunscreen so I began to rub it into her shoulders and down her back as far as I could reach without disturbing the rhythm of what was turning out to be a very excellent blow job. But finally she released me from her mouth and straightened up a little on her knees. She reached up to take my hands and guide them to her tits. "Don't forget to get these covered," she said with mock earnestness. I obliged, massaging her breasts with gusto. They were about C cups I guessed, perfect for... well, I forced them together, slid my cock into the slick crevice of her cleavage and began to pump a slow tit fuck on my erstwhile student.