Children of Sin Ch. 3

She made her way out the back door and found Samuel sitting on the big back porch, lounging on one of the patio chairs in the middle of a circle of laughing guys. She could smell the pot smoke from ten feet away. She walked over, getting a lot of leers from drunk and stoned guys. She reached over and grabbed Samuel's arm, saying, "C'mon, Sam. Someone inside wants to talk to you."

"It's Samuel," he corrected, his speech slurred and slow. The rest of the cackling group of guys all went "Yeah! It's Samuel!"

"Okay, Samuel, you gotta come inside now," she beckoned, getting some jeers and annoying, drunken "Heys" from the cluster of boys. She led him inside, making sure to take a route through the house where the majority of people wouldn't see him (especially Gordie and Leslie). She made her way down a hallway, where some partygoers were waiting for the bathroom or ducking into various rooms to make-out or fuck.

"Hey, where we goin'?" Samuel finally slurred as they approached the staircase. She didn't answer. Hearing Gordie's booming voice coming around the corner, she rushed the stumbling teen up the stairs. She looked around for a free room, realizing just how large Greg Parish's house was, and checked each room for sounds of inhabitants. Cautiously opening the door to one, she found it uninhabited and immediately threw Samuel inside. Flipping on the light, she realized she must have stumbled into Greg's little sister's room or something, as large stuffed animals were strewn all around the room and the walls were adorned with "Hello Kitty" and "N*Sync" posters. In the back of her mind, she thought how much it seemed to resemble her own.

"What are we doing in here?" Samuel was struggling, trying to regain some control. "Where's Leslie?" he asked.

"Sssh. Don't worry. I just wanted to talk to you... privately." Pamela was working her mojo again, slowly walking toward Samuel. As she approached, she could see how uncomfortable he was getting. He backed up, but nearly fell over as he backed into the small bed covered in even more stuffed animals.

"Tell me something, Samuel," Pamela began, getting closer to him until she was just inches from his face, asking, "How did you get Leslie to agree to dating you?" She was almost his exact height in her heels, and she looked straight into his slightly droopy, black eyes. He smelled of beer and pot, but that didn't deter her.

"Uh, I just... asked," he said with a grin, laughing a little. He was really feeling weird now, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing.

"Oh, I see. You just asked, and she said 'Yes,' hmm?" she asked as a sexy smile crept on her face. It was so bizarre how alike her smile was to Leslie's, Samuel thought. Alike, but somehow extremely different; Leslie's didn't unsettle him this much.

"So, Samuel, you're an artist, right?" she asked, tossing her small purse on the foot of the bed. He looked at the purse with bewilderment, but turned his attention back to her, finally nodding his head in confused agreement. Pulling two strategically placed hair pins out of her hair, she shook her head, flipping her newly liberated hair seductively. She continued, "You know, I've got a thing for artists." She traced a finger around his right nipple through his black T-shirt, which displayed a washed-out Batman logo, and he gulped down in the back of his throat nervously. Her smile broadened. This was so easy.

Samuel was visibly shaken. He was getting aroused by her, but he knew it wasn't right. He didn't trust this girl's smile. This smile was hiding something. Leslie's smile often hid her pain and the hidden desire of her nature, but Pamela... Pamela's smile was hiding something dark. There was a feeling of dark pleasure behind this smile, but he was sure it wasn't a pleasure he wanted to know.

"You know, everyone at school just adores Leslie. I mean, why not? She's gorgeous and smart," she began to feign a sad look in her eyes. "I'm pretty envious of her really. I mean, she's gotten herself an attractive, sensitive, and very warm person like you as her boyfriend. I've always wanted a man like that." With every word, she seemed to inch her hands lower and lower down his abdomen. She got really close to his face, her hot breath and her perfume adding to his daze.

Suddenly, she eased back, and he slipped out of the slight daze. Her eyes suddenly got an even sadder expression, and with that forlorn look she said, "I'm sorry Samuel. This is wrong. I didn't mean to do that. I... I don't know what I was thinking. I just..." Her voice cracked a bit, and she was working a crocodile tear as she continued, "...I just wish I could be as beautiful as she is. I mean, how can I ever compete with a girl like her?" With that, she looked away from him, as if overcome with emotion.

Immediately, Samuel's "nice-guy" side overcame his caution, and he put a hand lightly on her bare shoulder, saying, "Hey, don't think like that. You're very beautiful yourself..."

"Really?" she looked at him. She had a tear in her eyes, and she looked so sad and beautiful, he froze. "You really think I'm beautiful? As beautiful as Leslie?"

"Y-yeah..." he said, and she knew this was her moment. She swung her arms around his neck and kissed him. He froze up, unable to think or do anything, until he felt her tongue brushing up against his lips. His eyes closed and his mouth opened automatically, and their tongues met and wrestled.

She pulled back from the kiss suddenly, and with a satisfied smile on her face, she said, "Mmm... you know, I've wanted to do that all night."

Samuel couldn't move. He was both terrified and aroused. This was definitely wrong, but his head wouldn't tell his legs to move. He was finally able to croak out, "...but what about Leslie..."

"She's downstairs, having fun without us," she said coolly, then she leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "I want you all to myself. I want to have our own fun. What do you say?" She licked at his earlobe as one hand let go of his neck and drifted down his shoulders and his chest. She looked into his eyes, her other hand gently stroking the hair on the back of his head and neck. Her left hand finally found itself at his belt buckle, and he immediately grabbed at his pants, pulling him hard against her body. Samuel's mind began to race back to Leslie, back to her beautiful face, back to their first amazing sexual experience. In his drunken stupor, he merely smiled dumbly, his eyes still closed, enjoying the feel of her warm, firm breasts pressed against his chest. He felt her kisses flutter across his face and his neck, and in his mind it was Leslie. Beautiful, kind Leslie, an enigma of purity and raw sexuality. That amazing girl who had stolen his heart.

Pamela smiled at his willingness. She had hoped that the beer her male cohorts had kept shoving into his hand and down his throat would do its job, and with the unexpected bonus of the marijuana he had smoked earlier, she knew it had. He was, as the old expression goes, "Putty in her hands," totally pliable. She grabbed his shirt, and his arms raised up to let her take it off. She kissed his mouth, he kissed her back. She put his hand on her breast, and he kneaded it lovingly. He opened his eyes, looking into blue eyes of the hot young woman in front of him. Blue, almost the color of ice. Big and... blue?

His head suddenly raised from the fog again, and in a moment of sobriety, he realized that he wasn't looking into Leslie's eyes. He got angry and confused.

"Pamela, what the fu--" he started to say, but her lips found their way back to his, shutting him up. Breaking the kiss, he still had a confused look on his face.

"Please make love to me," she said, her eyes suddenly pleading with him. Pleading, just like Leslie's eyes do. How the hell does she do that? How is she acting just like Leslie?

"I-I can't. Leslie..." he started to say, but then she stepped back, pulled the straps of her dress over her shoulders, and pushed it down, letting the silk material slide over her flesh. Her bare flesh emerged, and Samuel was flashing back again to the first day with Leslie, to his discovery of her, and to the way she let the sheet that covered her body drop to the floor. Just like Pamela was doing now. His eyes shut and winced, and he shook his head. How the hell is she doing this? Does she know? Know about Leslie's secret? About their secret?

She approached him, her bare breasts jutting straight at him. Her breasts were capped with little brown nipples that stuck out like hard thimbles. She noticed his appreciative gaze and turned to her side, posing for him.

"Do you like them?" she asked in a child-like manner, cupping a breast in each hand, as if offering them to him. In reality, she probably was.

He couldn't shake it. His mind kept flashing between the past and present. Everything was colliding in his head. First it was beautiful Leslie, in her bedroom, the golden sunlight making her glow; then it was gorgeous Pamela, in someone else's bedroom, the steady bass beat of music thumping from the party below. The images strobed in front of him, and he was feeling dizzy. He uttered an unstable "Yes," but was beginning to feel a bit unsteady on his feet. She continued her slow walk towards him, time seeming to crawl, like every second was taking hours to tick by. He couldn't move at all, but knew he should have been long gone from there. His eyes were transfixed on the gold locket that lay almost between her breasts, twinkling and attracting his attention, entrancing him like the swinging watch of a hypnotist. She again brought her arms around him, pushing her bare breasts into his chest, their nipples touching. The visions kept blurring between past and present, and he was totally under this girl's spell. Her perfume was filling his sinuses, and it was one of the only things that was keeping his mind in the present. He tried to push her away, but her embrace was persistent.

She looked at his face, staring him directly in the eyes, noticing the turmoil his mind was in. "It'll be okay. Nobody has to know," she whispered, sweetly, adding, "This will be our little secret."

"Secret... your secret. I'm different because I found out your secret," he mumbled. Pamela was surprised by this. What was he talking about? Secret?

"What secret?" she asked, looking into his dazed eyes.

"We shouldn't do this here... don't want anyone finding about... your... our... secret..." he was totally in a dream state, not really paying attention to her. Pamela suddenly remembered something about a "secret," something he said in that art studio, something he whispered to Leslie. Her body got cold, and she just stood there, a blank, wide-eyed stare fixed on Samuel. Was there something else about Leslie that she didn't know? She stood stock-still, gazing at him for what felt like several minutes, and somewhere, a familiar face and a familiar feeling was starting to creep up from her subconscious.

No, she was getting side-tracked. She shook her head to clear it, letting the moment of uncertainty pass, determined to throw her plan into full gear. She quickly set about loosening his khakis just enough to shove them down over his hips and down his legs, then roughly pushed him on the small bed. He let out an "Oof!" but she didn't pay any attention to that. Quickly yanking his shoes and pants off, she finally took a short moment to check the scene, her heart beating sharply in her chest and her breath already starting to quicken. Stripped to nothing but his boxers and a pair of socks, Samuel was groaning a bit, rubbing his head, slipping further into a drunken stupor.

This had been her plan. She needed him drunk and stupid enough to let her suck him off. She bent over and grabbed her purse from the foot of the bed where she had dropped it earlier, and she quickly searched through the contents. She pulled out a small, foil wrapper and a small Polaroid camera as she eyed the bulge in his shorts, and she began to feel a nice tingling between her thighs. She was going to use the camera to take some pictures of his spent, cum-smeared cock, and she was going to collect some "evidence" in the condom. She grinned, imagining the shocked expression on poor little Leslie's face as she opened her locker on Monday and found the used condom and the Polaroids of a naked and sexually spent Samuel (while Pamela herself would be safely on the other end of the camera... no need to throw herself into an unseemly scandal).

Putting the articles back on the foot of the bed, she walked over to the side of the small, soft mattress and slid next to Samuel. Pamela started to lightly slap at his face a bit, saying, "C'mon, stud. Don't pass out now." This resulted in some more groans, but he was almost completely zonked-out. Making herself comfortable, she lay her nearly nude body next to him, draping an arm over her shoulder. She tried to wake him up again, "Hey Samuel. Wake up, baby..." but he just muttered something unintelligible. She grabbed his hand and put it on her breast. Nothing. Shit, this isn't working. She needed him conscious, and it wasn't going to work if he was passed-out at this point. She looked around the room nervously, trying to come up with something, when she suddenly noticed the tent in his shorts.

"Well, I guess he doesn't need to be awake for this part," she said out loud, laughing to herself. Immediately, she shifted around in her position, placing her face over his prominent bulge. As much as she didn't really want to admit it to herself, she was starting to get extremely wet just looking at it. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, she yanked them down, setting his stiff cock springing free. She didn't have time to tease or seduce him any further, so she went about stuffing as much of his firm meat into her mouth as possible. His hips moved up involuntarily, and another unintelligible groan escaped his lips. She was enjoying this, and had secretly wanted to suck on this gorgeous cock since she first set eyes on it days ago. She slurped at his erect tool noisily, bobbing her head up and down quickly. Sure, it wasn't one of her best blow-jobs, but the moans coming from him told her that he didn't seem to care. Cupping his balls in her left hand and gripping at his hard shaft in the right, she was working her lips and tongue ferociously. Her fingernails scratched at his heavy sac, noticing how sparsely covered in black hairs his scrotum was compared to the thicket of pubic hair that covered the majority of his groin. She sucked greedily at the rich taste that his skin was giving her, and already she could feel and taste his pre-cum dissolving on her tongue. Deciding it was about time, she reached for the little foil packet, grinning around his thick prick. That's when she felt two warm hands grasp her ass.

A little shocked, she nearly dropped his cock from her lips. She wasn't expecting him to still be conscious at this point. She shifted around a bit, never releasing his crown from her lips, and looked behind her. Samuel was massaging her ass with a dopey grin on his face, but his eyes were closed shut, and Pamela automatically knew that he was doing this unconsciously, as if he was sleep-walking or something. Continuing her oral assault, she gloried at the feelings she was getting from the fingers that caressed her firm mounds of flesh. She felt a finger trace the thin ribbon of material of her thong panties, tracing them down to where they barely covered the brown little eye of her asshole. She felt a hand grab her ankle and pull on it. She finally relented and let him raise her leg over his head, allowing herself to straddle him.. Her crotch now directly over his face, she could feel his breath warm the thin material that covered her pussy. She knew she was getting hot now, and it wasn't long until she felt his inquisitive fingers reach the honey-soaked patch on her panties. She let out a groan into his prick as she felt a warm tongue press up against the material and stroke her through it. She felt his fingers pull at her panties, pushing them to one side, and his tongue attacked her now bare cunt. She orgasmed right away, surprised by how highly aroused she was, letting out loud moans and practically choking on the thick prick planted in her mouth. Her fresh cream covered his face, and he drunkenly lapped as much of it up as he could. He wasn't entirely awake, but his body was, and it knew what it was doing to her. Coming hadn't been in her plan, but she was too far gone in her pleasure to regain control of the situation. She soon forgot all about the plan, and the camera and the condom were left sitting on the bed, unused.

Downstairs, Leslie was in sitting on the couch listening to Big Gordie and watching his emphatic movements as he told a story about how he accidentally caught a pass meant for another team-mate. Explaining how he ran for the end zone, he made exaggerated slow-motion movements, getting loud squeals of laughter from the crowd of partygoers that had surrounded the scene. Leslie hadn't laughed so much in a long time, and she was laughing so hard she felt like she would nearly pee. She had drunk a fair share of beer that night, and her bladder was telling her that it needed relief. Politely excusing herself, she stumbled down the hallway to the back. She noticed a small line of people already waiting for the bathroom, and she groaned in disbelief. Turning back, she bumped into and practically knocked over Chelsie Burns, one of Pamela's friends, who had been talking to a couple of college boys.

"Oops! Sorry, Chelsie," she apologized, giggling hysterically.

"What's the hurry, Leslie?" Chelsie asked, trying not to laugh herself.

"Oh, I'm just looking for a bathroom... I gotta pee, bad!" she whispered, though it was still pretty loud. Yeah, the beer wasn't just affecting her bladder.

"Yeah, the line-up over there is pretty bad," Chelsie said.

"You know, there's a bathroom upstairs," a particularly attractive college guy chimed in, and Leslie was about to ask how he knew when she recognized him.

"Hey! You're Greg's older brother, right?" she asked with a goofy grin, and then, regaining some of her composer, added, "Where is this other bathroom, exactly?"

"Just up the stairs, attached to my parent's bedroom. Second to the last door on the right. You gonna be okay going up those stairs?" Greg's older brother offered his assistance sweetly, but Leslie told him that she'd be fine. She struggled up the stairs and headed right where he told her. If she hadn't been paying so much attention to the distress of her bladder, she would have heard the voices of people giggling and making out in the three or four rooms that lined the second story hallway. She knocked on what she thought was the designated door, and when no one answered, she opened it and peeked her head in...

"Holy shit, Samuel! You're gonna make me cum again!" Pamela cried out, barely able to keep her voice down. She was in heaven. It had been a long time since she had let one of her boy-toys eat her out, and even longer since any of them had made her feel so damn good. She was panting, trying to catch her breath, as her hands continued to jack off his spit-covered cock. She rocked her hips on his face, smearing it with her honey. She didn't know if he was fully awake or fully aware of what he was doing or not, but she didn't care. She felt his fingers fucking into her tight cunt, and she nearly shrieked in pleasure. She was getting so close, and she bent down again, planting as much of his cock into her mouth as she could. His hips thrust up, fucking her face as his tongue and fingers continued their evil little magic. She couldn't take much more of this, and the back of her mind, she was debating something. She was debating over whether or not she should let him fuck her...